Kit Wilkinson - Protector's Honor

She gave him a strange look.

“I don’t have any siblings,” he explained. And as the simple statement came out, Rory realized how deeply he felt it. Especially now with his father gone.

“I’m lucky. I have a great family.” She smiled.

The brightness of her expression lifted his own spirits. “So it was just the four of you, until your brother married?”

“Yes. My dad’s a professor of medieval studies. He travels to Europe every summer for research. Every fourth year, he stays abroad somewhere as a visiting professor. He’s at Exeter this year. It’s one of the reasons Max and I got to be so close. Every summer we just had each other.”

“Sounds interesting. Living abroad.”

“It was a nice way to grow up.”

“What does your mom do?”

“Mostly keep my dad’s head on straight.” She turned toward him. “What does yours do?”

Rory let out a sigh. “I never knew my mom. She left when I was young.”

Tabitha frowned. “I’m sorry. She must be somewhere regretting that. She missed out on a lot.”

Rory, expecting pity, chuckled at her response. “That’s exactly what my grandmother says. Just between you and me, I don’t think Gram liked my mother too much. Says I was the only thing she ever did right.”

“But your dad loved her?”

“Oh, yeah. I think until his last breath he expected her to come back. I hated that he died like that.”

“Like what? Hopeful?”

“Is that hope or just a waste?”

“Your dad didn’t think his hope was a waste.”

“She didn’t come back.” Rory could hear his own bitterness.

“Doesn’t mean she didn’t love him…and you.”

What else could it mean?

As they pulled in front of his cabin, Rory felt a lump forming in his throat. He still found himself expecting James Farrell to be inside when he entered. His stomach churned as he turned into the gravel drive. He parked the truck and walked around to help Tabitha from the cab.

She smiled wide as he opened the door. “Is this your grandmother’s home? It’s beautiful.”

Rory felt his lips curl upward. “Actually, it’s mine. My dad and I built it.”

Tabitha’s face seemed to light up as she scanned over the property. “It’s gorgeous. Look at that view. It’s better than the inn.” She stepped out of the truck, occupied with the panorama of mountains. Clumsily, she landed on her bad ankle and fell into him. Rory encircled his arms about her and held her up.

She blushed. He noticed that, for the first time, her body wasn’t rigid against him.

Rory looked into her eyes. An awkward smile covered her expression. Her long brown curls blew with the soft breeze and danced around her face. Rory ached to run his hands through them.

“I promise to pay more attention,” she vowed. “I can’t keep falling all over you.”

Had that been his cue to release her? He found himself not able to. He liked the connection—the feeling that she belonged there. At his cabin. In his arms.

She pulled away, her expression dazed. Rory turned her to the front porch. “Come on. Let’s meet Gram. You must be the only person in North Carolina who doesn’t know her.”

“Shame on you, Rory. You didn’t tell me you were bringing a guest to dinner.” In designer jeans and a green silk blouse, Gram stood at the door of the cabin with one hand on her hip and the other pointed at her grandson. Her short gray hair bounced with each syllable. A welcoming smile defied her authoritative stance and scolding words.

Rory lowered Gram’s finger then leaned in and kissed the top of her head. “Gram, this is Tabitha Beaumont. I met her at the triathlon today. She’s coming to dinner with us.”

The older woman took a step forward and extended a hand. “Hello, dear. I’m Lilly. Please come in.”

“Nice to meet you.” Tabitha shook the tall, thin-framed woman’s hand, noting her eyes possessed the same rich, blue shade as Rory’s.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Lilly said. “It’s about time my grandson had a date. I just wish he had told me. Mr. Watson asked me to the movies this evening. I should have said yes. Instead, I’m going to ruin your dinner tagging along.” She passed another scolding glance at Rory. “Now come on in, dear, and tell me what happened to your ankle.”

“Mr. Watson?” Rory interrupted. “That little old man who runs the grocery downtown? You’re dating him?” Rory hid his face from his grandmother and winked at Tabitha.

Lilly looked indignant. “Mr. Watson is a fine man and watch yourself—he’s the same age as I am.” She took Tabitha by the arm and escorted her into the house. “Excuse him. I suppose he’s showing off. I don’t blame him.”

Rory’s face turned the color of a ripe McIntosh and Tabitha wondered what shade of red her own must have been. She could feel the heat pulsing in her cheeks.

Gram led her into the kitchen. “Now sit right here while I fix some tea and call Mr. Watson. I’ll bet he and I can still make that movie.”

“Mrs. Farrell, my being here was completely last second. And I wouldn’t have come if I thought I was interrupting your time with your grandson. It’s not a date. You really should go with us.”

“Not a date?” Lilly repeated and looked with disappointment at Rory.

“I’m not saying another word.” Rory held his palms high in the air. “You two beautiful women can decide how many for dinner.” He glanced nervously at Tabitha. “If you’ll excuse me. My turn to shower.”

In the kitchen, Lilly poured herbal tea for two and entertained Tabitha with stories about Rory’s mischievous youth. Her voice felt like a balm to Tabitha’s tired nerves. For a moment, she forgot the horrors of the day and laughed until her belly ached.

“I can’t believe he did that,” she said. “I just met your grandson but it’s hard to imagine him loading school cubbies with toads. He seems so serious now. So honor bound.”

“That he is.” Lilly frowned a little. “I’m afraid he may come across a little too serious these days. His father’s death has been difficult. He’s very angry over it.”

“Angry? I thought your son died of cancer, not in the line of duty.”

“He did die of cancer. And very quickly. Rory’s angry at God. Angry his prayers weren’t answered.” She patted Tabitha’s hand. “But don’t you worry. He’ll work that out. He’s a good man. And I should know. I helped his father raise him.”

“Well, he adores you. That’s for sure.” Tabitha forced a smile, saddened to learn of Rory’s anger.

“And I adore him, which is why I refuse to go to dinner with you two.” She scooted from the table and snatched the portable phone from the kitchen counter.

“No. Please. You should join us.” Tabitha tried to persuade Lilly. But her mind was made up. She would not be a “third wheel,” as she kept putting it.

While Gram chatted with Mr. Watson, Tabitha thought about spending the evening alone with Rory. Her shoulders tied into knots. You can do this, Tabitha. You can have dinner with the man who rescued you. You can. It’s not a date.

“Let’s go.” Rory’s voice boomed into the kitchen.

Tabitha hadn’t heard him emerge from the back of the cabin. Turning, she followed the deep sound until she found him standing by the front door, adjusting his shirt collar. He looked amazing. She had thought so at the race, but now clean-shaven, dressed in a pair of slacks and a polo shirt, his sculpted features were even more pronounced. His broad shoulders and the strong line of his jaw had definite movie-star quality.

She pulled away her lingering eyes and edged her way to the foyer. Rory helped her to the truck. His strong hand on her elbow sent a tingle to her very core. Gram rode along with them into town, talking all the way. They dropped her at the theater where Mr. Watson waited. And Tabitha feared that what she’d been reluctant to call a date was turning out to be exactly that.