of her gaze, Sin glanced at her.
"You' re working hard, I see," he commented.
"Yes, I am." Immediately she set to work jamming the leaves into the sack already more than half-full.
"Have you had any luck finding a housekeeper?" Sin inquired.
"Not yet." Her answer was needlessly clipped and abrupt. She tried to cover it by picking up the leaves that had scattered over the edge of the bag.
"Mara is something of a perfectionist," Adam explained in an uncomplimentary tone. "She keeps looking for the same quality in others and refuses to compromise."
Tight-lipped, Mara offered, no defense since she felt she needed none. Gathering up the open end of the leaf bag, she attempted to carry it to the driveway, but the moisture of the wet leaves made it too heavy for her to lift.
"Let me carry that for you?" Sin offered, and took a step toward her.
"I can handle it," she insisted with a stubborn flash of independence.
Sin hesitated, then lifted a shoulder in silent concession. Straining, Mara dragged the plastic bag across the ground. The muscles in her arms were trembling from the effort by the time she reached the driveway. Determined not to show the effect, she walked back to pick up the rake again and set to work on the leaves in the other quarter of the yard.
All the while, Sin stood near her father, talking to him and watching her. It was a distinctly unsettling experience. The last pile of leaves didn't have to be bagged since she used them to cover the flower bed in front of the house.
"Why don't you rest for a while, Mara?" her father suggested when she had finished that. "You're making me tired just watching you work. You can rake the rest of the yard tomorrow."
"I think I will wait until tomorrow," she agreed, taking off her work gloves and unconsciously flexing her fingers. "The forecast was for more sunshine." In truth, she was exhausted and needed a rest, if only until the afternoon. "It's getting too cold out here for you."
"You're probably right," he agreed, which told her he was getting chilled. She walked to the back of his wheelchair and turned it toward the house, so far, she had pointedly ignored the man with her father, but Adam wasn't going to follow suit. "If you aren't doing anything special, Sin, why don't you come into the house?"
Mara froze in cold anger. "I doubt that Mr. Buchanan would want to neglect…Miss Taylor for long, Adam. You overlooked the fact that she's probably waiting for him at the cottage."
"No, she isn't," Sin offered quietly. Unwillingly her dark gaze was drawn to him. "Celene didn't accompany me this weekend."
The information caught her by surprise. It unnerved her and she sought to cover her confusion by responding sharply, "What do you do? Devote one weekend a month totally to rest?"
"Something like that," he agreed lazily.
"If no one is waiting for you, is there any reason you can't come in for a while?" Adam questioned.
"None that I know of," Sin answered, his gaze flickering to Mara in silent challenge, but she refused to rise to the bait. It was one thing to argue with her father and another to argue with Sinclair Buchanan.
Without waiting for any more to be said, Mara began pushing her father's wheelchair toward the ramp leading to the front door of the house. The uneven brick walkway made the going difficult. Her arms were already tired from all the raking. When she reached the ramp, a hand came around her to grip the chair handles.
"I'll take it from here," Sin told her.
"I can manage," Mara returned stiffly.
"Your father isn't a bag of leaves, and you had enough trouble with that." He firmly pushed her out of the way and guided the wheelchair up the ramp with an ease that Mara knew she wouldn't have been able to fake.
At his backward glance to see if she was coming, Mara offered a grudging, "Thank you," and walked up the ramp to open the door. Once inside, she immediately excused herself. "I have to clean up."
Her bedroom and bath was on the second floor.
"You' re working hard, I see," he commented.
"Yes, I am." Immediately she set to work jamming the leaves into the sack already more than half-full.
"Have you had any luck finding a housekeeper?" Sin inquired.
"Not yet." Her answer was needlessly clipped and abrupt. She tried to cover it by picking up the leaves that had scattered over the edge of the bag.
"Mara is something of a perfectionist," Adam explained in an uncomplimentary tone. "She keeps looking for the same quality in others and refuses to compromise."
Tight-lipped, Mara offered, no defense since she felt she needed none. Gathering up the open end of the leaf bag, she attempted to carry it to the driveway, but the moisture of the wet leaves made it too heavy for her to lift.
"Let me carry that for you?" Sin offered, and took a step toward her.
"I can handle it," she insisted with a stubborn flash of independence.
Sin hesitated, then lifted a shoulder in silent concession. Straining, Mara dragged the plastic bag across the ground. The muscles in her arms were trembling from the effort by the time she reached the driveway. Determined not to show the effect, she walked back to pick up the rake again and set to work on the leaves in the other quarter of the yard.
All the while, Sin stood near her father, talking to him and watching her. It was a distinctly unsettling experience. The last pile of leaves didn't have to be bagged since she used them to cover the flower bed in front of the house.
"Why don't you rest for a while, Mara?" her father suggested when she had finished that. "You're making me tired just watching you work. You can rake the rest of the yard tomorrow."
"I think I will wait until tomorrow," she agreed, taking off her work gloves and unconsciously flexing her fingers. "The forecast was for more sunshine." In truth, she was exhausted and needed a rest, if only until the afternoon. "It's getting too cold out here for you."
"You're probably right," he agreed, which told her he was getting chilled. She walked to the back of his wheelchair and turned it toward the house, so far, she had pointedly ignored the man with her father, but Adam wasn't going to follow suit. "If you aren't doing anything special, Sin, why don't you come into the house?"
Mara froze in cold anger. "I doubt that Mr. Buchanan would want to neglect…Miss Taylor for long, Adam. You overlooked the fact that she's probably waiting for him at the cottage."
"No, she isn't," Sin offered quietly. Unwillingly her dark gaze was drawn to him. "Celene didn't accompany me this weekend."
The information caught her by surprise. It unnerved her and she sought to cover her confusion by responding sharply, "What do you do? Devote one weekend a month totally to rest?"
"Something like that," he agreed lazily.
"If no one is waiting for you, is there any reason you can't come in for a while?" Adam questioned.
"None that I know of," Sin answered, his gaze flickering to Mara in silent challenge, but she refused to rise to the bait. It was one thing to argue with her father and another to argue with Sinclair Buchanan.
Without waiting for any more to be said, Mara began pushing her father's wheelchair toward the ramp leading to the front door of the house. The uneven brick walkway made the going difficult. Her arms were already tired from all the raking. When she reached the ramp, a hand came around her to grip the chair handles.
"I'll take it from here," Sin told her.
"I can manage," Mara returned stiffly.
"Your father isn't a bag of leaves, and you had enough trouble with that." He firmly pushed her out of the way and guided the wheelchair up the ramp with an ease that Mara knew she wouldn't have been able to fake.
At his backward glance to see if she was coming, Mara offered a grudging, "Thank you," and walked up the ramp to open the door. Once inside, she immediately excused herself. "I have to clean up."
Her bedroom and bath was on the second floor.
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