Red Roses Mean Love

accident that you even saw me wearing them. I rarely take the time to fuss with my hair because it falls out of whatever coif I try to achieve. As for touching people, it is simply my way of showing affection. Mama and Papa always had a kind touch for us and each other. They instilled it in me, and I hope to pass along that warmth to the children in my parents' absence. Had I suspected you found it so distasteful, I would never have laid a hand on you.'

She made a move to poke him again and he stepped hastily back. Steam was all but hissing from her. 'When I offered to shave you, I was merely thinking of your comfort. And as I recall, you joined me in my garden. I do agree that allowing you to kiss me was a grave error in judgment, but rest assured it is a mistake that won't be repeated, especially as you clearly found it so abhorrent.'

'Hayley, I-'

'I'm not finished yet,' she said, her eyes skewering him into silence. 'I do not have the funds for either a governess or boarding school, but let me assure you, even if I did, I would not dream of sending Andrew and Nathan away.

'We have many rules in our home with regard to chores and behavior. Perhaps they do not meet your lofty standards, but that does not make them wrong. I discipline the children in what I hope is a firm yet loving manner and I think they are wonderful. Boisterous, yes. But I would worry if they simply sat quietly with their hands folded.'

She pursed her lips and tapped her chin. 'Hmmm. What else did you find offensive?'

Before he could open his mouth to speak, she rushed on.

'Oh, yes. Our moth-eaten blanket. We enjoy taking our lessons outside. I'm surprised that as a tutor you haven't done so yourself, but we clearly disagree on most matters. The children and the servants eat in the dining room because they are part of the family-a concept you obviously know nothing about. And if Pierre wants to wave his arms about, and Winston's language is occasionally rough, I accept that because I love them-another subject you appear to know little about, and for that I pity you.'

Stephen stared at her, at a complete loss for words. He'd never received such a dressing-down in his entire life. Three minutes ago he'd been filled with righteous anger. Now he felt like a red-faced lad in knee pants after a severe scolding.

Jesus, he felt like an ass. By allowing his anger and frustration and, damn it, his jealousy, to get the better of him, he'd accomplished nothing except angering her and earning himself a bruised chest. He rubbed his throbbing skin. She certainly packed a powerful jab.

Sizzling him with a final glare that pierced him like a sword, she started up the path toward the house. Shame filled him along with an uneasy ache that cramped his insides.

He caught up with her, and grabbed her arm. 'Hayley, wait.'

She halted and stared pointedly at his hand holding her, then slid her gaze up to meet his eyes. 'Please unhand me. You've made your dislike of touching quite clear.'

He slowly removed his hand, his stomach churning. The problem wasn't that he disliked her touch. He liked it too much. 'I owe you an apology.'

Silence and a raised brow met his pronouncement.

'I was angry and spoke out of turn,' he continued. 'I'm sorry.'

Her gaze remained steady on his for a full minute. Then she regally inclined her head and said in a cool voice, 'I accept your apology, Mr. Barrettson. Now, please excuse me, I must change out of this 'scandalous' attire.'

She turned and walked down the path, her wet gown dragging behind her.

Stephen stared after her. He could not recall the last time anyone had gainsaid him. Or the last time he'd issued an apology. Or experienced this sick sense of remorse because he'd hurt someone. Or cared if someone thought badly of him.

All he knew was that his heart hurt.

And it had nothing to do with the jabbing she'd given him.

SHAPE * MERGEFORMAT

Chapter 12

When Stephen joined the family for dinner later that evening, they bore no resemblance to the bedraggled group that had tracked into the house earlier. All freshly bathed and clothed, they filed into the dining room.

His gaze settled on Hayley and his pulse leapt. Her hair was carefully arranged in a neat chignon at her nape. Their eyes met and when she smiled briefly, relief swept through him. A breath he hadn't realized he'd held whooshed from his lungs.

It was Nathan's turn to say the evening prayer, and everyone joined hands. Everyone, that is, except him and Hayley. Callie slipped her little hand into his, but while Hayley joined hands with Pamela, she made no move to touch him.

Acute loss flooded him. She touches people to show affection. And she doesn't want to touch me. An ache he could not name pinched him. He had no one to blame but himself, but damn it, he hadn't meant that he never wanted her to touch him again.

With his heart wedged in his throat, he held out his hand. She glanced down and surprise flickered in her eyes, but she made no move to touch him.

In a low voice only she could hear, he said a word the Marquess of Glenfield rarely, if ever used. 'Please.'

Their gazes collided, and after several heartbeats she placed her hand in his. Their palms met and warmth flowed up his arm. He gently squeezed her hand and a smile touched his lips when she squeezed him back. All this touching, he realized, wasn't so terrible after all. Of course, he was only enduring it for the sake of his tutor ruse. In fact, he was quite impressed with his acting ability.

While Nathan recited his prayer, Stephen's mind wandered, envisioning Hayley as she'd appeared earlier, wet and bedraggled, smiling and laughing, then eyes blazing, challenging and jabbing him. His fingers involuntarily tightened against hers once again.

'Mr. Barrettson, you can let go of Hayley's hand now,' Callie said, tugging on Stephen's sleeve. 'The prayer is over.'

Stephen gazed down at the little girl and slowly let go of Hayley's hand. 'Thank you, Callie,' he said with a smile.

Callie beamed at him. 'You're welcome.'

The meal itself was a noisy, lively affair with the children loudly relating the day's events to Aunt Olivia, Winston, and Grimsley.

'Haul me by my britches and fling me from the crow's nest!' Winston exclaimed, shaking his head. 'Those blood-' He caught Hayley's warning eye and coughed. 'Those crazy dogs are sure to cause an accident someday.'

Grimsley shot Winston a squinting glare. 'As I recall, you are the person who encouraged Miss Hayley to keep those unruly beasts.' He raised his nose in the air. 'I would have-'

'You can't even see the mangy mongrels, ya blind old coot,' Winston growled. 'Ya wouldn't know a dog from an end table even if ya fell on it.'

Grimsley squared his thin shoulders. 'As Captain Albright's personal valet, I most certainly never fell on either a dog or an end table.'

'Ya most likely have, but ya wouldn't be able to tell, ya nearsighted bag o' bones.'

Hayley cleared her throat with a loud ahem, and the two men ceased their bickering. Although they exchanged only a few words during the meal, Stephen was acutely aware of Hayley next to him. Every time she moved, the subtle scent of roses wafted over him. The sound of her laughter flowed over him like warmed honey. Their fingers brushed once when they reached for the saltcellar at the same moment and his heart nearly stopped. Heat shot up his arm, and he shook his head, bemused by his strong reaction.