Karen Kirst - His Mountain Miss

“Sarah,” Megan said as she appeared at their side and placed a gentle hand on the little girl’s shoulder, “wouldn’t you like a treat? They’re going fast.”

With a nod, Sarah slipped her hand from his and hopped to the table without a backward glance. Lucian stood, grateful for the intervention and wondering what Megan had seen in his face that had induced her to take mercy on him. Could she read his moods that easily?

“She didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable.”

“I know.” He watched her at the table, solemnly debating what to put on her plate. “Is she always that serious?”

A heavy sigh escaped her. “She’s had a rough year. Her ma died in childbirth, as did the baby. Her father hasn’t coped well.”

Lucian’s mouth turned down. Such a tragic loss couldn’t be easy for a young child to process. His gaze returned to Megan to find her studying him with an inscrutable expression. One pale brow quirked.

“So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

Her voice went soft. “Are you a nice man?”

He exhaled. “That’s impossible for me to answer, Megan.”

She stepped closer, smelling of roses and, more faintly, strawberries. He clasped his hands behind his back, away from temptation.

“Well, I’ll answer it, then. I think you are nice.”

His jaw went slack. Pleasure reverberated through him, followed quickly by misgivings. “I’m astonished you’d say that, considering.”

“You’re simply acting under false assumptions concerning your grandfather.” Her blue eyes darkened. “And me.”

“Is that so?” He fought the pull of her innocent appeal.

“Don’t go all haughty on me,” she challenged, not in the least fazed. “We’re going to have to discuss this sometime.” Her mouth softened as genuine confusion settled on her face. “I’d really like to know why you didn’t come to see him. You don’t strike me as someone who’d deliberately hurt another person.”

Lucian didn’t often find himself without a ready response. Megan thought he was nice? If that was her true opinion, then she was one of the most charitable women he’d ever met. So was she really that bighearted? Or just very clever?

Chapter Five

Megan could tell she’d shocked him. No doubt he wasn’t accustomed to anyone questioning his behavior, especially females. New Orleans socialites likely tripped all over themselves to gain his favor, to be linked with such a man as he—wealthy, influential, articulate, gorgeous. Not her. She may be a romantic at heart, but she wasn’t about to allow herself to be impressed by superficial charms.

She wanted to know the man beneath the brooding reserve and smooth manners. His innermost thoughts and feelings. His motivations. And she wasn’t sure if that was possible, or even wise.

Abbott and Ivy Tremain, grandparents of one of the kids, took the silence stretching between them as a sign to interrupt.

“Mr. Beaumont,” Abbott interjected, thrusting out his hand, “it’s an honor to finally meet you.”

As Abbott introduced himself and his wife, Lucian shook his hand and nodded to Ivy. “Likewise. Please, call me Lucian.”

Was Megan the only one who noticed the tension jumping along his jaw? She mentally kicked herself. She shouldn’t have brought up the volatile subject while the house was crawling with guests.

“Lucinda, Ivy and I grew up together. Your mother was a delightful girl. Fun to be around.”

“Oh, yes.” The attractive brunette nodded with a nostalgic smile. “She was as sweet as could be. Growing up, she never caused Charles a bit of trouble, and so we were all taken by complete surprise when she up and ran off with Gerard. Terrible time, that was.”

Megan’s stomach dropped to the floor. Lucian’s face appeared carved in stone, his eyes as black as the forest on a moonless night. Beneath the blue coat, his shoulders went rigid.

Oblivious to his turmoil, Abbott continued, “Charles was never the same after that, was he, my dear?”

She shook her head sadly. “He missed her something fierce. I know a lot of folks around here hoped she’d come back and visit, but she never did.”

“But we’re glad Charles’s grandson is here, at long last,” the older man said with a grin. “How long are you in town for?”

Megan held her breath. Would he tell them about the will stipulation? If he did, the whole town would be buzzing about it within the hour.

“I’m not certain.” Their gazes locked, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “For a couple of weeks, at least.”

“Good, good. It’s awful nice of you to continue your grandfather’s traditions. The children really enjoy themselves when they come here.” Abbott cocked his head at Megan. “This young lady is a gifted storyteller.”

Lucian’s dark brows met in the middle. “Yes, she certainly is.”

Now, why didn’t that sound like a compliment?

“She’s going to make some lucky man a fine wife someday,” Ivy piped up. The sly wink she sent Lucian’s direction made Megan long to run for the door. Her cheeks grew hot. She kept her gaze trained on the colorful rug beneath her feet.

“I believe Tom Leighton’s already figured that out,” her husband joked.

Enough humiliation. “If you’ll excuse me, I should go and help Mrs. Calhoun with the cleanup.”

Leaving them to their conversation, she attempted to bury her embarrassment by seeing to the children’s needs, wiping crumbs from sticky fingers and chocolate-rimmed mouths, refilling drinks and trying to ensure the furniture didn’t get soiled. Though she refrained from looking directly at Lucian, she noticed many of the parents had drifted over to chat with him. She swallowed back concern. Was it too much to hope no one else brought up the subject of his mother?

A frown pulled at her lips. What if he found this evening so unpleasant that he did decide to blockade the door next time?

No. She sincerely believed that, despite his intentions to thwart Charles’s wishes, Lucian was a good man. Misguided, definitely. A bit selfish and stubborn, maybe. But didn’t everyone have faults? His actions tonight had softened her opinion of him. He didn’t have to lift a finger to help her, but he’d anticipated her needs and acted accordingly. He’d suffered through Ollie’s onslaught with fortitude, nodding at all the right times and answering the boy’s questions with careful consideration. Watching his gentle interaction with Sarah, Megan’s heart had squeezed with a curious longing. A longing she didn’t dare examine.

Lucian is not responsible for these feelings, she assured herself. It’s just that, with both Juliana and Josh reveling in wedded bliss, you’re dreaming of your own happy-ever-after.

Besides, Lucian Beaumont didn’t strike her as a man who believed in such a thing. He wouldn’t willingly be any girl’s knight in shining armor.

* * *

Lucian bade good-night to the last guest and, closing the door, sagged momentarily against it. He’d survived his first story time. While this evening had had its trying moments, there’d been interesting ones, as well. What surprised him most was how friendly everyone had been. It seemed Megan was alone in feeling betrayed by his absence all these years.

Going in search of her, he found her scooting a heavy wingback chair across the thick multihued rug towards its rightful place beside the settee. He strode to intercept her.

“I’ll take it from here.”

“That’s all right. I’m used to doing this without help.”

He placed a stalling hand on her shoulder. The warmth of her skin beneath her blouse, the slender grace of her, prickled his palm. He had the ridiculous urge to knead the stiffness from her muscles. “I don’t mind. You’ve been on your feet for most of the night. Why don’t you sit and rest for a few minutes?”