Hearts Through Time

SIXTEEN

Nick had to say something. The quicker she accepted him, the quicker they could figure out who would try to kill her.

"Please, Abby, can't I stay here tonight? I won't bother you. I'll just stay in the barn and watch the house to make sure you're safe."

She frowned and wrung her hands together.

"If your grandmother approves of me, why can't you?" he added.

She lifted her gaze to his. "How do you know about my grandmother? How do you know what she told me?"

Nick shook his head. "I will tell you when the time is right, but not now. You're too distraught over your father's death to understand."

Tears filled Abby's eyes and she shook her head. "I don't want to trust you, but there's a part of me that does."

She would trust him in time, and his heart soared at that knowledge. He cupped her face and stroked her cheeks, wiping the falling tears with his thumbs. "I won't hurt you, Abby. I'm here to protect you. Please believe me. I'm not going to let anyone harm you."

She grasped his wrists but didn't pull his hands away. Her eyes pleaded with him. "Promise me," she whispered.

"On my father's grave."

She sniffed. "Your father is dead, too?"

"Yes."

"Then we understand each other."

Nick nodded. "In more ways than you realize."

She pulled away and wiped her eyes. "If you'll put the lantern back and extinguish it, I'll show you into the house. You can stay in one of the guestrooms."

Doing as she instructed, he blew out the lantern and placed it back on the shelf. After they walked out of the barn, he closed the double wooden doors. Abby shivered then rubbed her palms up and down her arms as she kept in step beside him. Nick shrugged out of the late Mr. Downey's jacket and placed it around her shoulders.

She tilted her head to look at him. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Abby," he said softly.

As they walked toward the house, Nick noticed her stealing glances at him. He grinned. Soon he'd convince her to trust him, and if all went well, she'd fall in love with him all over again.

"Mr. Marshal, why do you call me Abby when I specifically asked you not to?"

He shrugged. "Abby fits you, I think. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop. But when I say that name, it's like an endearment, and I want you to know how much I care."

Even in the near darkness, he thought he could see her cheeks turn pink.

"My father used to call me Abby when I was young."

"Used to? Why did he stop?"

"I don't know, Mr. Marshal. Perhaps he thought the name Abigail was more mature."

They'd reached the door to the house, and he opened it for her. Just as she passed him, he took hold of her arm, stopping her. "I would love for you to call me Nick. Mr. Marshal was my father. I'm just Nick."

"I don't feel right calling you by your given name, but if you wish—"

"I do." He took her hands in his and squeezed them.

Abby stared at him for several long moments, appearing to study his lips. He wanted to kiss her but couldn't allow himself to do so, yet. She'd barely met him, and women in her time followed the rules of propriety.