* * * * *
Kyrah quickly saw to her mother’s needs and returned to the big house to continue her work through the afternoon. But her mind was riddled with confusion. One moment her insides would flutter violently at the thought of Ritcherd’s having been so close to her. And the next she felt angry over the circumstances that had come between them, but determined to see that he was never put into a position where he could reject her. While a part of her wondered how she could ever bear living without Ritcherd Buchanan, an inner voice continually reminded her that she could never make him happy. She felt certain he was better off without her, and one day he would realize it.
Deep in thought, she didn’t notice Peter Westman entering the room where she was dusting until he cleared his throat and startled her.
“What do you want?” she asked defiantly.
“You’d best tone down a bit, Kyrah Payne, and learn your place around here.” He smiled as if his statement had been a kind suggestion. “One day, that attitude could get you into trouble.”
Kyrah gave him a scornful glance and returned her attention to her work, trying to ignore his presence. She hated him with everything she had—for what he’d done to her family, for forcing her father to suicide, and for his constant belittling attitude toward her.
“Is there something you wanted?” she asked when he continued watching her.
“I’m glad you asked that,” he smirked as he moved closer, and Kyrah felt suddenly afraid at the intensity in his eyes. “I just wanted to have a little chat.”
“About what?” she demanded, watching him closely. She couldn’t recall him ever wanting to chat before now. Simply put, she didn’t trust him.
“Well, I understand your captain has returned from the colonies.”
Kyrah’s heart quickened for reasons she couldn’t decipher. The last thing she wanted to discuss with Peter Westman was her relationship with Ritcherd. “He’s not my captain,” she retorted.
“Well, I’m terribly glad to hear that, Kyrah,” he said, standing a little too close. “Although I’ve yet to meet the man personally, his reputation precedes him. I’m certain he’s simply not your type.”
“What reputation?” she asked, unable to curb her curiosity.
Peter laughed, as if her ignorance was terribly amusing. “He’s pompous, arrogant, and full of himself. I’ve never heard his name come up without hearing that his only interest in women is . . . well . . .” Peter looked at her askance, as if he was too embarrassed to say what he was thinking. “Well, you know what I mean.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, attempting to return to her work.
She gasped when Peter took hold of her arm with one hand and lifted her chin with the other. “Kyrah,” he said in a gentle voice that didn’t match the depraved glower in his eyes. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. He’s not the man for you.”
Kyrah jerked her chin away, only to have him touch her hair. She willed herself to stay calm, not wanting to make him angry. She’d seen his temper flare in the past, and she had no desire to tempt it. “Now, on the other hand, you and I are two of a kind.”
Kyrah shot her eyes to meet his, wondering if he could possibly be serious. In the two and a half years she’d been working for him, she’d never once seen any hint of personal interest in her. The timing of Ritcherd’s return made her wonder what he was up to. Could it be possible that he actually had some hidden romantic interest in her that the presence of another man had spurred to the surface? The thought was too incredulous to entertain. But whatever his motives might be, Kyrah wasn’t interested.
“I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am, Mr. Westman,” she said, wrenching her arm from his grasp, “but it’s not your kind.”
He laughed with an edge of confidence that riled her. “Don’t be too sure, Kyrah. One day you’re going to have to forgive me for winning that card game. And you’re going to have to accept that your father was a fool. And don’t forget, my dear, if it weren’t for me, you and your mother would be out in the street. A lot of good your darling captain’s money did you when you really needed it.”
“I told you before,” she said, swallowing her anger, “he’s not my captain.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way, for your sake.” He said it like a threat, and Kyrah wondered what he was implying. “Get back to work,” he uttered and left the room, pausing only to give Kyrah a demeaning glare before he left her gratefully alone.
It took several minutes for Kyrah to consciously push away the revulsion she always felt from her encounters with Peter Westman. Anger and fear and hatred all roiled together inside of her until she didn’t know how to feel. The fact that he’d attempted to discredit Ritcherd only added to her confusion. Once her emotion had settled, she had to ask herself why her first impulse was to defend him, and to justify in her mind the reasons why she was the woman for him. Habit, she concluded and forced herself to finish her duties.
Kyrah’s overactive emotions pushed her along more quickly than usual, and she left the big house early. Seeing that it wasn’t dark yet, she knew her mother wouldn’t be expecting her and she chose to take a long walk and clear her head before returning home. She felt compelled to go the church ruins, urged on by the reappearance of Ritcherd in her life. The memories felt tangible as she entered the stone structure, heaving a deep sigh. She yearned for the time when her life had been simple, and Ritcherd had been a natural part of it without the issues of war and death and poverty standing between them.
In the quiet loneliness of the church’s structure, the events of the previous two days suddenly welled up with an unexpected surge of emotion and she sat on one of the stone pews and cried. When her emotion was drained and her tears spent, Kyrah curled up on the bench, too weary to even talk herself into returning home.