Choices of the Heart (25 page)

Oh yes, she had, with her smiles and her hands in his, her warmth in greeting his arrivals, the time she had taken to help him with his reading, their heads bent close over a slate and chalk, the way she held his arm when they went for walks. No wonder Zach thought he could pay her compliments and have her accept the way he wished to hold her in the dance, perhaps even steal a kiss in the shadow of a tree.

She had flirted with him. She had flirted with Griff until he kissed her. And she had kissed him back out of gratitude, out of curiosity to know if it would scare her off, because she wanted it right down to her toes.

No wonder God had deserted her. She was everything the people of Seabourne claimed, leading two men in a merry dance, then deciding to run away from the trouble she caused. Surely it was nothing more. She couldn’t love Griff Tolliver. She no longer had a heart to give to anyone. And yet she wanted nothing more than to have him hold her, kiss her again, beg her to stay.

“Esther?”

“Ye-es?” She tripped on her broken shoe, and the word emerged more a gasp than a word.

He faced her on the path. “Why did you leave Seabourne?”

“Not because I had to.” She looked straight at him. “My parents didn’t want me to go away.”

“Then why did you?”

“It doesn’t concern my ability to carry out my duties here.” She delivered the pronouncement in icy tones, then brushed past him and continued down the path.

For half a dozen yards of uneven footfalls.

Then she brought down one foot and gasped loudly enough to be a soft cry, and dropped to her knees.

“Esther.” In an instant, Griff was beside her, on his knees, reaching for her hands. “What is it? Did something bite you? It would be unlikely to have a snake here in the dark, but a body never knows how wild creatures behave.”

She shook her head. “No bite. A sharp rock. My shoe.” She took a long, shuddering breath. “I broke my shoe. The sole’s come clean off, and I stepped on something sharp.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you broke your shoe?” Frustration infused his tone.

“What could you have done about it?”

“Likely more than you’re doing. Are you bleeding?”

“Yes, I think I am.” Her voice was tight, strained.

“You’re in pain,” Griff said.

“I’ll be all right. I can tear off a strip of my petticoat and bind it.”

And grit her teeth hard enough to not express the pain that would cause.

“And walk another mile to the house?” Griff stood.

Esther tore off a ruffle of her petticoat. “I will walk, thank you very much.”

“Ah, her royal highness is back.” He laughed and reached out as though he had a right to embrace her for the pure pleasure of her taking on her uppity way of speaking in the middle of the forest, in the middle of the night, while wearing a torn-up dress.

“You won’t get a dozen feet, Esther.”

She stood with less than her usual grace, took one step, and stopped. “Or a dozen inches.”

He handed her the scattergun. “Hold this.”

“You’re going to leave me here?” Her voice rose in pitch. Panic. Fear. Weakness.

“No, sweetheart, not that.” He laid his hand against her cheek. “What? Is this a tear?” He smoothed it away with his thumb. “I’m going to carry you,” he told her softly.

Her heart began to race. “You can’t. I’m too—”

He pressed his thumb to her lips. “Don’t tell me I can’t. I got to or leave you here ’til I get help.” And with that, he scooped her into his arms.

She squeaked a protest. His arms tightened around her, strong, warm, protective. She dropped her head onto his shoulder. Her wet hair soaked through his shirt.

“It smells fresh like the water of the pool.” He pressed his cheek against the top of her head for a moment.

“I couldn’t resist the chance to swim. I miss the sea.”

“Enough to go back?”

“Not to Seabourne. Somewhere else, perhaps.”

Though having him hold her felt too good to make that a desirable action right then.

“You can’t go anywhere,” he whispered.

“You won’t be able to go anywhere if you hold me much longer,” she returned.

“True, true.” He laughed and started walking. “Good thing it’s downhill all the way.”

She pressed the stock of the gun into his chest a little harder than necessary. “I said you couldn’t carry me. I’m not a little thing like your sisters.”

“You’re just right.” He stumbled over a rock. He caught his balance and Esther before he dropped her, and he let out a grunt of pain.

She shifted and wrapped an arm around his neck. “What’s wrong?”

Besides his face being too close to her right then, too tempting.

“Nothing much unless you count me thinking of kissing you again.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“No, ma’am, I reckon that’s a bad idea.” He kept walking, but his breathing gathered a hitch in it.

“It sounds like you’re in pain. Did you hurt—oh no.” She struggled to free herself. “You had that stab wound. It’s likely not healed properly. You can’t carry me with that wound. It could open up again. You could start bleeding and not be able to walk anywhere. I’ll have to go for help, and I’m useless in these woods. I’m scared to pieces I’ll come face to face with a mountain lion.”

“You can always talk him out of attacking you,” Griff said drily.

“Not if I can’t talk you out of carrying me.” And she should. Having him holding her so close to his heart gave her odd notions of wanting it longer, perhaps forever—notions of things a nice girl didn’t think about.

“Truly, Griff,” she pleaded, “I can walk the rest of the way.”

“Not with a cut foot.” If anything, he held her closer. His lips brushed her hair.

No, this couldn’t continue. “Please?” She dropped her voice to a murmur like a purr, then she smoothed the hair on the back of his neck, marveling at its softness, its springy thickness, and the power of the flesh beneath. “I really need to walk.”

A shudder ran through him, and he began to walk faster. Firs replaced the birches and walnut trees, pungent in their scent. The ground leveled in the holler. He paused. He was sweating from the effort of carrying her or from the warm night.

Gooseflesh raced up her arms and down her spine. Fear. Anticipation.

“I can walk now,” she exclaimed in desperation.

“No you can’t.” He started up again. Muscles rippled across his shoulders.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She would not, not, not get interested in another man, not like this. She must use some of her arsenal, whatever the consequences. If she was lucky, they would disgust him as she should.

“Griff, you must be in pain.” She touched his cheek with her fingertips, trailed them across the strong bone of his jaw to his ear and behind.

“Stop it,” he ground out between his teeth. “Esther Cherrett, you stop it right now.”

“Stop what?” She twined her fingers in his hair again. “Trying to persuade you to let me down?”

“What do you think?” He clenched his teeth together and fairly sprinted across the field to the compound and the house.

He kicked open the kitchen door and deposited her on the bench beside the stove. His hands on her shoulders, he leaned toward her, his face close enough for her to feel his breath on her lips but too far away to kiss. “Don’t you never—ever play those tricks with me again to get me to do what you want.”

She widened her eyes. “Do what again?”

“Don’t you go teasing and tormenting me into a state where I can’t think right so I’ll jump when you say jump.”

It had worked. She’d made him angry enough to turn him from her. And it hurt. Knowing her wiles had lost her the only man she knew she could love sliced her open inside.

Tears she didn’t have to manufacture sprang into her eyes.

And Mrs. Tolliver, Zach, and half a dozen Tollivers burst into the kitchen.

21

Esther stared into Griff’s sky-blue eyes, only vaguely aware of others crowding into the room, only dimly hearing their voices. The end of the world would have suited her just fine at that moment. Her world had ended with the slamming realization that she had crossed the line again in her attempt to cajole him into letting her down.

She could protest that he should have listened to her. In the end, the result was the same—she had let down her barriers with him. In her distress over the drunken men’s assault, she had clung to the only familiar and kind person near, as she had clung to her parents and brothers back in January.

Only Griff wasn’t her brother, and her response to him bore nothing close to feelings of kinship. Clinging to him stirred the attraction she’d been fighting since she met him. She should have stayed away from him.

But she hadn’t.

“I meant nothing by it.” Her voice emerged in a rasp. “Believe me, I—”

Even if what seemed like a score of people weren’t firing questions at them like shotgun shells, she couldn’t have gone on, for she
had
meant it—the kiss, the affection in stroking his surprisingly soft hair, wanting to be out of his arms before she begged him to kiss her again, despite her throbbing and bleeding foot.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked out.

“What are you doing to her?” Zach’s voice rumbled through the fray of voices.

“What’s happened to her?” Mrs. Tolliver demanded.

“Your pretty dress!” Liza cried.

They all came closer, the oldest ones anyway, Zach first, grabbing Griff’s shoulder and yanking him back. “Get your hands off of her, you—” He raised his fist.

Esther grabbed his wrist with both hands. “No, don’t. It’s not as bad as it looks. He wasn’t hurting me.”

Her foot was, but she couldn’t bring herself to mention it at that moment.

The adults stopped talking at once and stared at her. The children hushed except for giggles from Brenna and Jack.

Griff’s lips curved into a half smile. “I don’t think they thought I was hurting you, Miss Esther.”

“He was going to kiss you,” Brenna said in a singsong chant.

“Ewww,” the younger boys chorused.

Esther pressed her palms to her flaming cheeks. “He wasn’t.”

Mrs. Tolliver turned toward the children. “You all go to your rooms. And no sneaking down the steps. That includes you, Brenna.”

“But M—”

“Do as I say,” Mrs. Tolliver snapped out.

Face mutinous, Brenna followed her younger brothers and cousins out of the room.

“Liza.” Mrs. Tolliver turned to her middle daughter. “Go see that they get into bed and settled down for the night.”

“Yes’m.” With a last glance at Esther, Liza trudged from the room.

Mrs. Tolliver set her hands on her broad, bony hips. “So were you about to kiss her, Griffin Tolliver?” his mother demanded.

“No, ma’am.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I was . . . uh . . .” His glance collided with Esther’s, must have read her plea, for he relaxed his stance enough to touch her lightly on the shoulder. “Miss Esther has had a right bad time of it tonight, no thanks to you, Zach.”

Zach’s face turned red. “I didn’t mean to offend her. Guess I lost my head a bit.”

Because she’d been flirting with him, dancing with him more than anyone else, giving him reason to believe she’d accept his compliments and kiss. After all, she’d been letting him pay court to her for weeks.

Griff refused to pay court to her and didn’t give her pretty speeches. He was more rude to her than not. He just took a kiss, and she freely responded.

Oh, she was shameless.

“I’m so mortified.” Tears proved too easy to produce. “I shouldn’t have run off. I was so afraid they were going to fight because of me, and—and—I want to go home.”

It was true. Every word of it. By morning, things would be just as bad on Brooks Ridge as they had been in Seabourne, and she wouldn’t have her family to protect her.

“There, there, gal.” Mrs. Tolliver sat on the bench beside Esther and wrapped a ropy arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure you’re missin’ your kinfolk, but there’s no call for you running off just ’cause some flirting at a celebration got a tad out of hand.”

“Just a tad,” Griff muttered.

His mother glared at him. “You mind your manners, Son. What were you doing when we walked in? And don’t tell me comforting her. She looked like you were about to pick her up and drop her out the door.”

“Tempting,” Griff drawled. “But those cats she loves so much might drag her in.”

“Griffin Tolliver, I never raised you to talk about a female thatta way.” His mother sounded horrified. “You apologize right now.”

Griff said nothing.

Zach’s face twisted, and his hands balled into fists. “Apologize.”

“Griffin,” Mrs. Tolliver barked.

“I’m sorry, Momma, but I’m going to disobey you,” Griff said and walked out of the house, letting the back door slam behind him.

Zach charged after him.

Esther’s tears weren’t manufactured. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “Go after them. They’ll fight.”

“No, they won’t. Griff won’t touch Zach.”

“But he nearly struck him for—for trying to kiss me at the celebration.”

“So maybe you’d better tell me what happened, Esther.” Mrs. Tolliver kept her arm around Esther, but her voice held the note of a woman who would take no nonsense protests.

Esther took a deep breath. “I’m a terrible flirt. Momma says I get it from Papa. I don’t even know I’m doing it. I think I’m just being friendly, and . . .”

“Because you look like you do, men take it the wrong way.”

Esther nodded. Oh, how so very wrong some took it. “I should have been more careful with Zach. I knew he had a bit of a
tendre
for me, but—”

“A what?”

“A fancy for me. I told him I don’t want to be courted, but I’ve been teaching him to read, and we were together all that time on the road here, and . . . I should have said no when he kept asking me to dance.”

“But you’re young and miss your kin, and he’s a handsome young man.”

Esther nodded.

“So you ran off into the woods so the boys wouldn’t fight over you,” Mrs. Tolliver concluded.

Esther nodded again.

“And Griff found you.”

“Yes, but not before I’d stumbled into some of your relations. Some Tolliver cousins.” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “They were inebriated,” she whispered. “They . . . tried to take liberties.”