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“Sorry if I disturbed you,” he said. “I was just checking to see if you were ready for some soup. If you’d rather continue sleeping, though, the food will keep until you’re ready.”
She eased herself up against the pillows, wincing at the throbbing of her head. “Actually, food sounds good.” Her cheeks heated again as her stomach loudly echoed those sentiments. She certainly wasn’t making a very good impression. “If you give me a minute to collect myself, I’ll join you at the table.” She wondered if there was a robe in that trunk he’d pulled the nightgown from.
But he shook his head. “You stay put and I’ll fetch you a bowl.”
Before she could argue, he changed the subject. “How’s your head?”
“Better.” Not exactly a lie. The throbbing had eased.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted her knife resting in easy reach on the bedside table. It was likely his way of trying to reassure her that she had nothing to fear from him, and her heart softened a little more. He really was a very kind, honorable man. She was no longer worried about his intentions, even though she was still at his mercy.
He stepped closer. “Mind if I check?”
It took her a moment to realize he was referring to her injury, and she turned to give him access to the back of her head. As he bent nearer to study the bandage, she felt suddenly shy and vulnerable. Both feelings were foreign to her and that made her edgy and unsettled. It didn’t help that as he checked the bandage, his hands brushed against the nape of her neck and she shivered in reaction.
It was just an aftereffect of her fall, she told herself.
He stilled. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She tried to keep her tone light. “I guess I’m more woozy than I’d thought.”
“Understandable.” He straightened and stepped back. “I’ll get that soup. Food and rest are what you need.”
He was right—that was all she needed. Then she’d be back to her old self.
She tried to shake off those earlier feelings as she settled more comfortably and watched him exit. Better to focus on the savory smell wafting in from the kitchen. If the aroma was any indication, he was as good a cook as he was a caretaker.
Rufus plastered his front paws onto the mattress. “Hello, boy. I guess I haven’t been very good company the past—” She paused. How long had she slept? Ivy glanced toward the window and frowned at the lengthening shadows. It had obviously been more than an hour or so.
Then her brow furrowed as hazy images of him repeatedly checking in on her floated at the edge of her memory. Had that really happened? Or had she dreamed it?
When he returned a few minutes later carrying a steaming bowl balanced on a tray, she edged up straighter. “How long was I asleep?”
“About six hours.”
“Oh, my goodness. You must think me an awful slugabed.”
“Rest is the best medicine at times like this.”
As he helped her settle the tray onto her lap, she inhaled appreciatively. “Smells good.”
He gave a small smile. “Only because you’re hungry. I don’t usually cook for anyone but myself and I make no claims that it’s more than passable.”
“I’m sure you’re being too hard on yourself.” She picked up the spoon, then frowned when he pulled up a chair. “Aren’t you going to eat something, too?”
“I ate earlier. I’ll get more later.” He settled back in the chair. “I thought I’d keep you company, if that’s okay?”
What was he up to?
Then she took herself to task. She had to stop being so suspicious of menfolk—not everyone was a mean-spirited polecat like Lester Stokes. Mr. Parker was nice and seemed to expect nothing in return. He probably just wanted to make sure she didn’t faint into her bowl while she ate.
She tasted a spoonful, then smiled. “As I suspected, this is a good sight better than merely passable.”
He spread his hands as if to dispute her words but didn’t say anything.
Feeling the need to fill the silence, she asked after her mule. “How’s Jubal doing after that long walk here?”
“He’s had some feed and water, and now he and Seeley are grazing.” He met her gaze squarely. “As for the hoof, I think you were right about the stone bruise. I let him soak it in warm water to try to draw out the infection, but he’s going to need a couple days’ rest, I’m afraid.”
Poor Jubal—she hoped she hadn’t done him permanent harm. But this also meant more delays. Nana Dovie would be worried if she didn’t hear something from her soon. But that wasn’t Mr. Parker’s fault. “It was real nice of you to be looking out for him. And me, too, of course.”
“And how are you feeling now that you’ve had something to eat?”
The way he looked at her one would think he actually cared about her, not just the trouble she was causing. “Much better.” She deposited her spoon in the now empty bowl. “That nap and this meal have fixed me right up.” No need to burden him with her aching head and shaky feeling.
But Mr. Parker didn’t look convinced. “You shouldn’t attempt anything that requires effort today. You need to give yourself time to heal.”
Be that as it may, Ivy certainly didn’t intend to spend what was left of the day in bed.
“Mind if I ask how you came to be out here alone?” he asked.
She took a sip from her glass, trying to decide how much to tell him. She wasn’t much on sharing her personal business with strangers, even kind-hearted ones. “I’ve got business to take care of over in Turnabout. And this shortcut seemed the fastest way to get there.”
“You said you were from somewhere called Nettles Gap? How far away is that?”
“Don’t know how many miles, exactly, but I set out at sunup the day before yesterday.”
He stiffened. “Two days alone on the road.”
It was nice of him to be concerned, but she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. “I wasn’t really alone,” she said, trying to reassure him. “I had Rufus and Jubal with me. And I took precautions.”
But his frown deepened. “By precautions I assume you mean that getup you were wearing and that knife you pulled out of your pocket.”
He made it sound as if her efforts had been ineffective at best.
“And a dog and mule are hardly adequate escorts for a young lady. Wasn’t your family at all concerned about your safety?”
Ivy blinked. Hadn’t anyone called her a lady in a long time.
But she quickly pushed that thought away. He could talk about her precautions all he wanted, but no one was going to lay blame at Nana Dovie’s door.
“Nana Dovie cares about me something fierce—don’t you be thinking she doesn’t. But she wasn’t in any condition to come with me.” No, sir, she wasn’t about to let anyone speak ill of Nana Dovie, not even someone who’d been as nice as this gent.
But he didn’t seem to take offense. “You mentioned this Nana Dovie before. Who is she?”
“Her name’s Dovie Jacobs, and she’s sort of my mother.”
His brow went up. “Sort of?”
How to explain? “When you get right down to it, Nana Dovie isn’t exactly blood kin. But she’s family just the same. She took me in and raised me when my folks passed on. I was just a babe at the time.”
“Sounds like a special lady.”
Ivy nodded, pleased he’d understood. “And now that she’s getting on in years and needs someone to take care of her, I aim to do my best to return the favor.”
“So what was so important that you had to leave her side and set out alone?”
Ivy stiffened. “You sure do ask a passel of nosey questions.”
Mr. Parker grimaced. “My apologies for prying. I’m afraid I’ve been cursed with a curious mind. I suppose that’s why I became a schoolteacher.”
She leaned back, diverted by this bit of information. “You’re a schoolteacher? I guess that means you have a lot of book learning.” That didn’t surprise her much—he seemed like the educated type.
His lips quirked up at that. “I do like a good book.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Not at all. I wouldn’t dare.”
Not certain how to respond to that, she took another sip from her glass.
This time he broke the silence. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“Why are you traveling to Turnabout?”
He was like a hound on a scent—he just didn’t give up.
“I learned a few days ago that I might have an inheritance waiting there. And I aim to find out, ’cause if I do, I plan to sell whatever it is so Nana Dovie and I can pay off some debts and make some purchases we sorely need.”
“I see.”
It was time for her to ask a few questions of her own. “Are you familiar with Turnabout?”
He nodded. “I’ve lived there two years now.”
“You mean this cabin isn’t your home?” A heartbeat later, she realized she should’ve figured that out when he said he was a schoolteacher. He’d need to live in a town where there were actual schools and students, not out in the woods.
“This cabin belongs to friends of mine,” he explained. “They let me borrow it for a few days.”
“Oh.” Her mind made a totally irrelevant connection. “Then this Reggie whose clothes I’m wearing...”
“Is the owner of this place.”
So, Reggie wasn’t his wife, then.
Not that that was important.
“And speaking of that,” he continued, “I still think you should take it easy today. But if you do decide you want to sit out on the porch, you’ll find more of Reggie’s clothing in that chest. Oh, and your saddlebags are on top of the trunk if you need any of your own things.”
“Thank you. But how far away is Turnabout?”
“It’s about a four-hour ride from here.”
She glanced toward the window. How much daylight was left?
As if reading her mind, he gave her a stern look. “Don’t even think about trying to travel today. Even if you were up to it—which I very much doubt—your mule is not. Besides, it’ll be dark in less than three hours.”
She blew a stray tendril of hair off her forehead in frustration. He was right, of course. But that didn’t make it easier to accept.
“I want you to know,” he said, looking decidedly uncomfortable, “that I am an honorable, God-fearing man. You’re perfectly safe in my company and I plan to spend the night outside so you can sleep without worry about your reputation.”
As if that would stop any true gossipmonger’s tongue from wagging if word got out. “I appreciate you trying to do what’s proper and all, but there’s no need for that, considering the circumstances.” It said a good deal about him that he was worried about propriety and her feelings, but if he only knew how unnecessary that really was...
Not that she planned to enlighten him.
“Nevertheless, I feel it’s important that we attend to all the proper social conventions while we’re out here.”
She’d be hanged if she’d let him make her even more beholden to him. “If you’re going to be that muleheaded about it, then I should be the one sleeping outside. After all, your friends loaned this place to you, not me. I’m the intruder here.”
He stiffened as if she’d insulted him. “If you think I’ll allow that, then you must have a very low opinion of me.”
Have mercy, the man could certainly look intimidating when he got up on his high horse. Not that such tactics would work on her. “I just think it’s silly to worry about such things at a time like this. If it makes you feel better, Rufus can sleep in here with me and be my chaperone. Why, I’ll even bar the door.”
He stood. “I think I’ll get a bite to eat. Would you like more soup?”
Did he take her for a simpleton? “Mr. Parker, now you’re the one who’s sidestepping the question. Do I have your word that you’ll sleep under this roof tonight?”
His lips compressed and he was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded.
Ivy leaned back, reassured.
She might not know him well, but she knew in her gut that he was absolutely a man of his word.
* * *
Mitch sat at the table, absently eating his soup. If temperament was any indication, Miss Feagan was definitely regaining her strength. She was quickly turning into one of the most independent-minded, strong-willed, intriguing women he’d ever met.
But there were pros and cons to that. While she might make interesting company, she would also need watching to make certain she didn’t take on more than she could handle.
He’d been pleased to see color back in her cheeks. And her hands had almost been steady as she’d ladled up the soup. So physically it appeared she really was on the mend.
That just left the other issue.
He stood and stepped out onto the porch, frustrated by the situation. He wouldn’t sleep in the house with her, of course. But that was just for his own conscience. If word got out that they’d been here alone overnight, she’d be just as ruined as if he’d spent the night in her room.
He had trouble believing she was as unconcerned by the situation as she would have him think. Perhaps she was just being pragmatic. Or perhaps she wanted to relieve him of any guilt he might be feeling.
