Page 12 of More than Words Can Say

Rosalind couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “The pushy, male, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer kind.” Slowly she lifted her chin and forced her blue eyes to meet his, impressing him with her fortitude. “I won’t go into the details with someone who’s not family, but I swear that if you marry Abigail, I’ll tell you everything. She doesn’t deserve to pay for my mistake, but I fear that’s exactly what will happen if things continue unchecked.”

Miss Kemp released her hold on him, paced a few steps away, then pivoted to face him again. “I don’t trust Elmer Beekman or Clarence Ormandy to be of much use. Elmer would say a prayer, then hide his head in the sand, and Clarence would run to his mother. Mrs. Ormandy would never risk her position in Honey Grove society by taking up for a pair of girls touched by scandal, even if one of them happened to be married to her beloved Clarence. She’d more likely use her influence to have the marriage annulled. And while I believe in prayer and utilize that weapon every day, when one faces Goliath, it’s best to have a rock in the sling.”

And he was the rock she planned to have on hand.

Zach frowned. Elmer and Clarence had to be the two biggest milksops in Fannin County. What was Abigail thinking? They’d be of no help whatsoever.

Which was why she came to you first, knucklehead.

Zach turned his back on Rosalind Kemp, unfolded his arms, and braced his palms against the surface of his workbench. His fingers gripped the wood tighter than the vise jutting out from the side.

This wasn’t his problem. His knuckles whitened. It wasn’t. His shoulders hunched. His head dropped. It wasn’t. His eyes closed.

Mistake.

Images popped up behind his lids. Evie. A distraught four-year-old girl with mismatched eyes, unwanted by adoptive families and in need of a big brother’s protection and guidance. Then there was Seth. Asthmatic, weak, wouldn’t last through the year without someone looking out for him. They hadn’t been Zach’s problem either. Not until Evie’s brother saved Zach’s life, losing his own in the process. A promise to a dying kid had changed the course of Zach’s future. Changed him from loner to head of a family at age thirteen. He’d been too young to understand the ramifications of having others depend on him. At thirty, he understood plenty. Especially his own inadequacies and his likelihood of disappointing those who relied on him. But would he disappoint Abigail any more than Elmer Beekman or Clarence Ormandy would?

He snorted in disdain. Not if she was looking for a rock, as her sister suggested. His competition offered nothing but down fluff—a worthless commodity if trouble came knockin’.

Zach had lived through trouble those milksops couldn’t even imagine. Orphaned, worked nearly to death by a bitter grandfather, train-wrecked, and left on his own with two scrawny kids to provide for when he was still a kid himself. Yet his adopted siblings had never gone hungry. They’d never suffered physical harm. They’d grown into remarkably normal people despite his rough ways and less-than-conventional methods, because they’d known he always had their backs. Always. They’d even found love. Surely that counted for something.

What did Beekman or Ormandy have on their résumés?

Nothing that amounted to a hill of beans. That was what.

Yet this wasn’t his problem. As much as he liked the Kemp sisters, Abigail in particular, this still wasn’t his problem. On the other hand, what would happen if he left them to fend for themselves, two lambs in a world of wolves?

He’d done things in his life he wasn’t proud of—lots of things, things that made him a poor match for a woman like Abigail Kemp—but he’d never deliberately allowed harm to come to an innocent person when he had the power to stop it. And while Abigail deserved better than the likes of him, Beekman and Ormandy didn’t measure up either. At least he could offer protection from whatever trouble knocked on the Kemps’ door. All Beekman could do was be a name on a piece of paper. He’d be worthless if any real danger came calling.

And the idea of Abigail sharing a marriage bed with that paunchy, middle-aged softy left Zach queasy.

Slowly he straightened and turned. Rosalind stood quietly, hope glittering in her blue eyes. Yep, the kid needed a big brother, all right. Vulnerable, young, and pretty enough to cause a stir. She reminded him of Evie.

But her sister? The last thing he felt for Abigail Kemp was brotherly concern. If he was going to marry her, they were definitely having a discussion about benefits. ’Cause not even a saint could manage a marriage of convenience with that combination of spunk and curves. And Zach was no saint.

“So?” Rosalind prompted. “Will you do it? Will you marry my sister?”

“I ain’t ready to say yes just yet. I’ll need to look over those papers she kept trying to pawn off on me, and possibly renegotiate a few—oomph.”

The fool kid smacked into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist before he had the wherewithal to fend her off. She reminded him more of Evie by the minute.

“Oh, thank you!” She kissed his cheek then jumped back. “You won’t regret this. I know it! Abigail is the dearest soul in the world. The two of you will be a splendid pair. You’ll see.”

Zach backed up a step, then another, his gaze going a bit black around the edges. “Hold up, now. I ain’t made any promises. Just said I’d read her papers and consider things.”

Her smile didn’t dim one iota. “You’ll marry her. You’ve already decided. I can see it in your eyes. You’re just dragging your feet now at the prospect of abandoning your bachelorhood, but believe me, you’ll be gaining far more than you’ll be giving up.”

His bachelorhood. His freedom. The freedom he’d waited thirty years to claim. The thought of sacrificing it again made his knees weak. He reached for the worktable behind him. “I’m gonna need a few days to think things through.”

She shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve already given you more time than we can afford. When Abigail gets her mind set on something, she doesn’t rest until the job’s done. I made her promise not to leave the bakery until she brewed herself a cup of tea, but she’s probably already swigged that down and is making for Mr. Beekman’s boardinghouse even now. If you don’t stop her before she gets there, this whole conversation will be moot.” Rosalind grabbed his hand and tugged. “Go after her, Mr. Hamilton. Now. Before you and I both are stuck with regrets we can’t undo.”

Zach ignored her pulling, not swaying an inch. He wouldn’t be bullied into marriage, not even by a sweet girl who reminded him of his sister.

But those regrets . . . he already had a sizeable collection. He didn’t care for more. But what of his freedom?

A picture of Elmer Beekman standing before a preacher with Abigail Kemp rose in his mind. The bald pudding of a fellow putting his hands on her and leaning in for a kiss . . .

Zach clenched his fists and marched toward the door of the shed.