Page 48 of Calling on the Matchmaker
She agreed, but she hesitated to say so, didn’t want him to think their relationship was progressing. Because it wasn’t. It had to stay firmly where it was—a partnership to help the immigrants.
“Admit it.” His voice hinted at playfulness, as if he was trying to lighten the moment.
“Admit what?”
“That we work well together and make a great team.”
“Okay.” She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “You’re right.”
The muscles in his arm flexed as he directed the team toward First Street. Her thoughts flew back to the night in the sitting room when she’d approached him from behind and glided her hands over his arm. The remembrance of his sinewy flesh sent sudden heat spilling through her. How had she dared to be so bold?
“Take your time looking.” His tone dropped low and was filled with invitation.
She stared straight ahead, her cheeks flushing.
He chuckled.
Riley Rafferty was going to make her crazy ... crazy about him. And she couldn’t let that happen. Not in the least.
17
Where are you taking me, Riley?” Finola asked from beside him on the bench of the Dennett gig.
It was a fine piece of workmanship, one he was proud of. He’d spent most of his free time over the past year building the lightweight two-wheeled carriage that was pulled by one horse. While he’d maintained the three-spring suspension, he’d tweaked the design so the body was sleeker and slimmer and the wheels slightly smaller, allowing it to go faster.
Over the past week, Big Jim had helped him paint it a light blue late at night when he finished the other work awaiting him. When Big Jim said it matched the color of Finola Shanahan’s eyes, Riley denied it. Maybe he hadn’t purposefully picked out a paint color to match her eyes, but it had happened. And he guessed he’d probably paint everything light blue for the rest of his life if he could.
He chanced a glance her way only to find those wide, beautiful blue eyes watching him expectantly.
“You have to wait and see.”
With her fur-lined hood pulled up and secured by a scarf, her face was hardly visible. But her eyes ... they were mesmerizing, always drawing him in and gripping his heart harder, so thatwith every passing day he needed her more. He found himself restless and distracted and out of sorts until he arrived with the buckboard at her home. Only then did his world seem to come into focus and the day truly begin.
They’d spent the past week with the same routine—heading into the Kerry Patch and visiting the newly arrived immigrants, warning them of cholera, and giving out advice for how to avoid it. She’d gone with him to his campaign office one evening, but they’d only ended up arguing about the slavery issue again.
Of course he hated slavery. Abhorred it, especially after Big Jim had told him his story about being torn apart from his wife and young infant and sold to a new slave master. Big Jim had tried to visit his wife one weekend and had been accused of attempting to escape. His new master had beaten him until he’d almost died, leaving his shoulders permanently hunched. The scars on Big Jim’s back were difficult to look at, and Riley couldn’t imagine the suffering the gentlehearted man had experienced during the beating.
After hearing about the battered slave’s woodworking abilities, William Rafferty had been the one to purchase Big Jim at the slave market at the front of the capital building. He’d promptly given the man his freedom and then offered him a job in the wagon shop.
It turned out Big Jim was incredibly smart and dexterous and became a master wagonmaker in half the time it took other apprentices and journeymen. He’d been working and living at the shop ever since and rarely left the safe confines except to go to church on Sundays and visit with the pastor’s family.
Big Jim never talked about his wife and child. And Riley hadn’t wanted to bring up the painful past, although his dad had once told him that he believed the woman and child had been sold downriver.
Whatever the case, Riley hadn’t wanted to argue with Finola about the slavery issue. He already felt guilty enoughfor not taking a stand against it with his campaign. But almost everyone—Father O’Kirwin in particular—had told him that his private beliefs about slavery didn’t need to play a role in this election, especially when so much was at stake.
Today, on their day of rest, he wanted to spend time with just Finola, without worrying about the election or having constant interruptions.
Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the time working with her. He’d meant what he said about them being a good team. He’d loved every moment with her. She had a deep compassion for the immigrants, her kindness knew no bounds, and she was never timid and always willing to do the filthiest and humblest of tasks.
Although he was getting to see the treasure she was both inside and out, he hadn’t had any opportunities to work on winning her affection. Oh sure, they’d had brief connections—her hand brushing his when passing him something, or his lingering when helping her down from the wagon.
Even so, he could sense she was still holding herself back. When he’d spoken with Bellamy after mass earlier in the day, the young matchmaker had suggested that Riley get her away from the busyness and distractions of everything else and spend time with just her.
Her father had privately confided the past evening that none of the previous twelve suitors had lasted more than two days. Shanahan had pumped Riley’s hand and congratulated him for remaining with Finola longer than two weeks. Riley guessed that was why Shanahan had allowed Finola to continue to visit in the Kerry Patch despite the cholera outbreak—because he was still anxious about Finola making a mess of the match.
The three-week deadline Riley had given himself for winning her was fast approaching. But for a reason he couldn’t explain, he felt almost as precarious in his relationship with her now as he had at the beginning.
Today he wanted the chance to change that, wanted to makesure she was growing to care about him too, wanted to make sure she was secure in their match.
