All About Seduction(68)

Heat crept up her face. She couldn’t explain the trickery she meant to use on Mr. Broadhurst.

When she didn’t provide an explanation, he sighed, leaned back against the headboard and folded his arms across his chest as if shutting her out. That bothered her far more than it should have.

She never should have touched him so much or so often, or caught his gaze at the mill. But she had, and in spite of their differences she felt a fragile intimacy with him. He knew more of her than perhaps anyone, and she didn’t really want that bond to break. Perhaps she had to be willing to share more of herself it they were to be friends, but she didn’t know how anymore. She was always so guarded with Mr. Broadhurst because he took her hopes and used them against her.

She opened the book and put her hand on the page to hold it open, but the words blurred before her eyes. “I believe my father drank himself into an early grave.”

Jack stroked the back of her hand. His fingers were rough, callused, and the skin darker than hers, but she was mesmerized. Tingles raced up her arm and her breath hitched.

He pulled back. Barely a touch at all, but it left her shaken and uncertain.

Jack flipped the covers over his legs. “Why are you caring for me?”

Her body went rigid. Why indeed? Because of all the men in the world, his face popped into her head when she’d thought about picking a man to father a baby. Her cheeks heated. She could not give him that reason.

He tilted his head as if he could read her turmoil.

If it had been any other millworker, she wouldn’t have been so adamant about taking him into her home or nursing him herself. Explanations tumbled out of her mouth in a hurried rush. “Because you saved that little girl. Your stepmother was angry with you. The doctor needed a place to operate. The accident was our fault for letting little children work.” She pressed her lips together, halting the flow of half excuses. They were all true, but not important. One shoulder lifted. In a half whisper she said, “Because just before the accident you looked concerned about me when I was having a disagreement with my brother.”

“Ah,” he said softly, but his brown eyes were assessing.

The urge to pour out the contents of her disagreement with Robert hung in the back of her throat. But what was the point, since she’d decided not to go along with Mr. Broadhursts plan?

“I don’t want to know if you weren’t,” she said with an attempt at levity.

The corner of his mouth turned up. “I was, but you shook me off.”

The idea that he would have come to her if she beckoned rolled through her like a warm tide. As if she’d been encased in ice and the heat thawed her, the sensation was overpowering and unsettling. Her heart pounded. It was crazy and wrong to grow enamored of Jack, but that was what she was doing. Had been doing. Not knowing what to do or say next, she stared at the floor.

He put a finger on the title of the page. “ ‘Chapter Six. The Show—’ ”

“Ooh,” she prompted. Ah, reading, a sane occupation. And he seemed determined to make her into his teacher, an occupation that at this moment might make more of a difference than running the mill if Broadhurst truly couldn’t be persuaded to will it to her.

“Shoe . . . make . . . er. ‘The Shoemaker.’ ”

She commenced reading, her voice fluttering at first but calming into a rhythm as she focused on the words and shut out the rest. But like a spark can turn to a conflagration, her thoughts kept circling back to her attraction to Jack. If only he weren’t engaged.





Chapter 14



Caroline pushed the papers to the side and tried to keep her scratchy lids open. With her nightly excursions, she wasn’t getting near enough sleep. Every night at midnight she crept down the stairs and read to Jack, her finger following the words, so he could trail along with his gaze.

On Saturday after work she’d taken the gig to the bookstore in Warrington and purchased a couple of children’s books and a dictionary for him to study when she was working. Each night she questioned her sanity.

Just because he had been concerned about her didn’t mean any great thing. He’d been “concerned” enough about Mattie to keep her from being hit by a broken belt.

For goodness sake he was an engaged man.

“Ma’am, the doctor’s here,” said Mr. Smythe. “Would you like for him to wait?”

“Yes.” She popped out of the chair and reached for her cloak before she thought. Her eagerness gave her pause. It was as if seeing Jack was the best part of her day.