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Chapter Ten

“Wait a moment please, sir,” the older woman said as she threw cloths onto the floor to sop up the water. She then motioned for him to walk over them.

When she lowered to the floor and began mopping up, he reached for the cloth closest and dried the area by the door. If the woman found it shocking, she didn’t comment. Probably because she was already flustered by Wren’s fall and his appearance.

She took the cloth from his hands when she finished and put the wet cloths into a wooden bucket by the door. “Wren can take them and rinse them out,” she said in a brisk tone.

The woman had a pleasant face; in it he could see a slight resemblance to Wren. She was slender and had graying temples and bright blue eyes that bored into his at the moment, but she was too polite to ask him anything right away. Instead, she said, “Please sit down. I do apologize for that. Wren was in a hurry to reach the door and slipped when the water sloshed over the sides of the bowl she carried.”

When he sat, she moved the kettle over the burning fire in the small hearth. “Tea?”

“Please.” In truth, he had worked himself into a state of what he would say or do upon arriving at the humble home, vacillating between thanking Wren for taking care of him the night before and leaving her alone, or remaining longer and asking her aunt if he could continue to call on her.

But he couldn’t. It would be daft of him to even consider any kind of relationship with her. He planned to continue his current lifestyle, which he was sure would not, absolutely not, include the lovely Wren.

Of course, once the ship returned in six months or so, he would be wealthy, and only then could he even consider changing his lifestyle, and maybe at that time he could make Wren a part of his life.

Dear Lord, what was he thinking?

And now Wren had yet to return. He suspected she was embarrassed and too nervous to face him after their kiss the day before and now, her fall. “I wished to thank Wren for last night,” he began.

Her aunt placed the cup of tea before him. He wrapped his fingers around the homely and probably expensive, sturdy mug. It felt right in his large hands, unlike the dainty and expensive things preferred by Lucinda and ladies like her. “I believe it is she who should thank you for saving her from those men.”

“Yes, they were up to no good, that is true. But she did care for me after I was hurt in the scuffle with them. Even so far as to ensure I was well before leaving my side.”

The woman looked to the door and then to him. “You seem to be fully recovered.”

“Yes, thanks in part to Wren, and my butler of course. She told him what the doctor suggested to make for me before leaving.”

The woman’s face tightened. “Mr. Murray—”

“I am so sorry. I am so clumsy at times.” Wren returned, breathless. Still wet, but somehow she’d managed to dry her hair and mop the water from her dress. She no longer wore an apron, which he guessed had caught the brunt of the spill.

“Mr. Murray came to thank you for your care of him last night. In his home,” her aunt said in a clipped tone. “It seems whatever the butler made caused him to feel much better today.”

“Ah,” Wren looked to him, her blue gaze anxious. “I am glad you’re well, now.”

“I did promise to come and visit today,” he prompted and then looked to Mairid. “I hope you do not mind that I pay a short visit. How is your friend?”

“Martha is recovering, thank you for asking, sir.” Her aunt met his gaze. “Can I inquire as to what your interest is in my niece?”

He held both hands up. “I assure you I do not mean anything untoward. I find I like Wren. She is very intelligent.”

“She is, but she is also very bonnie,” her aunt said.

Wren made a sound, a soft groan. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Murray. You are kind.” She remained standing by the door, and he could tell it was a silent plea that he leave.

He stood. “May I have a word in private?” he asked Wren, then looked at her aunt to show her he meant to be respectful. “Just for a moment?”

After a scant second, her aunt nodded.

He followed Wren outside. She peered over her shoulder at the window where he was sure her aunt was watching and then walked closer to the corner of the house where it would be harder to see them.

“I am sorry, did you not tell your aunt about last night?” he asked. The entire time his gaze was unable to move from her lips. The memory of the kiss from the night before was too vivid.

She shook her head. “I did, but I left out the part of going to your house. I thought it was best left unsaid.”

“And then I come and speak too much.”