Barnaby fought for the right thing to say. It certainly had nothing to do with Mr. Brewster, or even the legend for that matter. In the end, he opted for plain speech.
“Miss Tully, I am mortified at Magda’s suggestion that I… That we… I would never…”
“Follow me to the ends of the earth?” Miss Tully cocked her teasing smile at him. “How disappointing. I rather liked the idea. I’ve never had anyone show such fondness for me. It sounds rather lovely, actually.”
Barnaby halted his steps. He turned to face his companion, though he could not bring himself to look her in the eyes.
“Miss Tully…”
“Yes, Barn Baby?
Barnaby could sense the grin expanding across her mouth without lifting his gaze. She was clearly enjoying every minute of his discomfort. He could not possibly tell her it was no joke.
“Oh, come, Mr. Ash. Surely you are not taking Old Magda’s words to heart? Who knows what she sees through her confused thinking? I shall not hold it against you.”
“And if it is true?”
Barnaby had set the words free.
The relief was immense.
Miss Tully would assist him no further now, of course. Perhaps it was for the best. The unspoken feelings had been too hard to carry. Better she abandon his mission than torture him with her inviting presence.
She had grown strangely quiet.
Barnaby allowed himself to lift his head.
Her skin was blotched in that way young ladies’ did when they were fighting imminent tears.
“Miss Tully?”
She turned away quickly.
Barnaby stepped around her to see her grab a handkerchief from the neckline of her dress. She dabbed her eyes. “Oh, look away, Mr. Ash. I am making a fool of myself.”
“No more than I.” His voice was husky with emotion. “I am not a playful man, Miss Tully, and I would never make a game of something so important. Forgive me for speaking so plainly, but you fill my heart to capacity. Indeed, it is quite extraordinary. I have never known anything like it.”
The handkerchief paused in mid-dab. Wet eyes rested upon him. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
Her lips wobbled into a happy pout. “Oh. I had no idea.”
“It had been my intention for it to remain that way.”
“But why? Did you not want to know if I returned your affection?”
“I could not imagine that you would.”
Miss Tully stepped closer and slipped her fingers around Barnaby’s forearm. “You are a very silly man.”
Barnaby pondered the lovely hand, his eyes lifting slowly to meet hers. Honest affection lay shallow in them. “I suppose I am,” he said, his long fingers folding over hers to claim them. “Do you suppose I could be your silly man?”
With a swift release of his arm, she cupped her hands around his cheeks and drew herself up onto her toes. The softness of her lips pressed against Barnaby’s mouth, and he gasped, drawing in the heat of her breath. He folded his arms around her, her body complying with his unspoken request.
It was magical.
As if on cue, the weight at his back shifted, expanded. Unfolded.
