Chapter 9 #2
“If you need my help, I’ll intervene.”
“I can hold my own.”
Elizabeth cocked her head trying to grasp the significance of his confidence. Most men trembled in their boots from dealing with her father. Zachary was a curious man. A genius, and an enigma.
Shawn Fitzgerald called from a large field with a makeshift diamond of three plates and a home base. “Let’s play ball!”
Zachary and Shawn divided up two teams, and then taking turns, teaching the children elements of the game and how to hit the ball. Joseph was up first to bat, driving a home run. The other children did well, taking a base and with one of them striking out.
With a confident deadly swagger of a man who knew he had no equal, Zachery shirked off his jacket and laid it on a low-hanging branch then picked up a bat.
Elizabeth raised a dubious brow. “Don’t tell me baseball is another one of your talents, Mr. Rourke.”
He planted his feet and swung the bat in circles, loosening muscles that rippled and strained beneath his shirt.
“I might have played a game or two while working on the railroads.”
He hit a home run and sauntered up to her. “Would you like to play, Miss Spencer?” He flashed her a wicked grin both in invitation and challenge. “I can teach you.”
How she’d love to wipe that superior expression off his face. “I could try.” She lifted her shoulders and fixed him with a demure expression.
When it was Elizabeth’s turn to bat, all the children cheered her on. “Hit a home run, Miss Spencer.”
“She can’t hit, she’s a girl,” said one of the boys and that precipitated a negative chorus from the rest of the boys.
Amusement toyed at the corner of Zachary’s lips. “You don’t need to do this. If the exercise is too strenuous for–”
“For a lady?” To think he taunted her. Wouldn’t the frontiersman be surprised to learn she was the number one baseball player in her elementary boarding school?
How she looked forward to plucking the feathers from this peacock.
Elizabeth picked up the bat and fiddled with the piece.
She looked to Zachary. “I do not to know what to do with the thing.”
Tilting his head to the heavens, he let out a heavy sigh. “Let me show you,” he offered, putting his arms around her, and placing her hands on the bat just so.
Frissons of fire raced through her veins. Her body tingled with awareness with the heat of his strong body pressed to her back. Why was this happening to her?
He half-growled, half-laughed and pulled her even closer, performing three mock swings with the bat. “Keep your eye on the ball and swing. Not too soon and not too late.”
Did his voice sound huskier? When he stepped back, she shook her head to clear the vertigo, and then nodded to the pitcher.
The ball came fast. She swung the bat with all her might.
The ball cracked against the bat, and then sailed into the stratosphere.
Shawn ran to search for the ball beyond the trees, so she took her time running the bases.
She was rounding the third base when suddenly he appeared from beyond the trees.
The children were screaming for her to hurry.
Two open carriages full of women had stopped at the roadside to watch the spectacle.
Mrs. Astin, the gossip queen of New York, sat a pillar of pomposity with her white yapping dog on her lap.
Did she recognize Elizabeth? How long would it take for her indiscretion to reach her mother’s ears?
What was done was done, and she couldn’t disappoint the children.
She saw Mr. Rourke grinning, expectant of her defeat.
No. She’d not give him the satisfaction of seizing her triumph.
Paying no mind to the women, she dropped her painstaking, ladylike training, picked up her skirts and sped toward home. Ten more feet.
Her skirts slipped from her fingers. The toe of her slipper caught the hem. A gritty pelt of earth pitched from beneath. Elizabeth cried out, her arms flailing through the air. All the years of rigid, graceful deportment vanished. The world spun.
Hands reached out and caught her.
“Safe!” someone yelled.
But she wasn’t safe. His tan face contorted in concentration. Startled, her heart shuddered, stopping for a moment, and then began beating anew at a frantic pace. For the second time, held in Zachary’s strong arms, she didn’t know what emotion he caused to rise within her. It wasn’t fear.
She resisted the same curious sensations as she observed him.
Something leaped along her spine. Beneath the wide-spreading oak, latticed sunlight danced off his face.
He was forbiddingly severe, and his features were hard as granite.
A blend of spicy soap and masculine scent surrounded her.
There was something powerful about the forbidden maleness of this man.
The warmth of the day lulled her. The moment felt so perfect…
so perfectly right. It was possible to imagine…
Seconds elapsed and nothing was said. Her embarrassment became complete with his tight fitting trousers pushed against her thighs, his one hand holding her firmly on the small of her back and his other supporting her neck.
Silence befell the park. Elizabeth felt everyone’s eyes on them.
The field of orphans, servants, Fiona, and the Fitzgeralds.
All of them watched with surreptitious glances expectant of the silent tableau between her and Mr. Rourke.
What was worse she could imagine were the gaping mouths and condescending nods of the women fanning themselves in their carriages.
He leaned closer, his head dipping down, but his eyes, sincere, burned at her through dark lashes. “Are you unhurt?”
She widened her eyes, admiring his quickness in averting near disaster. He was not there, and then, he was. Like a magician.
“I’m fine. You can release me now.”
The children jumped up and down. “Kiss her! Kiss her!”
Her unruly daughter led the fray. Heat rose from Elizabeth’s toes to the roots of her hair. “Release me.”
He stood her on solid ground and shifted away. Damn her wobbling legs. With a clearing of her throat, she made a charade of smoothing her skirts and patting her hair into place until her limbs quit shaking.
Out of the corners of her eyes, she took in the escaping carriages. Her shoulders slumped.
Zachary caught the line of her gaze. “Keep on enjoying yourself. Get away from those chains that bind you.”
“Your home run was remarkable,” said Amanda Fitzgerald, congratulating her.
Zachary cocked his head. “Looks to me as if Miss Spencer has had practice around the ball diamond. I believe an explanation is owed.”
How the frontiersman dogged her steps to the table where the servants laid out fried chicken, a joint of cold roast beef, homemade bread, watermelon, apples, tart lemonade, and luscious cherry tarts for dessert.
She picked up a piece of fried chicken and placed it on a fine porcelain plate, raising an eyebrow as a huge man approached, digging up puffs of dirt from his heels in company with the Chinaman from the orphanage.
“I attended Miss Porter’s Finishing School before the war.
It wasn’t merely painting and writing poetry.
The founder was a reformer promoting the importance of education for women.
The school’s curriculum included chemistry, physiology, botany, geology, astronomy, mathematics, and the importance of physical exercise.
The school boasted a baseball team. I was the captain. ”
“She’s brilliant,” said Fiona, and then her maid started clucking at the state of Elizabeth’s appearance.
“Your gown needs to be repaired. And I see problems ahead with that battle-ax, Mrs. Astin, that nattering rumormonger of your mother’s inner circle.
I can be certain she is cutting a path to your home. ”
With a sigh, Elizabeth took a sip of her lemonade. She was having too much fun and would deal with the aftermath later. “As far as Mother is concerned, I will handle her.”
Fiona harrumphed. “More like she’ll announce your betrothal to the fool sugar baron.”
Elizabeth waved her hand palm up and presented Fiona. “As you see, Mr. Rourke, my maid expresses her opinions freely.”
“You don’t deserve that lout,” said Fiona, escaping into her Irish vernacular that was forbidden in the Spencer household. “For sure the lazy hole couldn’t peel an orange in his pocket.”
Zachary grinned. “I agree with you. Havemeyer doesn’t deserve her.”
Elizabeth giggled. “I doubt Mother will continue with Havemeyer. The man was discovered sprawled drunk in a pile of her prized orchids. To think a dreadful scandal could have ensued if the gardener hadn’t reported the issue, and then swept him through a back door into a carriage.”
Zachary rubbed his throat. “A pity a man cannot keep his balance.”
“Havemeyer’s imbalance was unfortunate, wasn’t it, Mr. Rourke?
” Fiona crinkled her all-knowing eyes on the tall frontiersman.
“All the servants agreed that the haughty windbag deserved his fate. The gardener was furious with the mess, but all the servants knew it was because Havemeyer drank the gardener’s whiskey stash.
For myself, I thank you for protecting Miss Spencer and saving her from a dreadful marriage. ”
“Enough about my mother’s wishes. I’m going to carve out my own path.”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Sure you are, except your mother will have a strong opinion on whatever you do.”
Elizabeth licked her lips, embarrassed with the truth. Her mother controlled her life. “Did you know Fiona is an expert on marriage?”