If anyone was making a bad impression, it was Angelica. That the two men had squared off like cockerels in a cockfight was their problem, but her refusal to blend the different parts of her life wasn’t making the situation any better.
She blinked. Did she now consider him part of her life? No. He was temporary. But something had to be done.
“It’s good you ran into each other,” she said. “I meant to introduce you.”
Miraculously, no lightning bolt struck her where she stood.
“This is Mr. MacLean, my... friend. He’s only passing through.”
“Jonathan MacLean, at your service.” He made an extravagant leg, fit for a king.
Florence and Esther exchanged impressed glances.
“And this is my brother Mr. Luther Parker, and his daughters Florence and Esther.”
Luther folded his arms over his chest. “Your friend, is he? I’m sure the rest of the family would just love to meet him. Why don’t you take him to church on Sunday? Uncle is giving a service at the castle.”
“Sunday?” she squeaked.
“Uncle’s Christmas service,” Florence piped up helpfully.
Esther pumped her hands in the air. “Everyone will be there!”
The gauntlet had been thrown.
“All right.” Angelica met her brother’s eyes. “If Mr. MacLean wishes to come to church, he’s welcome to join us.”
Luther looked as though a gentle snowflake could have knocked him down.
Angelica didn’t blame him.
If she sat next to Mr. MacLean at Sunday service, she’d be laying claim to him in front of the entire village—and more importantly, in front of her entire family. If Luther had been surprised and confused, the looks on her aunts’ and cousins’ faces…
Fortunately, any apparent “claim” would be as transient as Mr. MacLean himself.
He was still leaving. Her relatives needn’t know they had becomekissingfriends.
Though they might suspect as much.
“Horses!” Esther squealed, tugging on the rope in her father’s gloved hand. “You promised!”
“Horses! Horses!” Florence chanted.
Luther bounced a final, skeptical look between Angelica and Mr. MacLean, then adjusted his grip on the ropes. “Are you still coming to visit us tonight, once you finish... working?”
“Yes,” Florence said. “She’s plaiting my hair.”
“Plaiting mine first,” Esther corrected.
“Of course I am,” Angelica agreed. “I’ve an appointment to plait hair.”
Her brother touched his hat. “We’ll discuss things then.”
He pulled the sleds down the hill.
Angelica’s heart pounded. She felt more in over her head than ever.
Mr. MacLean’s expression was unreadable. “Shall I leave you to your work?”
