Flora's Wish (22 page)

And after tomorrow, when would she get the chance again? Once Mr. Tucker cleared things up with the Pinkerton agent, she would be a married woman, and Mr. McMinn would be off to follow where the trail led next.

And neither of them would need to mention her damp waltz beneath the Milky Way. The longer she stood there, the less ridiculous the idea seemed. Even if he did tell on her, it would be her word against his that she'd committed any sort of silliness while dining on the roof.

Oh, why not?

F
lora turned to see Lucas McMinn walking her way.

“Deep in thought?” he asked.

Rather than respond, she allowed herself another moment to watch the lawman's purposeful strides before turning to walk by him. He caught her elbow. “Going somewhere?”

“Watch and see,” she said as she slid out of his grasp. “Or join me.”

“Join you? Out there?” He took a few steps toward the edge of the belvedere and paused to cross his arms over his chest. “It's raining, Miss Brimm. Have you lost your mind?”

“No,” she said as her feet fairly flew down the short flight of stairs to the empty rooftop terrace. “For just a moment, I think I've found it. I'll soon return to playing the dutiful daughter and granddaughter and put my mind back where it belongs, but for now I'm taking one thing away from the list of activities that Brimms simply do not do.”

“I'm not even going to ask what you're talking about now,” he said as he moved to the top of the stairs and watched her waltz around the rooftop. “But know this. If you decide to try and disappear again, I'm coming after you. And I won't care about smashed cakes or falling knives this time.”

“Falling knives?” she said as she lifted her face skyward to allow the soft rain to kiss her skin.

“Never mind. And know also that if I see even a hint of lightning, you're coming back under this gazebo thing before—”

“It's a belvedere,” she corrected as she opened her mouth and caught a few sprinkles on her tongue.

“Whatever you want to call it, you'll be standing under it again before you can blink twice.”

“‘God hath not given us the spirit of fear.'”

“What's that?” he said.

“Just quoting my grandmother.”

Lucas inclined his head toward her. “‘Speak not in the ears of a fool: for he will despise the wisdom of thy words.'” He shrugged. “Just quoting mine.”

“Duly noted,” she said. “Are you coming out here to join me?”

“Thank you, but no. I've had plenty of chances out on the trail to get soaked to the skin and spend time out in the rain when I didn't want to be in it. I can't imagine why a sane person with a place where she could take cover would want to—”

Lightning zigzagged across the eastern sky. “All right, that's it. Back in here now.”

Flora opened her mouth to argue and then thought better of it. Instead, she dutifully returned to the protection of the belvedere. While she'd barely felt the rain while twirling around in it, she now realized how much of it had soaked into her clothing. Shivers snaked down her spine as she shook off the drops of rain that had collected in her hair.

“Cold?” he asked.

“No, just a little damp.” She nodded toward the remains of their dinner. “Might I trouble you for the tablecloth? I think it will make a passable towel.”

Mr. McMinn put the dishes in the basket and then the basket and platter on the ledge. Once the cloth was free, he picked it up and placed it around her shoulders. She offered a smile of thanks before turning her attention to the moon, now obscured by a cloud that rolled slowly past.

He moved closer to stand beside her at the rail. She felt she should say something. Do something. After all, they barely knew each other. And yet she remained quite still. And quite comfortable in his presence.

“So,” she finally said, “I'd like to ask that you add this to the list of things you won't tell my grandmother.”

“Another secret to keep?” He looked down at her, amusement evident in his eyes, even though the moonlight was nearly nonexistent. “You're making me wonder what other secrets you've been hiding from your grandmother, Flora Brimm.”

“If I told you, they would no longer be secrets. And what of you? Dare I ask what you've been keeping from me?”

“That wouldn't be a good idea.”

“No?”

She turned to face him, though he kept his attention focused somewhere beyond the roof. Whether he was staring down into the darkened valley or watching the now cloudy horizon for another quick flash of lightning, Flora couldn't say.

What she could say was that the atmosphere had taken a turn for the worse inside the belvedere as well as outside. So she joined him in looking out over the valley, keeping her comments to herself, even when the splatter of rain on the roof became the ping of hail.

“Maybe we should make a run for it,” she finally said. “The weather isn't improving out there.”

“All the more reason to stay put, Miss Brimm.” He nodded to the horizon. “If we tried to go down four flights of stairs in this, we'd be fools.”

Flora nudged him with her shoulder. “In that case, we could be here a while.”

“Looks that way.”

“Have you a chessboard?” She turned back toward the bench, and Mr. McMinn followed a step behind.

“Cute. But, no. It's a shame there are no potted palms up here to look behind. You just might find one.”

“Humor. That's a diversionary tactic. It means you have something to hide or you want the topic of conversation to change.”

When he did not answer, Flora shook her head and allowed silence to fall between them. A short while later, the combination of the patter of rain and the delicious meal she'd eaten lulled her into exhaustion. As her eyelids tugged closed, she let out a long breath.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Maybe a little.” She opened her eyes to meet his gaze, emboldened by the fact she would no longer see him again come morning. “You know, you have beautiful eyes for a lawman. They are a lovely shade of green. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“You're the second person to do so.”

“Not the first?”

“That honor belonged to a certain Irish cook.” He shrugged. “But for the record, you're much prettier and at least forty years younger.”

She smiled. “I just thought you should know. Seeing as how you're intent on not standing out. Those eyes of yours…well, let's just say they are counterproductive to your intentions.”

“Interesting. I don't believe that fact ever came up during my training. I can't imagine why.”

Flora snuggled deeper into the tablecloth that now served as a fine substitute for a blanket. “I'm glad I mentioned them. That will give you something to remember me by when we part ways tomorrow.”

“Oh, believe me,” he said as he leaned back and let out a long breath, “you've given me plenty to remember you by already.” He paused. “Not that I'm saying we'll part ways come morning, though for your sake I hope we do.”

Flora bit back the response she longed to give. The one where she told him just exactly what sort of man Will Tucker was and for whom he was working. But to give away his identity as a railroad detective was not an option. Not only would it possibly jeopardize any ongoing investigations her fiancé might be embroiled in, but it also would not speak highly of her ability to remain trustworthy.

And a woman who could not keep secrets had no business being married to a man whose business depended on them.

“You're thinking awful hard about something, Miss Brimm. Dare I ask what that is?”

“I was just wishing I could tell you the whole truth about things. About Mr. Tucker,” she amended. “I assure you that when all the facts are heard, you'll believe me when I tell you he isn't at all the man you think he is.”

A muscle in Mr. McMinn's jaw tensed. “And I assure you he isn't the man
you
think he is.”

“This is personal, isn't it?”

He rose to move the basket and platter away from the ledge, as the rain was splattering both, though Flora suspected he was merely looking for something to do to buy some time before he had to respond.

Finally he returned his attention to her. “The law is the law, Miss Brimm.”

She thought a moment before speaking her mind. “That watch,” she said as she studied his handsome features. “You think it belongs to someone you know. That's why you believe it's stolen.”

“A man who's been in my line of work as long as I have learns to trust his gut on some things.” He paused to settle back on the bench beside her. “Now, for instance, I can look at the night sky and see how hard it's raining and tell you with pretty good certainty that I believe the sun will come up shining in the morning and the rain will all be gone.” Another pause, this time to brush an errant raindrop from his cheek. “Or I could look at you and that fiancé of yours together and say that I believe neither of you have spent much time in the company of the other.”

The statement surprised her, both at his use of it as an example and at its accuracy. His expression dared her to argue.

“What does that have to do with what we're talking about?”

“Plenty.” He swiveled to face her as thunder rolled around the belvedere's interior. “I learned those things from experience. On the other hand, you said I
believe
the watch is stolen. That's wrong. I
know
it is stolen because I've seen the police report. That exact watch, described right down to the monogram on the back, was stolen in New Orleans nine weeks ago.”

“You could be wrong—”

“I'm not.” He fixed her with a look. “When did you say you met Mr. Tucker.”

“I didn't,” she responded as casually as she could. In truth, she'd only made the railroad detective's acquaintance some six weeks prior, a full three weeks too late to provide a sufficient alibi for his whereabouts and for the provenance of the watch.

“The look on your face is answer enough, Miss Brimm.”

Flora clutched the tablecloth in her clenched fists and tamped down on her irritation. What was it about this man that seemed to cause her perpetual frustration?

She adopted her most imperious tone as she determined to address this ridiculous subject for the last time. “I suppose we will see in the morning, when my fiancé clears up this whole mess with what I am certain will be a simple explanation.”

Mr. McMinn's snort of derision was, she supposed, an answer of sorts. Flora's fingers clutched the tablecloth even tighter as she focused her gaze out into the night rather than allow herself to look at her companion.

“I thought a man sworn to uphold the law was bound by an unbiased search for the truth,” she said evenly. “It seems to me you have more than your share of bias in this matter, sir.”

Flora waited for his response but heard nothing but the patter of rain on the roof and the occasional splat of drops as they found the few places where shingles were missing. She decided to try again.