Chapter Nine #3
“And you introduced us as brother and sister.” He poked his index finger in the air at her. “You got exactly what you asked for from Anderson. I’ve been trying to protect you from his kind and worse, and I’m tired of fighting with you—”
“We’re not fighting. We’re merely expressing our opinions.”
“Well, I’m tired of your opinions. And I’m tired of being treated as if I were less than a man.
Whether you’ll excuse me or not, Miss Harrell, I need a bit of distance from you.
I plan on going to the wake this evening and enjoying myself with good, honest people who don’t have the money to buy everything they wish.
You can stay here and pout, or you can walk to Appin.
At this point, I’m heartily tired of your whole foolish adventure. ”
With that, he turned on his heel and walked out the door.
Lyssa stood stunned.
No one had ever talked to her that way before. In fact, Mr. Campion had not yet treated her in the way in which she was accustomed. This nonsense about his being tired of her—?
If anything, she was tired of him! He was grumpy, incorrigible, bullish—and she would tell him. She hurried to the door. “Mr. Campion!”
He didn’t stop.
She took three steps out the door. “Mr. Campion!”
He kept walking.
“Ian!”
He stopped.
Slowly, he turned. “Yes, Lyssa?”
All the things she wanted to rant at him flew from her head.
Instead, they stood facing each other in the near empty barn with shafts of light and dust motes streaming from the doorway and windows—and she knew he was right.
She had put up walls between herself and the world.
And she’d clung to her prejudices against him because otherwise she had nothing else to protect her against the fact that she was deeply attracted to him.
His attraction came from more than his being a handsome man. Here was a man she admired. A man she was growing to respect.
A man unafraid to speak plainly to her.
This sudden, new awareness of him and his impact on her senses was both startling and unnerving. She felt as fragile and disoriented as a baby bird coming out of its shell and not quite understanding what it wanted yet.
And she feared what she wanted might be something she shouldn’t have.
Ian seemed to sense not only her change of temper, but her confusion. But did he understand why?
God help her if he did!
“Lyssa?” He raised an eyebrow in uncertainty.
She blinked, coming to her senses as she realized she’d been staring. It took her a moment to find her voice. “Maggie says we are to be ready in the hour. We’re to meet everyone outside to go to the wake.”
He shifted his weight, his ever-present knapsack over one shoulder. “So you are coming?” Her capitulation seemed to surprise him…and he was not a man to trust what he did not understand.
Consequently she took great pleasure in saying, “Of course.”
His brows came together. He appeared baffled. So, she couldn’t resist whispering in her sweetest voice, “I’m sorry for being so headstrong, Ian.”
His puzzlement turned to suspicion. “I actually prefer your obstinacy. It’s something I can count on.” Then, as if he’d said too much, he murmured, “I need to go shave.” He ducked out the barn door and walked away.
Lyssa watched him a moment and couldn’t help but add to his list of admirable qualities the straight set of his shoulders. “It’s too bad you aren’t Robert,” she said quietly and then turned to go into her depressing little room and prepare as best she could.
Ian walked out to the rain barrel, dropped his knapsack, threw off his jacket, neck cloth, and shirt, and stuck his head in the water.
He blew his breath out in bubbles and lifted his head out of the water to let it drip off his hair over the barrel.
What the devil was the matter with him? All she had to do was soften her green eyes and give him a hesitant smile and he had the oddest desire to melt at her feet. Especially when she called him “Ian.” If he wasn’t careful, Lyssa Harrell, the job, could start to become something more.
The thought was so radical, he dunked his head in the rain barrel again until he came to his bloody senses.
She couldn’t be more. Not ever. They were of two very different worlds.
Not to mention Lyssa’s father would see Ian a eunuch before he let him have his daughter—something Pirate Harrell could easily accomplish.
Straightening at the waist, he came up again, water dripping down his face—only to discover he had an audience. Three of Anderson’s sons and their friends watched him with wide eyes as if they’d never seen anything more funny than a man with his head in a rain barrel.
Ian capped off the show by squirting a mouthful of water out his cheeks at the lot of them, and they ran away with shrieks of laughter.
He leaned over the barrel, bracing himself on the rim with his arms, and watched the boys run. He was left to prepare hiself to escort his “sister” to a wake. While the truth of the matter was he was beginning to fall for the one woman he couldn’t have.
God must be laughing.