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“Your father sees the good in people.”
“So you admit there is good in Mr. Wright?’
A small smile tipped one side of his lips. “He is not entirely evil, no.”
Mabel narrowed her gaze, and Mac rubbed a hand over his face. “I would not defame his character had I not just cause. But the man is lazy. He only works hard when he knows he is being watched. We only served on the same ship for just under two years, but it was time enough to give me a thorough understanding of the sort of person he is.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “You will allow me to make up my own mind on the matter.”
“I trust you,” Mac said, his voice softening. “But not him.”
He was so close now that Mabel could feel warmth emanating from him, his chest rising and falling so near he almost touched her. She struggled to form a coherent thought. Swallowing hard, she focused on the smooth curve of his jaw, his striking honey-colored eyes. “Then you will recall that you have no say over whom I marry, or whom I esteem.”
His eyes glittered dangerously in the candlelight, darkening. “You esteem Wright? You have only known him for a matter of days.”
“I did not say that I esteem him, only that it is no business of yours whether I do or not.”
His voice lowered. “Unless I make it my business.”
Mabel tilted her head to the side. “And how do you propose to do that?”
Mac’s chest rose and fell rapidly in time with Mabel’s, and his gaze dropped to her lips.
Was he going to kiss her? She grew dizzy, roaming every inch of his face and wishing she could cup his cheeks, to pull him closer and comfort away his worries—the worries she shouldn’t know about, but did. Her hand came up and rested on his chest of its own accord, fulfilling her desire to close the space between them, and his quick intake of breath shot through her heart.
“Mac…”
“Yes?”
“I just…” She watched her hand rise and fall with his heavy breathing, the steady pounding of his heart beating under her palm. She yearned to have his hands on her waist again, his warmth cocooning her, wrapping her in safety. But that was selfish to ask so much of him, and the last thing Mac needed was her misunderstanding his kindness. She’d done that once, and it had cost her dearly. She’d poured her heart out only to be rejected.
She would not make the same mistake twice.
Fear overcame her. Dropping her hand from his chest, Mabel took a step back and sucked in a slow, deep, calming breath, willing her brain to clear and her breathing to slow. “I heard that you are planning to begin Papa’s project tomorrow.”
There was a beat of thick silence before Mac spoke, his voice hoarse, rough. “Yes, in the late morning. I have business to conduct at first light.”
“What sort of business would take place so early?” she asked, her voice deceptively light. She hoped he could not sense her heightened nerves.
“It is nothing, really. I suppose I ought to cancel it, but I cannot bring myself to. How are you holding up in regard to the work tomorrow?”
“I am glad for my father. He is looking forward to this farming venture.”
“As am I.”
Mabel stepped back again. “Then I suppose I won’t see you until tomorrow night. Charles told me that he expects the work to take all of the daylight hours.” The prospect of a day free of Mac was equally a disappointment and cause for relief. She needed to get a steady handle on her feelings, and space could help her accomplish that.
Mac nodded, but his penetrating gaze did not leave her face. Could he see the flush of her cheeks in the dim light?
“Until tomorrow night, then.” He bent in a distinguished bow more fitting for a ballroom than this quiet, dark corridor.
Mabel dipped in a curtsy. “Goodnight, Mac,” she whispered.
“Goodnight.”
She forced herself to walk calmly to her bedchamber and slipped through her door, leaning against it and willing her heart to slow. The steady tread of Mac’s boots on the stairs leading up to the next floor punctuated the quiet, and Mabel leaned closer to the wall to listen as his steps faded into silence.
Her eyes drifted closed, and she dropped her head back against the thick, oak door. Perhaps she ought to marry Mr. Wright just to rid her mind of Mac. He would never want her. He’d flirted plenty when they were younger, leading her to believe he felt something for her beyond a passing friendship.
