Would-Be Mistletoe Wife. Christine Johnson
one has ever needed permission before. Why, many walk to the lighthouse in order to visit with members of the Blackthorn family.”
“That’s different,” he acknowledged. “The walkways are open to everyone, but you are not on them.”
The man was being most impertinent. “According to the late President Lincoln, our nation’s government is of the people, by the people and for the people. Thus, government property belongs to the people of this country.”
The girls twittered. A most inopportune reaction, for it clearly incensed the man standing before her.
His face darkened. “And the people have elected representatives to put laws in place. Those laws state that the land surrounding a lighthouse is set aside as federal government property. The marking posts and signs are clear.” He pointed to a half-buried post. “You are trespassing.”
“We are a small group of women. What harm can we do?”
“Don’t you know that the previous lighthouse collapsed into the river thanks to erosion?”
Louise did not, but she saw no relevance in this point. “I’m certain a small group of women were not responsible for undermining the structure.”
“Footsteps break down the surface of the dune, making it easier for the sand to slide downhill.”
The hulking man was grasping at straws, and she had no intention of letting him push her from her purpose. Ordinarily she preferred calm to the storm, but this man was utterly unreasonable.
“Fine. I will speak with Mr. Blackthorn, then.” Louise began walking in the direction of the lighthouse, expecting this newcomer, whoever he might be, to stand aside.
He did not. “I will speak to Mr. Blackthorn. If he approves your study, I will personally deliver that news to the school. Until then you may return to your classroom.”
Odious, impossible man! She pointed her magnifying glass at his far-too-broad chest. “There are no plants inside the classroom. That is why we are in the field.”
“Then choose another field outside government property.”
“This happens to be the sole specimen of artemisia campestris within easy walking distance.”
He bent to grab the plant, as if to yank it from the sand.
“Stop!” Louise grabbed his hand and was shocked by its warmth and strength. “Don’t kill it.”
“It’s a plant.”
She removed her hand and felt the heat flood her cheeks. What had possessed her to touch a man she didn’t even know? A handsome man. A man that her students found more than attractive.
The whispering behind her had begun again. She could just imagine what they were saying. Priscilla might consider it a breach of etiquette. The girl could make trouble for her—or for the school.
“Are you all right?” The man peered at her.
She looked at the dune, at the sky, at anything other than the comely visage before her. She pressed a hand to her midsection, though it was her heart that raced.
“Perhaps I did overexert myself.”
His lips twitched, as if a smile wanted to break out. “In that case, let me escort you down the dune. Simply point out the building where your school is housed, Miss...?”
He must be terribly new to town if he didn’t know that Mrs. Evans’s School for Ladies was the closest building to the lighthouse, excepting a lumber warehouse and the second sawmill.
He extended an arm. “Miss?”
She cleared her throat, realizing she hadn’t introduced herself. “Mrs., actually. Mrs. Smythe. I’m widowed.”
My, that had come out just as flustered as she felt. And her cheeks must be blazing red. What an outstanding mess of things she’d made.
The twittering behind her had stopped, so she hazarded a glance at the man. He was smiling—no, grinning—as if he thought he’d triumphed by making her blush!
Louise squared her shoulders again. She would not let this giant of a man affect her. “I thank you for your offer, but I am greatly recovered. Once we complete our field examination, we will be off your precious dune.”
She then held up her magnifying glass and turned to the girls, who were huddled together, many of them slack-jawed and more than one starry-eyed. “Ladies!”
The group shot to attention and pulled out their magnifying glasses.
“We will examine the flowers of the tall wormwood first,” Louise instructed. “Use your glasses to determine if it is in bloom or has gone to seed and then draw a likeness in your field notebook.” She held up her well-worn notebook that contained sketches and notes on each species she encountered.
Not one girl moved.
“Come now, don’t be afraid.” Louise motioned in the direction of the plant and then turned toward it only to find herself looking at the buttons of the man’s shirt not one foot from her nose. “Oh, you’re still here.”
“And you’re still trespassing.”
“As I said, we will be done shortly and then will vacate the property. If you have a problem with that, then I suggest you bring it up with Mr. Blackthorn.” She ducked around the man and began demonstrating the use of the magnifying glass.
Priscilla marched past the man, but not without casting a flirtatious look his way. Since she led, the others followed, with Dinah dragging her feet in the rear. Her gaze lingered on the man, as if he was an oddity. Perhaps one could say he was, for Louise had never seen so tall a man, especially one who looked so perturbed.
“Mrs. Smythe.”
“Sir?” she answered. “I have introduced myself, but it seems you have neglected to do likewise.”
This time his color heightened, bringing giggles from the girls.
“Mr. Hammond. Mr. Jesse Hammond, Assistant Lighthouse Keeper.”
Each word came out so stiffly that a laugh bubbled to her lips. “Are you always so formal?”
He looked affronted. “I am precise, Mrs. Smythe, to the letter of the law, which I have sworn to uphold.”
“Really, Mr. Hammond, this is getting tedious. As I said, Mr. Blackthorn will have no objection to us hiking upon the dune to further our education. I promise we will not go near any of the buildings. You are quite safe.”
His color heightened. “I am not concerned about my safety, madam.” He sniffed the air.
Louise sniffed too. Something was burning.
“Fire,” Mr. Jesse Hammond said even as he scanned the horizon in all directions.
Louise looked back at her students only to discover a dried leaf aflame at Dinah’s feet. “Dinah!”
The girl shrieked and jumped, thankfully in the right direction. The other girls followed suit.
“Put it out, Mr. Hammond,” Priscilla pleaded with several well-timed bats of her eyelids.
Before the man could issue yet another reprimand, Louise strode over, lifted her skirts slightly and stomped on the leaf until the flame was extinguished.
“There,” she noted, spinning to face Mr. Hammond. “The problem is solved.”
“This time, but it demonstrates why you shouldn’t be here.”
My, that man could aggravate! Louise focused on Dinah. “How did this happen?”
The girl had gone pale as snow. “I—I was just lookin’ at things like you told us to do.”
“Looking?”
“Aye.”