Page 43 of Brian and Cora
“—about the havoc poised to descend on our peaceful hamlet?” For the first time, the hint of a smile broke through the gravity of Torin’s expression. But the shadows lingered in his eyes.
Cora couldn’t help but chuckle at the apt description.
“Havoc, eh?” Brian sent Cora a baleful look. “I have a more forceful description, but I wouldn’t want you to cover Jewel’s ears.”
The diversion seemed to work, for Torin’s eyes lost their haunted look. “Then, of course, Hank came out again to help out and direct all this.” He circled a hand to indicate the modified house and new furnishings. “Warned me to sit tight. With this fine weather, Jewel has not been pleased to remain cooped up in the house. Probably one reason she escaped this morning.”
“Traitor,” Brian grumbled. “You should have put a stop to this foolishness.”
“Hank said he did his best to rein in Andre Bellaire. But since at the time, he was also laughing his fool head off, I didn’t give his protestations much weight.”
“To give him his due,” Cora defended their absent friend, “Hank did manage to check some of the more…ah, idealistic ideas. But someone still slipped in the doilies.”
“Doilies!” Brian looked around for them.
“They’re draped over the back of the wing chairs.” Cora spoke with exaggerated helpfulness, reaching up and back to pat the top of her wing chair. “One’s also behind your head.”
“So…” Brian glanced over to check on Jewel, happily engrossed in drying one dish at a time, before she stumped overto carefully place them on the rack. “Hank’s responsible for the brown velvet curtains?”
Cora couldn’t help a spurt of mischief. She put on her most innocent expression and metaphorically pushed Hank under the wagon wheels. “He is,” she simpered.
“Velvet,” he said in a tone of disbelief.
“There was some talk of gold tassels.” She suppressed the giggle that wanted to bubble up. “Blue or green velvet.” Unable to resist, she fibbed. “Red or Coral.”
“Red?” His eyes practically bulged out. “Did they think I live in a bordello?”
Cora lowered her eyelashes in a sign of mock demureness. “I wouldn’t know the color of curtains in a bordello.” She made herself sound shocked. “The ladies settled on brown, Hank telling them that being the color of your eyes. Although, personally, I prefer blue.” All true.
Brian shot her a suspicious look.
“I also recall a mention of how warm they’d be over the windows in the winter.”
He made a face, as if he’d bitten into something sour, glanced at Jewel, and clenched his jaw.
Cora had never bantered with a man before, and the laughter bubbling inside her made her feel effervescent. Who would have thought nursing could be such fun? She’d always thought of nursing as a serious vocation, shouldering the burden of caring for the injured, ill, and dying.
She refused to acknowledge it might not be nursing in general that was such fun, so much as nursing this man that made her feel this way.
Letting out an audible sigh,Brian cast his gaze heavenward, before looking back at Cora. “Guess I should feel grateful to be spared gold tassels.”
She let out a gurgle of laughter. “And lace edging your pillowcases and sheets. And a dozen handkerchiefs with ‘Hero’ embroidered on them.”
“Oh, my—” He bit off the curse. A gentleman, no matter how provoked, didn’t swear in front of a lady. Still this one certainly tried his patience.
As if amused by his inner dilemma, laughter danced in her eyes, although her expression remained innocent.
Pretty gray eyes. Cheeks pink with humor.
He growled at his wayward thoughts. I’m not supposed to notice the eyes and cheeks of my unwanted nursemaid. I’m supposed to be driving her away, not amusing her.
“A few ladies managed to embroider some handkerchiefs with your initials. Let me know when you’re in need of one.”
He was about to bark out that he didn’t need any monogrammed handkerchiefs, until he remembered the state of his old ones. More often than not, he used them to wipe the ink off the nibs of his pen rather than wiping his nose. He didn’t suppose his nursemaid would believe the excuse that the original linen had a pattern of black splotches.
Best ignore her. He turned to Torin. “Now that you’re out of your shell, oh tortoise, we can discuss this one’s unnecessary presence.” He poked an index finger Cora’s direction.
Jewel, having neatly hung her damp towel on a peg, wandered over and, with a trusting air, bottom first, maneuvered to sit on Cora’s lap.
