All the things she wanted to rant at him flew from her head.
Instead, they stood facing each other in the near empty barn with shafts of light and dust motes streaming from the doorway and windows—and she knew he was right. She had put up walls between herself and the world. And she’d clung to her prejudices against him because otherwise she had nothing else to protect her against the fact that she was deeply attracted to him.
His attraction came from more than his being a handsome man. Here was a man she admired. A man she was growing to respect.
A man unafraid to speak plainly to her.
This sudden, new awareness of him and his impact on her senses was both startling and unnerving. She felt as fragile and disoriented as a baby bird coming out of its shell and not quite understanding what it wanted yet.
And she feared what she wanted might be something she shouldn’t have.
Ian seemed to sense not only her change of temper, but her confusion. But did he understand why?
God help her if he did!
“Lyssa?” He raised an eyebrow in uncertainty.
She blinked, coming to her senses as she realized she’d been staring. It took her a moment to find her voice. “Maggie says we are to be ready in the hour. We’re to meet everyone outside to go to the wake.”
He shifted his weight, his ever-present knapsack over one shoulder. “So youarecoming?” Her capitulation seemed to surprise him…and he was not a man to trust what he did not understand.
Consequently she took great pleasure in saying, “Of course.”
His brows came together. He appeared baffled. So, she couldn’t resist whispering in her sweetest voice, “I’m sorry for being so headstrong, Ian.”
His puzzlement turned to suspicion. “I actually prefer your obstinacy. It’s something I can count on.” Then, as if he’d said too much, he murmured, “I need to go shave.” He ducked out the barn door and walked away.
Lyssa watched him a moment and couldn’t help but add to his list of admirable qualities the straight set of his shoulders. “It’s too bad you aren’t Robert,” she said quietly and then turned to go into her depressing little room and prepare as best she could.
Ian walked out to the rain barrel, dropped his knapsack, threw off his jacket, neck cloth, and shirt, and stuck his head in the water.
He blew his breath out in bubbles and lifted his head out of the water to let it drip off his hair over the barrel.
What the devil was the matter with him? All she had to do was soften her green eyes and give him a hesitant smile and he had the oddest desire to melt at her feet. Especially when she called him “Ian.” If he wasn’t careful, Lyssa Harrell, the job, could start to become something more.
The thought was so radical, he dunked his head in the rain barrel again until he came to his bloody senses. She couldn’t be more. Not ever. They were of two very different worlds. Not to mention Lyssa’s father would see Ian a eunuch before he let him have his daughter—something Pirate Harrell could easily accomplish.
Straightening at the waist, he came up again, water dripping down his face—only to discover he had an audience. Three of Anderson’s sons and their friends watched him with wide eyes as if they’d never seen anything more funny than a man with his head in a rain barrel.
Ian capped off the show by squirting a mouthful of water out his cheeks at the lot of them, and they ran away with shrieks of laughter.
He leaned over the barrel, bracing himself on the rim with his arms, and watched the boys run. He was left to prepare hiself to escort his “sister” to a wake. While the truth of the matter was he was beginning to fall for the one woman he couldn’t have.
God must be laughing.
Chapter Ten
WHENLyssa came outside at the appointed hour, the Andersons, along with a host of others were waiting for her. Always self-conscious about meeting new people in social circumstances, she found herself feeling a bit shy as she was being offhandedly introduced to the Andersons’ relatives and neighbors, who had joined them for the walk to the village.
There were so many people that Lyssa couldn’t catch everyone’s name, not that anyone seemed to care. The women were busy talking amongst themselves about children and the men groused about farming. And when it became clear to them that she was Ian’s “sister,” their acceptance of her became warmer.
Ian had already made himself at home. He was trying to beat the Anderson boys in a chase after a barrel hoop. The adults laughed, enjoying the sight of such a big man getting his legs run off of him by their children.
And Lyssa was happy to blend in.
In the tack room while she’d been getting ready, she’d worried about the increasing shabbiness of her dress. The wool of the skirt was good, but both her skirt and blouse were showing signs of hard travel. She didn’t have anything else to change into or even a bonnet to wear. However, when she saw how the other women were dressed, she relaxed.
There wasn’t a bonnet to be seen. True, the married women all wore very high white caps, but the unmarried girls, her age and younger, either neatly braided their hair or plaited it in front and let it flow down their backs in the Grecian fashion. Since her curls were impossible to tame into braids, Lyssa had to be satisfied with her simple style of tying it back with Ian’s leather cord, although she wouldn’t have minded a snood or bit of ribbon like some of the girls had.
