The Tender Vine (Diamond of the Rockies #3)(80)

His heart clutched. Had they made her doubt already?

“Should we have stayed in Crystal?”

His chest eased. “We did the right thing. You needed to see them, and they needed to know, whether they like it or not.”

She dropped her chin. “They’re so—” her hands fisted at her sides— “old country! Don’t they know this is America? Everyone created equal? Papa thinks on two levels. Mamma shouldn’t. Didn’t Papa choose beneath him? Because he loved her!”

Quillan’s mouth quirked at her unintentional insult. “It only works one way.”

“What do you mean?” Carina’s face was fierce.

“It’s one thing for a young woman to better herself by marrying the famous dottore. It’s another altogether for her daughter to marry a scoundrel.”

Carina stamped her foot. “You’re not a scoundrel!”

Quillan cocked his head. “Your first impression was pirate. Is theirs so far off?”

“But you—”

“What? Cleaned up? You think that’s what they see?”

She threw out her hand. “What do they see?”

He took her hand and led her away from the plaza, behind the buildings clustered around it, into the fields beyond. He stopped and turned her chin up. “They see their dreams for you ruined.”

Her eyes showed him the truth of it. “What about my dreams?”

He cupped her cheek, feeling a poignant stab. What were her dreams? He didn’t even know. “The best I can do is earn their approval.”

Now it was doubt in her dark luminous eyes. She pressed his hand to her cheek. “We could leave. Go to Alaska.”

She had so little faith in him? “I’ve spent my life without family, Carina. You were eight months away and needing yours.”

She didn’t argue. “Why can’t I have both?”

He slid his hand to the nape of her neck beneath her luxurious veil. “I’m trying.” A wagon rumbled by on the road. It reminded him of the first time he’d taken her in his arms, when she’d told him about Berkley Beck’s ledger and he’d feigned an amorous relationship rather than let the driver suspect her complicity in Beck’s business. She looked up, anticipating his kiss, but he didn’t kiss her. It seemed wrong until . . . until he had the right? She was his wife under God, which no man could put asunder. But it didn’t feel that way. He let her go.

Tears glassed her eyes. “It’s not right.”

Maybe not. But that’s how it was. Quillan wished he had something he could say, something that could change it all. But to earn her family’s esteem, he could only work and prove himself.

She sniffed. “What now?”

“I go back to work.”

“Where are you working?” Her fingers were feathers on his sleeve.

“So far, the basalt quarry, hauling stone.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re working at the quarry?”

“During the day.”

“But they’ll all know. In a few days they’ll all know Flavio’s feelings about you. It won’t be safe.”

Quillan pictured the young virile men he’d worked with. They had been clannish naturally, but not pugnacious. Could Flavio provoke them against him? So far as Carina imagined? He was hoping to learn as much from them as he could just by watching and listening. And if he were honest, he hoped also to earn their esteem. Surely not every Italian in town could be under Flavio’s sway. Who was this beau of Carina’s anyway?

“Don’t worry about me. Now I have to eat something before I start my second job.”

“Second?”

“I’m working two jobs for Solomon Schocken. First at the quarry, then at his store.”

“But you’ll be exhausted.”

Quillan smiled. “I better be, or there’s no way I’ll stand it.” He deepened his gaze, roving with his eyes to her lips, then away quickly, the intensity of his desire too much. “But I went without lunch and—”

“Here. I brought you this.” Carina held out the basket.

He caught the aroma, lifted the cloth, and feasted his eyes on the browned chicken with a mushroom sauce wrapped in paper. There was a chunk of crusty bread and some sort of black-skinned squash, breaded and fried.

“And this.” From her pocket, Carina drew a cloth-wrapped ball. She opened it to reveal a small fruited loaf that smelled even better than the rest, if that were possible. She smiled. “Panettone.”

He looked into her face. “How’d you acquire all this contraband?”

She laughed. “I packed the basket with twice what Ti’Giuseppe could eat, left him his portion, and escaped through the barn.”

“With his knowledge?”

“Of course. He’s the only one with any sense.”

Quillan smiled. Why was it always the old men who accepted him? “What about your brothers?”

She waved her hand. “I always visit a while with Tio. They won’t miss me.”

“It’s a mile and a half back to the house.”

She shrugged.

Quillan could stand it no longer. He hunched down in the field and set the basket before him. With the fork Carina had thoughtfully included, he wolfed down the meal, too hungry to savor it as it deserved, though the panettone made an impression in spite of his haste. He wiped his mouth with the cloth and sighed.