estate is very impressive,” she said, clasping her bonnet to her head against a sudden stiff breeze, the wind rippling the young wheat in long, rolling waves. “And very beautiful.”
“Does the land remind you of Ireland?” He had taken off his hat to keep it from blowing away, and strands of his dark hair fell forward over his face. She was reminded of the first time she’d seen him like this, his hair tousled. This time, she had no wish to straighten it. The slightly unkempt Dr. James Edmunds belonged among the stalks of wheat and hedgerows and purple flowering thistle. And yes, the sun did burnish his hair, bringing out golden strands among the dark, colors she would never see beneath a smoky London sky.
“It is like Ireland in that the sky is overhead and the earth is underfoot,” she answered. “But the green there is a vibrant shade, soft and deep, rich as an emerald. The hills rise rocky and are shrouded in violet, and the sky overhead is the gray-blue of misty mornings . . .” Her voice cracked.
“I shouldn’t have asked.” His gaze brought warmth to her cheeks. “We should talk of less unhappy things. Such as my plans for raising sheep.”
“Sheep?”
He let out a low, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m trying to learn everything I can about this farming business, and apparently part of my holdings involves a flock of sheep. My steward, Mr. Jackson, thinks cattle would be more appropriate. He’s an excellent man, good at what he does. I suppose I should listen to him.”
“My father once had a partner he relied upon like a strong staff. A wise man to provide counsel is hard to find.” Words Father often said . . . until he and his partner had squabbled and parted ways. The business and their lives in Carlow began to unravel then, a slow unwinding of the thread of their security and happiness.
Rachel sighed and stared out across the fields.
“A true sentiment, Miss Dunne.” Dr. Edmunds followed her gaze. “I’m fortunate to have someone like Mr. Jackson to rely upon as my steward. My father was unwell the past few years, and he didn’t oversee the maintenance required. For instance, the few laborers I have need new housing. Some of them have been living in cottages built over fifty years ago. The roofs leak and there are dirt floors. Wretched conditions.”
“At least the air is clear. Unlike London’s.”
He turned to face her. “Would you like to live here?” he asked, eagerness lifting his voice.
Her pulse sped. “What do you mean?”
“Would you like to come live in Finchingfield?”
“As your . . . as your . . .” As what?
“I’m sure we could find a position for you in the house. I’m certain we can.”
Her heart plummeted to her feet. What had she thought he’d been asking? “I thought you did not consider me a servant, Dr. Edmunds.”
The mistake he had made registered on his face. “That wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“I do not know what else you could have had in mind.” She squared her shoulders to staunch the humiliation spreading from head to toe. “I am committed to becoming a teacher back in London, Dr. Edmunds. But thank you for your offer.”
Rachel pushed away from the wall, but he grabbed her hand to keep her from fleeing. “My only thought was that I know you don’t like London. I simply hoped to make you happy.”
“Why?”
“Ah, Miss Dunne.” How softly he said her name, gentle as the sigh of a breeze tickling a stand of reeds. “Because I have come to care about you.”
His words stopped her. He lifted a finger to her cheek, brushed away a strand of hair captured against her lips, tossed there by the wind. Tenderly, he traced the outline of her face. She shivered beneath his touch.
He closed the gap between them. His hand dropped to her elbow and grasped it, pulled her nearer. “You are like a brilliant star, Rachel. Impossible to resist.”
He was going to kiss her. She could see the intent in his eyes. She must not let it happen. A kiss would mean something, promise something, that would never come to pass.
Rachel pulled free of his grip and ran back to the house, sprinting along the rocky narrow path between the fields. He called after her but she pushed on. If she stopped she might let him kiss her. Because she wanted him to. Wanted to feel that connection, that binding. You are