Valerie Hansen - Rescuing the Heiress

“Perhaps.”

“Or perhaps I simply like driving a nice rig.” He gestured at the mare. “That’s a fine animal.”

“Yes. She’s mine.”

“Really? If you chose her, you did well.”

“Thank you.” Instead of leaving him and going inside, she walked to the horse and began stroking its sleek neck with her gloved hand. “Actually, she was one of my father’s but I asked for her for myself. He finally gave her to me on my sixteenth birthday.”

“Nice gift,” Michael said, thinking about how little he was able to afford to give his mother no matter how much he wanted to please and honor her. In contrast, the gift of such a magnificent horse only served to point up the difference between his and Tess’s lives.

“I can have one of the stable boys drive you home, if you’d like,” Tess offered.

Michael shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I’m used to walking.”

“And it’s almost all downhill from here.”

Boy, is that the truth, he thought, biting his tongue to keep from speaking his mind. It would be downhill for him for sure if he did what his heart and mind kept suggesting. The mere idea of pulling Tess Clark into his arms and kissing her rosy cheek the way he wanted to was enough to make him blush as well as tie his gut in a knot.

It was also a clear warning. There were few things he could do that would be worse than acting the swain. As a matter of fact, right then he couldn’t think of anything that would be more foolish. Or more appealing.

He touched the brim of his cap politely and backed farther away. “I’ll be saying good night, then.”

“Good night,” Tess replied.

Michael knew he had to be imagining the tenderness in her tone and the personal interest in her charming gaze. If there was something unusual there it had to be that she was toying with him, pretending to care to lead him on so she could have a good laugh at his expense.

Well, that was never going to happen. He might be a tad smitten if he were totally honest with himself, but that feeling would pass. Tess would never know her flirting had affected him at all, let alone given him thoughts of courting. He was too smart to yield to such impossible yearnings. Too smart and too determined to triumph on his own. He didn’t need anyone’s influence or money to succeed. He was well on his way to becoming a captain. Nothing else was as important as that.

Not even love?

His jaw clenched. The clomp of his boots echoed hollowly on the sidewalk as he began to trot down the hill toward home, back to the reality that was his daily life. There was no way that he might care that much for Tess, nor she for him. Love was an overrated emotion, anyway. His mother had always insisted that his father had loved her, yet Michael had never seen him demonstrate anything but disrespect—when he was sober. When he was drunk, which was most of the time, he was just plain cruel.

That was another reason why Michael wanted to succeed. It was his fondest wish to provide well for his mother in her old age. She had worked tirelessly to raise him, practically alone, and she had earned a rest. Soon he’d be able to give it to her. Soon he’d get the promotion he’d been working so hard for.

He slowed his pace and began to whistle a tune. His life hadn’t been easy but he’d come a long way since his upbringing as one of the immigrant children who were disparagingly called wharf rats. Someday, Lord willing, he’d be able to put that all behind him and never look back.

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