Page 46 of His Unforgettable Bride
His stomach muscles clenched at the wordbetter. “Everyone on this side of heaven has imperfections. Becoming well-mannered doesn’t make someone better, not deep down.”
“You know what I mean.”
Did he? “The lessons shall refine you and help you navigate polite society, but you shall always be you.”
“Ugh.”
His brow arched. “I cannot imagine why you said that. You are…wonderfully made.”
After an eternity, she spoke quietly. “Are you simply nice to me because I rescued you?”
Was he? Partially, for certain. “At first, I suppose, but I have grown to like you for you.”
“For me?”
“Indeed.” Some may say she lacked finesse. But to him, her unpolished parts contributed to her character and made her unique. His intuition spoke loudly and clearly—he was not the type of man who gravitated toward sophisticated women who said all the right words at all the correct times.
Why? Perhaps because such a person, male or female, sounded rather dull. But where and when had he interacted with refined women to draw such a conclusion? The answer escaped him like many, many others.
“Before you and I met, my grandfather was the only man who’d truly rallied on my behalf. Like him, you’re a decent man, Gray.”
“A high compliment.” He hoped she spoke the truth, but deep inside, he still felt disappointed, maybe even a failure. Why, specifically? Because he may have broken the law or for another reason? “I have doubts sometimes, but thank you.”
“It’s true. You are decent—most of the time.” Her eyes glimmered with teasing. “Though I wasn’t as convinced when we first met.”
Despite her playful comment, a hollowness echoed inside him. He had not uncovered one concrete fact to confirm his identity, and far too few memories had sprouted. Questions tangled him in knots. Had he ever fallen in love? Had his heart broken? Did he dare open himself up to such opportunities again or for the first time?
Gray shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. When did a man with amnesia start to look forward instead of backward? And how would he know when to move on with his life? He had no idea, and likely nobody else did, either.
A stone bridge arched over a brook in the middle of the park, and they climbed the short ridge to reach the top. Water gurgled below, and the wind now carried a chill.
“I wish I had something warmer to offer you.” He started to shrug out of his suit coat.
She stopped him with a touch to his arm. “I have my shawl and need nothing more since I donned a wool underskirt. It’s adorable with red and black stripes, yet I cannot imagine Tabitha ever wearing it. For one thing, it’s not brown. If you haven’t noticed, that’s her favorite color.”
He had not. Of course, mentioning her underclothing, particularly to a single young man, was highly improper. But he was not the etiquette teacher, and she was not a student tonight.
They were equals.
She leaned over the bridge’s side, her skirt riding higher to reveal her muddy shoes and pretty ankles. “The water isn’t frozen yet, and I see a few geese, though they appear asleep.”
Dragging his eyes from her hemline, he copied her stance. Their shoulders brushed, and neither of them pulled away. Big and little rocks lined the banks, the slumbering geese tucked between the stones for shelter. “Last night Icala identified these birds as Canada geese.”
“Like Tabitha, he knows plenty about this and that.” She paused. “From what I can tell, you’re becoming good friends with Icala and Cy.”
His brow rose. “It is not unlike our friendship. We are good friends too, are we not?”
“I like surrounding myself with a few good hearts instead of collecting too many acquaintances. Only a handful of people have fallen into the slot.”
Was she slighting him, uninterested in pursuing a friendship? “I am unsure what else to call us.”
“Two people who temporarily reside in the same house. Two lost souls. And two folks who help each other. Dad-blamed, Gray, you’re right, though I’ve never had a male friend before.”
He openly assessed her. The longer he stared, the warmer the night turned. He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Sooner or later, the men in Everly, including the reverend, shall pound on the sisters’ front door. After spending time in your presence, I suspect you shall linger on their minds for perhaps…forever.”
She pressed her hand against her chest, perhaps her heart. “What are you saying?”
Had he admitted he had romantic notions about Juliet or only implied he thought other men might one day? As much as he longed to tell her he would never forget her, he could not. His life was too uncertain.
