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  His hair was long enough to sweep over his shoulders, and maybe it was just the fact that her head was shaking off the cold like the rest of her body, she wondered even with her hands cold and glazed with mud, if his hair was as soft as it looked.

  She felt a lump rise up in her throat and she swallowed it down a moment later. Turning back to look at him, she saw his gaze touch on a few pieces of furniture in the room, before he lifted his eyes to meet hers.

  And all she could do was wait, she seemed to lack the energy or conscious thought to speak.

  He cleared his throat and offered a wan smile.

  “I’ve some towels and warm water for you to wash up.” Gesturing at the back of the chair sitting against the table, he explained a little bit more. “I don’t have any clothes that are fit for a lady to wear, but if you don’t mind wrapping up in the blanket for tonight, I’ll wash your clothes in the morning.”

  Something squeaked from her throat and she shook her head. “I can wash them in the morning.” She felt her hands trembling and grasped the sides of her skirt, feeling the rough scratch of the fabric. “You shouldn’t have to do that. You’ve already been so generous to take me in.”

  He nodded. “Well, I’ll bring you the water in the morning.”

  “If it’s not raining in the morning,” she swallowed and found the lump in her throat had started to fade, “I can go outside to the pump.” A thought jumped into her head and she rushed on. “I mean, if you have one. I didn’t… I mean I don’t know if you do or if you don’t, but I didn’t mean to assume-”

  “I have a pump outside,” he assured her, “but I’ll step outside so you can wash up. You shouldn’t wait too long. You’ve had your share of cold water today.”

  Before she could say another word, he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

  Something crackled in the fire and she jumped, laughing at herself a moment later. She’d survived a jaunt in the dark, falling down some kind of hill. The snap of a log should be a welcome change.

  Stepping to the table, she picked up the piece of soap and plunged it into the water. Brigid’s breath hissed from her clenched teeth as the hot water enveloped her hands. She started with her hands and then up to her elbows before she took a cloth from the top of the pile of towels and pushed it into the water. Moments later, wrung out and still steaming, she touched the cloth to her face and sighed with relief and it nearly brought tears to her eyes. So foolish! She chided herself as she blinked furiously, trying to fight down the riot of emotions that had been brewing for weeks. Leaving her home had been such a huge change for her, but finding out that she wouldn’t be able to stay in Bower was devastating. Her last chance was finding some kind of employment and that had all been for naught.

  Part of her couldn’t blame anyone. Her dress had been the height of fashion. A woman wearing such a dress wouldn’t seem to need work, but what kind of skills would she have? She had tried to fit the role of Appleton Winslet’s wife and had failed at that. What did she have left?

  A dress, caked in mud… along with the rest of her.

  Turning her cheek to press it into the cloth, her fingers brushed over her hair and stopped short.

  My hat!

  Fresh tears spilled onto her cheeks. It was silly. Really. She understood how childish it was to cry over its loss, but she had been truly enchanted by the delicate netting and the bird that seemed ready to take flight at any moment. But, like her, it was probably buried somewhere in the mud.

  She managed to wipe away most of the mud from her hair, taking out the multitude of pins that she’d had to use to secure her chignon at the back of her head. Having her hair tumble down about her shoulders was comforting and eased some of the ache she felt. Working at the line of hooks at the side of her bodice, she managed to remove the hardened shell of her bodice and skirt. Thankfully her underpinnings were, for the most part, untouched by the mud, the lacy edge of her drawers the only victim of her ordeal.

  A knock at the door was followed by a voice. “Miss?”

  Brigid grabbed the blanket from the chair and pulled it around her body. “Yes?” She cleared her throat. “Come in!”

  The door opened up and he walked in, with his gaze directed at the floor. “Do you need anything else before I turn in?”

  She felt a gnawing guilt in her middle. She’d literally thrown this man’s life into turmoil. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  He nodded and started to close the door.

  “Wait!”

  He froze and she watched him blow out a breath.

  “I want to apologize,” she swallowed back another round of tears, “and tell you how much I appreciate your kindness.”

  He turned to look at her and she was suddenly struck with the soft dappled hazel of his eyes. They were quiet, but oh so intelligent. She felt like she could see right into the heart of him at that moment and she liked what she saw. The corners of his lips curved into the slightest of smiles. If she hadn’t seen it happen, she wouldn’t have been able to tell it was any different than his earlier closed-mouth expression. “You’re welcome, miss.”

  She tightened her hold on the blanket she’d wrapped around her, not because she didn’t trust him. Instead, his easy manner made it only so simple to relax around him. “I don’t think I introduced myself earlier.”

  He shrugged as if he was accustomed to meeting women wallowing in the mud.

  “My name is Brigid.”

  He waited for a moment. “Just Brigid?”

  “Brigid Belham,” she amended her earlier mistake.

  “Livingstone Quinn,” he offered, and she flinched a bit. Sadly, he’d noticed the gesture. “It wasn’t my choice.”

  “Oh, please,” she took a step forward, “I didn’t mean to offend you. It just seems,” she struggled to find the right word, but her brain was as tired as the rest of her body, “a bit staid for you.”

  He thought through her words and lifting his gaze he managed a bit more of a smile.

  “Livingstone might match an adventuring spirit,” she prompted him. “If that fits your outlook on life.”

  Shrugging, he looked around them. “I have too many chores to do much adventuring.”

  Thoughtfully, she nodded. “You’re right. Discovery might be a bit much to fit in between chores. My father gave me his sister’s name and hoped I would be an elegant lady of society like she was. I’m sure he tries not to think of how that turned out.” She stifled a yawn and muttered an apology. “And apparently I run on when I’m tired.”

  His expression lightened another degree or two. “You went through a lot tonight. You’re relieved and exhausted. You should get some sleep.”

  She nodded.

  “Goodnight, Miss Belham.”

  He started toward the door and she stopped him with an impulsive question. “Where will you be?”

  “Miss?” He seemed just as shocked as she was that they were still talking.

  Brigid gestured at the bed against the wall. “You’re gracious enough to let me sleep in here.” She bit her lip, considering how to phrase some of the thoughts rushing around in her exhausted head. “I feel horrible taking your… cabin for myself. I just want to make sure that you have somewhere safe to sleep.”

  She blamed it on her half-closed eyes, but she would have sworn there was more than hint of a smile on his lips.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be in the barn.” Another shrug. “It’s warm and dry enough for my animals. I just hope they’ll share the blanket.”

  Brigid heard his words and the stoic serious tone of his voice, but that didn’t stop her from bursting out in impulsive laughter. “Well, if they’re as kind as you are, then I’m sure you’ll have a good portion of the blanket for yourself.” She started forward, but stopped after a step. The aches and pains in her body were only growing by the moment. “Goodnight, Mr. Quinn.”

  The next morning, Livingstone paused outside of his own front door and stared down at the poor, be
draggled thing in his hands. The hat was likely destroyed. He’d found it when he’d gone back to the rise to look at the damage and make sure the earth wasn’t going to give way and crash against the back wall of his home.

  The toe of his boot had come in contact with something at the edge of the muddy spill, and when he leaned down with the lantern he’d seen the odd shape pushed halfway out of the thick muck. He’d hung it up in the barn, leaving it near an opening in the wall to let the air circulate around it.

  When he woke, he’d taken it down and carefully flaked off any of the mud that had dried with the loosest hold on the thick felt. Much of the fabric was discolored, having soaked up some of the dirt along with the rain, but there were parts of it that remained lighter than the rest.

  He’d done his best. He just didn’t want to see her face when she saw the hat. He was sure she would be upset.

  The door pulled open and he looked up. She was shocked to find him there and he was shocked to see her as well.

  “Good Morning.” She lifted a hand to her cheek and offered him a soft smile. “I was just wondering if you were awake.” She lifted her gaze to the sky and her shoulder shook with laughter. “But of course you are. I should have known.”

  “You went through quite an ordeal last night.” He felt the weight of his words. After seeing the amount of earth that had slipped from the rise, he could only be grateful that she hadn’t been injured in the fall. “I was going to draw some water for you to wash your clothes,” he explained, “but I thought you would like to have this back.”

  He held out the hat and braced himself for her reaction. His experience had prepared him for the worst.

  “Oh.”

  Livingstone heard a slow indrawn breath and managed to lift his gaze to see her reaction.

  Her face was nearly blank. Her eyes blinked once… and then again, before she reached out and took the hat from his hands. She turned it over slowly before she lifted it to her cheek and pressed it against her pale skin. When she met his eyes again she gave him a wan smile. “I’m sorry,” Brigid’s voice was soft, tremulous, “I haven’t thanked you yet.”

  “No,” he hadn’t meant to upset her, “please. You don’t have to say anything.”

  She gave her head one swift shake and he found himself drawn to the soft waves in her hair. The soft golden length looked like wheat, colored by the sun. He had never seen such simple beauty in his life and keeping his hands at his sides took more effort than he cared to acknowledge.

  “Since you met me,” she explained, her fingers playing with the darkened edges of the netting on her hat, “all you have done is show me kindness. To think that you found this, and took the time to try to clean it, is remarkable. And far beyond what I would have thought possible.”

  “You’ve suffered enough.” He let out a breath and watched her carefully as he tried to gather enough courage to tell her the rest of what he had to say. “But, I need to tell you,” he waited until she met his pensive gaze with her own, “I went as far as the creek. It’s swollen past its limits and overrun the banks.” He saw her worried look and thought he should cut to the chase. Holding back would only make things worse. “Until the water levels go down, you’ll have to stay here.”

  He wasn’t sure how he expected her to react. Brigid Belham was a contradiction to him. With the fine cut of her clothes he expected her to dissolve into tears or show at least a flash of anger. Instead, he felt like he was watching her gather her thoughts before she spoke.

  “Has this happened before?” By the tremor in her voice, he could almost feel her building panic. And truly, he couldn’t blame her. Trapped in the woods with a man she didn’t know, he was lucky that she was holding onto her emotions. His mother, as much as he loved her, had no reins on her temper. The only child of a prominent family, she was used to getting her way regardless. Brigid didn’t show any sign of the same temperament. He wanted to allay her fears as quickly as possible.

  “It happens from time to time. The storm yesterday seemed to want to make a point. The rain came down hard for a few hours, but I think it was just the steady fall of rain through the night that made the water level push over the banks.” He wanted to reach out and touch her hand or her arm, but he was worried that he would startle her. Men of his height and as broad in the shoulders as he was, put fear into most women. Especially those who were gently bred and reared, and Brigid bore all the marks of a woman of quality. “I know you were hoping to get back to Bower today, but I think you deserve the truth. The water will go down, but not for several days.”

  She clutched her hat in her hands, her fingers threatening to warp the brim. “Several days.” She swayed and he took hold of her arm, “goodness.”

  He nodded, waiting for her to meet his eyes. When she did, he strove to reassure her. “You’re safe here.”

  Brigid shook her head, her eyes widening in shock. “I don’t doubt that.” Her cheeks flushed with color like a quiet dawn. “You don’t scare me, Mr. Quinn.”

  He heard the truth in her voice, saw the softening of her eyes as she met his curious gaze evenly, and he felt like he was drinking her in, absorbing her warmth through the touch of his skin on hers. “I’m glad.” He let his words speak for him because he was afraid to move and stumble with the strange sensations that were crawling through his body. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

  Her color deepened and she reached up to brush her unbound hair back from her face. “I just,” her lips pursed together for a moment and when she began to speak, he couldn’t help but notice the rosy pink color that had surfaced under her delicate skin, “I don’t want the Hamptons to worry about me.”

  Livingstone understood her thoughts, and found that he respected her even more for her gentle feelings toward the couple. He liked the Hamptons and knew that they would definitely worry over their missing guest.

  The water was deep, much deeper than normal. Most days he could wade across the creek with the water barely lapping against his legs, midway to his knees. When he attempted to walk into the swollen, fast-moving water just before dawn, he’d nearly been swept up in the current just a few steps down. That had sent fear shooting through his heart, locking his limbs in a bid to stay upright. Trying to cross would have meant taking his life into his own hands.

  “Would you,” he began, and didn’t understand where his words were coming from, “would you like me to try to cross and get a message to them? I could probably go a mile or two upstream and see if there’s a place I can cross.”

  He felt something odd brush against his arm. Looking down he watched her hand close around his. He didn’t think it was intentional. Her lips were parted and turned down at the corners in a genuine frown. Her skin was cool against him, her hand soft, but for a few callouses along the inside of her pointer. She warmed as they stood there together, as she began to speak.

  “Would it be safe for you to cross? Even a few miles up, wouldn’t the water be just as strong, just as dangerous?”

  He met her questioning gaze with an even look. “There’s always danger,” he admitted, “but this close to a storm there would be more. You’re right, though, the Hampton’s would be worried over your safety.” He saw a shadow cross over her features, and he remembered what Miles had said the other day, that they were expecting the mail order bride of the lawyer. If Brigid was to marry Appleton, he swallowed and drew in a steady breath, it wouldn’t bother him. He would only worry because she did. “And anyone else waiting for you in Bower.”

  There was an answer in her eyes but she didn’t give it voice. He let her have her privacy, that was the only thing he could offer her in her predicament.

  “I would try if you want me to.”

  He saw a momentary lift in her expression. As she opened her mouth to speak her hand tightened around his. She was strong, but he wondered if some of her strength was fear. “Please don’t,” she told him, “not if you’d be in any danger.” She loosened her hold on his hand and he
could tell that it took some effort. And if he wanted to be honest with himself, he didn’t really want her to let go.

  “It might be several days,” he repeated. He had to make sure she understood what it meant.

  A slow nod was her immediate answer, followed by, “You’ve already been so kind and generous. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you just because your kindness knows no end.”

  Her words hit him square in the chest. Kind. Generous. Two words he’d never heard used to describe him.

  Stepping back, he felt her let go of his hand, and he was glad she did. He wasn’t sure that he could have pulled away on his own. “I’ll get you the water for your clothes.” When she didn’t say anything in reply he nodded and turned away, heading for the pump. Looking into the sky he let the warm sunlight glow in his vision for a moment. His unexpected guest was turning out to be a pleasant distraction rather than an imposition, but he wasn’t sure what this meant for him. He was happy in his little world and didn’t want anything to change.

  That’s the reason why he’d moved out into the woods away from the crush of Bower. That wasn’t going to change, not ever.

  Chapter 6

  It didn’t take long to wash her clothes. While the once pristine shell-white day dress would never be the same again, she managed to scrub out some of the rich soil that had seeped into her clothing, but there was a large rend in her skirt and along a back seam of her bodice. Putting the layers back was uncomfortable to say the least. The one bright light, in a way, was the amount of air around her legs. A blush creeped up into her cheeks, but she knew she was covered enough for the moment.

  Walking back into Bower would be the issue, but she would cross that bridge, or rather, that creek when she had to. Until then, she didn’t want to sit around and mull over her predicament. She’d done enough of that the night before.