Page 21 of More Than Meets the Eye

Probably not completely possible, but he’d give it his best effort. If his luck held, her soft heart would bleed enough over his own sad tale that he’d win her to his side. Then she’d actually help him take her brother down.

Allying himself with the cheerful little sprite proved a rather attractive prospect when he thought about it. Too bad the odds of a troll beguiling a fairy were slimmer than a playing card’s edge. But slim odds were better than no odds, and he’d never throw in a hand before all the cards were dealt. He had time to maneuver, to cultivate advantages, and bluff his way into her good graces. He knew how to win and wasn’t afraid to raise the stakes.

“I wasn’t sure your brothers would let you come,” he ventured. “Meeting a strange man out in the woods and all.” He chanced a glance at her profile. “The way you described them yesterday made them seem like the protective sort.”

“Oh, they are,” she assured him, her eyes twinkling. “But after I told them about your gallant attempt to save me from a rampaging boar, they relented when I proposed I bring you a basket to welcome you to Pecan Gap.” She grinned at him, a sideways, mischievous twist of the lips that made him think they were sharing a secret. “They’re not terribly fond of my keeping a hog as a pet, so the fact that you tried to shoot Hezzy actually raised you in their estimation.”

This woman defined delightful. With her dancing eyes and teasing smile numbing his brain, it took Logan several seconds to remember why he’d started this line of questioning in the first place. Oh, yes. Find out what she’d told her brothers about him. They knew of his presence. What else?

“I’m still surprised one of them didn’t escort you out here.”

Her chin came up a fraction. “Women pay neighborly calls in town all the time without a male escort. Why should this be any different?” She slowed her step and eyed him with sudden suspicion. “Unless you’re not the gentleman you led me to believe yesterday.” She leaned away from him, her smile vanishing. “Just so you know, I never travel this country unarmed. I carry a knife in my boot, and Zach made sure I knew how to use it.”

Great. Now he was scaring her off. Way to go, Logan. He backed off and tried for charm instead of answers. He placed his right hand over his heart and thickened his southern accent. “I swear, ma’am, that you are safe in my company. My mama raised me to guard a woman’s person and her virtue with equal vigor. I only wondered at your brothers’ faith in a man they had not yet met. If you were in my keeping, I’d not be so trusting.”

Some of the sparkle came back into her eyes. “If I were in your keeping, I’d escape your smothering vigilance just as often as I escape theirs.”

He chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.”

Evangeline Hamilton craved freedom and had a mild rebellious streak. He could use that.

“Besides,” she said, her shoulders lifting in a shrug, “I told them precisely where I’d be, so if I’m not home in an hour, Zach will come looking and probably shoot you for causing him worry. He does tend to fret where I’m concerned. It’s sweet but a tad constricting.”

She worded the threat in such a matter-of-fact fashion, Logan couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. Hamilton had already proven himself capable of hurting others without conscience. Cards, pistols—simply a different choice of weapon. But now Logan knew the man had a weakness. His sister.

“I guess we better get on with our visit, then, shouldn’t we?” He steered her to his campsite and steadied her while she seated herself atop his bedroll. “So what else is in here? It feels heavier than a loaf of bread.” He lifted the basket cover to peek inside, then placed it between them and settled on the opposite side.

“Go ahead and unpack it,” she said, her voice a teasing lilt. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I brought an assortment.”

An assortment of treasures. Stunned by her generosity, Logan inwardly gaped at each new item he pulled from the basket, though outwardly he kept his expression limited to polite interest. In addition to the bread and crock of butter, she’d also included a pint of red jam. Strawberry? Boy, he hoped so. It was his favorite. A thick slab of smoked ham wrapped in brown paper. A quart of string beans.

One jar remained. He reached for it, then stilled. Reverently, he brought the fruit jar out of the basket. Peaches. Sweet, juicy, yellow peaches.

He glanced sideways at his companion. “You’re giving these to me?” Peaches were a luxury. A treat for special occasions.

Evangeline shrugged and turned her attention to her lap. “We have a pair of trees by the house. I put up a half-dozen quarts every summer. We can spare one to welcome our new neighbor.”

Trees by the house? Logan cradled the glass jar in his arm as he struggled to contain the emotion that swelled inside him without warning. His mother had planted a pair of saplings by their front porch. He’d forgotten those little trees. The ones she’d watered with such care to ensure the roots wound deep into the soil. He’d not paid them much attention at the time, more interested in romping about the countryside than pampering baby trees. He didn’t even know what type they had been, since they hadn’t produced any fruit before he and his mother had been forced to leave. But if they were his mother’s trees. . . .

Thickness clogged his throat. He cleared it away and forced himself to set the peaches aside as if they weren’t the most valuable gift he’d received in the last seven years, then pasted a generic smile on his face. “Thanks.”

She smiled in return, but her eyes probed his, and he sensed she’d not been fooled by his manufactured nonchalance.

Logan turned away, using the near-empty basket as his excuse. Keep your guard up, man. It wouldn’t do for her to learn his tells, ferret out his weaknesses. She could turn against him, ally herself with his enemy. He had to maintain control of their interactions. Reveal only what was advantageous to his end game. Nothing more.

He found two utensils in the bottom of the basket. Knives—one for slicing the bread, the other for spreading butter. He drew them out, placed them across his bent leg, then reached for the loaf and gently removed its cloth wrapper.

“Join me?” he asked as he lifted the serrated blade above the golden brown offering. He peered at her. “This bounty is far too great for me to indulge in alone.”

She leaned forward as if to impart a secret. Cupping her hand around the side of her mouth, she whispered, “Why do you think I packed the knives?”

He chuckled. “A conspirator, I see.” He winked. “A woman after my own heart.”

Evangeline grinned at his devilish quip, but she filed the odd word choice away. Conspirator. Was that how Logan saw himself, or was he just being flirtatious?

She dipped her chin. Heavens, but she wanted him to be flirting. She’d never been on the receiving end of such attention before, and her belly fluttered with delightful little spasms at the thought that this heroic rescuer of women from imagined boar attacks might actually find her attractive. Might truly enjoy her company.

As the edge of the knife sawed through the crusty outer layer of bread, Evangeline looked up, greedy for the opportunity to study Logan while he concentrated on his task.