stepped back, swept her hand up again in his, and placed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. Still holding her, he called out to her sister. “Miss Pearl, do you trust Major Creel to escort you and your sister up to the house?”
If Pearl was surprised by being addressed, she didn’t show it. “As Becks so clearly pointed out, sir . We don’t need a man to escort us on Beckett land.”
“True.” Mac smiled at her, and then down at Becks. “Very true.” He squeezed the small hand in his. “Well then, all that’s left is for us to say thank you—” Thank you for not using our names, thank you for defending the “two negroes,” thank you for that kiss. “—and take our leave.”
Dropping Becks’ hand just then felt like a betrayal, somehow, but he did it. Ignoring Creel, who was now loudly demanding his name, Mac turned to Robert and noted the other man’s firm stance, crossed arms, and carefully blank expression. This was the Robert that Mac had seen all his life, whenever they were confronted with an authority who considered Robert to be less than he was. Mac nodded curtly, sorry that the other man had to experience such bigotry again tonight.
“Well, my friend, shall we head home?” Even as he said it, Mac knew it was stupid to draw Creel’s attention to the black man and their friendship. It would make them more memorable, just when he wanted to slip away. But dammit, he’d kissed the woman the Major was sweet on, and he figured there was nothing worse he could do now.
Robert glanced once in Pearl’s direction, and then turned towards the dinghy without acknowledging anyone else. Mac followed, climbing down the bank to stand barefoot in the mud of the shore. He wriggled his toes, and then turned once more to see Becks.
She was holding Pearl’s hand, and they were both looking towards the bank. Between the shadows of the oak and Spanish moss, and the lantern light behind them, it was impossible to see their expressions. Mac wondered if Becks was angry, or curious, or sad to see him go.
It didn’t really matter, though, because he was going. There was a creek a ways downriver on The Neck side; the men would have to work to row against the tide, but they could harbor there for a few hours, and venture out to make the drop again when Beckett was quiet. With a sigh he didn’t quite repress, Mac put his shoulder against the bow of the dinghy and shoved Robert out into the current. Then, hopping in beside his friend, they both turned their attention to the oars.
Mac rowed without thinking, trusting Robert to call out any course corrections. Instead, he watched those two lovely silhouettes under the broad branches of that oak tree, and thought about an unusual young woman. He was sorry to be leaving Beckett.
But he damn sure wasn’t sorry for kissing Becks.
He’d be back.
CHAPTER THREE
“You’ve been staring at yourself for the last two chapters of this book.”
Pearl’s voice startled Becks, and she blinked at her own reflection. She’d been sitting at her dressing table, writing out a list for Zeb to pick up the next time he visited Holmes’ Store, when she’d glanced up and caught sight of her reflection.
She knew that she wasn’t pretty, not the way her sister was. What had made him kiss her? She stared, trying to see herself as a stranger might. Straight, limp hair, the color of wet sand, and brown splotches on her nose and cheeks from too many afternoons in the sun without her hat. Her eyes were the only thing to recommend her, and even those were only interesting, rather than pretty. Her mother often told her that they were ‘fascinating’, but mothers were supposed to say those sorts of things. Unbidden, her fingers had risen to touch her lower lip, remembering the feel of his mouth, and wondering what he saw when he’d looked at her.
Now, though, she dropped her hand and scowled at her sister in the mirror. “Well, you’re a fast reader.”
Pearl carefully
If Pearl was surprised by being addressed, she didn’t show it. “As Becks so clearly pointed out, sir . We don’t need a man to escort us on Beckett land.”
“True.” Mac smiled at her, and then down at Becks. “Very true.” He squeezed the small hand in his. “Well then, all that’s left is for us to say thank you—” Thank you for not using our names, thank you for defending the “two negroes,” thank you for that kiss. “—and take our leave.”
Dropping Becks’ hand just then felt like a betrayal, somehow, but he did it. Ignoring Creel, who was now loudly demanding his name, Mac turned to Robert and noted the other man’s firm stance, crossed arms, and carefully blank expression. This was the Robert that Mac had seen all his life, whenever they were confronted with an authority who considered Robert to be less than he was. Mac nodded curtly, sorry that the other man had to experience such bigotry again tonight.
“Well, my friend, shall we head home?” Even as he said it, Mac knew it was stupid to draw Creel’s attention to the black man and their friendship. It would make them more memorable, just when he wanted to slip away. But dammit, he’d kissed the woman the Major was sweet on, and he figured there was nothing worse he could do now.
Robert glanced once in Pearl’s direction, and then turned towards the dinghy without acknowledging anyone else. Mac followed, climbing down the bank to stand barefoot in the mud of the shore. He wriggled his toes, and then turned once more to see Becks.
She was holding Pearl’s hand, and they were both looking towards the bank. Between the shadows of the oak and Spanish moss, and the lantern light behind them, it was impossible to see their expressions. Mac wondered if Becks was angry, or curious, or sad to see him go.
It didn’t really matter, though, because he was going. There was a creek a ways downriver on The Neck side; the men would have to work to row against the tide, but they could harbor there for a few hours, and venture out to make the drop again when Beckett was quiet. With a sigh he didn’t quite repress, Mac put his shoulder against the bow of the dinghy and shoved Robert out into the current. Then, hopping in beside his friend, they both turned their attention to the oars.
Mac rowed without thinking, trusting Robert to call out any course corrections. Instead, he watched those two lovely silhouettes under the broad branches of that oak tree, and thought about an unusual young woman. He was sorry to be leaving Beckett.
But he damn sure wasn’t sorry for kissing Becks.
He’d be back.
CHAPTER THREE
“You’ve been staring at yourself for the last two chapters of this book.”
Pearl’s voice startled Becks, and she blinked at her own reflection. She’d been sitting at her dressing table, writing out a list for Zeb to pick up the next time he visited Holmes’ Store, when she’d glanced up and caught sight of her reflection.
She knew that she wasn’t pretty, not the way her sister was. What had made him kiss her? She stared, trying to see herself as a stranger might. Straight, limp hair, the color of wet sand, and brown splotches on her nose and cheeks from too many afternoons in the sun without her hat. Her eyes were the only thing to recommend her, and even those were only interesting, rather than pretty. Her mother often told her that they were ‘fascinating’, but mothers were supposed to say those sorts of things. Unbidden, her fingers had risen to touch her lower lip, remembering the feel of his mouth, and wondering what he saw when he’d looked at her.
Now, though, she dropped her hand and scowled at her sister in the mirror. “Well, you’re a fast reader.”
Pearl carefully
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