Chapter 6 #2
“Someone is always watching in Midthorpe, and stop calling me Doctor Sharpe.”
Blythe’s steps faltered. “But you are Doctor Sharpe, and I am Mrs Simmonds, and that is how we should address each other.” She sent him a quick glance around the brim of her bonnet. “And I am not the only one who sounds different.”
Do not be drawn in. Once again, common sense evaporated in her presence. “Years of formal education can improve a man.”
The small cottages lining the street gave way to open fields as they headed down the lane towards Silverdale.
Blythe fiddled with the strings of her reticule. “You should return to your work.”
“You cannot run from me forever, Blythe.”
Blythe stopped. “I am not running from you or anyone. I am going home, and so should you.”
Like a twig beneath his feet, his patience snapped. “You owe me an explanation, Blythe. Did you think you could hide in York and never face the consequences of your actions?”
“What good will it do?” With nothing but chirping birds in the hedgerows as witnesses, she faced him. “I broke my promise to you and your mother, and I have endured the consequences every day. I should never have come home, except…” Blythe mumbled, then continued walking.
“Except what?”
She stared into the distance.
He spun her towards him. “Talk to me, Blythe. We always said we could talk to each other no matter the circumstances.”
“That was when we were… friends. We cannot be friends ever again, no matter how desperately I feel the loss.” Blythe’s lashes lowered.
The thick, scarred tissue that encased his heart softened. No! She cannot be trusted!
“Forgive me. I should not have said that. It is unfair to force my self-inflicted burdens upon you.” Her teeth dug into her lower lip. Sunlight glistened on the moist, pink flesh when it unfurled.
His thumb itched to wipe away the moisture, and his loins heated. She will hurt you again when she leaves. He released her and stepped back. “I suppose you wish to return to York soon.”
“It seems everyone is eager to be rid of me.” That enticing lower lip trembled and his traitorous cock stirred.
Damnation! His idiocy knew no bounds when it came to Blythe Dixon. He should walk away, but instead asked, “Who is to say we cannot become friends again?”
She shook her head. “Do not say such ludicrous things, Gabriel.”
“Why are they ludicrous?”
Blood-shot blue eyes peeked from beneath her dark-blonde lashes. “I thought you were an educated man with a medical degree?”
His lips twitched. “I have the certificate to prove it.”
“Then why are you so obtuse? I jilted you and married another man.”
“I know. I read your letter several times.” A ghost of the pain that had scarred his heart haunted him.
Bitter bile churned in his stomach again at the reminder that she had married another man, shared a bed with another man and borne another man’s children.
Yes, remember the pain she inflicted, for she will only hurt you again.
Blythe tutted. “I see you are still an infuriating, persistent…”
A sudden weariness settled upon him. What happened to being the better man? He ran a palm over his forehead. “Perhaps I do not wish us to be at odds. While your decision to break our betrothal hurt, time has passed. Can we not move forward too?”
“What will your family say?” Blythe rolled her eyes. “They will say you are an idiot, and they would be correct.”
While her rejection had stamped on his sense of worth like a herd of cattle and demanded vengeance, he was a rational man and could rise above his baser instincts.
“I do not know how long you will stay, but do you really wish to spend that time hiding from each other? Or would you rather let go of the past?”
Blythe resumed her quick pace along the dusty road. Over her shoulder, she said, “You should not be so forgiving, Gabriel. Go back to your work.”
He should hate her to his marrow. In her absence, it had been easy to dismiss her as nothing more than a faithless jilt. But now, everything cried out to speak with her as they had before: as friends, as equals, as people who knew each other better than anyone else.
Did it make him less of a man for wanting the return of such a friendship, one that could never be replaced and had been sorely missed?
Many would say so, but he did not care for their opinion.
His parents may rail at his stupidity, but was it not more enlightened to forgive and forget rather than harbour a grudge?
He caught up to her and said, “Let us forget the past, Blythe.”
Her steps faltered, then resumed.
“Let us move forward with our lives.”
Her arms swung like a soldier on parade. “I do not deserve to forget.”
They marched on to the chirping of birds.
Eventually, her pace slowed, and she said, “You are too kind for your own good.”
“As you have mentioned before.”
Finally, her gaze met his. “Do you truly think we can be friends again?”
“We can manage for the duration of your visit.”
“What if…?”
A flicker of hope stirred. No! He re-buried it.
Blythe shook her head. “I should not trouble you. You should not waste your time speaking to me after—”
“I thought we had agreed to forget the past.”
“Gabriel,” she said his name on a long sigh, and warmth oozed across his chest.
Don’t be a fool! Perhaps they should maintain a polite distance as nothing more than residents of the same village.
“You make it too easy to talk to you. You always did. I have missed your friendship, but I cannot expect you to fall back into our old habits. It is incredibly selfish of me.”
When they reached the stone gateway of Silverdale, he wrapped a hand around her upper arm before she entered the yard.
“I do not care.” By the devil, he was an idiot, but being at odds with Blythe jumbled his insides. “Confide in me.”
Her deep-blue gaze locked onto his. Let her go! This would only end in pain, but common sense had flown out of the window like a trapped bird.
She blinked, then said, “I have not been happy of late and—”
“Blythe!” John Dixon’s loud call drew their attention.
Damnation! Would he have another opportunity to speak to her again?
Blythe shook off his hold. “What is wrong, John?”
Her brother ran towards them, holding his battered straw hat to his head.
“We must make haste! The wheat is ready, and we must harvest the crop while the weather holds.” John’s chest heaved.
“Mam is beside herself trying to get things organised, and I must go to Beverley to hire more hands. The spring barley has yet to be brought in, but we cannot wait.”
John nodded at Gabriel. “Doctor Sharpe, I will need you in the fields on the morrow.” Without waiting for a reply, he hurried back to the gig that the stable boy had rolled up outside the farmhouse.
“I apologise. John is distressed due to managing the harvest alone.” She stepped back. “No doubt you have patients who need you.”
“Actually, I have a free day tomorrow. My usual visit to Baron Lipton has been postponed while he attends a funeral.”
Blythe fiddled with her reticule, then said, “Thank you for escorting me home.”
“It was my pleasure.”
Their gazes locked for interminable seconds before Blythe headed across the yard. After a few steps, she turned on her heel. “Thank you, Gabriel, for being you.” She offered a weak smile before entering the farmhouse.