His Precious Inheritance (Inspirational Historical Romance) by Dorothy Clark

Author:Dorothy Clark [Clark, Dorothy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Historical, Christian, Religious, Faith, Inspirational, Family Life, Doorstep, Surprise, Toddler, Baby, Nanny, Journalist, Career, Ordered Life, Family, Love, Little Brother, Long-Lost, Writing, Warmth, Changes
ISBN: 9781460388907
Google: AXnCBgAAQBAJ
Goodreads: 25074426
Publisher: Love Inspired Historicals
Published: 2015-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The floor overhead creaked. Clarice strained against the silence and faint footfalls on the stairs met her ears. He was coming. The footsteps grew louder. She stiffened, snatched up another of the washed dishes from the wood drainboard. She wasn’t ready to see Charles Thornberg. She was too shaken. Too...confused.

“Jonathan is sound asleep.”

She nodded, grabbed another bowl to dry to keep her back to him. Let him leave now. Please let him leave.

“I want to talk to you, Clarice. Will you join me for a cup of coffee?”

His deep voice was quiet, pleasant, but he might as well have snarled an order. He was her employer. Did he think she would dare to say no? China clinked. The coffeepot scraped against the stove plate.

He was pouring her coffee again! She took a breath, swiped the towel around the bowl. Why didn’t he just tell her what he wanted her to do, instead of playing these games?

“You take your coffee with a bit of cream, right? Looks like you’ve already put it away. I’ll just—”

“I’ll get it.” Anything to make him stop. “Just let me put these bowls away first.” She threw down the towel, stacked the bowl on top of the other dried ones and turned, stopped. Charles was standing at the work table, two steaming cups of coffee in front of him. Wonderful. She had to pass him to get to the step-back cupboard where the bowls were kept. He’d be sure to notice her red, puffy eyes. “Or I can put them away later.”

She set the bowls back on the sink cupboard, hurried to the refrigerator and snatched up the small pitcher of cream. If she kept her head down... She poured cream in her coffee and returned the pitcher to the refrigerator. There was nothing else to do to keep her distance from him. She placed her fingertips against the cold pitcher, held them to her puffy eyes for a moment then closed the door and turned. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“I wanted to talk with you, yes. But upstairs. I promised Jonathan I would be there when he woke.”

Her throat tightened. She blinked her eyes and pressed her lips together to keep from shouting at him to stop pretending. That Jonathan’s little heart would be crushed when he tired of playing his game of protective big brother, for whatever his reason. The letter from Jonathan’s mother with the enclosed bank draft flashed into her mind again. Her stomach soured. It was the only reason she could think of that Charles might be keeping Jonathan. Brothers weren’t protective—they were mean and selfish. She should know. It had to be the money.

She nodded, ducked her head, reached around and yanked the ties of Mrs. Hotchkiss’s too-large apron, frowned and yanked again. Knotted. Perfect. Just what she needed. She probed with her fingers, tugged.

“Need some help?”

No! “I can manage, thank—”

“Turn around.”

His shoes appeared in her vision. She froze. Don’t— His hands grasped her shoulders. She went stiff as a board, bit down on her lip to hold back a demand that he not touch her.

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