stared at her for so long that Tom approached and took hold of her arm.
“Ready?”
She jumped, having forgotten for a split second that there was anyone else in the room besides the two of them. “Y-yes, I’m quite ready. Good evening, Lucian.”
His nod was almost imperceptible, his low drawl a caress. “Bonne nuit, mon chou.”
It wasn’t until they’d reached the end of the lane that she rounded on Tom.
“Why did you do that?”
He held up his palms. “Do what?”
“You know perfectly well what.” She jammed her hands on her hips. “Why did you try to make Lucian believe something about us that isn’t true?”
Grasping her upper arms, he peered down at her with an intensity he rarely displayed, making her stomach clench with dread.
“I can’t deny that I want it to be true. Surely you know by now how I feel about you, Megan.” His green eyes blazed with conviction. “I would like to court you properly.”
Megan squeezed her eyes tight. What could she say that wouldn’t hurt his feelings? She’d been so careful not to encourage him!
“If you don’t open your eyes, I’m going to take it as an invitation to kiss you.”
“Don’t you dare!” Her eyes popping open, she wriggled out of his grasp and strode briskly down the lane. He easily kept pace with her but didn’t speak, allowing her time to sort through her response.
When she stopped at the split-rail fence that signaled the beginning of her property, he stopped, as well, expectant.
“I can’t think about this right now.” She took the coward’s way out, opting to delay what would be an extremely difficult task, one that would alter their friendship forever. Feeling lower than pond scum, she rushed ahead to explain, “I’m in charge of my sisters while Momma is away, you know. This is the first time in the twins’ entire lives that they’ve been apart, and Jane is having a tough time of it. Nicole is even more unpredictable than usual, and now I have the issue with Charles’s house to contend with. I’m sorry, but I—”
“It’s all right.” He held up a hand. “This wasn’t the best time to spring my feelings on you, but I’m not sorry it’s finally out in the open. Take all the time you need.”
His consideration made her feel even worse. “Thanks, Tom,” she murmured, toeing the grass with her boot.
“Just remember, I’ll be waiting.”
With a slight smile and a tug on his hat’s brim, he turned and walked back the way they’d come, headed to his farm on the opposite side of town. Sagging against the fence, she watched until the shadowed lane swallowed him up. I don’t know what to do, God. I need to be clear with him about my feelings, but I can’t bear the thought of wounding him. He’s been such a dear friend.
Friend. That’s all he’d ever be. All she’d ever want him to be. Tom was easy to be with, funny and interesting, as well as dependable and an all-around great man. But he wasn’t the man for her.
Thoughts of Lucian crowded in, prodding her. Sure, he could make her tremble with merely a look. Release a storm of butterflies in her tummy with the slightest touch. Stir her heart with emotion. Despite all that, he wasn’t the one for her, either.
Chapter Six
Lucian missed his predictable life. His comfortable routine. Coffee and croissants in the estate gardens, mornings at the waterfront overseeing his family’s shipping offices, afternoons devoted to social responsibilities and evenings dining and dancing with the upper crust of society. Every day was pretty much the same, and he liked it that way.
The inactivity here was killing him. Too much time on his hands. Time to think.
Megan’s assertions had circled through his mind like ravenous vultures until the wee hours of the morning. The prospect that his grandfather hadn’t been indifferent, had actually yearned to meet him, weakened the grip of resentment in his soul. But it also brought heartache and disillusionment. For if Megan was right, that meant his mother had lied to him. He couldn’t bear to entertain such an idea, so he forced his thoughts elsewhere...to another tangled coil.
Tom and Megan. Megan and Tom.
He kept picturing them in his parlor, tucked together like two peas in a pod, all the while wanting to protest that he should be the one holding her—not some backwoods mountain man. Okay, that wasn’t exactly fair. Tom Leighton seemed nice enough, appeared to honestly care about her.
These feelings have nothing to do with Megan, specifically. You’re accustomed to women throwing themselves at you, and now that you’ve encountered one who doesn’t, you don’t have a clue how to react. She’s a challenge, that’s all. One he wouldn’t pursue, for both their sakes. Not only were they from disparate worlds, they had different expectations where relationships were concerned. A man would have to be blind not to know Megan O’Malley craved what many other women in the world craved—love and romance and happy-ever-after. He’d seen it in her eyes, that starry, hopeful light not yet dimmed by betrayal or misfortune. She wanted it all...adoring husband, bouncing babies and a cozy home. He wasn’t prepared to give that to anyone, especially her.
He still hadn’t made up his mind about her. Whether she was the genuine article or an exceptional counterfeit.
His fingers closed over her reticule.
He’d noticed the lacy, beribboned article lying on the entryway table this morning. Megan had left in such a hurry last evening that she’d accidentally left it behind. He’d toyed with the idea of allowing his valet to return it to her, but in the end, his curiosity about her home and family had won out. Getting directions had been a simple task. As Charles Newman’s grandson, the locals accepted him more readily than he expected they would a complete stranger.
Now on his way to the O’Malley farm, he found himself wondering what he’d find there. He knew nothing about her family, except that she had a cousin named Josh. Had her parents grown up with his mother? Did they, like Megan, think he was heartless for staying away all these years?
This lane was unfamiliar, the forests on either side thick and endless yet somehow welcoming.
Amid the sea of coarse bark and lush green leaves, splashes of vivid pink caught his eye. Phlox. The delicate flower blanketed the forest floor in this particular area, a pleasing respite from the verdant landscape. Farther on, yellow lady’s slippers decorated a mossy slope. And later, white-and-pink painted trillium. The peaceful, majestic beauty reminded him of his estate outside New Orleans. Not that these mountains could compare to his beloved lowlands, but he felt the same sense of serenity here, of freedom and completeness, that he did there. Curious.
By the time he’d reached Megan’s farm, his mind was blessedly clear.
Taking the worn path veering from the lane, he passed a fair-sized vegetable garden and a crude, open-air shelter fashioned from four sawed-off tree trunks topped with a slanting, wood-slat roof, under which sat a wagon. The barn, while sizable, had seen better days. Boards were warped or missing altogether. Beyond sat a corncrib and smokehouse in much better condition.
