Charlotte lay where she was, gasping hard for breath and somehow coughing at the same time. Mark—no, Mr. Becker—appeared beside her, water dripping from the ends of his hair, which looked longer than she’d realized it was, as he watched her with a set jaw and serious eyes.
She coughed again, and he took hold of her arms.
“You need to sit up. It’ll be easier to catch your breath,” he said, his hands warm and welcome over the sleeves on her arms.
She nodded, and he gently helped her sit.
Charlotte wished for a boulder or a tree trunk to lean against, but she remained sitting as she coughed again. He sat patiently beside her. When she finished yet another round of coughing, she found his hand resting on her forearm, a gentle weight that anchored her to solid earth.
“Better?” he asked when a moment passed without new coughing.
Charlotte nodded, afraid to speak or else her lungs might rebel again.
“I’d like to make a joke about why you decided to go for a swim, but I fear it would be too funny and would make you choke again,” he said with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
His words made her smile too, and she bit her lip to keep that grin from turning into a giggle. The breeze picked up, lifting the tiny strands of hair that had already dried. She’d lost her hat to the river, but at least it wasn’t the new one she’d only just purchased.
The breeze came again, stronger this time, and Charlotte shivered as the cooling air of evening cut straight through her wet clothing.
Mark moved closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Charlotte gave up trying to think of him asMr. Beckeras she sank gratefully into his warmth. The scent of tobacco and soap was just barely there, and it made her relax immediately. There was something that felt so safe, being here in his arms. As if no one or nothing could ever harm her or force her to do anything she wished not to do.
“Thank you,” she said finally. She tilted her head back to see his face. “For rescuing me.”
“I’m thankful I came by when I did. The woman at the boarding house said you’d come down here.” His voice, steady and low, warmed her from head to toe.
“I grew impatient and came for a walk.” It felt foolish to say aloud, but how was she to know a simple walk would end with her slipping on the bank and falling into the river? “Did you speak with the sheriff?”
“He confirmed what we’d thought. The McNabs left town a while back. Apparently Mr. McNab wasn’t entirely honest when it came to dealings with local businesses.”
Charlotte bit her lip again, trying to make sense of it. None of this matched what she knew about Ruby.
But then again, how well did she really know Ruby?
“Well, I hope she’s all right, wherever she is.” It seemed that was all she could say. She was hardly about to pass judgment until she knew more, and she may never know more.
It seemed it was time to end her search for the woman she’d thought of as a friend, and decide what she might do with her life now that returning home seemed to not be an option.
“What sort of work do you suppose I’m suited for?” She turned her gaze back up to Mark. The money she’d taken from home wouldn’t last forever. She would need to earn more eventually.
He blinked, as if her question had caught him by surprise. Then he smiled, and the simple encouraging warmth of it set her mind at ease again.
“I imagine you’re suited for any work you might wish to do, Charlotte.” Her name, spoken in his low, calming voice, made her skin grow goose pimples, even under the heat of his arm wrapped around her shoulders.
No one had ever said such a thing to her. Because no one had ever believed in her courage or intelligence the way Mark did. A rush of affection surged through Charlotte, and she suddenly yearned for him to kiss her.
But he didn’t, of course, because he was far too much the gentleman.
And so, before she could think or remember that she was a sensible person, she lifted her head and stretched just far enough to kiss him instead.
He seemed to freeze as her lips found his. Charlotte nearly froze herself. What was she doing? She’d never kissed a man before, if one discounted the overly eager Mr. Goyette last year, who mistook her kindness for affection.
But it took only a second before Mark’s other hand found the back of her neck and he pulled her closer. Charlotte felt as if she were somehow falling and floating at the same time. His kiss was tender with some barely suppressed urgency, and she rested her hands against his chest as she fought to keep herself grounded.
He made a sound somewhere deep in his throat and pulled away, gazing down at her as if she were something entirely surprising.
And that’s when she realized exactly what she’d done. Her face went warm, and she scrambled to her feet.
“Charlotte?” he said.
