A Wish For Nicholas. Jackie Manning

the idea was real.

      If Ol’ Winky’s ghost were seen racing across the fields, surely the sight might give pause to a prospective buyer.

      Becky smiled. “The plan will work, General. Keane has agreed to dress in your uniform and ride the fields as your ghost. He’s been as upset as I have with the king awarding Thornwood Hall to a Royalist. We’ll see how Sinclair likes owning a haunted manor.”

      Her smile faded when she thought of Keane. Did he truly believe he was Ol’ Winky’s son? The two men were so different in so many ways. But if Keane thought so, perhaps he felt he should have a part of Thornwood Hall, too.

      Picturing Keane in her mind, on Ol’ Winky’s charger in the dark of night, even she might be fooled that the ghost of her late husband had come back to seek revenge against the new owner.

      Her hand patted the gray stone, then she loosened the ribbons of her straw hat and wandered along the path toward the fence row. The wind lifted her hair on the breeze. Her eyelids closed while she delighted in the small pleasure.

      She hoped to find her courage among the silent counsel, and she hadn’t been disappointed. She knew her duty. When Nicholas Sinclair arrived, she’d spread the word that Ol’ Winky’s spirit rode the fields, and when the neighbors saw his ghost, no one would dare offer for the estate. Sinclair would return to the sea, she and Keane would manage Thornwood Hall. The crofters and her siblings would be safe, and all would be well with the world.

      Her horse whinnied, and she glanced up.

      Although the man was more than several furlongs away, she immediately recognized the slant of broad shoulders and the limp. He ambled along the path toward her, and she wondered how long he had been watching her.

      “Mistress Forester,” he said a few minutes later. Doffing his hat, he gave her a sweeping bow that was exaggerated with sarcastic ardor. “We meet again.”

      “I see you remembered my name.” Her gaze fell to the blue glints of sunshine on his black hair. “Are you on your way to visit your mum?”

      “I was hoping to see you, actually.” His gray eyes glittered mischievously beneath black arched brows. “I thought it best that I apologize for my…outrageous behavior.”

      Becky couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you up to one of your tricks, Twaddle? Because if you are—”

      “Fair lady, I have no tricks up my sleeve. I ask for the job you had so kindly offered. For how can I face my dear mum if—”

      “And best you not forget Nelda.”

      Surprise darkened the gray eyes as though he were truly caught unaware. If Becky hadn’t known better, she’d have believed he didn’t know Nelda. The man was a cunning devil!

      “Forgotten Nelda so soon?” Outrage flared with disgust as she remembered how he had boldly kissed her, and her foolish response to it. Now that she had her good sense again, she’d straighten the matter out.

      “Nelda, who’s big with your child, in case you’re suffering from another bout of scattered wits,” she said.

      His mouth pursed carefully, but he remained silent.

      “Aye, I know all about Nelda.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s because of Nelda that I’m giving you another chance.”

      “You’ve pointed out the error of my ways, dear lady. I’m here, begging you for a job.”

      Becky almost laughed. She’d seen trickery by experts, and this performance was pitiful. The mischievous glint in his vibrant gray eyes told her he was no more chagrined than she was.

      No, there was more to his ruse than a change of heart. If she stood here until All Souls’ Eve, he’d never tell her what had changed his mind. It didn’t matter. She’d find out from Molly.

      “So you’re wanting to labor under the July sun from morning to night, a hoe handle breaking the soft skin on your palms?” She tried not to smile.

      “My hands are hardened to work, mistress.” He opened his fists. Hard calluses covered the insides of his handsomely shaped long fingers and hands. She felt her breath catch. Her reaction was only surprise, she decided as she met his gaze.

      “Very well, but I’ll never believe you weathered your hands by honest toil.”

      His smile told her she was right. “I’ll take you on,” she said. “With a condition.” She thought of Molly, alone all those years, longing for her son to return. “You’ll spend the Sabbath with your mum, take her to church and do whatever she chooses to do for the day.” She watched his expression. “Agreed?”

      His mouth moved as though he had tasted something bitter. “Aye,” he said finally.

      “And you’ll provide for Nelda and the babe. Make plans to marry her, for a start.”

      He almost choked. Becky tried not to laugh.

      “Marriage is a big consideration.” He glanced back at her, his eyes like diamonds. “I’ll need more pay if I’m to become a family man.”

      “Should have thought of that before you—” She stopped herself, ignoring the blush that warmed her cheeks. “Do you agree to the terms?”

      “Aye.”

      Something strange was afoot. Becky had dealt with sneaky devils before, but this rogue was planning something devious. The fine hairs on her arms stood up in warning. “You’ll make an honest woman of Nelda, you’ll work from dawn to dark, you’ll spend the Sabbath with your Mum?” She raised a brow, waiting.

      “I’ve seen the error of my ways, and I’m here to make amends.” The corner of his mouth lifted, and the glint in his gray eyes told her he was lying through his handsome white teeth.

      “One more condition.” She held his gaze. “Till the end of the month, you’ll have no credit at the Seven Swans Tavern, and you’ll stay away from Lily.”

      “Lily?”

      “Don’t play simple with me, Twaddle. You’ve only been back a few days, and already the servants are buzzing with tales of you and Lily and who knows of how many others?” She stiffened her spine and folded her arms in front of her. “I’ve your promise?”

      He folded his muscled arms across his broad chest in mocking imitation. “Agreed.”

      “Very well, Twaddle. You’ll meet the crew at four o’clock tomorrow morning by the cattle gate.” She turned toward her horse, her sword clanging against her thigh with each step.

      “I think we should shake on it,” he called after her.

      She stopped. The thought of touching him caused a fluttery sensation deep inside her. “Of course,” she said, bounding back toward him.

      She extended her arm, but when his large, warm palm captured her small hand in his, she almost gasped. A charge like summer lightning ripped through her. He studied her, his brilliant gray eyes staring through her. His straight black lashes shadowed his cheeks, or was it the trick of sunlight on this glorious day?

      She stood, lost in the smoky depths of his eyes. She felt as though she was peering at an ancient rock wall. Light and dark sparkles glittered from the depths of his soul.

      “Agreed.” He released her hand.

      She swallowed, then put on her hat, tugging at her hat brim to cover her nervousness. Her mouth felt as dry as hay. She nodded, afraid to trust her voice. She wiped her hand on her skirt, then strode back to her horse, forcing herself not to run like the devil.

      

      The late-afternoon sun filtered through the alders as Nick curried his horse by the river. For the past half hour, since he had seen Becky Forester again, he couldn’t get the picture of her out of his mind. Her manner was regal, despite the faded gown she wore. Running through the buttercups, she had held her