Fate's Intervention Read online

  “I just can’t see myself having a serious discussion about . . . well you know . . . things like that . . . with Elizabeth; however, strangely enough, despite or because of your bold speech, I feel that you would be the perfect candidate to explain things like that, which may make it easier to discuss. In reality, I find my speech a bit more emboldened, and I’ve only been here a few minutes. It’s a strange feeling.”

  “Rather liberating, I’m sure, but I’m still not marrying your father.”

  Carol Ann blushed and giggled again, “You’re not so bad if given a chance to get used to you. I think that you deliberately go out of your way to set people on guard, don’t you?” Carol Ann grinned. “You deliberately did it to me, didn’t you?”

  “You are rather astute, for a fourteen-year-old child,” Marcelle said. Against all better judgment, she found herself liking this girl.

  “And you are rather smart,” Carol Ann smiled, “for a seventeen-year-old spinster.”

  “Well, thank you very kindly, but I’m still not certain where all this is going. Do you want me to have a conversation with you about the birds and the bees if your father makes you marry Stanharbor?”

  “Just the thought of marrying that man . . . ,” Carol Ann shuddered. “I can’t even think of . . . well, you know.”

  “I certainly do, but I’ll save you the embarrassment of outlining it in detail.”

  “That’s truly appreciated. Anyway, I was just thinking that if perhaps I can catch Matthew’s eye then he’ll propose before Stanharbor has the chance, which is why I’m seriously considering letting you introduce me.”

  “I see,” Marcelle said thoughtfully, wondering whether the girl always took the long way around a point before finally reaching it. Well, no matter, her intentions were finally clear – she was taking Marcelle up on her offer of an introduction to Matthew.

  “I see,” Marcelle said again. “Well, before you take that route, I think that perhaps you should know something . . . ,”

  The door opening interrupted Marcelle. Carol Ann let out a screech as the door bumped into her rear, and sent her reeling into Marcelle’s arms. Both women glanced up as Matthew strolled in, dusty and sweaty from a day working with the horses. He spotted the two women gawking at him and felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment.

  “Sorry, ladies,” he said, shrugging into his dirty shirt, “I didn’t mean to barge into the house. Are you okay, Miss?”

  Carol Ann could only stand there with her jaw slack and eyes bulging. Again, Marcelle understood the emotion all too well. She’d had a similar reaction when she’d seen him up close the first time, and he didn’t look nearly as enticing as he did at present. Fortunately, her age prevented her from making a total idiot of herself, which she couldn’t say for Carol Ann.

  “I’m sure she’s just fine, Matthew,” Marcelle said with a smile. “Carol Ann, may I introduce our trainer, Matthew Daragh. Matthew, this is Carol Ann Blackwarth. Her father owns the neighboring ranch.”

  “Ah, our neighbor, huh?” Matthew didn’t like the sound of that, or the look the young lady kept pinned on him. He may have avoided hiring on at a place with infantile women, but it would appear he couldn’t escape them all together. Marcelle saw his expression and tried not to laugh aloud, but she couldn’t resist teasing him. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she moved back a step, pointed at Carol Ann, and then batted her eyelashes at Matthew, leaving no doubt in Matthew’s mind that the girl was there for him.

  He blanched, and Marcelle took pity on him, “Carol Ann was just on her way out, and I do believe that you need to wash up before dinner, correct?”

  “Yes, yes,” Matthew said hurriedly, sidling past the awe-struck girl. “Um, it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Blackwarth. I’ll see you at dinner, Miss Weatherman.”

  Marcelle waited until Matthew disappeared into his bedroom and then snapped her fingers in front of Carol Ann’s face.

  Carol Ann blinked rapidly, a blush tinting her cheeks again, “I didn’t realize that . . . I mean, I’ve never seen him up close before . . . ,”

  “Don’t concern yourself, Carol Ann,” Marcelle said, reassuringly, hustling Carol Ann out the front door, “Poor Matthew tends to have that effect on nearly every woman he meets.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, “I could see that he would.” It was all she could manage to say, and that came out in an airy, dreamy tone. Marcelle felt for the young girl. After all, even at her own age she had a hard time fighting an attraction to the man. A girl of Carol Ann’s age and immaturity level didn’t stand a chance against his looks.

  “Well, Carol Ann,” Marcelle said, leading the dazed girl to her carriage and opening the door, “you best be heading back before it gets to be past your own supper time.”

  “Yes, of course,” Carol Ann said, dreamily, “And thank you for having me, Matthew.”

  Marcelle laughed. The poor girl was going to have Matthew on the brain for a while. She only hoped she didn’t slip up and say his name like that in front of her father. When Marcelle safely ensconced Carol Ann in her carriage, she went to the kitchen to see about getting dinner started. Thanks to Miss Blackwarth’s visit, it was going to be a late one.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “How are the horses progressing, Matthew?” Peter asked at dinner. He wasn’t used to postponing delivery to his clients after purchase, but Matthew had all but insisted. Peter protested his reasoning until Matthew explained about his wife and children. He could understand the kind of devastation Matthew had suffered, especially since he’d lost his own darling Beverly to an equestrian accident as well some twelve years ago and had never felt the desire to remarry, even with the burden of raising a young girl alone.

  At least Matthew was doing something to help prevent further deaths from untrained horses. He admired the man for that, even while he wished that he’d get over his wife’s loss –unlike himself – and marry Marcelle.

  “Excellent. I’ll be starting deliveries tomorrow. When I get back, I’ll get on the stable roof. There’s some wear in it that might not withstand a heavy rain.”

  “Good.”

  “So, you trained the horses that fast, did you?” Marcelle asked. “Or are you using Miss Blackwarth’s visit as an excuse to start deliveries early? Not running away, are you?”

  Matthew grinned thinly at Marcelle, his face reddening in remembrance. Marcelle shoved a bite of food into her mouth and eyed Matthew mischievously.

  “What’s this about Miss Blackwarth?” Peter asked, pausing in mid-bite. “Wasn’t your visit pleasant, and what does she have to do with Matthew? Why would you be scared of the child, Matthew?”

  “It would appear that I was right, Father,” Marcelle interjected before Matthew could say anything. “Her visit was a ruse. Good thing you didn’t take me up on placing a wager on her visit. I would have won.”

  “A ruse, was it?”

  “Yes, the poor child has a crush on Matthew.”

  Matthew groaned and Marcelle giggled.

  “I assure you madam,” Matthew said, “that her interest in me is undesired and will not be encouraged.”

  “Want to hear something that will really add gray hair to your head, Matthew?” Marcelle said, the twinkle in her eyes increasing, when Matthew instinctively touched his hair.

  “I do not . . . ,” he started, but stopped when he saw the look in her eyes. He could tell she was really enjoying herself at his expense. Well, he’d let her have her fun, but maybe he’d teach her a little lesson later about laughing at someone.

  “Pray, do tell, Miss Weatherman,” Matthew said, taking a sip of his red wine.

  “Clifford Stanharbor is sniffing around her skirts now, so she’s hoping to catch your eye so that you’ll become enchanted enough to propose before Stanharbor has a chance.”

  “Well, she’s not completely unappealing. Perhaps I’ll consider it,” Matthew said, and smiled widely when Marcelle spit her wine across the table. “Perhaps that will teach you to
keep your teasing to a minimum.”

  “Nice try, Matthew,” her father laughed, “but it may take more than that to curb my daughter’s mischievous ways.”

  “Can I accept that as permission to try, sir?”

  “Oh, without a doubt.”

  “Hey, you two!” Marcelle protested half-heartedly. “Two against one are not fair odds.”

  “No, my dear,” her father corrected with a laugh, “it’s still one against one. Only now that Matthew has my permission to play on your level, the odds will be less one-sided.”

  “Well, I certainly appreciate your support, Father,” Marcelle said sarcastically. Although she wasn’t upset about her father siding with Matthew, the look Matthew gave her unnerved her. Exactly how did he interpret what her father said? Exactly how did she want him to interpret it?

  Matthew, on the other hand, was having absolutely no difficulty in interpreting his boss’s permission. As far as he was concerned, the boundary between the employer and employee relationship vanished and he could finally teach Marcelle a lesson or two about the consequences of teasing the opposite sex. The thought of finally being able to give tit for tat without fear of retribution brought a huge smile to his face. That smile increased when he looked over and saw the worry creasing her brow. So, she knows she’s in for it now, he thought with childish glee, that the invisible barrier of protection is gone.

  “Well, children, while that was a delightful dinner and entertaining repartee, I really must retire. These old bones need more rest than they used to.” Peter stood and laid his napkin on the table, “What time you planning to leave tomorrow, Matthew?”

  “I’ll leave at sunup,” Matthew said, rising from his seat.

  “You remember how to get to our clients’ homes, right?”

  “Not a problem, sir, and if it’s just the same to you, I’d like to add a few stops along the way to solicit purchasers for our future breed stock.”

  “I think that’s a fine idea, so when can we expect you back, then?”

  “Three weeks. Four tops.” Matthew moved behind Marcelle’s chair instinctively, and slid it back for her to rise.

  “Well, since I won’t see you until your return, I’ll wish you a safe journey. Marcelle, dear, do make certain that Nancy prepares something for Matthew to take with him in the morning.”

  “Of course, Father,” Marcelle said, following him to the door. “Would you like your port?”

  “It does help me sleep.”

  “I’ll send Nancy right up,” she said, and placed a light kiss on his cheek.

  “Thank you, dearest,” he said, covering a yawn. “You really are a wonderful daughter, my dear.”

  “Good night, Father. Sleep well.”

  Marcelle watched her father climb the stairs slowly before turning to summon Nancy. Her gaze collided with Matthew’s and she smiled sadly.

  “It must be hard on you,” Matthew said softly, understanding in his eyes, “watching him weaken daily and having to pretend a strength you don’t feel, for his sake.”

  Marcelle’s eyes misted over and she was helpless to prevent the few tears that welled and fell in a stream down her face. “It was his request that I not allow his illness to change the few months of happiness we have remaining,” Marcelle whispered quietly. “You’re right, though, it’s very hard. Still I promised him, and I won’t break that promise. He’s suffering enough without the added burden of knowing his daughter is slowing dying with him.”

  Matthew misunderstood her statement and rushed to her side, “You’re not ill as well, are you, Marcelle?” He asked, forgetting to address her formally.

  “Ill? Not the way you’re thinking,” Marcelle said, placing a hand in comfort on his cheek. “It’s only that my heart is breaking off bit by bit, and I fear that when my father finally leaves me, I will have no heart left.”

  Matthew frowned slightly at that, but could think of nothing to say to comfort her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her into his embrace, placing a light kiss on her hair. After a few moments, he stepped back.

  “I know it’s difficult to think about losing someone you love, but you mustn’t think that it will destroy you as well. You are a strong woman.”

  “I know, and thank you. I’m fine now,” Marcelle sighed, pulling further away, but Matthew didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but to hold on to her when she obviously didn’t want him to, was inappropriate behavior at best. “I’ll be okay. I just let it get to me sometimes.”

  “It’s okay to let it get to you, you know,” Matthew said, reluctantly moving away another step, his arm sliding down her back. “What you can’t do, is let it destroy you. Are you certain you’re okay, now? I can still see a tear of two moistening those lovely dark lashes of yours.”

  Marcelle nodded and smiled, “You’re pretty good at this comforting thing.”

  “Am I? Too bad I couldn’t provide the comfort I wanted to,” Matthew said. His gaze lowered to her mouth, then back to her eyes. He saw them widen, as if reading his thoughts. He laughed when a blush crept up her neck, turning the alabaster in her cheeks a delightful pink hue.

  “Tit for tat,” he said softly, moving a step closer. He lifted a bronzed hand and stroked her skin along the path that her tears had fallen, allowing the pad of his thumb to gently caress her slightly parted lips.

  His brain sent out a warning that he was getting too involved, that he was supposed to treat this woman as a ward, nothing more. Yet he deliberately ignored the warning. He wanted to comfort her – and more. Besides, she’d earned a little of what he was going to give with her teasing manner.

  When she didn’t protest against his attentions, he tenderly clasped her face in his strong hands and stepped closer, slowly tilting his head closer to hers, giving her a chance to step away. She didn’t this time.

  Her eyes fluttered closed and he heard a small sigh escape a mere moment before his lips closed over hers. Her lips quivered and he drew back. Raising his head, he stepped nearer, closing the gap between them to within only inches. With extreme tenderness, he kissed her closed eyelids.

  He heard another sigh escape and lifted his head again. Her wistful smile fascinated him. His own smile widened, and then he lowered his lips again and traced kisses along the path that his caresses had only moments before traveled, first one side of her face and then the other. When he reached the corner of her upturned lips, he paused.

  The wistfulness was now a full-fledged smile. His plan to kiss her fears and sadness away obviously worked, so continuing to hold her wasn’t necessary, nor was caressing her or kissing her. His brain warned him to stop now; stop before he took complete advantage of an innocent. Stop before he broke his rule about playing with a virgin – fire – and he had no doubt, after that kiss, that she was untouched. Stop before she changed the rules of engagement and demanded he marry her for acting malapropos. He smiled at the reminder of their earlier conversation. He’d definitely taken this beyond two five-minute perusals. Would she really be one of those to demand virginal rights if he persisted?

  That had him drawing back.

  Marcelle felt tension fill Matthew’s body and opened her eyes. She looked at him questioningly, but he merely pulled her into his embrace. His hand tangled in the hair that had somehow come unbound and he laid her head beneath his chin. He couldn’t believe her capable of that level of machinations.

  “Feel better?” He asked, softly.

  “Yes,” Marcelle muttered.

  “You know, Marcelle,” he whispered against her hair, “with the kind of passion that’s blazing in you, you never have to doubt that you have plenty of heart left. No heartless person could respond with such fervor.”

  Marcelle looked up and smiled, “I could say the same for you, Matthew.”

  Matthew started at that, and Marcelle laughed softly, pulling away from his embrace, “Good night, Matthew. I’ll see you off in the morning.”

  With that, Ma
rcelle turned from his embrace and headed up the staircase to her bedroom, her father’s drink forgotten and her mind clinging to memory of a tender moment that she would never forget.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Marcelle was standing in the foyer the following morning waiting on Matthew. When he finally appeared at the head of the stairs, a night’s growth of beard shadowing his normally clean-shaven jaw, her heartbeat quickened. He is not only handsome, she thought, but that shadowy beard makes him look downright dangerous. She shuddered.

  Steady, she warned herself. The last thing she needed was to act like a Carol Ann No-Brain, scare him senseless, and watch him ride away never to return.

  It was just an affectionate moment, she reminded herself for the fiftieth time that morning. He didn’t even really kiss me. He was trying to make me feel better. Nothing passionate about it.

  That affectionate moment prevented her from sleeping for most of the night. She only hoped the morning shadows veiled the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

  Matthew stopped in the middle of securing his gun belt. He half-hoped that Marcelle would oversleep or be too embarrassed to see to his departure. Lord knows, he was. Thanks to his impetuousness, he had to go dunk himself in the ice-cold creek – twice – before he was finally able to crawl into bed and drift into a restless sleep.

  He descended the stairs, trying to act as normal as possible. The last thing he needed was to frighten her. She was probably quaking in her buckled shoes, wondering whether he would assault her virtue before he rode away. She acted anything but skittish last night; had in fact, responded to his caresses with a passion that startled him – and pleased him. He shook his head violently, slinging thoughts of last night into the dark recesses of his brain.

  “Good morning, Matthew,” Marcelle said, holding out the bagged supplies that Nancy had prepared for his trip. “I had little Joshua bring the horses around. I’ve had Joseph tie them out in front.”