Rating: PG
Warnings: some nudity (snicker), language, some spankings (sorry, Kate)
Description: How stuffy Adam spends one Christmas during school through the eyes of Miss Penelope Bradford. Romance.
AN: Totally historically inaccurate. Again, please ignore.
Disclaimer: Penelope and all of her family are mine. The Cartwrights are not, sadly.
Copyright  © Wendybyrd
 
 

Miss Penelope Bradford of the Bradfords of Boston and South Adams was attempting to preserve some semblance of proper decorum by not pressing her face against her bedroom window to peer outside into the snow as she longed to do when she caught sight of the carriage in the distance. Of course, the little speck of black on the all-white landscape immediately pushed all thoughts of propriety right out of her head, because, after all, what did any of that matter when she was finally going to see her brother again after months apart? She squashed her nose against the cold glass and squinted into the distance, hoping to make out the carriage’s occupant and see Dickie’s face.

Unfortunately, her breath fogged up the glass in seconds so she couldn’t see much of anything. Penelope impatiently threw open her window and stuck her face out into the chill of a Berkshire Hills December. Right away, a stiff wind caused the few remaining strands of her hair that hadn’t already fallen out of this morning’s attempt at a hairstyle to finally give up and tumble down into her face. And she was sure the cold had turned her cheeks and nose a nice red. But none of this mattered since Dickie was arriving home today on his holiday break from school.

She huffed in irritation at the discovery that she still couldn’t quite see into the carriage and looked around for ideas. Her eyes fell on the ledge beneath her window and she stared at it in a thoughtful way. Her bedroom was located on the top floor and her large window overlooked the front of the house. It gave her a wonderful view of Maplewood’s large front drive and any approaching visitors. In fact, the window and its view were the reasons she’d chosen this room when she’d come to live here as a child. What she hadn’t considered then, but was definitely considering now, was the ledge underneath her window that stretched out at least fifteen feet and slanted down slightly to shield the front steps from the forces of nature.

She knew a few feet wouldn’t really make a difference in her ability to see into the rapidly approaching carriage, but she was eager to see her brother again. The thought of Dickie’s smile when she greeted him from high above was enough to spur her to action.

She lifted her skirts high, showing to anybody who cared to look her stocking-encased legs, and climbed carefully over the windowsill and out onto the ledge. She paused for less than a second to consider her grandmother’s probable reaction to this incident if it were discovered and continued on her way. The thought did cause her to frown however.

Getting caught would undoubtedly result in a lecture from both grandparents on proper behavior and the respect due the Bradford name, not to mention the cold, disapproving stares from Granmama that Penelope would be sure to receive for at least as week. The Bradfords, they would remind her, had come over on the Mayflower and had never had the slightest scandal connected to the family. They did not intend for her to cause a scandal with her, well, scandalous, lack of attention to propriety whenever some impulse struck her fancy.  But the possible benefits outweighed the risks, Penelope reminded herself with a smile and a quick look at the carriage.

Very carefully, she let go of her window casing and stepped more fully onto the ledge. She immediately shivered as another cold wind hit her straight on and blew up her skirt, exposing her legs yet again, this time well above her knees. One hand grabbed for the window frame to hold herself steady while the other desperately tried to hold down her dress. She was grateful her cheeks were already red from the cold.

Another breeze nearly blew her over and it took her several minutes to steady herself. Penelope was just thinking that perhaps this had not been one of her better ideas and was turning around to go back when she unwisely placed her foot on a patch of ice and lost her balance. She was facedown in a pile of snow near the bottom of the ledge before she’d even realized what she’d done. She shivered again, and this time it wasn’t entirely from the cold, though in fact some snow had found its way up her skirt and into her drawers.

Snow had never seemed so cold.

“OK, Penelope, don’t panic,” she whispered to herself, taking a deep breath. “You’re not going to freeze to death because there’s ice in your knickers.” This made her giggle insanely for a moment, then she laughed even harder to think of her grandmother’s face if she’d been there for Penelope to tell her the state of her underwear.

When she’d calmed down, she glanced around carefully to see what could be done. The jingling of a harness from somewhere below reminded her that she was not alone. She’d forgotten about the carriage entirely. This was hardly how she wanted to meet Dickie again, she thought and huffed into the ice near her nose.

A happy laugh below made her smile though, because it meant Dickie was home. An answering whisper startled her. She cocked her head and listened intently as Dickie, and apparently someone else, walked up the front steps.

“Of course my family will welcome you,” Dickie was reassuring someone in a friendly way.

“But no one wants uninvited visitors around the holidays,” a deep voice replied, making Penelope curious. “I shouldn’t have let you convince me to come.”

“Nonsense, you’re very welcome at Maplewood, especially at Christmas. It’s my sister’s favorite time of year.” Dickie’s voice was quivering slightly, which meant he wasn’t so sure. “Now, come in and meet my family. And relax,” he laughed, “even if no one else likes you my sister certainly will. She’ll be eager to spread the Christmas cheer.”

“After all the stories you’ve told me about her, I think I’m eager to meet her too.” The stranger answered, sounding serious enough. Penelope returned the sentiment; she was eager to meet Dickie’s friend as well. The only problem was she was stuck on an icy ledge one story above him and might be that way for some time.

She could hear them talking distantly as she thought about getting down.

“What about the luggage?” The stranger asked and she heard Dickie laugh gently in reply.

“You’re not on your ranch anymore, Adam. A servant will bring them in.” There was a moment of silence before the other man responded.

“Of course,” he said quietly, but then added in a somewhat sarcastic voice, “how foolish of me.”

Dickie chuckled warmly.

“I’m only kidding, Adam. I’ll go get them.” There was the crunch of footsteps on snow. Penelope waited to hear it, but the other man did not laugh in return. Even more curious now, she glanced around her again.

A crooked roof tile was sticking out through the piles of snow above her head. Short of calling for help, it appeared to be her best chance of getting out of her situation, and she wasn’t quite ready to face her grandmother’s disapproval yet. She wrapped her hands around the tile and pulled with all her might.

It broke off.

With a tiny scream, Penelope slid down the last few feet of ledge. She only managed not to fall onto the ground below by catching onto the gutter with both hands. Then she grimaced as at least half of the piles of snow came down with her, most of it pouring over the top of her head and down the back of her dress. With a faint smile, she wished that some of it would form a nice, soft pile beneath her to cushion her fall.

“What the hell?” she heard the deep-voiced man exclaim and then the sound of running footsteps.

“Penelope!” Dickie whispered in seeming shock from somewhere out of her line of vision just as her hold gave way. She thought that the stranger might have uttered another swear word, but she couldn’t be sure. She only had time for the briefest impression of a pair of wide brown eyes before she landed on him and they both hit the ground.

 He appeared to be asleep, though she wasn’t really sure. Penelope peered interestedly down into his face. He had dark hair, which had probably been smoothed back before their fall, and neatly arching eyebrows that were drawn together into a frown over a pair of eyes with the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man.

 “Didn’t think there was a horse on the Ponderosa that could throw me,” he mumbled suddenly and Penelope jumped.

 “Is he all right, do you think, Richard? He seems to think he’s been thrown by a horse,” Penelope asked her hovering brother. He grinned.

 “I should think so. Adam goes on about his home in Nevada any chance he gets.”

 “Should we get a doctor?”

 “I’m all right, Joe. I don’t need a doctor,” the stranger answered her. Now even more worried, Penelope pushed against his chest to wake him up. His eyes flew open and he stared up at her silently for several moments. Then he sighed, his frown disappearing.

 “Did you land on me when you fell from heaven?” he asked in a dazed whisper. Penelope frowned up at her brother briefly before turning back to the stranger with a wicked smile. Before she could even think of how to respond to that, his frown returned, making him look almost petulant. He looked at one of the fallen strands of her hair, which she realized were now wet with melted snow. “Angels do not have wet hair in the paintings,” he commented.

 “I doubt they have red, runny noses either,” Penelope said on a sigh. Dickie burst out laughing.

 “I think you’ve cracked his head, Peanut. I’ve never heard Adam talk this way. He’s normally a very serious fellow.” There was a half-smile on his face, but his hands checked his friend’s head for injuries as smoothly as the doctor he one day wanted to become. He leaned over his friend to peer into his eyes. His friend -Adam, she mentally corrected herself- stared at them, and then shook his head as if to clear it.

 “Richard?” he asked, “Where am I?” He had apparently come to his senses and Penelope was a little disappointed. He had been quite charming for a while. It was nice to think that for a moment someone had thought her angelic.

 “We’re at my family’s home in South Adams, Massachusetts,” Dickie answered him. “Do you remember?”

 After a minute, Adam nodded. Satisfied for the moment that her savior wasn’t seriously harmed, Penelope turned her attention to her brother.

 “Dickie, you’re home!” she cried happily and he smiled down at her. “I’ve missed you so much. You have to tell me what fun you’ve been up to these last months,” she demanded immediately.

 “Of course I will, Peanut. But perhaps first, you could tell me what you were doing up there?” Dickie didn’t sound particularly anxious; he just seemed mildly curious. Of course, this was hardly her first such incident, though it was the first time she could remember falling out of the sky.  Adam made a grunting sound, but she ignored him as she wondered how best to tell her story and not make herself sound as crazy as people sometimes said she was.

 “Well…it’s sort of a long story…” she began.

 “In that case, would you mind getting off of me before you tell it?” their guest interrupted through gritted teeth. Penelope turned to stare at him in amazement. His tone had been quite rude; he could not have been talking to her. But his eyes were glittering fiercely with temper. It was remarkable.

 “What?” she asked stupidly, wanting to see his flash of anger once more and at the same time not quite believing that he was openly showing his temper. Gentlemen simply did not do that with ladies nearby. At least those she knew did not.

 “Get off me!” he snapped irritably in her face.

 “Oh, of course.” Penelope gathered her skirts and tried to hide her red face. In truth, she had forgotten she was still sitting on the man. Her legs were showing as well. She gulped and moved quickly. Of course, as fascinating as the rare sight of someone other than herself or Richard in a temper was, he had still been quite rude. Her elbow managed to end up in his ribs in a not-quite accident as she struggled to rise. He grunted again. “Oh, I am sorry,” she said, and thought she sounded quite convincing.

 He did not acknowledge her apology as he accepted Richard’s offered hand and pulled himself up off the ground. Perhaps they did not have manners out West. The thought of a place without polite strictures made her grin. Adam’s quiet thanks to her brother quite ruined her theory however, and her grin fell.

 “You’re covered in snow, Adam,” Dickie commented on a laugh and both Adam and Penelope’s eyes dropped to his wet clothes. The suit looked new and slightly ill fitting to Penelope, though cut from expensive material. If it was ruined she had probably done him a favor. While he was brushing off the snow that hadn’t melted yet, stopping occasionally to glare at her, Penelope was picturing him dressed as the cowboys in those little booklets about the Wild West always dressed. That was much better, much more in line with that flash of temper. She was debating whether or not to add a gun to her mental picture when he began to rub his backside with both hands.

 “Are you all right?” she asked, her concern returning.

 “I’m just dandy!” he growled down at her. Her eyes widened.

 “So you rub your bottom in public all the time?” she asked innocently. Adam made a choking sound, then his eyes narrowed.

 “No, I do not rub my…” He didn’t seem to know how to complete his sentence, though Penelope was very curious to see how he finally would. Unfortunately, Dickie interrupted.

 “Really, Adam, Penelope did apologize,” Dickie said, for once not smiling and Adam sighed. Very slowly, he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Then he looked at her. She drew her brows together in a slight frown. There was no trace of his temper now. Apparently, he had regained control of himself. How disappointing.

 “It was evidently unwise of me to come to your rescue, Miss Bradford,” he said at last in a coldly sarcastic voice. “If you would just tell me where you plan on falling from in the future, I will be sure to be elsewhere.”

 Penelope blinked at the change in his tone. But she knew how to deal with sarcasm- she ignored it.

 “So he’s staying with us for the holidays, Dickie?” She acted as if Adam hadn’t spoken. Dickie smiled, but then, the smiles never left his face for long. Their guest’s eyes flashed again briefly and she couldn’t hide her laughter. He evidently didn’t care to be ignored. She must remember to do it again.

 “Welcome to Maplewood, Adam,” Dickie said with an amused look and opened the front doors for them.

 “Yes, welcome to Maplewood,” Penelope repeated in a softer tone as they entered the house. He stepped quickly ahead of her to walk next to Richard. Slowly, thinking all the while, Penelope closed the doors just as James, the butler, approached to do that very thing and then followed the two men down the hall. She only remembered her less than elegant appearance when her grandmother gasped from the top of the staircase.

“Penelope Elizabeth Bradford!” she called out Penelope’s full name reproachfully at the bottom of the stairs and continued towards her at full speed. The two men stopped as she passed them, but for the moment all her attention was focused on Penelope, unfortunately. “What mischief have you been up to now, young lady?” She went on before Penelope could respond to this. She did try to meet her grandmother’s steely gaze, but when Granmama chose to be, she could be very intimidating. “Well? Are you going to tell me?” Granmama’s foot was tapping impatiently on the long carpet that Penelope’s great-grandfather had exported from India years ago when he’d been head of Bradford Shipping.

“I fell in the snow,” Penelope said, truthfully, and decided to try to change the subject. “You see, Granmama, I went outside to see Dickie. He’s home today,” she added unnecessarily. She should have known that her grandmother would not be distracted until she’d had her say.

“You must learn to watch your steps, Penelope,” Granmama scolded, holding up a wet, curly lock of Penelope’s hair. “Are you a savage or a Bradford?”

Here it comes, Penelope sighed inwardly. Dickie was probably laughing silently, and their guest, she frowned, their guest was probably enjoying her discomfiture.

“The Bradfords, Penelope, are an old and proud family. We are first citizens of this country and have a duty to keep our name free of scandal.”

“I know, Granmama,” she spoke, knowing she was expected to answer here.

“I know you try, Penelope.” Granmama unexpectedly softened, stroking Penelope’s cheek with the back of one hand for a moment. Then she straightened up. “But you must try harder. Richard!” She turned to Dickie abruptly, who had indeed been laughing. He controlled himself quickly while Penelope sighed in relief. That had gone better than it could have.

“Richard!” their grandmother said again, in a warmer tone, and gathered him close in a brief hug. Then she stepped away to examine him critically. “ How are your studies? You haven’t been corrupted in Boston, have you? You’ve stayed out of trouble?”

“Yes, Granmama. My studies are going well.” Dickie responded, then winked. “And no, the city hasn’t corrupted me.” His tone was so dry that Penelope felt like giggling. His friend cleared his throat.

Granmama turned to him. Somehow, despite the fact that she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes, she gave the impression that she was looking down at him.

“And who is this young man, Richard?”

“Grandmother, this is Adam Cartwright. He’s a friend from school…I invited him to spend the holiday break here at Maplewood.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Bradford,” Adam offered pleasantly, as if he hadn’t just seen her scold her grandchildren. She inclined her head in return.

“Your friend from school is welcome, but Mr. Cartwright doesn’t have a family who will miss him over the holidays?” she asked curiously. Penelope leaned forward eagerly to hear his answer.

“My family lives too great a distance away, Mrs. Bradford. The trip out and back would leave me little time to visit.” Adam answered politely.

“Where are you from, Mr. Cartwright?” Penelope asked, and her grandmother gave her an exasperated look. Adam stiffened visibly.

“I’m from the Nevada Territory. My father owns a ranch out near the Sierra Nevadas.” He made it sound like he was making a declaration.

“The West, Granmama!” Penelope laughed delightedly.

“The West?” Granmama repeated in tones of horror. She didn’t take her eyes off of Adam as if he might suddenly attack her or something. “You mean the place where all those horribly violent stories in those common novels of Penelope’s take place?” She looked Adam over carefully, probably considering the less than perfect state of his clothing and imagining all sorts of nonsense. Penelope decided from Adam’s stony face that he definitely understood the meaning of that look. Over the top of Granmama’s head he shot Penelope a narrow look. She guessed that meant that Granmama’s ideas were her fault. “Well,” Granmama recovered herself at last. “Maybe someday Nevada will be as great as Massachusetts,” she offered politely. Her tone indicated that she didn’t believe a word of it. “Perhaps you can tell us how you like the East at dinner, Mr. Cartwright?”

Penelope waited to see any signs of temper, but he just nodded slowly.

“I would be happy too,” he said, his tone correct. This evidently satisfied Granmama, she moved on to other things.

“Richard, go see your grandfather in the library before you do anything else. He’ll be delighted to see you.”

With an apologetic glance at Adam and a rueful look for Penelope, Dickie obeyed their grandmother’s politely phrased order.

“I need to go see the cook. Penelope, if you would be so kind as to see our guest to the Blue Room for me…”

“Of course, Granmama.” Penelope grinned at Adam who was staring down at her. Her grandmother stepped away.

“When you are done, dear, come see me. Perhaps I can turn you back into something resembling a young lady by dinnertime.” With that comment effectively wiping away Penelope’s smile, she continued briskly on toward the kitchen.

“I doubt it…” she thought she heard Adam whisper. Penelope doubted it too, since Granmama had been attempting to make her a proper young lady for years and hadn’t succeeded yet.

“This way.” She didn’t look to see if he followed as she headed up the stairs. She turned around at the top and, to her surprise, he was right behind her. Most visitors usually had a hard time with the steep staircase. Not only had he not made a sound, but he wasn’t even out of breath. She raised her eyebrows, a little impressed. He raised his eyebrows right back, and smirked ever so slightly. Without a word, she turned around and led him down the east wing, then halted outside one of many doors. “Your room, Mr. Cartwright,” she told him in her best imitation of James. He didn’t look too amused; he just stared down at her in a superior sort of way and stepped into his room.

“You know, “ Penelope began in a casual voice as he closed the door. “When you raise your eyebrows and look down at me like that,” she paused and he stopped with the door open a few inches, “you look like my grandmother.”

He closed the door with a bit more force than was necessary.

“So what, in your opinion, is the difference in the political attitudes of the East and the West, Mr. Cartwright?” Grandfather asked their guest curiously. He had been questioning Adam eagerly about his political standing for the last two courses and showed no signs of stopping.

Sitting at the head of the table, his questions clearly echoed through the room. He sounded very curious and very determined to get an answer. His bushy white eyebrows, visible even from where Penelope sat near the opposite end of the table, were lowered in a frown of either interest or disagreement. Not that he should have a problem getting an answer. Adam seemed more than willing to share his opinions with the world.

Penelope moved her gaze to Adam as he replied, observing his raised chin and superior expression, and took another poke at her carrots on her plate with her fork. She hated cooked carrots. They were, in her opinion, squishy, bland, and thoroughly unappealing. Suddenly, she smiled. In many ways, her carrots were beginning to remind her of their guest. Well, perhaps that wasn’t fair. Mr. Cartwright was a guest after all, and was probably attempting to be on his best behavior. And unlike most visitors to Maplewood who could be intimidated by Grandfather, he did have definite opinions. But he was so correct that she was beginning to doubt whether she’d actually seen that glimpse of his temper earlier. Not once in the time she’d been observing him had he shown even a hint of losing his temper. He was all that was proper, she huffed to herself and pushed her carrots to the far side of her plate.

He had evidently finished speaking. The little smirk was back in his expression and her grandfather had a faint smile on his face as well. Finally, he nodded and looked at her.

“Did you hear that, Penelope?”

Since she hadn’t been listening, she shook her head.

“Fellow’s got some of the same crazy ideas as you.” Grandfather always referred to her ideas as crazy. Actually, he said everyone whose ideas weren’t the same as his were crazy, but it was always with a smile.

“Really?” Penelope asked. Now that was surprising. She looked over at Adam, who had absolutely no expression on his face. She wished she knew how he did that.

“You two should discuss them sometime, might be interesting.” Grandfather sounded amused. Adam mumbled something noncommittal in reply and Penelope, just, managed not to stick her tongue out at him. She chose instead to respond with perfect decorum.

“I would be delighted,’ she declared calmly, more than a little amazed at herself. Maybe

Granmama had finally succeeded in turning her into a young lady. That was something to think about.

Grandfather turned to Dickie.

“Despite some nonsensical notions, your friend has a good head on his shoulders, Richard. You’d be wise to listen to his advice,” he declared, as if giving Adam his official mark of approval. She supposed he was, in a way, since Grandfather rarely praised anyone who disagreed with him. Or maybe he rarely approved of anyone because people rarely disagreed with him. Penelope contemplated this new idea for a moment until she was distracted by Adam’s calm acceptance of this praise. He didn’t look at all surprised at the compliment, nor did he look ready to refuse it. He was so logical and sure of himself. It was infuriating.

When his smirk returned, Penelope couldn’t help rolling her eyes at Dickie. He rolled them right back and grinned. Your friend is a conceited prig, she told him with a look which she knew he would understand. Dickie acknowledged this with a nod, and then gave her an admonishing look that meant, but that’s just the surface. Look deeper. Well, she wasn’t very interested in plumbing this particular man’s depths; she indicated this with a frown and a shake of her head.

Someone clearing her throat to her right ended this silent conversation. She looked over at her grandmother, who frowned at her, no doubt understanding everything that hadn’t just been said. Penelope sighed, and patted her upswept hair; causing two more curls to fall out of the elaborate style Granmama had decreed she was to wear that evening. The hairstyle, she was told, showed off her blond curls to perfection and was well suited to the high-necked blue dress Penelope had worn to dinner.

Altogether, Penelope had looked like an elegant young lady when she’d stepped out of her room an hour ago. She was sure the effect had faded by now, but since Granmama was watching, she just tucked the errant curls behind her ear and turned back to Adam with the best expression of polite interest she could manage.

The political discussion appeared to have ended at last, and everyone had turned their attention back to the pot roast on their plates. Penelope eyed her now cold and still squishy carrots with disgust and decided to try for the third time to open up a new discussion with their guest.

“Are there many wild Indians in Nevada, Mr. Cartwright?” she asked into the quiet of the room. Adam looked up at her quickly and swallowed his mouthful of roast. He must not have been done chewing because he had a pained expression on his face and he frowned at her.

“Penelope!” Granmama said sharply, and then smiled at Adam. “I’m sure Mr. Cartwright would rather speak of something more pleasant,” she paused as if trying to think of a topic, “such as his studies at school.” She changed the subject ruthlessly and shook her head the tiniest bit at Penelope. The look she gave Adam said he’d better agree with her. Grandfather immediately took an interest in this new subject and Penelope realized she was just going to have to wait to hear about the West for now.

“Yes, what are you studying, young man?” he asked as Adam neatly sliced up his meat. He had excellent table manners, something Penelope had only noticed when she’d seen Granmama observing him closely. She wondered with a smile what Granmama would have done if he’d started eating with his hands or something.

“I’m interested in many different subjects, but most especially, in engineering and architecture,” he answered, surprising Penelope again. She wouldn’t have guessed that was his interest, but now she could picture him studying columns of numbers and taking precise measurements. She was willing to bet he never made a mistake and never missed it when anyone else did, looking superior as he scratched out their miscalculation and replacing it with his, undoubtedly correct, answer.

“And how are you doing in your studies, if you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Cartwright?” Grandfather asked.

“Adam excels in nearly everything, don’t you, Adam?” Dickie commented with a grin that meant he was up to something. Adam smiled proudly and shrugged.

“I’m not failing any courses,” he said in the worst expression of false modesty Penelope had eve seen.

“Of course not,” she said snidely under her breath and he looked over at her with a slight frown. Dickie’s next words distracted him though.

“Especially French lessons, or so I’ve heard.” His grin got bigger and looked decidedly wicked. Penelope watched in amazement as Adam’s cheeks turned a shade darker.

“You speak French, Mr. Cartwright?” Granmama looked suitably impressed with this respect for classical knowledge, so unexpected from someone from the savage West. Dickie started to laugh so hard he was gasping for air and Adam shot him a furious look before responding.

“Er, no, not really, Mrs. Bradford.” Then, almost reluctantly, he smiled at everyone at the table.

Except for her of course. Penelope sniffed and took one last vicious stab at her carrots before Grandfather signaled for the course change.

She’d hoped, especially after his brief moment of temper, that their visitor might brighten up her otherwise routing holiday, but it looked like he might be just one more proper, upright citizen to look down his nose at her while boring her to tears.

She picked up her pen, finished addressing the envelope in front of her and added it to the pile of invitations to be sent out. She was completing the invitations for the party the Bradfords held for their neighbors every year at Maplewood on Christmas Eve. They weren’t really necessary, as everyone knew when it was and the same people were always invited, but it was her task because she enjoyed it. She personally made every invitation, cutting out green Christmas trees or gold stars and pasting them to a sheet of thick paper, and then warmly asking each person to attend the festivities.

Carefully, she cut several holly leaves out of a strip of green paper and three berries out a piece of vivid crimson. She had just pasted on the last berry when a sound outside made her look up curiously. Penelope got up and walked to the nearest window, absently waving the paper in her hand to dry it.

Richard and their guest were finally returning from wherever it was they had gone riding this morning and looked to be racing towards the stables. They both fairly flew over the snowdrifts, but Penelope thought Adam might have the edge, even on unfamiliar ground and with a strange mount. She supposed a cowboy ought to be good with horses. Still, she watched as he and his horse cleared a fallen log with ease and frowned as they landed without the slightest sign of discomfort from him.

This morning she had met him at the breakfast table, determined to make up for yesterday’s incident and prove that she could do things like a young lady should, and had asked if Mr. Cartwright if he would like to go out riding with her. He had, politely of course, declined, saying that he was still too sore from their fall to do much riding.

The liar! Penelope huffed to herself, insulted. What did he think, that she was going to fall on him again? And so what if she did? It had hardly killed him! He really was an uptight prig, and Penelope knew some uptight prigs. In fact, she was related to more than a few of them. A few moments of fire notwithstanding, the man had the temperament of someone twice his age. She wondered what Dickie had seen in him to befriend him in the first place. It was only to learn more about the place that he was from that she had continued to try to talk to him at all.

He had been all that was polite and correct at dinner last night; so polite and correct in fact that Penelope had wondered vaguely if someone had taken her cousin Rupert’s boring, bland personality and implanted it in Dickie’s friend’s body. Even Granmama had been unable to find fault with his manners. His conversation had been equally bland. All she’d managed to learn about him was information about his studies at school, and that when at home he lived with his father and two brothers. She supposed it was just as well, since the topics of the West or cowboys had seemed to upset Granmama.

The sound of footsteps outside the door startled her. With a little shock she realized that she had been standing at the window and staring at nothing for some time. She returned to her seat at the writing desk just as Richard and Adam entered the room.

The ride had obviously been a fun one, she thought, more than a little miffed at not being invited. They were talking as they came in, their cheeks red from the cold and their hair blown every which way. Adam was actually smiling. Well, until he saw her. Then he turned back into Rupert’s twin. He nodded, said “Good morning, Miss Bradford,” and nothing else. When Dickie had described his roommate this year as being a “serious fellow and hard to know” in his letters, Penelope had hardly expected this. There must be some part of him she wasn’t seeing.

“Would you two like some tea?” she asked politely, and then looked at Adam. “It might warm you up after your ride.” She stared at him, and he stared back, although he looked away first.

“That sounds wonderful, Peanut,” Dickie answered, oblivious. Penelope took her eyes away from Adam to ring for a maid, and to ask for tea when she arrived. “Are you making the invitations for the party?” Dickie asked once the girl had gone. He peered at the guest list.

“Mmm hmm,” Penelope answered and looked down at the desk. She frowned in confusion and tucked a falling curl behind her ear. Now where had the sheet with the holly on it gotten to?

“What party?” Adam asked Richard curiously.

“The party held every year here at Maplewood on Christmas Eve. All the relatives, in addition to all our neighbors, and now you as well, Mr. Cartwright, are invited.” Penelope answered him, then looked at Dickie. “Which reminds me, Rupert and Evelyn, as well as Aunt and Uncle Bradford should be arriving tomorrow,” she said, and smiled at his expression of disgust. She searched underneath the finished pile. Had she moved it? she wondered with the tiniest frown and looked up at the window where she’d been standing only moments before. Then her gaze moved down to the bench underneath the window where the paper lay on a fat stuffed cushion where she must have dropped it. Right where Adam Cartwright was about to sit. A part of her noticed, right before she screeched at him like the hoyden Granmama often said she was, that it was the farthest seat in the room from where she was sitting.

“Don’t!” she warned him a second too late. He stood up immediately looking confused and irritated.

“What?” he snapped.

“The pasteboard!” she pointed towards his backside and he turned around. As she’d feared, the white paper was stuck to the back of his pants.

“Oh, Adam I’m sorry! I did try to warn you. I must have dropped it…” She trailed off at his angry look. He twisted around to see what she was staring at, then slowly peeled the paper off and handed it back to her. She waited for him to start yelling, but sadly, he didn’t.

“My fault. I should have looked before I sat,” he said heavily, but his eyes were shooting sparks. Inexplicably flustered, Penelope looked down the paper he’d handed her. It was blank. Confused, she looked back up and giggled before she could control herself.

There were three holly branches pasted to his behind.

“Well, there’s a new looked for you, Adam,” Dickie commented with a grin and a chuckle, “very…festive.”

“Consider yourself invited, Adam,” Penelope managed in between giggles. Adam looked from her, to his pants, and then back to her, before pinching the bridge of his nose again and shaking himself. Then he walked to the door with as much dignity as a man could with a holly pasted to his bottom, pausing only once.

“I’ll just go change,” he said quietly, after turning back to stare at them in a condescending way, and closed the door. Penelope looked over at Richard and they both burst into laughter.

Her search had had her trudging through the snowy woods around Maplewood for hours and it was getting late. Her walk had left her with a red face, dirty skirts, and hair full of twigs and leaves. The cousins were due to arrive this afternoon and she wanted to get back in time to change and clean up a bit before she encountered them. So, she headed out of the trees in the direction of the long driveway that everyone around here knew eventually led right to the front steps of Maplewood.

She came out on one side of the narrow road some time later, humming carols to herself and unaware of the other person standing in the middle of the road until she was about twenty feet away. Then she stopped to stare at him curiously. Adam Cartwright was just standing in the road and staring west. He didn’t seem to see her at all. Penelope looked west too, at the Berkshire Hills, as the local residents called the mountain range looming in the distance. It was also, she realized suddenly and actually felt sorry for him, the direction of his home.

The sound of her footsteps must have finally reached him, because he suddenly straightened up and looked in her direction. Then he looked towards the woods in a way that could only be described as longingly and Penelope pursed her lips in irritation. She supposed he did have reason to want to run from her now, but she was glad he’d decided to stay.

“Good afternoon, Miss Bradford. Nice day, isn’t it?” he offered politely, though without a friendly smile and keeping his distance. Penelope ignored this standard greeting and just asked what she wanted to know.

“Were you thinking of home?” she asked curiously, but softly in case it pained him. He looked surprised for a moment before he closed his expression in the way that he had at dinner his first night here. He lowered his lids to hide his eyes and tensed up and he didn’t answer her question.

“I would, if I were away from my loved ones, especially around Christmas,” she continued, thinking of how happy she was whenever Dickie came home from school.

“Your brother said this was your favorite time of year.” He changed the subject and gestured for her to walk alongside him back towards the house. Penelope glanced at him quickly, but allowed the change for now.

“Yes. I love Christmas and all the traditions that go with it at Maplewood. I even enjoy it with the cold weather and visits from some of my more annoying relatives,” she told him excitedly, then bit her lip. “I probably shouldn’t have said that to you. Granmama would not approve.” But to her surprise, he smiled at little at this lapse in her good manners.

“I know what you mean,” he said, then frowned, probably at her obvious astonishment that he should agree with her. “My family in Boston just isn’t the same as home. That’s why I let Richard talk me into spending the holidays here.”

“Tell me about your home,” she pressed softly, and just in case he thought she meant the West and stopped talking entirely, she added, “your family. You said you had two brothers…”

“Hoss and Little Joe,” he answered gruffly.

“What delightful names!” Penelope laughed. “I wish I had more brothers. Tell me more.”

He seemed to relax a little. “Hoss is six years younger than me. We call him Hoss because he’s already a giant and he’s not done growing yet.”

Penelope was fascinated to see a genuine smile lift Adam’s mouth as he spoke of his brothers.

“He’s the sweetest, most gentle creature in the world despite his size. And Little Joe,” he chuckled for a moment. “Little Joe is about eight now and undoubtedly giving my Pa more gray hairs than I ever gave him. The scrapes that boy manages to get into…but somehow, you can never stay mad at him for long.” Adam looked over at her and there was a definite twinkle in his eyes. “In fact, in that respect, he reminds me a lot of you.”

Penelope wasn’t quite sure if she’d just been insulted or not, though being compared to somebody’s brother definitely wasn’t a compliment for any girl. But there was such a playful gleam in his eyes that she couldn’t get herself really angry. She suspected he was more like his brother than he knew or let on, and she wondered what scrapes he had gotten into. She couldn’t picture it at all.

She was still trying to think of how to respond when the sound of an approaching carriage could clearly be heard. There was only one carriage expected on this road today- her cousins. Without stopping to explain to Adam she hurried out of the road into the trees. Cursing, he followed her. She barely even noticed his language, though the fact that he used those words in front of her would have amused her at any other time. She was watching the elegant carriage and the following, less elegant luggage coach pass by.

“What are you doing now?” Adam demanded from next to her. Irritably, Penelope placed her hand over his mouth until both vehicles had passed.

“Shush!” she scolded him. His breath heated her hand through her glove so much that she was tempted to leave it there. But he looked so offended as it was that she decided not to push it. She removed her hand reluctantly and shook out her skirts before stepping back out into the road.

“What was that?” he asked in a tone that demanded an immediate answer.

“I didn’t want my cousins to see me before I’ve straightened up.” She shook out her skirt one final time.

 “What’s the point?” he arched one eyebrow and pulled a twig from her hair. “You’ll look the same after a few minutes anyway. I’ve only known you for less than three days and I know that.”

 Penelope gasped, though she knew it was probably true.

 “Well, there are more important things to think about than looking perfect all the time,” she commented and flashed a look at his expensive coat, which he ignored.

 “I suspect your cousins saw me dash off into the woods like a madman anyway, a wonderful first impression,” he added in a pleasant voice, though his expression was a sneer.

 “Well, don’t blame that one on me,” Penelope huffed and started to walk away, “no one made you follow me.” She held her head up to walk from him with dignity. She should have known better.

 She immediately stepped on an icy patch and slipped. Her feet went in the air and she came down, hard, on the ground. Behind her, Adam burst out laughing. Penelope closed her eyes and hoped he would go away. She hurt and he was amused. Instead, he came to stand in front of her. She opened her eyes to stare at him furiously but this just made him laugh harder. That it was a nice laugh was hardly something she was in the mood to appreciate. She was looking around for something to hit him with when he managed to control himself.

 “You asked for it, walking on an icy road with your nose in the air,” he told her sternly, then cracked another smile when she tried to furtively rub her backside. But when he extended his hand a moment later to help her up she took it.

 He pulled her to her feet easily and then stood looking down at her while she caught her breath.

 “I suppose I should say thank you,” she managed to say, in a very ungrateful tone.

 “I suppose you should, Miss Bradford,” he remarked and stepped away- right onto the same icy patch that he’d been lecturing her about watching out for. His landing looked a lot less graceful, but then, she hadn’t seen herself fall in the snow.

 “Penelope!” he shouted her name angrily from the ground and she tried to hold her laughter.

 “Oh, Adam, I’m…”

 “If you say you’re sorry, I won’t be responsible for my actions.” His temper was very much in evidence as he snapped at her. He pushed himself up roughly and cursed again as he looked down at himself. “I get the feeling, Miss Bradford, that you dislike the way I dress, since, for some reason known only to yourself, you have decided to ruin nearly every suit I own,” he said in a voice close to yelling. He glared down at her.

 “Well, I would like to see you in those, um, chaps, that cowboys always wear.” She requested this sweetly as if he’d really been asking her fashion advice. He gaped at her for a second and then spun around and walked quickly away from her.

 “Wait!” she called after him and wondered how best to tell him that the carriage had turned the snow on the road to slush and that the slush was all over the back of his pants, making it look rather like he’d wet himself like the baby he was.

 “I’m not a cowboy,” he said quietly, looking straight ahead.

 “Everyone out West is a cowboy…or a gunslinger.” She added the last one thoughtfully. She could not see him as a hired gun, but it was an option.

 “No, they are not,” he glanced at her irritably. “There are doctors, lawyers, farmers, the same as the East.”

 “Oh,” Penelope said quietly in disappointment. She could see the house up ahead now. She had wanted the West to be the place of sunshine and wildness that it was in her books. After a few minutes, when she hadn’t said anything else, Adam glanced at her again.

 “Maybe we’re not as settled as the East yet, but I hate the ideas people here have about the West.”

 Meaning her and her novels, she finished for him and sighed. Suddenly she perked up.

 “You could always tell me about the true West,” she suggested as they walked up the driveway. His eyebrows rose, as if this was an entirely new idea to him. Then he rubbed his undoubtedly sore back and looked at her with narrowed eyes. “I’m sure you’d make a wonderful teacher, Adam, you’ve such a way of expressing yourself,’ she added, thinking he was going to refuse.

That tiny smirk instantly appeared at the corner of his mouth and Penelope hid a smile.

 “Well…” he began indecisively and started up the front steps. Penelope, at the bottom, was reminded of why she’d followed him in the first place.

 “Wait!” she yelled and he froze. A second later he sighed and laughed.

 “What am I doing? Listening to you?” He asked himself and continued up.

 “But your, um, the mud,” she explained in an embarrassed rush. He ignored her and walked into the house so she ran after him and caught up with him in the middle of the hall. “Your pants, the mud,” she said breathlessly. “What I’m trying to tell you is…”

 “I don’t really care about what you have to say, Miss Bradford,” he said smoothly, with one arched eyebrow and turned his back on her. Without thinking, though perhaps that is what she should have done, she reached out and smacked him on the bottom hard enough to make her hand tingle. At least, that’s what she thought caused the sensation. He jumped.

 When he turned around she noticed with delight, and for the first time, some trepidation, that he looked about to lose his temper. He was frowning fiercely and his whole body was radiating fury. He walked towards her and her feet began to move backwards on their own.

 “Why did you do that?” he demanded, pronouncing each word carefully and Penelope thought of the expression ‘to wake the beast’. She thought perhaps that she might have done just that. It was marvelous, if a bit frightening.

 “Well, Adam, you were being hateful, like you always are,” she hurried on when his eyes flashed, “when I was just trying to be helpful and point out that you’ve got mud on your pants.” She held up her palm to show him the proof and backed into what must have been the door to the library at the same time. She’d run out of room. She raised her chin and decided to stand her ground this time.

 “So you decided to spank me?” He sounded so offended as he pronounced the last two words that she couldn’t hide her smile. This perhaps wasn’t wise either.

 “Well, it worked didn’t it? I got your attention.” She asked this in what she hoped was a charming way. He did not look charmed.

 “You’re impossible!” he told her, breathing heavily and practically snarling. “I’ve been trying my best to be civil, but you don’t seem to understand. Maybe I ought to be more like you. Maybe I ought to use a similar method to get your attention.” He smiled, clearly enjoying the thought of this and the shock that was probably all over her face. Then she found herself saying something unbelievably bad in response, something straight out of a French novel.

 “Adam, you wouldn’t dare!” she squealed breathlessly, to which he didn’t say anything at all. He just smiled at her again, grabbed her arm, and spun her around.

 He had his other hand in the air when the door to the library suddenly opened with a burst of light. Penelope looked up into the shocked faces of her family, including Uncle Edward, Aunt Arabella, and her cousins Rupert and Evelyn, and blushed furiously. She barely noticed it when Adam dropped his hand and quickly let her go.

 For a minute, nobody said anything. Then Dickie spoke up with a grin from the other side of the door.

 “Rupert, Evelyn, this is Adam Cartwright, the friend I was telling you about. Of course you two already know Penelope.”

 She could feel Adam tense up behind her and sighed. She supposed this was somehow her fault as well.

The sight of the gaily-decorated staircase should have made her smile, but she just plopped down on the bottom step with a sigh. She wasn’t really in the mood for Christmas cheer now. Even the holly couldn’t make her laugh as it had hours earlier. It just reminded her of Mr. Cartwright’s bottom, which, while making her blush, in turn reminded her of what had happened in the library a while ago and why she was upset in the first place.

The shocked faces of her family still made her wince. She hadn’t really shocked them in a long time, so she’d known it was going to be difficult. After all, it must have been obvious to anyone with eyes what Adam had been about to do. Sure, Dickie had laughed, but Granmama had looked ready to faint and Grandfather’s face had gone red, probably in rage or embarrassment or something. If there was anything to be salvaged from the situation, it might’ve been said to have been worth it for the sickly expression on Rupert’s face. Of course, he usually looked like that around Penelope. Uncle Edward and Aunt Arabella had looked properly horrified, and Evelyn, she frowned, Evelyn had remained calm, as composed as ever.

 She remembered clearly how Evelyn had raised one eyebrow in question, making her blush furiously and feel like a naughty child. Before Penelope had been able to think of anything to say however, Granmama had regained her ability to speak.

 “Penelope!” she glided over to her and quickly separated her from Adam, putting an unnecessarily large distance between them. “Richard, take care of your friend!” Granmama jerked her head towards Adam as if telling Dickie discreetly to keep an eye on the wild man.

 “Eliza,” Grandfather’s said to her calmly, making Granmama freeze in place. They exchanged some sort of look that made her cheeks turn pink, but Penelope barely noticed. She’d turned around just in time to greet Evelyn and hear her first words.

 “Now, Granmama, I’m sure there’s a very good explanation for what was going on. After all, Penelope does have that effect on most people. Mr. Cartwright was just doing what many others have probably thought about doing.” Her comment, uttered in crystal tones, made her family members titter. “Not myself of course, you know I love you, Cousin Penelope.” Evelyn smiled coolly and Penelope glared back. Rupert laughed and Penelope transferred her glare to him. He gulped. You dye someone blue once and they were scared of you for life, she reflected briefly. But Granmama took a step back from Penelope and looked over her muddy dress with a frown.

 “Yes, what nonsense have you been up to, Penelope, and how did you get Mr. Cartwright involved?”

 “Looks like fun, whatever it was,” Dickie’d said idly, not helping at all. Penelope looked at her grandfather for support, which he provided.

 “Perhaps we should better introduce our guest to the family, Eliza, before we discuss this anymore?” Grandfather could give orders in the form of suggestions even better than Granmama when he chose to. They exchanged another look, then she cleared her throat.

 “Edward, Arabella, this is Mr. Adam Cartwright. He goes to school with Richard and is spending the holidays with us. His people are from Nevada.” She said this last bit sourly.

 “Any relation to the New Haven Cartwrights?” Uncle Edward asked as Adam came forward to shake hands.

 “No, not that I know of, though I have relatives in Boston, the Stoddards, on my mother’s side.” He’d responded calmly, apparently taking no notice of Edward’s complete indifference to his answer. Penelope would bet he had seen it though.

 “And these are my other grandchildren, Rupert and Evelyn,” Granmama finished the introductions.

 Penelope had found it funny at the time to see Adam crush Rupert’s small, pale hand in a firm grip. Her amusement had lessened considerably when she’d seen Adam get his first good look at Evelyn.

 Penelope supposed Evelyn looked more like the angel that Adam had first compared her to. Evelyn was tall, slim, and elegant, with fine golden hair and clear blue eyes. Penelope was shorter, with a rounded figure and a mess of curly blonde hair that was never under control. Still, there was no reason for him to look as if he was having trouble remembering his own name.

 “Nevada?” Rupert’d asked nervously. “You mean the West with all the outlaws and Indians that Penelope incessantly talks about?”

 “Now, Rupert,” Evelyn never took her eyes off of Adam, “I’m sure it’s not like that at all.” She got to bask in an approving smile from Adam for this. Then she’d turned away at last. “Cousin Penelope, you never did finish explaining what happened to your dress.”

 “I never started explaining,” Penelope pointed out belligerently.

 “I’m sure she just fell in some snow,” Richard broke in and Penelope nodded, grateful for the help. Evelyn laughed.

 “Life is never boring with Penelope around. But perhaps she should go upstairs and change now.” That eyebrow arched again.

 “Yes, Penelope. Go upstairs and change and calm yourself down a bit.” Granmama agreed with an embarrassed look at the muddy dress. Penelope gasped, insulted. Sent to her room like a child.

 “Penelope does it again, hmm?” she’d said quietly to herself and left the room.

 Sitting on the steps hours later and reviewing the day’s events, Penelope wondered for the first time how Adam had gotten out of the library without revealing his mud problem. She could just see him, walking backwards so no one would see. A smile, her first in some time, crossed her face. Then she laughed out loud, scaring the nearby James, who probably thought she was crazy, if he didn’t already.

 The look on Adam’s face when she’d spanked him! She wiped tears from the corner of her eyes. Such wounded pride! The man had enough pride and dignity for two. She stopped laughing abruptly and frowned, deep in thought. Pride enough for two when he was in control of himself. When that control slipped, like when he spoke of his brothers, or, she grinned, when he lost his temper, he became human. Actually, he became just as bad as she was, the poor man. It was fascinating. He had two sides to his personality, she decided. And while she wondered what had caused this to be, she was also aware that she much preferred the side he had revealed to her. She was going to have to learn why he tried to bank all that lovely fire.

 Whistling a carol, Penelope stood up and admired her work again. It was so beautiful. Things were looking up. Now all she had to do was take care of Evelyn and it could be the best Christmas she’d had in many years.

 It was all so unfair when she was stuck next to Rupert.

 What was he talking about now? The food? The weather? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. Rupert could talk about nothing for hours anyway, and no gentle hints about silence being golden were any good once he got started. No rescue looked to be forthcoming either; most people knew better than to give Rupert their full attention.

 Penelope moved two of her uneaten peas to the center of her plate, then dipped her finger in the gravy, making a little face to smile back at her. This creation took all of two seconds and when it was done, Rupert was still blathering on. If he talks like this at every meal, it was no wonder he was so thin, she thought. He didn’t have time to eat. Then another wicked smile appeared on her face.

 Carefully, she picked up a pea and watched Rupert’s mouth, now amused by its constantly being in motion. When she felt the time was right, she tossed it at him. It flew into his mouth with perfect aim. Only instead of shocking him into shutting up, the idiot choked on it. Only Rupert could choke on a tiny pea. Penelope thought as she frantically thumped his back, perhaps a bit harder than was necessary.

 “Is he all right?” Adam asked in concern.

 “Rupert?” His mother looked worried.

 “He’s fine,” Penelope assured them and thwacked Rupert one last time. The pea shot out of his mouth and landed in his potatoes. Penelope handed him a glass of water and decided to take advantage of the situation. “You probably shouldn’t talk for awhile. Rest your throat,” she said, forcing him to take a drink.

 “Yes, dear, do as she says,” Aunt Arabella told him, then looked around the table. “I can’t imagine how that happened.” She seemed embarrassed. But then, so did Rupert.

 “It happens to everyone.” Granmama soothed her, though Penelope doubted it had ever happened to her, and changed the subject.

 “So what were you talking about?” Penelope threw herself into the conversation across the table and smiled encouragingly. Adam looked at her with a frown, but he answered.

 “Poetry,” he said shortly.

 “Oh, I love poetry!” Penelope told him excitedly. “Which poets were you discussing?”

 “Milton, for one,” he responded and seemed shocked when she wrinkled her nose.

 “I don’t care much for Paradise Lost. Eve irritated me, and Adam was boring, though I found Lucifer interesting. Granmama said I had an appalling lack of taste.” She grinned. Adam’s frown got deeper and Evelyn sighed. Confused, Penelope changed topics. “I do like the Romantics. They know poetry should be less about meter and rhyme and more about life and feeling, though some people say they are scandalous. Don’t you agree, Mr. Cartwright?”

 “That the Romantic poets were scandalous?” He seemed to be one step behind. She had thought he was quicker than that. She made a tsking sound and told him so.  “That they wrote about passion,” she added, then looked at Richard. “Who else would get to say, ‘I fall upon the thorns of life, I bleed?’” She said this last part loudly, at the same time as Dickie and with a dramatic flourish of her hand.

 “Penelope!” Her grandmother said from the end of the table. Penelope ignored her.

 “Now, would old Milton ever say something like that?” she asked Adam challengingly. “That’s why I don’t like him.”

 “Cousin Penelope,” Evelyn broke in, sounding amused. “We were discussing how Mr. Cartwright was named for Paradise Lost. You know, the Adam you thought was boring?”

 Penelope looked at Adam, who was regarding her seriously, but with a tiny smile, as if he was offended but was enjoying watching her squirm.

 “Oh,” she said and felt herself blush. “I’m sorry.”

 “I find Adam boring sometimes too.” Adam said quietly. Penelope glanced at him quickly in surprise but he’d already turned back to Evelyn.

 “Penelope!” Granmama called her name forcefully, reminding her that there were others at the table.

 “Yes, Granmama?” Penelope turned to face her and Aunt Arabella.

 “Arabella would like to know if you need help decorating for the party. She has some suggestions…”

 Penelope barely kept from shuddering. Arabella would take charge of everything and she had the worst taste.

 “I’m asking because you seem to be so clumsy lately.” Her grandmother wasn’t likely to forget her two recent disasters any time soon.

 “I’m sure Aunt Arabella is too busy to bother with me. But,” Penelope slanted a considering look down the table, “I’m working on the ballroom tomorrow. I could use someone tall to help me.”

 “Mr. Cartwright,” Granmama understood immediately, “if you’re not busy tomorrow, I would appreciate your helping Penelope decorate the ballroom.”

 Adam looked at her again and he didn’t look happy, especially when Penelope winked at him. He swallowed before answering.

 “Of course, Mrs. Bradford.”

 Penelope didn’t get to enjoy her triumph long.

 “I’d love to help too,” Evelyn offered pleasantly.

 “I’d hate to trouble you,” Penelope said through gritted teeth, but Evelyn just smiled. Penelope wondered if she’d get the message if she kicked her in the shin. She slid down in her chair to do just that. She kicked out and hit something. Something hard that nearly broke her toe. She thought it was a table leg until Adam frowned over at her.

 Then something hit her in the shin. Hard.

 “Ouch!” she yelped and everyone turned to her.

 “No more Dramatics, Penelope,” Granmama scolded mildly and everyone turned away. Adam was smirking at her and her leg was throbbing. He’d probably given her a bruise.

 She picked up a pea covered in gravy, checked to see if anyone was looking, then threw it at his face. It hit his forehead, rolled down his nose, and landed on his plate, leaving a trail of brown gravy behind it. She just smiled at his incredulous look and waited for him to retaliate.

 But he didn’t. She waited and watched while dinner was removed and replaced with dessert but polite, boring Adam had apparently won out over the fiery cowboy. She sighed and poked at her cream pie distractedly.

 She was the last to rise as everyone was leaving and was almost the last to leave the room. She was so lost in thought in fact, that when Adam said her name from behind her she didn’t even think to be wary that he’d sounded pleasant.

 She turned around immediately and got a slice a cream pie smashed in her face. For a moment, she was just stunned, then she scooped it out of her eyes and looked up into Adam’s smirking face. Somewhere, Dickie was laughing hysterically.

 “What? Nothing to say?” Adam asked with raised eyebrows. Penelope tilted her head to one side and licked off the pie around her mouth.

 “Cream pie, my favorite,” she said calmly, and enjoyed the surprise on his face. “Oh, but you must not have got to taste any.” She tsked, then took a handful of cream and rubbed it all over his face. Dickie seemed to be having trouble breathing. Adam opened his eyes and his long eyelashes were covered in cream. He looked ridiculous. Penelope smiled at him, and then slowly wiped her hands on his dinner jacket. She peeped up at him and saw that his eyes were shooting sparks again. It was marvelous.

 A gasp made them both turn around. Granmama must have wondered what was taking them so long and had come to fetch them.

 “Excellent pie, Mrs. Bradford,” Adam offered, somewhat nervously, when Granmama raised her eyebrows at the two of them.

 “Excellent, Granmama,” Penelope agreed, and let out a giggle when Adam tasted the pie on his face with the tip of his tongue.

 Penelope smiled down at him.

 “It’s your own fault,” she sang. For some reason, she was in an incredibly good mood today. It might have something to do with the headache that had kept Evelyn from joining them in decorating the ballroom. Whatever his reasons, Adam must have been feeling the same way, since he didn’t immediately snap her head off. “What do you mean?” she referred to his earlier question as she turned her attention back to hanging a handful of stars on the section of wall in front of her. She fixed them to the wall with tiny nails and then returned the hammer to her pocket.

 “What are you trying to do with all these stars?” he asked again, somewhat impatiently. She glanced down at him, and her hair, on schedule, fell down around her face.

 “I want the room to look special, magical. So this year I’m covering it in stars. It will look heavenly.” She sighed the word. She could see it so clearly.  Adam was quiet for a while, and she hoped he wasn’t going to mock her idea.

 “You should hang some stars from the ceiling then. It would complete the…effect,” he said thoughtfully. Penelope smiled.

 “What a wonderful idea, Adam,” she thanked him and stretched up to see if she could hang a star from where she was.

 “Not like that!” he called out sharply.

 “Would you let me do it,” she huffed at him as she strained to reach it, standing on her toes on the top of the ladder.

 “You don’t have the sense God gave a flea!” he called up. “Get down from there!”

 “I’d like to remind you, Mr. Cartwright, that I don’t take orders from you,” she declared frostily, but she took a step down. “Though you seem to think everyone should take orders from you.”

 “Well, not everyone.” His mouth twisted wryly as if he thought this was funny. “But you especially need someone to knock some common sense into you, Miss Bradford,” he told her smugly, the look on his face similar to the one he’d had when he’d been about to spank her.

 “Well, you need someone to knock some common sense out of you, Mr. Cartwright,” she answered back. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he smirked at her and stepped away from the ladder.

 It immediately wobbled and Penelope sat down on the top step abruptly, clutching the sides. So what if he was right? This simply wasn’t fair!

 “Adam!” she said breathlessly, then glared at him furiously.

 “Now you can see how unsafe it is to be up there.” He folded his arms and just watched her struggle.

 “If I recall, Adam, you wanted to hold the ladder. I didn’t have to be the one to climb it,” she reminded him as she scooted carefully down onto a lower step.

 “It was the logical solution. You could hardly have steadied it for me,” he said reasonably. Penelope was beginning to hate his logic.

 “Maybe,” she said slyly, and halted her movements when the ladder shook again.

 “Maybe?” He seemed insulted.

 “Or maybe you just wanted to look up my skirts,” she added with a soft laugh as a joke. He gaped at her for a moment, and then smiled in a superior way.

 “I assure you, Miss Bradford, that I do not need to trick a woman to look up her skirts.”

 It was Penelope’s turn to gape. For a second she was speechless, and then she was so mad she knew she shouldn’t speak or something very unladylike would come out of her mouth. She didn’t know what infuriated her more, the implication that he hadn’t been looking up her dress, or the implication that he’d looked up other women’s skirts. She didn’t stop to examine it; she was just mad.

 She tossed the bigger stars to the floor and, for lack of anything better to do with her pent up energy, she started to try to fix the mess that was her hair. It was full of stars that had somehow become entangled in her curls. Now even more irritated, she gave up.

 Without looking at the man below her, she moved down another step. Her movement made the ladder wobble so much that she had to clutch the side desperately. Suddenly, it stilled. She looked down and saw Adam holding it steady again. She was still angry, but she knew better than to let the opportunity pass. She scooted down until she was close enough to the bottom that the wobbling wouldn’t really matter. Her face was almost level with Adam’s.

 “About what I said,” he began, probably realizing how inappropriate it had been.

 “Forget it.” She was not in the mood for an explanation right now.

 “I’ll help you down,” he said roughly and reached up to grab her around the waist.

 “I can get down on my own,” she told him, each word getting fainter until her voice had all but faded away. He was just staring up at her with wide brown eyes and it was all Penelope could do to remember to breathe. Adam’s mouth was hanging open slightly as if he’d been going to reply and had forgotten the words. Penelope couldn’t imagine what he was staring at; leaning over like she was, her hair, a mess of stars and tangles, was hanging everywhere.

 “Yes, well, so,” she managed to say and he blinked.

 “So,” he said abruptly and pulled her down. Then he stepped away. Penelope was trying to remember why she’d been angry. She couldn’t seem to recall at present. She decided it must not have been important and moved on.

 “Why did you look at me like that just now?” she asked curiously, really wanting to know. Adam was picking stars up off the floor.

 “I was probably reminded of the last time you were looking down on me. You’d just fallen on me.” His mouth twisted again. Penelope laughed.

 “I remember. You thought I was an angel.” Her smug comment made him turn around.

 “You must be mistaken.” He raised his eyebrow, meaning he would never say such a thing.

 “You can ask Dickie, he was there.” She sniffed. He appeared to be thinking.

 “Well, I didn’t know you that well then.” He admitted she was right and nearly insulted her at the same time. She sniffed again and tossed her hair. The gesture caused her to look around for the first time and she gasped.

 “It’s beautiful!” she sighed, looking over the be-starred ballroom. She emptied her apron of the remaining stars and nails as she stared at her handiwork, then she took out the hammer.

 “You really love this, don’t you?” Adam asked quietly.

 “Of course!” That answer was obvious. “Don’t you think it’s beautiful, Adam?”

 “Beautiful,” he said from somewhere behind her.

 “With the stars on the ceiling, it will be like a starry evening, or a view into heaven!” Penelope flung out her arms excitedly at the vision. She only remembered the hammer in her hand when she hit something and Adam grunted. She turned around to see Adam grabbing his stomach in pain.

 “Oh, Adam,” she exclaimed, and dropped the hammer. It landed on his foot.

 “You’re sorry, I know!” he shouted and limped backwards towards the door, all the while, mumbling to himself like a crazy person. “I should have known, but I know better now. Obviously she can’t help it.”

 “But Adam,” Penelope tried to follow him, but he held up a hand.

 “Don’t, Penelope. Just don’t come near me.”

 She wouldn’t have said he was pleading exactly, but he was close.

 “But you’re hurt, “ she insisted and his eyes widened. He looked slightly panicked, so she decided, for the moment, to let him go.

 Only when he was past the door did she begin to slowly follow him. She kept a nice sedate pace. She was a Bradford after all.

 She was attempting to present the picture of a perfect lady, sitting cozily by the fire and reading a respectable book-no common novel today. Of course, she knew it wasn’t going to work because noticing how effortless the behavior was for Evelyn, who was sitting at the opposite end of the room, surrounded by Adam, Dickie, and Rupert, already irritated her. Penelope shivered, a bit chilled, but resolutely returned to staring at her book and tried not to listen to their conversation.

 “So what can we talk about now?” Evelyn asked after a lull and turned to Adam expectantly. He shrugged slightly, not looking very interested in anything they’d had to say so far.

 “You know, it’s odd how often you mention your home to me at school, Adam, yet you’ve barely mentioned it at all here,” Dickie commented mischievously, pouring himself some tea, then grimacing as he tasted it. It was apparently cold. Adam glared at him, but Evelyn seized upon this topic eagerly.

 “Yes, Mr. Cartwright has managed to avoid answering any questions about the West.”

 Adam tensed and Penelope waited eagerly for his refusal.

 “After all, we only want to know the truth after hearing all those stories we’ve heard,” Evelyn added, rather brilliantly Penelope had to admit. He loved to defend his home.

 “There isn’t much to tell really,” Adam said slowly, almost reluctantly. “My father bought land in Nevada when I was a child, and though we’ve had a few problems, we’ve been living there ever since.”

“So Virginia City isn’t the rich and wild a place people claim, Mr. Cartwright?” Evelyn was asking with apparent interest. Wealth would interest her, Penelope thought snidely.

 “It is a very wealthy town, though that wealth, for the most part, is in the hands of a small few. And naturally, one should never believe rumors.” Adam told her, sounding rather stern. Penelope glanced up quickly to observe the scene.

 They were all sitting around a low table, taking tea. Adam was lounging on a settee, regarding the other people seriously, aside from the small smile playing about his mouth. Evelyn was across from him, looking composed, elegant, and not the least bit chilled in her pale blue dress. Dickie also sat on the settee and was smiling as usual, probably at Rupert, who was sitting, pale and straight, in a very uncomfortable, high-backed wooden chair. It didn’t exactly look like a party, but Penelope would have liked to have been invited. She didn’t think Adam was ready to come near her yet though, after the hammer incident.

 “Well, of course it couldn’t be the uncivilized place that some people say it is. It produced you after all, Mr. Cartwright,” Evelyn added this in what was for her a warm tone. Penelope snorted and quickly looked down at her book when everyone looked over at her.

 “So, are your people in the mining business, Mr. Cartwright?” Rupert asked. Penelope could see Adam was going to be the center of the conversation once again. She could also see how little this bothered him.

 “No.” Adam’s reply sounded a little harsh. Then he took a deep breath and said it again, a bit more calmly. “No, my father owns a ranch.”

 “So you are a cowboy?” Evelyn seemed amused. If she ever actually smiled, she’d probably crack her face, Penelope thought cattily, but perked up her ears to listen for Adam’s reply.

 “There’s a lot of hard work involved,” he admitted, “but there’s a lot of administrative work to do as well.”

 He made it sound positively boring, something Penelope seriously doubted. She gave a long, dramatic yawn that drew everyone’s attention. She met Adam’s eyes briefly and smirked at his suspicious frown.

 “Oh, I am sorry,” she said calmly. “Please continue your exciting story, Mr. Cartwright.”

 “I do work out on the range with the stock, and I do wear a gun when I have to,” he added this and stared at her challengingly. “But I wouldn’t say I was a cowboy.”

 “Of course not, you’re a landowner. A cowboy is merely a worker,” Evelyn added.

 “No, that’s not what I meant,” Adam tried to correct her but Rupert interrupted.

 “What is it the cowboys say in those books, Penelope? Yee Haw?” Rupert said this with a straight face, but Penelope couldn’t help smiling when he then said, “Yee Haw, Mr. Cartwright.” He evidently felt this was very amusing because he started to laugh. Evelyn added a polite giggle to his joke. Dickie just glanced over at Penelope and rolled his eyes.

 Penelope was having a hard time not bursting into laughter at the absurd image of Rupert waving a gun and yelling ‘Yee Haw!’ Adam was the only person who didn’t look amused.

 “Yes,” he dismissed Rupert with one word and Penelope smiled; when he directed his sarcasm at someone else it was quite entertaining. Still, whether he knew it or not, he looked bored with this discussion and Penelope decided that it was time to rescue him from the world of Correct

Conversation.

 “You make the West sound quite boring, Adam. But Dickie tells me you’ve had your share of adventures,” she spoke up, watching Adam frown at Richard, as if wondering what exactly had been said.

 “Penelope,” he finally said in warning, but she continued on.

 “Although he still won’t explain about the French lessons.” She tossed this out and grinned wickedly.

 “You speak French?” Evelyn asked.

 “No,” he said shortly, glaring over at Penelope. Then he smiled.

 “Some say Massachusetts can be dull, but I understand you’ve had your share of adventures too, Miss Penelope.” His voice was silky. Penelope’s smile slipped.

 “Oh yes, Cousin Penelope had always had her fits and fancies.” Evelyn pounced on the subject. “It’s why we love her.”

 Penelope snorted again.

 “Remember when you decided that boys have more fun, so you chopped off your hair and stole Richard’s pants?” She giggled again.

 “I was seven at the time,” Penelope explained briefly when Adam smirked at her.

 “Or when she dyed Rupert blue?” Dickie added, and started laughing. Penelope knew he was laughing at Rupert, but it still stung a little.

 “Twelve,” she said succinctly at Adam’s raised eyebrows.

 “Blue? Why?” He looked to be close to laughing as well. Penelope raised her chin.

 “I’d been reading about Scotland and I wanted a full Celtic warrior” she defended her actions. Rupert had not been the best choice, but he was all that was available at the time. “I never did get my warrior,” she added thoughtfully to herself and glanced at Adam.

 “I was blue for a week,” Rupert whined.

 “You did look good in my skirt,” Penelope assured him and Both Adam and Dickie burst into laughter. She smiled. She was glad they thought it was funny; no one had at the time.

 “Really, Penelope,” Evelyn scolded and Penelope narrowed her eyes.

 “If you had a sense of humor, you’d know that it’s funny, Evelyn.”

 “Why, Penelope, I’ve always found you amusing.” Evelyn smiled at her blandly and Penelope growled in her throat. Something was definitely going to have to be done about Evelyn.

 “So what else has Penelope done?” Adam seemed genuinely interested-and ready to laugh some more. This was not what Penelope had meant by rescuing him from boredom.

 “Oh, there’s no end to Penelope’s disgraces.” Rupert seemed grateful that everyone had forgotten the skirt comment. Adam and Dickie looked at him sharply and he flinched. Penelope smiled absently and stood up.

 “Yes. You could tell Mr. Cartwright about the time I got stuck up a tree trying to save a stranded cat. It climbed down on its own and left me up there.” She explained this seriously to Adam, who blinked. “Or maybe how I got into an argument with the pastor’s wife last year in the middle of the Easter service.” She paused and reflected aloud, “Horrid woman,” before going on. “There’s no end to the stories,” she sighed.

 “That’s a good story,” Rupert agreed.

 “Yes.” She dismissed him as Adam had done earlier and stepped away from the fireplace. “They’re all very amusing but you’ll forgive me if I leave. I am tired of hearing them.”

 “Cousin Penelope,” Evelyn’s eyes widened. “I think you’ve singed your dress.”

 Penelope turned to look. Sure enough, the bottom of her lovely violet dress was now black and charred. Penelope stared at it for a moment, then she laughed ruefully.

 “Well, that’s what I get for trying to be a lady,” she said and walked over to Evelyn, who was watching her with that one raised eyebrow. Then she did what she’d been dying to for sometime, even knowing that there would be repercussions from Granmama. She grabbed Evelyn’s teacup and poured its contents right into her lovely cousin’s lap.

Even that didn’t shatter Evelyn’s composure. It was infuriating.

Penelope looked discreetly over to where he was leaning against the wall of the little shop and hid her smile. He looked up suddenly and met her gaze with an intent, brooding expression. She dropped her eyes and looked down at the knickknacks displayed before her. Honestly, you’d think he’d been forced to go shopping with her against his will, she thought with only the slightest twinge of guilt.

She hadn’t forced him. At most she’d tricked him. A distinct difference. Actually, it had been a relatively easy thing to arrange. Penelope had to finish her Christmas shopping, and she couldn’t go into town alone. So, Dickie had been told to accompany her. And Adam went wherever Dickie went. He couldn’t have known that Dickie would encounter some friends, easy to predict in a small town, and want to go spend some of his rare free time with them, forcing an obliging, if reluctant, Adam to escort his sister around.

She’d had a good reason too. Aside from her determination to save him from Rupert and Evelyn, she had to buy him a gift. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being away from his family and not getting a present either. She’d hoped he’d express an interest in something, but every time she’d taken him into a new shop, he’d grown more bored and more sarcastic. She’d been debating whether or not to take him into a dressmaker’s, but she’d finally decided that it would only shock the ladies inside and anyway, from his earlier comments, she doubted the store’s wares were unfamiliar to him.

The items in front of her were definitely meant for female customers. She sighed. This store didn’t have anything either. She put down the cute little porcelain dog she’d been holding and walked over to meet him.

“You haven’t done much buying,” he commented and stood up straight.

“Stop looming over me,” Penelope scolded and pushed past him. “Anyway, shopping is ninety percent looking.”

“Women,” he muttered as he held the door open for her. Penelope ignored this and began walking down the street, toward their carriage. He kept pace with her easily.

“Did you receive any gifts from your family?” she asked casually. To her surprise, he didn’t hesitate to answer.

“I got a package at school before I left with some letters,” he said quietly.

“That’s wonderful,” Penelope stopped and placed a hand on his arm. “Read them yet?”

He didn’t remove her hand when he started walking again. Penelope slipped her hand in the crook of her arm.

“I’m saving them,” he answered shortly. Penelope nodded, understanding completely. Then she forgot what she’d been going to say when she looked out into the street.

She pushed Adam away and ran out into the narrow road, oblivious to the traffic. She could hear Adam swearing behind her but her attention was fixed on the two tiny helpless kittens directly in the path of a heavy horse-drawn cart.

She snatched the darlings out of danger and leapt out of the way, landing in the snow. The driver yelled loudly and jerked his horse to halt. Then he jumped down and started shouting at her in the most incredibly rude way.

“Are you crazy?” the rather large and smelly man yelled into her face as she stood up.

“You were about to run over these kittens,” Penelope held up the fluffballs in her arms as if this explained everything, and to her, it did. The man’s face turned red.

“Who cares about some cats? They look half-dead anyway,” he sneered and Penelope gasped.

“You terrible man!” she yelled back and ducked when he raised a hand as if to strike her.

“What seems to be the problem here? Have you gotten into trouble again, Penelope?” Adam asked calmly as he walked over.

“Adam, this horrible man was about to crush these little innocent kittens!”

“Horrible man!” The Horrible Man roared, apparently taking offense at the name she’d given him. Adam seemed to think it was funny, since he was grinning. Unfortunately for him, the Horrible Man noticed, and he wasn’t the type to debate matters. With another roar he punched Adam in the face and sent him flying into a pile of snow by the side of the road.

“Adam!” Penelope shouted anxiously. She put down the kittens and took a step towards him. But he was already getting up slowly and fingering the skin around his eye. Then he looked over at the other man and his face looked so grim that Penelope took a step back. She watched breathlessly as Adam walked over to the man and hit him in the face so fast that Penelope hadn’t realized he’d done anything until the Horrible Man was lying unconscious in the slush on the ground. Then she let out a long, silly sigh.

Adam stood over the man for a moment, breathing heavily, and then his mouth curved up in a slow smile. It lasted until he remembered her.

“Oh, Adam that was wonderful!” she told him and he scowled.

“It was disgraceful. Fighting in the street. Let’s find Richard and go.”

“But you were amazing!” she rested her hands on his chest and gazed up at him admiringly. He stilled, then, briefly, his smirk returned. “And your poor eye.” She reached up and skimmed his cheek lightly with her fingers.

“I’ve had worse,” he said nonchalantly, then, “It probably looks awful,” he added in a half-hearted sneer.

“I think it looks marvelous.” She would swear he stood up straighter at her words. She didn’t know how long they’d been standing that way when a tiny meow distracted her. “Wait!” She instructed a startled Adam and dashed away from him to pick up the kittens, stepping carefully around the fallen man. He could lay there forever as far as she was concerned. “Poor things, I think they’re starving.”

“How could I forget the cause of all this?” he asked in his old hatefully sarcastic voice and glared at the babies. She supposed they were a bit dirty and disreputable looking. Then the especially thin one shivered in her arms.

“He’s cold, the little dear. Here,” she handed it to Adam and walked across the street to waiting carriage. He followed slowly, but she noticed he wrapped the kitten in his coat.

He helped her up into the vehicle and then climbed in himself, sitting across from her. They sat in silence for a moment, Penelope keeping her eyes on him as she petted her kitten. Suddenly, Adam yelled out a curse word and opened his coat. There was a rapidly spreading spot on his shirt, near the kitten.

It had peed on him.

“I suppose you think this is funny?” he asked her loudly as he placed the cat on the seat next to him. Penelope tried to restrain her laughter as he attempted to clean his shirt with a handkerchief before giving up. She lost the battle completely when he picked up the kitten to glare fiercely into its innocent little face.

Then suddenly the laughter caught in her throat when he again nestled the cat close to him and scratched it gently between its ears. It’s no wonder I love him, she thought with a sigh. Then her eyes widened and she sat up abruptly. She really had done it to herself this time, she thought with a soft smile, and hugged her kitten tighter. There was nothing for it, she decided as she watched him stroke the little kitten’s belly; she was just going to have to make him love her too.

Stringing the berries was really something she ought to have been doing, but once she’d suggested it, Evelyn had promptly commandeered the project, and Adam, and taken them both off to the corner of the parlor. She had done this with a cold look at Penelope, evidently as revenge for having tea poured on her. Apparently, the fact that both Rupert and Evelyn weren’t speaking to her at the moment wasn’t punishment enough. Well, actually, she smiled to herself, it wasn’t punishment at all.

Still, this shunning meant that she was doing needlework by herself when everyone else has something fun to do. Not that Penelope normally minded needlework too much; actually she was surprisingly good at it. It was her one ladylike skill. It was just that she’d rather be doing something else. Like talking with Adam. Well, fighting with Adam if she were honest. That is how they tended to communicate.

But it was Evelyn over there now. Talking politely about nothing and pretending not to see his wonderful black eye, which was swollen shut and actually more purple than black. Penelope supposed that she shouldn’t have poured the tea on her like a child and instead said something cool and witty to discompose Evelyn. But she hadn’t felt cool and witty. She’d been mad and her actions had felt good. She grinned and relived the moment in her head.

“A nice young man, though he does behave oddly at times.” Her grandfather broke into her thoughts with his quiet observation and sat down next to her. Penelope did not pretend to misunderstand. This was Grandfather after all.

“Yes he is. But I like it when he behaves oddly,” she told him with a smile.

“So I figured. Eliza, your grandmother, does not, but she’s done stranger things- something I was quick to remind her.” He smiled wickedly, and looked like an older version of Dickie.

“Really?” Penelope leaned closer in interest. “Like what?”

He laughed warmly.

“I’m not going to tell you. She’d skin me alive.”

Penelope scoffed at this and then a laugh from the corner drew her eyes away from her

grandfather.

“I should think he was worth fighting for then, if you like him so much.” Grandfather humphed and drew his pipe out of his pocket. Penelope looked at him in amusement.

“I was just thinking that, Grandfather,” she said finally with a smile, then laid down her needlework and stared at Evelyn with narrowed eyes. There was no reason for her to be intimidated by Evelyn. At the very least, she clearly wasn’t right for Adam. Pretty or not, she left him untouched. Penelope crossed the room smoothly and stopped in front of them.

“Grandfather would like to speak with you, Cousin Evelyn,” she lied with a pleasant smile.

“Then I shall go at once. Excuse me, Adam.” Evelyn calmly rose in a graceful manner. Penelope plopped down in her empty seat. She was going to have to do something especially nice for Grandfather for putting up with Evelyn for her.

“So it is ‘Adam’ now is it?” she asked once Evelyn had gone, stopping Adam in the middle of discreetly distancing himself from her. He eyed her suspiciously out of his one good eye.

“I don’t recall you ever asking to address me by my first name,” he pointed out and stabbed at a cranberry with his needle. He missed and hit his finger. Penelope smoothly strung a few before answering.

“I seem to recall you calling me Penelope without ever asking either.”

“Only when I lost my temper,” he retorted angrily and stabbed himself again.

“You seem to lose your temper a lot,” she responded innocently.

“When I’m around you!” he whispered furiously.

“And why is that, I wonder?” She addressed her question to the bowl of berries.

“Because you are the most infuriating person I have ever met.”

“You and Evelyn didn’t get much done with these berries.” She ignored his comment and pointed to the nearly full bowl with a smile. “You work faster when you’re actually looking at what you’re doing.”

“Don’t ignore me,” he growled at her and poked his finger hard enough to make it bleed.

“I could never ignore you, Adam,” she told him truthfully. “I’m simply ignoring your rudeness. Now,” she moved on while he was still gaping at her. “Let me see your hand.” She took his hand and wiped the blood off with her handkerchief. She didn’t release it quite as quickly as she could have done and after a second he snatched it back.

“You’re making a bigger fuss over this than you did over my eye yesterday,” he grumbled and resumed stringing berries.

Penelope glanced at him in amazement. What a baby! But she answered back smoothly.

“I already told you I thought that you, and your eye, are quite wonderful.” She pricked her finger on her needle, distracted by the image of him standing over that horrible man. Adam grabbed her hand and dabbed at her wound with his handkerchief.

“It works better when you’re actually looking at what you’re doing,” he repeated her words with a grin. She stuck her nose in the air, but let him care for her hand. Well, she didn’t let him, he simply did it. She just didn’t struggle. It would have been foolish to when she liked his touch.

“It really was wonderful of you to fight that man for me,” she said quietly and Adam glanced at her. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” He released her hand and picked up his needle again. “I didn’t really have much choice now, did I?” he said, but she thought that his cheeks might be a touch darker than they were a minute ago.

“You could have stayed down in the snow. That is what Rupert would most likely have done,” she informed him seriously. He looked so offended at the very idea that she smiled. “Instead you stood up and fought him and looked quite fierce and beautiful.”

Adam stabbed his thumb but didn’t seem to notice. He looked up at her incredulously and she stared back calmly.

“Though I was rather surprised you let him hit you at all,” she moved on, since he seemed embarrassed, “very slow of you.”

“Well I wouldn’t have been in that situation at all if you hadn’t run across the street like a madwoman,” he readily picked up the chance to argue, and began to lecture her again. “You need to try to curb your impulses and act responsibly.”

“Yes, Granmama,” she answered obediently.

“What did you say?” He seemed outraged.

“Nothing.” She hummed happily to herself.

“Penelope,” he said her name low in his throat so she looked up into his glaring eye.

“You see, even with a black eye, you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

Adam stared at her for a moment and then let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Poor man,” she patted his shoulder in mock-sympathy, “it’s not everyday that someone tells you you’re beautiful. The agony must be unbearable.”

He scowled at her.

“Are you ever serious?” He really seemed to want to know.

“Are you ever not?”

“Of course!” he snapped. “I have fun all the time. I just know there’s a time and place for it.”

“Like with the infamous French lessons?” she asked and his tiny smirk reappeared. “Am I ever going to hear that story?”

He smiled at her frustration.

“No, Penelope you are not,” he said shortly and picked up a berry. “Now back to work.”

Penelope sighed. But when he missed the berry again she smiled.

“No, like this,” she grabbed his hands and showed him how to do it without injuring himself. Then she scooted closer and told him to try again. She saw some hope in the fact that he did not move away. Well, not right away.

 “It’s a bit lopsided,” Evelyn commented critically from behind her.

 “I like it that way,” Penelope responded defensively while they waited for everyone else to catch up with them.

 “I think I’ll just keep looking.” Evelyn smiled at her coldly and walked further into the trees. Rupert, as always, followed. They both avoided coming too close to her, as if she might suddenly go crazy and attack them. She imagined this was how Adam must feel around Granmama.

 “Why is it a ‘he’, Peanut?” Dickie aske