But as he studied her delicately lovely face now, Ian had the strange feeling that there was something different about Mary Fulton. That there was an unnamable force drawing him to her. His gaze lingered on the pale curve of her cheek as he watched her fight for control. For some reason her battle for dignity moved him more than he dared admit to himself.
He spoke gently. “Is there something I can do?”
She looked at him then, her expression bleak. “No. There is nothing anyone can do. I must simply learn to bear it.”
“But you needn’t do so alone,” he reminded her. “Why do you not go up to Briarwood now? Victoria has told me that she has invited you to come and live with them. They would welcome you at any time.”
She was shaking her head even before he finished. “I cannot do that. It would not be right.”
Ian raised his hands in surprise. “But what do you mean? Victoria has made her affection for you clear to me. She is eager for your companionship.”
Mary glanced up at him, then away, her eyes unseeing as she stared across the yard. “I could not do anything so thoughtless to Victoria and Jedidiah. They have only been married for less than a year and have already helped me more than anyone could hope for. They have a right to spend this time, with the baby coming, together without my problems to concern them.” Her gaze flicked to his again and she raised her chin. “I shall seek a position as a governess, or…I don’t know. I shall just have to find some suitable employment.”
“But they are expecting—"
She halted him there. “Please. I have made up my mind. Victoria is not responsible for me. I wish to find my own way, to feel that I have not taken charity.”
He watched her with growing admiration. What courage and pride it must have taken for Mary Fulton to make this decision. Few young women would reject such an overture as Victoria had made to her friend. The offer she had made had clearly come out of love alone, with no expectation of return.
He tried once more to convince Mary. “There is no need for you to be so self-reliant. There is no harm in allowing someone who loves you to care for and provide for you.”
Still she did not look at him as she answered in a quiet but steady voice. “We, my father and I, have lived in Carlisle since I was a very small girl. In that time we have been dependent on the Thorn family’s generosity, though it was not given out of charity in the main. When my father was the minister he earned his keep. But do you realize that over the past year he had been able to perform none of his duties? Victoria has been so kind in allowing us to stay here. I love her more than I can say, but I cannot allow her to keep giving so much to me. It would not be right.”
He could hear the iron determination in her tone. Something told him that Mary Fulton would do exactly as she had decided, no matter what anyone else thought best. Her stubborn independence was a characteristic he could admire even while he felt a sense of frustration toward her.
Telling himself he had no right to question this young woman’s decisions, Ian still found himself shaking his head as he admitted, “I admire your will even though I cannot agree that you have chosen in your own best interest. You are very brave.”
When she looked up at him, her golden eyes were glistening like wet topaz and Ian was hard-pressed to remember he had no part in her affairs, that he had told Victoria he had no designs on her friend. Almost as if it were against her will, Mary whispered, “I do not feel very brave. I simply must make a life of my own somewhere. Staying here would be too difficult with Father gone.” Her voice broke as he watched her fight to control her emotions. “I cannot think of what life will be like without him.”
One large tear fell from her eyes to glide across the pearly surface of her cheek. His heart contracted painfully in his chest. Ian could no more stop himself from reaching out to her than he could stop the moon from turning around the earth.
There beneath the sheltering limbs of the weeping willow, Mary’s composure broke and she allowed Ian Sinclair to draw her close to him. His chest was firm and strong under her cheek. All her life she had longed for someone to care for her this way. Her father had loved her, but he had not been one to hold and comfort her. He would likely have spoken to her philosophically of the troubles she was experiencing, told her that the Lord sent the trials of life to strengthen his flock. But she had loved him.
The tears began to flow in earnest when she felt a large handkerchief pressed into her hand. Now there was no stopping the tide as she held the square of soft cotton to her face. It was as if she could no longer hold back the pain that she’d bottled up inside her since her father’s death.
Only when her sobs quieted did Ian Sinclair say anything more. Gently he patted her back, murmuring, “There, it’s all right. Sometimes a grief is just too big to keep inside. You walk around feeling like you have it all under control but it’s there, someplace inside that aches just enough to keep you from ever forgetting.”
His voice was deep and comforting next to her ear, but at the same time she could hear a strange current of pain in his words. This man had suffered hurts of his own. Realizing this left her feeling unsettled and, much as she wished to deny it, she sensed a change beginning to take place inside her—a change she did not quite understand.
Mary knew only that the tingle of awareness that traveled from her ear to the pit of her stomach was in no way connected to any memory of her father.
She became aware of Ian Sinclair’s strong hand on her back, felt its warmth through the thin cotton of her dress with a shiver that had nothing to do with being cold. And at the same time it seemed he had grown very still, as if he knew what she was feeling.
With bated breath, Mary glanced up at him from beneath the thick fringe of her lashes. He was looking at her, his dark eyes intent with some emotion she could not name.
When Ian dipped his head and placed his firm but supple lips to hers, Mary thought she would surely faint from the sweet pleasure that rippled through her. Unconsciously she tilted her head to allow him better access as his mouth caressed hers.
His arms tightened, pulling her even closer to the long length of him, and she gave a start as a foreign hardness grew against her belly. Her eyes flew open wide and Mary jerked back in shock.
She looked away from Ian Sinclair, her eyes focusing on nothing, her hand going up to cover her mouth. How could she bring herself to face him after allowing him to kiss her, after feeling his…? Crimson color stained her face and neck. She did not even know this man. Whatever would her father say about this? What must Ian Sinclair himself think of her?
She attempted to cover her shame with hauteur. “I think it would be best you go now.”
He answered, drawing her gaze, though she could gauge nothing of his thoughts by his expressionless eyes nor the cool timbre of his voice. “I am very sorry for what I just did, but let us not make more of this than there is. You were upset and I was comforting you, nothing else.”
Mary felt a shaft of rebellion rise up inside her. Who was he to tell her not to make too much of anything? He had, after all, been the one to kiss her. Her nose tilted high. “How very supercilious of you, my lord. Am I to understand that you always comfort women by kissing them? If that is the case, I very much pity any woman who might find herself attached to you.”
He seemed a bit taken aback, but only for a moment before a gleam of amusement and, dare she think it, admiration lit those dark eyes. “My, but you are direct, Miss Fulton. To answer your question, I do not always kiss women when I am comforting them, but it has happened once or twice and I’ve had no complaints.”
She took a deep breath, her hands going to her hips. “Why, you insufferable beast.”
His gaze slid down, pausing for a moment on her bosom before he looked back at her face. Mary only then recalled that she had unbuttoned the neck of her dress. She knew