She sat back in her chair and gripped the arms. Her grandfather’sheir? But she would think of that later.
“Oh, Ben,” she said, “this is something you really want to do, is it not? And now I can see why. It was blind of me not to realize it immediately. It is just the sort of thing for which you have been searching.”
“I’ll not do it,” he said, “if it will make you uncomfortable.”
“Whydidhe offer you this?” she asked, frowning. “Was it just on this instinct he says he has to judge character? Or does it have something to do with me?”
He looked steadily back at her for a few silent moments. “He wants me to do it on a trial basis for a few months,” he said, “so that we can both decide if I am the right man for the job. He wants me to come to Cartref close to Christmas to discuss it and to draw up a contract if we both wish for it.”
She might see him again, then?
“Before setting the month,” he said, “he asked when your husband had died last year.”
She thought a moment. “My year of mourning will be over by then.”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Price came in with the tray, and Samantha got to her feet to cross to the window.
“He is manipulating us,” she said when the housekeeper had left.
“Yes,” he said. “I believe he is, though it is a benevolent type of manipulation. He wants me gone without delay. I daresay he is afraid of what gossip might do to you. At the same time, he believes we have feelings for each other—both of us.”
She turned her head to look back at him.
“And he genuinely believes I am the right man for the job,” he said.
“Dowe have feelings for each other?” she asked.
“I cannot answer for you,” he said. “But yes, I have feelings.”
She waited, but he did not say what those feelings were.
“By Christmas,” she said, “everything will have changed—for you and for me.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But nothing would work now, would it?”
Christmas was an eternity in the future. But not as long as his going away altogether and never coming back.
“You must accept the employment, Ben,” she said. “With my approval and blessing. I believe it will work wonderfully for you, though your family will think you have taken leave of your senses when they know. Go and be happy. And we will let Christmas take care of itself, shall we?”
“Yes. No commitments. No obligations.”
He got to his feet, and she noticed that she had not even poured the tea.
“Ben.” She hurried toward him, and he cast aside his canes in order to wrap his arms about her. “Oh, Ben. Be happy.”
“And you,” he said, his breath warm against her ear, his arms like iron bands around her.
They did not kiss.
And then he took up his canes again and made his way to the door.
“Shall I come out to the barn to see you on your way?” she asked.
“No.” He did not turn to look at her, but he smoothed a hand over Tramp’s head. “Take care of her, you great wretch of a hound.”
Tramp stood with his nose against the door after Ben had closed it on the other side, his tail wagging.
