Patricia Rice by All a Woman Wants Read Free Book Online Page A

reputable thatcher.
    ***
    So far, Mac had seen precious little sign of anyone
capable of handling two demanding children on an ocean voyage, or one
even willing to relocate. Apparently the British thought America a
barbaric place unfit for civilized habitation.
    Mac heaved a sheaf of thatch from the ground, then
viciously hurled it to the barn roof. How the hell would he transport
the children across an ocean without a competent nursemaid and
governess? He’d have to tie them to the mast.
    At the sound of soft laughter, he glanced toward the stable yard.
    He was slaving away on a damned barn, exchanging his
labor for assistance in thatching Miss Cavendish’s stable, and the lady
wasn’t even paying attention. She was talking to the thatcher’s wife,
showing her the gaudy piece of jewelry she’d been wearing.
    The church bell tolled noon, and Mac swiped at the
sweat pouring down his forehead. He contemplated removing his shirt, but
the prim woman enveloped in yards of silk would no doubt faint from
distress at the sight of a half-dressed man.
    If he needed to remember why he spent most of his
time in his father’s shipyards where ladies didn’t dare trespass, the
sweat pouring down his soaked shirt served as a reminder. Ladies
expected men to be like them, never perspiring and always smelling of
perfume.
    Miss Cavendish ought to be thrilled with her footman.
    To his disgust, his “student” chose that moment to trip daintily across the stable yard in his direction.
    For the first time since he’d met her, she was
actually smiling. Her bonnet had loosened sufficiently to reveal
rebellious wisps of russet hair curling around her high forehead, and
her beauty caught Mac in the gut. He had the inane urge to shove her
bonnet back, loosen the polished ringlets brushing her chin, and frame
her smile for safekeeping.
    She’d shriek bloody terror if he so much as touched her.
    “I made a trade!” she whispered in awe. “She admired
my pin, and I offered to teach her to make them in return for her
services. She said she could finish helping her husband with the barn,
and we’d be even.”
    Delight danced in her dark eyes, an entrancing smile
played upon her lips, and Mac struggled to repress the inappropriate
desire to swing her into his arms. Remembering his wish to see her
smile, Mac resolved to be more careful what he wished for.
    Growling, he wiped his face with his sleeve. “Fine.
Then I’ll check your tenants’ fields next. They ought to be planted by
this time of year.”
    Her smile died, and he felt as if he’d kicked a
puppy. As her gaze fell, it apparently struck his sopping shirt, and she
reddened and turned away. Mac bit back a curse and reached for his
coat. He had the rebellious urge to flaunt his state of undress so she
would look his way again.
    Why the hell did he want to make her notice him?
    “I made that pin,” she said with a note of defiance. “I have some useful talents.”
    “You have to know the value of your product before you attempt to market it. Come on. I have work to do.”
    He’d rather work out some of his frustration on the
back of a horse, but if he was to teach his dignified hostess, she would
have to sit beside him.
    He harnessed the horses himself rather than watch
the stable boy botch the job again. He’d wondered why a stable as
expensive as hers didn’t have a head groom. Some inkling of
comprehension emerged—trading gaudy pins wouldn’t pay the salary of a
good groom.
    Could the blamed woman be living the life of Croesus
on no money? Was she waiting for a wealthy man to snatch her up and
save her from penury?
    Mac ground his back teeth at the thought, and waited
for her to catch up with him. Her long black skirts trailed in the
grass, hindering her progress.
    Grimly, he held out his hand to assist her into the carriage.
    Instead of taking his hand, she knotted hers together. “I’d rather walk.”
    “I don’t bite,” he snapped.