A Matter of Marriage Read Free

rather lost.”
    “I’m
fine,” he managed to say, “but thanks.” With a resigned sigh, he decided he
might as well scare her off now and be done with it. When she stopped a few
steps away, he slowly turned and faced her straight on, revealing the ridged
scar that vertically sliced his right cheek in half.
    Her
eyelids fluttered briefly, but to his surprise, she did not flinch or gasp or exhibit
any sign of an imminent fainting spell.
    The
sense of belonging Alex had felt upon seeing the hotel suddenly returned. He
tried to dismiss the ludicrous feeling. Since losing everything, he belonged
nowhere. And that wasn’t likely to change.
    When
the young woman held his gaze instead of looking away, his admiration for her
grew. He would have liked to study her longer, but a blur of airborne movement
distracted him. He glanced up to see a geranium-filled flowerpot flying
straight at the woman’s head.
    Alex
dropped his bag and hurled himself at her.
    Her
eyes opened wide, but she was clearly too shocked to avoid him or scream.
    He
grabbed her and held tight as they hit the ground, rolling together over the
drive’s broken shells. With his body and his arms, he protected her from the
sharp edges as best he could, gritting his teeth at the piercing jabs. He
rolled her away, pressing her face to the hollow between his chin and shoulder
as the flowerpot crashed to the ground. Petals, pottery shards, stems, and dirt
pelted the drive. Their motion came to an abrupt halt when his back slammed
into a hitching post. His breath burst from his lungs.
    He
let the woman go, lay back, and struggled for air.
    She
scooted away from him on her backside. Fear, shock, and confusion lit her blue
eyes. Her creamy face flushed pink. She looked beautiful. And unhurt.
    “What
… on earth … did you think you were doing?” she demanded. Her voice shook.
    Trying
to gulp down air, he waved his hand toward the shattered pot. Someone with a
strong and accurate throwing arm had aimed that pot directly at her.
    The
woman’s gaze darted between him and the debris of broken terracotta and
geranium remnants spread over the area where she had been standing. Her face
paled. “Oh. Oh, my.” She swallowed visibly. “You … protected me.”
    He
nodded. As a trickle of air entered his lungs, she peered at him with a look of
honest amazement on her face, as if no one had ever watched out for her before.
How could such a woman not have a father or brother or husband to protect her?
He must be wrong.
    “Thank
you,” she said. “I’m indebted to you.”
    He
shook his head. While trying to draw more air, he surveyed where the flowerpot
had come from. No one stood on the balcony. A vacant spot showed where the
geranium had once sat with the other pots in the flower box.
    “You’re
hurt!” She scrambled back to him on her hands and knees. “I’ll get the doctor.
He’ll know what to do.”
    As
she started to get up, Alex grasped her wrist and grunted what he hoped sounded
like “No.” Someone had tried to hurt her, and he didn’t want her running off by
herself.
    “Sir,
you need help. I can see you’re in pain. Going for the doctor is the least I
can do after …” She glanced up at the balcony. A tremor moved through her body,
strong enough that Alex felt it under his fingers. She looked next at the
debris scattered nearby. “And I must tell someone to check that the remaining
flowerpots are secured.”
    He
didn’t release her, and he didn’t have enough air to explain that the pot did
not just fall off the balcony, as she apparently presumed. Finally, the muscles
in his torso started to relax. He inhaled a breath sweetened with the scent of
orange blossoms—her scent. She smelled so good he made the mistake of breathing
more deeply. His ribs shrieked a protest.
    Alex
locked his teeth and stifled a groan of pain and frustration. He could not
afford to be injured, not when he needed a job and place to stay. But who would
hire a carpenter who