Keep on Believing Read online

  What was wrong with men like him who thought of nobody else but themselves? “Clearly, since you were walking with your head in the clouds. I cannot believe you stepped in front of my horse. Pray, what were you thinking?” Ella shook her head. “Why don’t you people realize there are others on the road that might be in a hurry?”

  His gaze skimmed over her from her green blouse and matching jacket, down to the tan skirt of her dress. When his attention focused on her face once more, color bloomed in the man’s face, not blending well with the dirt smudged on his skin. In two strides, he stood before her, bending to her level and scowling.

  “And why don’t you people stop thinking you own the world?” He took a deep breath and narrowed a heated glare at her. “Isn’t it enough that you turn up your wealthy noses at those of us beneath your class?” He motioned his hand toward her horse. “Good grief, woman, you could have killed me. And have you forgotten that I did apologize? Are my words so difficult for Your Highness to accept?”

  She blinked, not believing the tone he used with her. For the nerve of him talking to her like this was all her fault? She gasped. “How dare you—”

  He threw back his head as a harsh laugh exploded from his throat. “Oh, believe me, Your Highness, I dare quite a bit, especially today.” He straightened his hat on his head and lifted his chin.

  She stomped her foot. “You dare accuse me of being arrogant, and yet there you are pretending to act like the king himself.”

  His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. “If I had been the king, I’m sure you wouldn’t have tried to run me over.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “The king wouldn’t have been foolish enough to wander into the road without looking.”

  His dark glare turned darker. At this point, she wasn’t even certain what eye color he had. At first she thought they were gray, but now they appeared black.

  “How many times do I have to apologize?” He growled. “Can’t you see that you are over-reacting?”

  “Ha!” She placed her gloved fingers over her mouth. Shock vibrated through her from this idiotic conversation. “Oh, please. If anyone is over-reacting, it’s you.”

  “Why? Because people like me cannot possibly be right?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You are intolerable.”

  He bunched his hands by his sides, but he remained quiet for a few awkward moments. Finally, he took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.

  “Once again,” he said with a more controlled voice, “forgive me for disturbing you and your horse as you raced down the street without a care in the world. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way before I dare say something else and put you people in your place again. Good day, Your Highness.”

  He swung away from her and marched toward the side of the street.

  Ella couldn’t believe his audacity. It was true she didn’t socialize much, but if most men were as rude as this one, she’d be content to live in the privacy of her home for the rest of her life.

  Shaking her head, she moved back to her horse and mounted. She took a quick glance around at the curious watchers who had somehow gathered without her notice. Thankfully, none of them was the man who had asked her so many questions earlier. Perhaps she had made too much of it, but she couldn’t relax yet. Deep in her heart, she had a sickening feeling Rodmilla would never give up until she won.

  Ella was determined that would never happen.

  CHRISTOPHER MORGAN swiped the dirt off his clothes as he walked to his horse. He’d never been so frustrated with women before today. And now, in a one-hour period, two women had tried his patience. Two women had made him feel like an imbecile and the lowest creature that had ever walked.

  Gnashing his teeth, he grasped the horse’s reins and mounted. On impulse, he glanced back at the fancy porch wrapped around an even fancier house that bordered one of the best flower gardens in town. The white with green trim, two-story, home had large windows, and stood out as if advertising its wealth. When he’d first seen this place several months ago, he wanted a chance to look inside. Now that he’d been inside, he wished he’d never stepped foot on their polished-to-perfection walnut-wooded floors.

  What had he been thinking earlier, asking Rosanna to marry him? Obviously, he’d lost his mind at some point during the last two months. Knowing a woman for that length of time certainly didn’t qualify her for marriage.

  Anger mixed with the sting from his damaged heart, as his mind whirled in confusion like a stubborn tornado. He still couldn’t believe Rosanna had so crudely refused his offer of marriage. Her excuse; he just wasn’t good enough for her or her family. Chris’s profession as a schoolteacher wasn’t sufficient, and the house he’d built with his own hands certainly hadn’t impressed her. Though the truth of their relationship threatened to tear him apart, he was glad her true nature had been revealed. Lesson learned.

  Releasing a shout, he kicked his horse into a run, riding away from the white-picket fence surrounding Rosanna’s elaborate home. Then to have another woman who was so full of herself nearly run him down...

  He gripped the reins tighter. Women! Why had he decided to take a teaching job so near to these wealthy women? He should have realized by now that all they cared about was money, and if a man didn’t have enough to support them, they were going to throw him aside like dog scraps.

  It was really his own fault for thinking he could marry someone like Rosanna. From the first day they met, he knew he was far beneath her station in life. Yet, for some odd reason, she had acted as though she really liked him. Why would she lead him on if she wasn’t serious about their relationship?

  Within minutes, he reached his small house—the one he’d built with his own two hands. He was proud of his achievements, but apparently, his ability to build a home wasn’t a tool to impress women.

  He led the horse into the makeshift shed, dismounted, and tied the animal to the post. Anger still guiding him, he marched into the house and slammed the door. Darby O’Brian, a friend Chris had relied on for years, jumped from the table, knocking the chair over in the process. The shorter man’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open as he stared at Chris. He’d known Darby since they had both lost their parents at a young age. Darby had always been there for Chris, and he knew that the man would move mountains if he could just to make Chris laugh. Funny thing was, because of Darby’s height and weight, if he could move a flower cart, it would be a miracle.

  Darby was like a brother—an often overprotective brother.

  “Uh...I take it the proposal didn’t go as planned?” Darby asked as he wrung his boney hands against his middle.

  “It was a disaster.” Chris marched into his bedroom in search of another set of clothes.

  “What happened?” Darby’s short, skinny legs stumbled over each other in attempt to keep up with Chris’s wide strides.

  “She said no,” Chris snapped. “Actually, her very words were—If you would consider working under my father as the Financial Advisor’s Assistant to the king, I might consider your proposal.” He made the tone of his voice a little higher to sound like a woman. Over his shoulder, he threw Darby a stare. “Apparently, being a schoolteacher isn’t good enough for Rosanna or her family.”

  Tears swam in Darby’s eyes. He slowly shook his head. “Oh, how sorry I am for this, my friend.” He wiped his eyes. “This is all my fault. I fear I’m not very good at being a soothsayer. If I hadn’t encouraged you to talk to her or court her...” He hitched a breath, which elicited a high pitch sound, and slapped his hand over his mouth. Tears filled his eyes faster.

  “Darby, it’s not your fault.” Chris needed to calm his friend down before the poor man swooned from stress, which he’d done several times before. “I was the one who wanted to get to know her. If I didn’t want to meet her, I would have ignored your advice.”

  Sighing heavily, Darby shook his head as his breathing regulated. “From now on, I shall just stick to dabbling in magic and leave my soothsayer hat buri
ed in the ground where it belongs.”

  Chris chuckled. “Yes, stick to your magic. The more you practice, the better you’ll become.”

  Darby scurried back into the other room, so Chris closed the bedroom door and proceeded to change his clothes. He and Darby had been together for years. They met at an orphanage. Both were amongst the oldest children in that center. Darby was only older than Chris by five years, but his deformities made him look like an old, hunched over man. Darby wasn’t exactly bald, but the hair on his head sprouted in different areas, and over the years, it had grown longer. The man’s arms and legs were twisted, but he could still manage to walk and use his hands. And although most children found him repulsive at first, Chris knew they would just have to get to know him in order to realize what a special person Darby O’Brian really was.

  He definitely kept Chris entertained with his magic. After all of these years, the poor man could still only call himself an apprentice. Darby tried hard, but most of the time, his spells didn’t turn out exactly right. In the end, the mayhem Darby caused made them laugh.

  After Chris shucked his dirty clothes and dressed in clean ones, he joined Darby in the main room. His friend stood by the stove, stirring a spoon in a pot. Well, actually, the spoon was stirring itself while Darby was staring out the window.

  Chris grinned. His friend’s magic could handle smaller tasks, thank goodness. “What are we having to eat?”

  Darby jumped as if startled and stretched his hand toward the spoon, but instead of grasping it, he managed to knock it away from the pot. Flying through the air, the spoon spun, flinging food around the room.

  Chris ducked. Thankfully, the sailing food particles didn’t dirty his clean clothes. Darby squealed and raced after the spinning spoon, his hands clumsily trying to grasp onto the utensil that was clearly still under a spell because it wouldn’t stop swirling.

  Hiding his smile behind his hand, Chris moved to the stove and peeked inside the pot. Carrots and potatoes floated in the boiling thin sauce, along with a few chunks of meat. They couldn’t afford much, and they had to make the meat last as long as they could.

  Grunts and groans from Darby jerked Chris’s attention to his friend. Running with hands in the air, he kept up with the flying spoon, but was too short to touch it. And jumping was out of the question for this little twisted man.

  Chris chuckled and moved to help. When the spoon flew past, he grabbed it. Immediately, the spell that influenced the utensil broke, and the spoon was now just as normal as the others in the cupboard.

  He handed it to Darby. “Here, I believe this is yours.”

  His friend’s face turned red. “Indeed, it is. Thank you, Chris.”

  Darby snatched the utensil and hurried toward the pot. “We are having stew for our midday meal. I hope that is satisfactory.”

  “Yes, it is.” Chris moved to the cupboards and withdrew two bowls and two spoons. On the way to the table, he grabbed the homemade bread.

  Darby had been with Chris for many years, and although the man couldn’t find a decent job, he made a good cook and housekeeper. Chris really couldn’t ask for more.

  “So tell me,” Darby asked, still standing at the stove, “why were your clothes dirty? Did Miss Townley throw you out of her house?”

  Chris couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about that woman. Once more, his anger surfaced as he remembered their verbal exchange. “No, she didn’t throw me out, but another woman nearly ran me over with her horse not more than five minutes after I left Rosanna.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why wealthy women need to act as if they are high and mighty. This one made me so mad I wanted to throttle her. She acted as if it was my fault, not hers, that she nearly killed me. When I apologized, even though I did nothing wrong, she ignored it.”

  “Augh!” Darby snapped his attention to Chris. “The nerve of that woman.”

  “My thoughts, exactly. I swear, if I see her again anytime soon, I just might go with my first instincts. She’ll rue the day she messed with a schoolteacher!”

  Darby grinned, displaying a mouth of missing teeth, and nodded. “You shall show her that you’re not to be trifled with.”

  Chris grew somber as he stared at the table. What was the use of showing her anything? The plain fact was wealthy women were so far above him they couldn’t even step down to wipe their fancy boots on him. If he continued to seek those types of women, his heart wouldn’t be able to handle it.

  TWO

  If Chris didn’t cease his daydreaming soon, catastrophe would strike in his classroom. It always did whenever he let his mind wander.

  The rain tinkling against the window and drizzling down the glass lulled him into relaxation, and the gentle rhythm was too soothing for him to pull away. It’d been a while since he felt this at ease. It’d taken nearly three weeks for his battered heart to return to normal after the woman he thought he wanted to marry rejected him. She’d been too pampered, too wealthy, and she wasn’t impressed with his status as a schoolteacher.

  His poor upbringing should have made a difference in the kind of man he was today. He’d overcome the obstacles he had to face as a child, and moved forward with confidence that he could make his life better. He had become an orphan at age twelve, but he persevered and made it through those tough years. He’d become a schoolteacher because of Darby’s insistence, and Chris loved his job. But a schoolteacher’s position wasn’t the lowest occupation, so why did some women look down on him for that?

  Leaning his shoulder against the wall, he stared outside. The solemn mood settled about him in comforting silence. He wished he could close his eyes and enjoy without having a worry in the world. His class, remarkably quiet for this time of day, gave him a moment to himself. This didn’t happen very often with his students. It must be the dreary clouds darkening the room, along with the gentle pitter-patter of the rain against the windowpanes. The soft popping of burning wood in the hearth against the far side of the room added to his sense of peace.

  He’d given his class a reading assignment. Since he didn’t want to fall asleep in his own chair, he moved to the window to stand. A draft of cooler air touched his arms, and brushed his face. He needed the chilly temperature right now to appease his raw nerves.

  To take his mind off his troubles, he turned his attention to the class and stopped his gaze on one student in particular. Immediately, he clenched his teeth. Chris didn’t normally overreact when dealing with an unruly child, but fourteen-year-old Billy Parker would never be considered a normal child. His thin frame slumped over his desk with the book brought upright in front of his face. The lad’s curly light-brown hair waved around his ears and his locks brushed against the collar of his shirt. Although Chris couldn’t see the boy’s face, his haughty smirk would always be branded in Chris’s mind, and Billy’s high-pitched mocking laugh would continue to ring through his ears.

  Although Chris had been in this kingdom for a few years, he’d only been teaching in this particular school for two months. The children were from a wealthier class of people, and he’d learned quickly that most of these students didn’t believe they should behave. Usually, he handled them with firmness. Each day Chris counted the minutes until time to return home, and dreaded the time when school started up again the following day. He also prayed he would find a solution to this problem with Billy. The boy was disruptive and unruly. But why?

  From up the street, a horse and wagon pulled to the closest building near the school. Sprat was making his daily delivery, taking eggs to the bakery. Chris’s heart lightened and he smiled. In the time he’d been in this area, there were certain people he’d learned to count on. Mr. Sprat was one of them. The reed thin man and his portly wife were the first ones to greet Chris after he had moved in. Jack was a hardworking man who had a genuine love and concern for everyone.

  As Mr. Sprat climbed out of his wagon and stacked cartons of eggs in his arms, Chris switched his attention to the store the man would soon be entering.
Immediately, his attention fell to the clump of grass and twigs on the base of the wooden steps. Chris’s breath caught in his throat and his chest clenched.

  The familiar grassy nest of hidden briars had been Billy’s favorite trap. Chris bunched his hands into fists, his teeth grinding. Since he’d been unfortunate enough to be the recipient of Billy’s tainted humor, Chris knew the lad’s contraption quite well.

  He yanked away from the window and stormed across the wooden floor, his footsteps echoing with each step toward the cloakroom. As he grabbed his jacket off the coat hook on the wall, he stumbled over the balls and ropes the children were supposed to have put away.

  Growling under his breath, he cautiously sprinted over them and opened the door. The wind caught him full force and he blinked against the swirling wet leaves and debris. His arms went up to shield against the weather’s elements, as he rushed down the stairs.

  If Mr. Sprat didn’t see the trap, the man would lose more than his dignity as he fell to the ground. His daily earnings would also be ruined. Chris quickened his step toward the front of the schoolhouse. His foot landed in a patch of mud, making him slip. Flaying his arms, he searched for the brick building to hold him upright. After getting his bearings, he straightened and proceeded to warn Jack Sprat.

  “Mr. Sprat,” he called out as he rounded the corner. “Stop—”

  His call came too late. Cartons of eggs blocked the older man’s view of the ground as his foot flattened on Billy’s trap and the barbs hidden within. With a jerk, Mr. Sprat withdrew. The stack of eggs in his arms teetered, as did the thin man.

  Chris ran, reaching out to help, but he was too far away. The older man yelped and hopped on one foot, the cartons of eggs obviously forgotten as they flew through the air. Mr. Sprat swayed and slipped on the wet grass behind him, landing on his backside. Within seconds, the eggs landed on him, breaking and coating his head and body with their gooey yolks.