Page 21 of Part of Your World

Patrick Quinn stood in the front room of their home, fists on hips and legs braced apart as if he were aboard a storm-tossed ship instead of a rag rug in the middle of their tiny parlor. He glowered at Muriel, the tendons in his neck standing at attention.

"What don't I understand? That ye think yerself in love with a rich man's son that ye've ne'er spoken to? Or that ye've promised to steal a book fer some strange woman in exchange for an introduction to the lad? A fella not even bright enough to get outta the way of a swingin' boom!" His face darkened to a deep, brick red. "Saints preserve us, Muriel. How could ye be so daft?"

Muriel mimicked his stance, not willing to back down an inch with something so important on the line.

"It's not foolish to love someone, Da. Even if we haven't had a proper conversation. How many times have ye told the tale of how ye knew Ma was the woman fer ye the first time ye spied her sellin' meat pies along the wharf? Ye didn't need a conversation to know yer heart, and neither do I."

He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. "It's not the same."

"Why? Because I'm a female who can't possibly know her own minds?" Muriel jutted her chin.

Her da jutted his. "Nay, because ye're a female who doesn't know the evil that can lurk inside a man's mind." The hard lines around his eyes softened a little. "Ye're a trustin' soul, Muriel, but men—especially ones of the rich and spoiled variety—are not always what they appear. They shower a gal with pretty words and loving promises then take her innocence and discard her like an out-of-style waistcoat. Sometimes with a babe in her belly. I don't want that fer ye, dear heart. Ye're too precious to be some rich man's trash."

Muriel flinched at the ugly words her father flung. Never had he spoken so bluntly. He was trying to scare her, and she had to admit that her confidence felt more akin to a jellyfish than solid ground at the moment. Yet he was wrong about Zane and wrong about her. She might be trusting, but she wasn't naïve.

"Da. Ye know me. I'd never give meself to a man without marriage vows bein' spoken."

He wagged his head then reached out and stroked her hair. "Ah, me lamb. Some men don't wait on the givin'. They just take, no matter what the lady wishes."

"Zane's not like that." Of that she was certain. "Laraline knows him. She says he's kind and a true gentleman."

Her da raised a single brow. "Laraline's a sweet lady, but she's . . . ah . . . a few bricks short of a load, if ye know what I mean."

"She is not!" Muriel slapped lightly at her da's arm. "Just because she stumbles o'er her words sometimes, doesn't mean she's not clever. She knows more about the wealthy folk on this island than the two of us put together."

"That's not sayin' much," he grumbled under his breath. "Look, Muriel. Even if this Zane fella is the gentleman ye believe him to be, I still don't like the idea of you workin' for a woman I don't know. One who expects ye to steal somethin'."

"It's not stealin' if it's hers, Da."

His scowl returned. "So she says. People lie, Muriel. How do ye know she ain't peddlin' a fish story?"

Muriel heaved an exasperated sigh. "She works for the Ursuline Academy, Da. With nuns! What better references could she have?"

"I still don't like it." He wagged his head and crossed his well-muscled arms in front of his chest. "How can I protect ye if ye're not livin' in me house?"

Muriel's anger deflated. She drew alongside her da and nudged her hand against the tight crevice at his elbow. His muscles relaxed to allow her entry, and her fingers found their way around his bicep. No matter how frustrated he might be with her, he was still her da and would never shut her out.

"I'll be livin' in the academy with at least a dozen other girls. We'll have a gaggle of nuns and God himself guarding us. I'll be safe, Da. Ye don't havta fret."

"The day I stop frettin' about me girls is the day they put me in the ground." He groaned and tugged on his beard in a way that looked painful. "Ye shoulda talked to me first before makin' yer pledge, Muriel."

So he could talk her out of it? Or worse, put his foot down and forbid her?

"I'm a grown woman, Da. Old enough to make me own choices. Gettin' the chance to meet Zane Erickson all right and proper is important to me, and I can't do it without Mrs. Underhill's help. I'll do nothin' to shame ye, I promise."

"Ah, now." He opened his arms, wrapped one about her, and tugged her firmly against his side. "I could ne'er be ashamed of ye. I love ye too much fer that." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "'Tis fear that has me riled. Fear that you'll be dragged under before ye realize the current's changed course. I'll be prayin' fer ye every day ye're away. Prayin' for that Erickson lad, too. That he treats me girl with respect, 'cause if he doesn't, he'll be answerin' to me."

Muriel's heart stopped for a moment then started up again at twice its previous speed. "Does that mean I have yer blessing?"

"Ack. I still don't like this harebrained scheme you've cooked up with this matchmakin' female, but 'tis yer choice to make, not mine. Besides, ye gave yer word, and Quinns honor their pledges."

Muriel squealed and threw herself fully into his arms, hugging him tight. "Oh, thank ye, Da. Thank ye!"

It was happening. Her dream was actually happening. First Mrs. Underhill and now her father. Two miracles in one day! No obstacle could possibly come her way that was more difficult to scale than what she'd just overcome.

Her da's arms relaxed, and she leaned back to smile up at him, but her brow crinkled at his stern expression.

"I need ye to promise me somethin', love."