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.
Or perhaps it was just that she recognized as much as he did that, other than giving them clear consciences, his sleeping outside wouldn’t do much good if word of their situation got out.
Whatever her reasons, however, he intended to adhere to the proprieties as much as possible. A clear conscience was something to strive for. The promise he’d made was to sleep under the roof, and he would keep his word—the roof covered the porch, as well.
Besides, it wasn’t just her reputation at stake. As a schoolteacher, it was important that he keep his own conduct above reproach.
What a tangle.
There’d been a time when he would have prayed for direction, but that time had long passed. He and God had stopped communicating with each other some time ago. Ever since that tragic night over two years ago.
The night he’d killed his wife and unborn child.
Chapter Four
Thirty minutes after Mr. Parker left her room, Ivy had had enough of lying about in bed. She looked down at Rufus as she threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the mattress. “I think exercise and fresh air are just the things to make me feel better.”
But first she had to find her clothes. She glanced around. Where were they? The garments had been muddy and damp. They’d also absorbed wet-dog smell from Rufus. Mr. Parker had probably decided to get the messy things out of the cabin and she couldn’t say she blamed him.
Ignoring Mr. Parker’s suggestion that she help herself to his friend’s clothing, Ivy turned instead to her own bag. As she crossed the room, she was pleased to find she wasn’t nearly as wobbly as she’d been earlier. It took her a bit longer to change than usual, but she did it and carefully placed the borrowed nightdress over the back of the chair.
She wished she had a mirror so she could see how she looked. Then she grimaced—maybe it was better that she didn’t. She likely looked a fright with her hair all a mess and her fingers stained from the berries. She pulled the comb from her saddlebag and tried to remove the worst of the tangles without disturbing the bandage. Then she quickly plaited a loose braid and let it fall down her back. With the bandage around her head, there wasn’t much else to be done with it. Besides, Mr. Parker had already seen it in much worse condition so it wasn’t as if this would shock him further.
Taking a deep breath and giving Rufus a pat, Ivy stepped out of the bedchamber. Her rescuer wasn’t anywhere in sight. She paused a moment to study her surroundings—she hadn’t been in any shape to pay attention when she’d first arrived.
To her right was a large fireplace. It was clean and tidy with wood stacked nearby. Facing the fireplace was the sofa she’d rested on when she’d first arrived. Thankfully she saw no signs of blood or dirt. There was a cozy little kitchen and a dining table across the room. The curtains at the windows and the apron hanging on a peg by the door spoke of a woman’s touch. Off to one side, a ladder led up to a small loft tucked in under the eaves.
On the opposite side of the common room was a curtained-off area. Another bedchamber, perhaps?
Rufus padded out the open front door and she heard him give a friendly woof. A masculine voice returned the greeting. Well, that solved the mystery of Mr. Parker’s whereabouts.
When she stepped outside, she was greeted by the sight of her missing clothing draped over the porch rail. A closer look showed that the pieces weren’t just airing out but were clean.
Had he actually done her laundry? She wasn’t normally missish, but the thought of him doing such a personal thing for her sent the warmth climbing up her neck and into her cheeks.
“Miss Feagan. What are you doing out of bed?”
She started at the sound of his voice. The sight of her clothes and thoughts of what it meant had momentarily made her forget she wasn’t alone.
Mr. Parker sat off to her right in a ladder-backed chair. He had a large pad of paper in his lap, a pencil in his hand and a frown on his face.
She quickly collected herself—his washing her clothes likely meant nothing more than that he liked everything around him to be all neat and tidy.
Besides, the question about what he was doing with that oversize pad of paper was much more interesting.
And a much safer focus for her thoughts.
As soon as Mr. Parker saw her glance at his paper, he closed the pad, set down his pencil and stood. “Are you sure you should be up so soon?”
Was it just worry for her well-being that put the edge in his tone, or was she intruding? Choosing to believe the former, Ivy brushed his concern aside with a wave of her hand. “I’m feeling much better, thank you. And Nana Dovie always says, sunshine and fresh air go a long way toward healing an ailing body.”
Ignoring his frown, she changed the subject. “Thank you for taking care of my clothes—seems I just keep getting deeper into your debt.”
His expression shifted as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just tossed them in the lake when I went down to wash up earlier. It didn’t take much effort.”
She could tell he’d done more than soak her things—they’d had a good scrubbing. But she let it pass and instead sat in the rocker next to his chair. Then she pointed to his pad of paper. “Please don’t let me stop you from finishing whatever it was you were working on.”
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