The Glassblower (12 page)

“Saving the wee beastie for the lady.” Colin gave Joseph a gentle smile, though a muscle in his jaw flexed. “Your horse nigh trampled the silly creature.”

“And there are ten more where those came from, but there are few finer horses between here and Charleston.”

“I would not ken about the horses,” Colin said. “But I do ken that Miss Jordan has a fondness for this mite.”

“And I have a fondness for—why are you touching her?” If possible, Joseph’s face darkened further, making his eyes appear to lose all color in contrast.

Meg met those pale eyes without flinching and gripped Colin’s hand more tightly. “I tripped on my skirt and fell, and now he’s making sure I’m steady.”

And she loved the excuse to hold his hand again.

“Release him.” Joseph’s words sounded like the bark of an angry dog. “You demean yourself, Margaret.”

“I will in a moment.” She still felt off balance, lightheaded—more from Joseph’s words than the fall and close call with the kitten. “A strong hand for support is welcome.”

She glanced at Joseph’s long, elegant hand clad in a buttery leather glove.

“You may take my arm.” He held out the appendage. “I’ll walk you home. Grassick, take my horse to my farm.”

Meg didn’t move. Every fiber in her being rebelled at taking orders from Joseph and against him for giving Colin directives like he was a groom.

Colin didn’t stir either, other than to shift his gaze from Joseph to her.

“Have you two lost your hearing?” Joseph demanded.

“I heard you perfectly well, Joseph.” Meg worked to keep her tone even.

“Then stop making a fool of yourself and come home before this storm breaks.”

“You’d best go, lass.” Colin squeezed her fingers and released her hand. “And perhaps take this kitten into the house so he can’t wander so far afield.” He placed the trembling feline in her hands.

“Thank you. That will have to wait until I’m home again.” She cradled the cat against her throat and gave Colin one more glance. She wanted to speak to him, tell him things about herself and God and hopes and anything that came to mind. Nothing seemed possible, even appropriate, in front of Joseph.

“I’m ready to go,” she said to Joseph.

“Finally.” He held out the reins. “Grassick, I said to take my horse.”

Colin still didn’t move.

“What’s wrong with you?” Joseph’s voice went up half an octave.

“Naught is wrong with me, Mr. Pyle.” Colin looked at the gelding, whose back was nearly the height of Colin’s chin. “‘Tis just that I have no knowledge about how to handle a horse.”

“You don’t know how to handle a horse?” Joseph’s surprise seemed genuine. “What sort of man doesn’t know how to handle a horse?”

“Joseph,” Meg breathed out in protest.

Colin shrugged. “The kind who’s never owned one, perhaps. The kind who goes from fishing to glassmaking and has no need of one.”

“Huh.” Joseph shook his head. “Then just go about your business. Margaret, come with me.”

Because she knew it was what her father would want her to do, Meg nodded to Colin with a silent “thank you,” took Joseph’s arm, and let him lead her on the one side and his mount on the other.

“What were you doing with him?” Joseph demanded before they were quite out of Colin’s earshot.

“He was working on replacing the windows in the school. I stopped to talk to him.”

Rain began to fall in big, heavy drops. Joseph increased their pace. “He shouldn’t be working on a Sunday.”

“He volunteered to replace the windows. He isn’t getting paid. I think the Lord will accept charitable work on a Sunday.”

“Charitable work that gets him in the good graces of the owner’s daughter.”

Meg slanted a look at Joseph, wondering if he was jealous, then chastised herself for such a vain thought. “He is trying to please the people who sponsored his coming here to find a better life, Joseph. His dedication to his work is commendable, and Father and I are both happy with him.”

“A little too happy,” Joseph grumbled. “You were holding his hand.”

“I told you—”

“It isn’t proper,” Joseph interrupted. “You’re going to marry me.”

Not if she could find a way to avoid it.

“You shouldn’t encourage his kind.”

“His—kind?” Meg released her grip on Joseph’s arm. “What do you mean by that?”

“A man without property or prospects.”

“I think his prospects are rather good. He has skill and talent and—”

“Not a roof to call his own, let alone hundreds of acres, as I have.” The rain grew heavier, and Joseph walked faster still. “But enough of him. I am assured you won’t spend any more time with him.”

She had given him no such reassurance and didn’t intend to.

“I’m pleased I saw you today, even though we didn’t have our dinner as usual.”

Meg pulled up her hood for protection but said nothing.

“I know I agreed to hold off making our betrothal official until after the first of the year,” Joseph said.

The abrupt change of subject threw Meg off balance, and she stammered out a response. “Ye–es, I have a number of things I need to think about between now and then.”

“Frivolous things, from all I can see.” Joseph’s tone grew indulgent. “Your friend’s wedding and Christmas.”

“And my school.”

“Oh, that.” He dismissed her hard work with a wave of one hand. “You’ll lose interest in that once you start thinking about a wedding and all the things we’ll need to furnish our home properly. I want it fine enough to entertain the governor.”

Why not the president?

Meg refrained from asking such a flippant question.

“I can afford the best, you know,” Joseph continued. “And you have exhibited fine taste in these matters.”

“Thank you.” Meg caught sight of the lane to her house and nearly broke into a run.

“But I’ve decided that the delay to our betrothal is unacceptable,” Joseph said.

Meg tripped on the smooth road.

“When your father returns from Philadelphia on Tuesday, I intend to tell him that we will announce our betrothal at Sarah and Peter’s wedding.”

“You will do no such thing.” Despite the rain Meg stopped in the middle of the road, placed her free hand on her hip, and glared at him. “Sarah and Peter’s wedding is their special day. You will not try to steal attention by making such an announcement.”

“When else will we have so many people assembled?” Joseph raised one brow, more bemused than angry. “It’s when I want it done.”

“It’s not when I want it announced.” Meg took a deep breath. “If you say anything at the wedding celebration, I will—will—I’ll denounce you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Joseph said through his teeth. “If I say it’s so, you will go along with me.”

“I won’t.” Meg took a step backward. Her heart raced, and breathing seemed difficult. “You can’t make me.”

She didn’t care if she sounded childish. She felt like a child—a child frightened of the dark, when she was a woman afraid of the man not a yard away from her.

“In truth I don’t ever want our betrothal announced.” Turning on her heel, she gathered up her skirt and broke into a trot.

“Margaret, stop this nonsense.” Joseph’s feet pounded in the forming mud, the horse’s hooves clomping along with him.

She kept going.

He grabbed her arm, spun her toward him. “Don’t you ever run away from me again. I have paid for your father’s permission to court you.”

“But not to treat me roughly.” She tried to pull free.

Paid for?
She would think about the meaning of his remark later.

“I want to go home. I’m cold and wet.”

“You should have thought of that before you started flirting with that glassblower.”

“I wasn’t—” No, she would not defend herself or her friendship with Colin. “Let go of me, Joseph.”

“I will when I deliver you to the Thompsons’ front door.” He gripped her arm, not quite hard enough to hurt but harder than she liked, too hard for her to get free without a struggle.

She couldn’t struggle against him, but she needed to get away. She made herself go still. Around her, the rain drummed so hard it sounded like footfalls racing toward them.

It was footfalls. They pounded harder than the rain. Meg twisted around and saw Colin dash up to them, grasp Joseph’s wrist, and break his hold.

“The lass said to let go of her.” His green eyes glowed like sea fire.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold rain raced through Meg. The gelding tossed his head and sidled away from the two men, and Joseph stood, his hair and face shining in the downpour, as though turned into a glass sculpture.

“Verra good.” Colin smiled and released Joseph’s arm. “If you like, Miss Jordan, I’ll escort you the rest of the way to Miss Thompson’s house.”

“Th–thank you.” Meg clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. “I w–would like that.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere with him if I were you.” Joseph’s voice was as cold as the rain. “You won’t like the consequences to your father.”

Meg stared at him. “Is that a threat?”

Joseph merely smiled.

Colin curled his fingers around Meg’s elbow. “We must get you out of this weather.”

Without so much as a nod in Joseph’s direction, Colin urged Meg back to the road and toward the Thompson farm. Rain splashed and pounded around them. The road turned to a river of mud. But no thud of hooves resounded behind them. Once Meg glanced back. She spotted no sign of Joseph.

“On horseback he can ride across the fields to his house faster than taking the road,” she observed.

“I expect he has.” Colin’s mouth was set in a grim line. “‘Twould be against his pride to follow us after you set your preference for my escort.”

“That was probably unwise of me, wasn’t it?”

“Aye, probably so.” Light pressure on her elbow took the sting from his agreement.

Meg’s throat closed. “Do you think he can harm you? I mean, can he make Father dismiss you?”

“Can he harm me? Aye. Can he persuade your father to dismiss me?” Colin said nothing more until they reached Sarah’s drive. There he paused beneath the protective canopy of an ancient pine and faced her. “If Joseph Pyle can persuade your father that you should marry him, when ‘tis against your wishes, I’m thinking he can persuade your father to make an unwise business decision like dismissing me.”

“Colin.” Meg pressed her hand to her lips. “You think Joseph has some sort of—control over my father?”

“I’m thinking a father who provides his daughter with a school with fine glass in the windows, a man who lets his daughter bring home stray cats and lets her go fishing with a glassblower is not verra likely to insist she wed a man she does not like.”

“Are you saying”—she clutched at his arm—”that Joseph is somehow forcing Father to go along with his wishes?”

“I cannot say anything so bold as all that.” He covered her hand with his. “But I’m saying I think some things aren’t right, you ken?”

“I know.” Meg blinked back tears. “What should I do?”

“Mr. Pyle has a fancy for you and will treat you well when not having his pride pricked, so I’m saying you should go along with your father’s wishes and accept his proposal.” He turned over his injured left hand. “And when I can work again, I’ll make you a fine gift to display in your new home.”

She felt as though Joseph’s gelding had kicked in her chest, crushing her heart. “You’re telling me to marry another man?”

“Aye, that I am.” Colin’s face was stiff. “I am not worth you having to choose between obeying your father and even being friends with me.”

“You are.” She could only speak in a whisper.

He gave her a smile though his eyes were sad. “And I cannot put my own wishes before my family another time. I do not feel I have the forgiveness once, let alone twice.”

More protests crowded into her throat, but she held them back. She would do everything she could to stop her impending betrothal to Joseph, but she could not compromise Colin’s position at the glassworks and his family’s better future.

“We’d better get into the house before we both catch a chill.” She turned toward the lane. “Come into the kitchen. There’ll be something hot to drink and a warm fire where you can dry yourself.”

They didn’t speak until they reached the walk of flagstones leading to the front door. Colin tried to wish her good-bye there, but she insisted on accompanying him all the way around the house to the kitchen door. The Thompsons’ housekeeper greeted them with exclamations over their bedraggled state and sent her daughter running to fetch Sarah.

“We’ve been worried about you,” the housekeeper said. “Sarah thought you would be here long before now.”

“I’m sorry.” Meg drew Colin to stand beside her at the fire. “One of my kittens—oh.” She stuck her hand into her pocket, where the kitten lay curled up and soaked. “Poor thing. I forgot about him. Colin, will you be so kind as to take it to the stable on your way home?”

“Of course.” He smiled at Meg, their eyes meeting and holding, as their hands touched in the exchange. “Perhaps this experience will teach him to stop wandering quite so much.”

“I think so.” She kept her fingers touching his hand. “Feel his little heart. It’s beating like a parade drum.”

“Aye, I ken how he feels.” Colin smiled and drew his hand away. “Now run along with your friend and get yourself dry. This fine lady is making cups of tea, and Miss Thompson is waiting for you.”

Meg nodded and turned her back on him, her own heart sinking to her toes.

Sarah stood in the doorway, silent, staring. As soon as Meg faced her, she spun on her heel and marched out of the kitchen. Meg followed. Neither of them spoke until they reached Sarah’s bedchamber on the second floor.

“Margaret Jordan, whatever are you thinking?” Sarah sounded out of breath.

Meg removed her sodden cloak and shoes before answering. “I’m thinking that I don’t want to marry Joseph even though I know it’s for the best that I do.”

“That’s what I was afraid you’d say when I witnessed that touching scene down there.” Sarah pressed her hands to her cheeks. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you? The glassblower, I mean.”

Without needing even a moment to think of her response, Meg nodded. “Yes, I’m in love with him. But if I don’t marry Joseph, it could ruin Colin’s life and possibly my father’s, too.”