Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Jemma stepped to the edge of the dock, remorse sweeping over her as Miles's head came up out of the water. She should never have lost her temper, despite how justified she might have felt. They weren't adolescents anymore. She couldn't push someone into a pond. Especially not a vicar!

Calm, gentle Miles was gone, and angry, wronged Miles now gripped the dock with his strong, athletic arms to draw himself out of the water.

She took a step back as he found his footing again. Miles glared and ran a hand through his wet curls, slicking them back. Without taking his eyes off her, his lips in a stern line, he unbuttoned his drenched waistcoat and threw it onto the dock.

Jemma's heart hiccuped.

His translucent shirt clung to his firm chest, and his hands went to his hips. His eyes, dark and brooding, narrowed further, and he took a purposeful step toward her.

She took two steps backward to match his stride. "Miles ..."

"Jemma."

How could she explain why she couldn't listen to his explanation? Why some things just had to be, regardless of feelings. "Miles, I ..." The heel of her bare foot caught between the planks of wood, and she stumbled. Two wet arms caught her.

She looked into Miles's eyes, softened by his worry for her. Her pulse ricocheted in her chest, hummed in her ears, and sent heat waves through her veins. She wasn't supposed to be in his arms. It wasn't safe for her.

"Jemma, I ..." Miles paused and blinked, as if swallowing back the words he wanted to say.

Reflexively, she reached for his wet shirt, but her fingers barely brushed it when he righted her. He was too quick to drop his hands, leaving her cold where the wetness seeped into her gown. She was safer now, but his nearness had confused her—taunted her even.

Shouldn't anger be her only emotion?

Miles looked over her shoulder, searching past her. "Where is Alan?" He pivoted around her. "Alan?"

Jemma hadn't even noticed Alan's disappearance. It wouldn't be the first time Tom's son had run off, but this was on their watch.

"Did he fall in the water?" They had learned last September that Alan was a natural swimmer, but the pond appeared empty.

Miles scanned every inch of the area to make certain. "He loves to swim, but I don't see any sign of him, nor did I hear any splash." He shoved his feet into his boots, leaving his waistcoat and jacket by the fishing things. He wasted no time darting away, his steps clipping down the dock at a sprint. She shoved her feet through her own stockings and half boots and followed after Miles.

Miles's voice was more frantic now. "Alan! Alan, please come out if you're hiding."

Ian rode up on his horse just as Jemma reached the grass. "Did I miss an invitation for swimming?" He chuckled at the sight of Miles still soaked through.

Ian maneuvered his horse up alongside Jemma's under the tall oak.

"Fishing, actually." Miles cleared his throat. "An unfortunate incident ensued, but not the most important at the moment. Alan has disappeared."

"Again?"

"Could he have run home?" Jemma came up beside Miles, folding her arms over her chest. She could restrain her myriad feelings long enough to find Alan.

"It's a good three miles or more." Ian's horse danced, feeling the indecision of his rider. "I didn't notice anything on my ride, and if he knows the road home, we should have crossed paths."

"He might be hiding close by, then." Miles ran his hand through his wet hair again and scoured the bushes along the pond with his gaze.

Jemma drummed her fingers on her arm, wishing she knew of a way to draw the boy out. Suddenly, an unbidden memory came to her of Alan standing in line for a sweet from Miles. "You don't happen to have any sweets hidden in your waistcoat pockets, do you?"

Miles's eyes swung to meet hers, and he grinned. "If they did not wash away in the pond."

A few moments later, Ian was off his horse, and all three of them were calling out bribes to Alan and promising he wouldn't get in trouble.

It didn't take a minute before Alan dropped down from an oak tree branch by Jemma's mare. "You promise you won't tell Mama Cassie?"

It was the first time Jemma had heard Alan call Cassandra Mama . Jemma was so happy to learn he was embracing his new family that much of her ire softened. "Of course not, Alan. Why would you hide from us? We don't want you to be unhappy."

"I don't like when people fight."

Jemma dragged her eyes to Miles, who refused to meet her gaze.

Ian, however, raised his brow. "Is that how Mr. Jackson ended up soaking wet?"

Alan nodded. "They were talking about love and getting married."

"Were they now?" Ian swung his gaze to the two of them, and Jemma hoped she looked the least guilty.

"Come on, Alan," Ian said, mounting his horse. "I'll find you something extra delicious at Bellmont Manor and see that you are brought home."

Miles helped Alan climb up in front of Ian. Jemma heard Miles whisper to Ian, "Perhaps I should take him ..."

"And leave me to Jemma's wrath?" Ian shook his head.

"I heard that!" Jemma's hands fell to her hips.

"Do play nice, both of you," Ian said. "This smells strongly of matchmaking mischief, and I want to be as far from it as possible."

"Coward," Jemma said, and not under her breath either. Ian's smile widened. He kicked his horse, and he and Alan rode away.

With Ian's horse gone, she went to untie her own. She moved her mare over to a stump she often used as a mounting block.

"Jemma, we should talk." Miles's voice was soft, pleading.

"I should like that," Jemma said. "Once you get your head on straight, we shall have a lovely little chat. Do let me know when it happens."

"Jemma, you haven't let me explain."

"Explain how you plan to break my cousin's heart?" She shook her head. "My own heart is heavy enough without adding this to everything. I'm sorry, Miles, but I need you to reconsider." She kicked her mount and sent the mare flying away from the upper pond, gathering speed as she went.

Rubbish lessons.

She would have to learn how to capture Mr. Bentley's affection and stir up her own all by herself. Mr. Romantic should change his name to Mr. Happiness Killer.

Poor Lisette.

When Jemma reached a safe distance from the upper pond, she reined in her mare. Her chest catching and tears forming. But it wasn't for Lisette that she cried. It was for her own miserable heart. A heart that had nearly betrayed her moments ago in Miles's arms—the same reason she had to push him into the water.

When he had said he couldn't marry Lisette, for one brief moment, she had hoped it to be true.

She was a wretched person and an even worse friend.

She urged her mount to run faster. No. She wasn't going to think of Miles in any other way than as her confidant and adviser. She would go to Mr. Bentley's house for his party come Friday night and dance and play court to him.

Miles was meant for Lisette, and everyone knew it.

Everyone, that was, except for the tiniest corner of her being. The wind whipped against her gown and blew through her hair, but it did not blow away the tormenting truth. Despite years of convincing herself otherwise, a sliver of her heart believed Miles had always been meant for her.