My Forbidden Mentor (12 page)

“Kurt? How did you know about Kurt?” Her dazed mind began clearing. “No, never mind. My father told you, didn’t he? You’re his new best friend. I suppose he’d tell you anything you wanted to know, particularly about his daughter.”

John’s glare competed with hers. “Just tell me where he is. We need to take him back with us.”

She glanced in the other gentleman’s direction before pointing toward the pub. “He’s there, in the same pub you saw me in.”

John motioned to Robert to get Melissa settled in the carriage. “I’ll be right back.”

Melissa watched him stride down the cobblestone path, infuriated with him but at the same time relieved because he was here with her.

“Miss Howard.” Robert opened the carriage door and guided her in, taking a seat across from her.

He had a nice sounding voice, soft, yet deep like John’s. If she hadn’t been so enamored of John, his friend would prove quite handsome. He had dark brown waves of hair that reached his shoulders and emerald green eyes that one could fall into. They hadn’t time to converse before John and Kurt returned.

Kurt went to sit next to Melissa when John stopped him. “That seat is taken.” John caught the roll of Melissa’s eyes.

Kurt obliged. John and his friend were too big to mess with so he sat next to Robert in silence. John had mentioned to Kurt about the passing of Mr. Howard. Shocked, he swore not to say a word to Melissa.

Once they were all settled in the carriage it was off to the ship.

On the way John was so entranced by his own thoughts that he’d forgot to introduce his best friend to his favorite, impossible student and he realized it when Robert introduced himself. He felt like a clod but his anger level had reached unknown peaks.

“Hello, Miss Howard. I’m Robert Gibson, John’s best friend and partner,” Robert offered while extending his hand out to her.

“Nice to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Gibson.”

Her courteous manners were loathsome, smiling in excess, trying to dig at John, he could tell. He watched their hands clasp for a quick shake and then drop.

Robert added, “I would have met you sooner if I’d known you were at John’s manor the day of your accident as I was there. I’m sorry about your accident, by the way.”

John observed Melissa’s expression when Robert mentioned the accident. Shock and then remorse flooded over her honeyed features. It seemed odd to John at first, but then remembering an accident like that again could be a reason to react so strongly.

Robert became aware of Melissa’s change as well and voiced his regret. “I shouldn’t have reminded you. I apologize.”

Robert didn’t need to apologize. Her changing mood wasn’t due to the accident, as horrible as it was. It was Robert’s announcement that had her rattled. If Robert was the one in the library and John had been in town, then what a dreadful mistake she’d made. Have I got a limp for life because I assumed wrong? And I’ve treated John in a horrible way. At that thought she looked over at him. He was staring out the window. She focused back on Robert. Somehow she would talk to Robert alone to confirm her suspicions. “Please Mr. Gibson, I’m quite fine about it. I appreciate the concern, and at last we’ve finally met.” Her eyes took in John’s profile. “I’ve heard a lot about you, good things.” That made Robert smile. It added bewilderment for John when his head turned her way at the change of tone in her voice.

They boarded the ship and all retired to their own cabins for the few hours of travel. John arose before dawn. Not able to sleep, his thoughts deliberated on Melissa and what to do about her. Her father’s passing created an additional responsibility toward her, a promise, one that he’d made and intended to keep.

The ship took its time reaching the docks. John gripped the wooden railing in anticipation of the incredible deed he still needed to complete. In the near distance he could see his carriage parked next to a giant oak tree, his driver, Jess, snoozing with reins in hand. There was an additional rig parked next to his. John had made arrangements earlier so he and Melissa would have privacy so he could tell her about the passing of her father. He hadn’t been looking forward to this moment and now it was time to face it.

When departing the ship, John looked up into three sets of eyes. Two sets reflected grief and the third set, the important one, looked perplexed.

John nodded to Robert and Kurt, who headed for the opposite carriage. Melissa started to follow them when John stopped her. “Melissa, you and I will take this one.”

“All right.” She didn’t argue but complied and waited for his assistance to enter the carriage. Another idea she had to get used to, at least for now, was that her injured leg wouldn’t allow her the task of steps unassisted.

Once she was inside John was right behind her, tapping the roof and signaling Jess to carry on.

Sitting across from her, his mind scrambled on how to begin. This wasn’t just anyone he had to inform about a parent’s death, it was Melissa. Melissa, whom he’d come to know as a person, a person who’d become a friend, one who’d already lost one parent.

His nervous tension showed because he saw Melissa’s stare lingering on his tightened fingers forming into fists on his lap. Damn. It shouldn’t be this difficult.

Her eyes found his. “John, why did we have to take separate carriages?” Her fingers gripped the material of her dress at her sides. He was awfully quiet.

Slipping next to her made him feel more at ease. “I need to talk to you about something.”

With a cross look on her face, she asked, “What is so urgent that I had to end my trip so abruptly?” She thought his jealousy had pushed him to pursue her. When his eyes blinked and turned solemn, a gut feeling told her something was wrong. “What is it John? Is it my father?”

How was he going to tell her? He knew her father meant the world to her, but she had to know. Carefully he took her hand in his and looked directly into her frightened gaze. “Yes, it is,” he said with gentleness.

Her eyes searched his, not wanting to believe his words. “What’s happened? Is there a doctor with him? Is it serious?” she asked, her voice breaking up. Her senses told her it was worse than she imagined. No, not my father’s death.

John took a moment to answer. “No,” he said, swallowing hard when seeing her eyes begin to mist. He squeezed her hand in comfort. “He’s gone, Melissa.”

She held his gaze, wishing, hoping, wanting him to take back the words he’d just spoken, those last critical words that had revealed the unbelievable truth. Why? Her eyes began stinging with new tears as she asked herself the reason why. She looked away, not wanting John to see her falling apart, but her emotions were overflowing, ready to flood at any moment. She kept denying his words, hoping it was a nightmare and soon she’d wake up. Holding herself in check, teetering on the brink, she glanced toward John again. His sympathetic expression hadn’t changed. “This isn’t happening. It isn’t possible. Please tell me this is a cruel joke,” Melissa begged out of desperation, hoping he’d have a different answer.

“Its true, sweetheart,” he said, trying to stay calm for Melissa’s sake. It wasn’t easy when his heart was racing a mile a minute. He understood her denial, as denial seemed to be a natural part of the course for losing a loved one.

Her voice crumbled in the dryness of her throat as she tried to ask, “How did he die?”

“I’m not sure, in his sleep, though.” John’s voice was tender.

Pulling the curtain aside from the dampened window allowed her blurred vision to examine moonlit trees passing by as fast as her scattering thoughts. Without realizing it she squeezed tighter on John’s hand as reality surfaced over and over again. “When,” she paused to control her tears. “When did he go?”

John’s voice was right above a whisper. “Sometime this morning, I think.”

“Did you find him?” she asked.

“No, your aunt did. He was still in bed. He never woke up.”

“How’s auntie?” she asked, concerned for her dear friend.

“She’s doing all right. She has a friend with her.”

“Good.” Continuing to stare into the morning darkness, the back of her free hand covered her mouth to muffle any sobbing sounds.

John watched her. She was trying to be strong but was failing. He could tell by how solid her grip remained on his hand. He was searching for some kind of consolation when he heard her speak again.

“You went there to see my father?”

“Yes I went by yesterday to see how you were fairing and stayed for supper and conversation with your father.” He gave her a smile. “I enjoyed his company very much.” He stopped to study her features. “We made plans to go hunting this morning. He said he hadn’t been in ages. He seemed very happy Melissa.”

A moment of silence fell between them. She tried thinking happy thoughts. “Yes, you know he encouraged me to take this trip. It was his . . . idea.” Her voice sounded strained. “He always thought of everyone else except himself. I’m thankful to have had a father . . . so . . . wonderful.” Her lips pressed together but a surge of fresh tears broke through.

Losing the battle of her welled up feelings, she turned to John, looking for comfort. His free hand went to her face, his fingers wiping the wetness from her honeyed cheeks, and still more came. “Oh Melissa, I’m so sorry about your father,” he told her.

Her lips pressed together again and her view of John’s handsome face blurred even more. “I never expected this, not so soon after my mother.” Her eyes searched his in close proximity. She knew he understood and she needed his comfort. “John?” she paused before asking, “Will you hold me?”

Identifying with her pain, he didn’t hesitate. “Come here,” he told her as his arms opened to her. Her arms went around him in a powerful grip. His hands slid along her back, his face dissolving in her golden strands. He knew she was about to burst. There had to be rage, hurt, and sadness wanting to emerge. “Let it out,” he told her. “Come on, Melissa, let it out.” He began rocking her in his arms.

Muffled sobs started escaping her mouth. Her saturated cheek lay against his sleek black hair when the words poured out of her. “Oh, father.” she wailed. “Father, why did you leave me?” John closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her, empathizing with her pain. “It’s not fair, why him, why my father, God? It’s too soon,” she cried, almost choking on her words.

John held her close while she voiced her sobbing anger. After her cries had quieted, she murmured near his ear, “I’m all alone now.”

His deep voice reassured her. “You’re not alone. I’m here,” he told her. I will always be here, he wanted to tell her. They held each other until her breathing was almost normal. His hands were rubbing her back when she lifted away.

Settling her hands on his shoulders, her red swollen eyes stared into his that expressed compassion. “John, thank you for being here,” she said.

He gazed into her beautiful, saddened face, stained from paths of tears, and became aware of a strange sensation that shot straight to his heart, a first of this kind of feeling, and in gathering his bearings he spoke the truth, “I want to be here for you.”

A slight smile pierced her lips as she moved away from him and leaned into the soft leather seat. She laid her head on his broad shoulder and grasped for his hand again.

His nose dipped down, touching her shiny head of gold, and he inhaled her flowered scent. His eyes closed and he thought of how increasingly difficult it was becoming not to touch her. Even now, when emotions ran rampant, he wanted to show her he cared, not just tell her, but it was too soon for that. He didn’t feel she was ready to handle physical closeness yet.

She fell asleep until they arrived at her house in the late evening. John awakened her. “Melissa, you’re home.”

Stepping to the front door she froze, unable to go in. John sensed her hesitation. “I’ll go in with you,” he offered.

Upon entering a gust of tobacco filled her nostrils and the familiar scent unnerved her. She stopped at the doorway of the sitting room. She stared at the couch which had been her temporary bed for almost a month. Tonight she couldn’t sleep there, not when there were so many past memories.

“Are you going to be all right tonight?” he asked as concern crossed over his features.

Her eyes downcast as she peered at her folded hands and then lifted back to his as she made a request, “John, I’d rather sleep in my own bed tonight. Could you help me?”

“Of course. I’ll just grab your blankets and pillows,” he told her and went to fetch the items she needed. When he returned to her side he sensed there was more she wanted to ask.

She was seeking the appropriate words for another request when she noticed how much he was concentrating on her. “John, I don’t want to be alone tonight. Will you stay?” she asked but paused because of the startled look on his face and then changed her mind. “I understand if . . . ” She was stopped short.

“Of course,” he answered without thinking twice. She had taken him by surprise but he couldn’t refuse her request. It was obvious she needed additional comforting. “I need to tell my driver to go on and bring back my mare tomorrow.”

“Oh dear. I had forgotten about that,” she said sounding apologetic.

He handed her the blankets and pillows. “Don’t worry yourself. Wait for me and I’ll carry you up.” Even as he said it, he knew she hadn’t any choice but to wait.