  &quot;I should.&quot; He agreed. 
  Mitchell raised her face to look at him, she wanted to know why he chooses to appear mean and arrogant when he has a very kind side to him, but rather than ask, she shook her head and returned her gaze to the ground, picked up a stick lying on the sand beneath her feet and started to draw patterns on the ground with it.
  Michael watched her; he d seen she was about to ask him something but had decided against it. She became engrossed with the pattern she was drawing or probably lost in thought. Her hair spills over her face as the breeze gently blows. She didn t bother to put it to order. 
  &quot;She still looks very lovely with her hair a mess like that,&quot; Michael thought. And intelligent. He loved the way she handled and comported herself during their evening at the Williamson, especially after he had announced their engagement. Some of the l

  But he needed to know how she felt. Of course, it s no news that Anabel had been his longest-serving mistress and he d favored her the most among his mistresses until she started hinting on the &quot;M&quot; word which he wasn t ready for, never thought he d be ready for until he met the brown eye innocence sitting beside him now. 
  Only two months ago, it had made the news that Anabel was divorced. And she had called him, to tell him she was sorry and pleaded if she could return to be his mistress, she d also mentioned she was ready to wait for him until he wanted to marry her. Even if it takes him an eternity, she would wait but he had simply laughed. Of course, she was special, but not so special to the point of him taking her back and he made that clear to her, obviously, she hadn t taken it seriously with what happened at the Williamson s.
  &quot;Mitchell?&quot;
  &quot;Yes,&quo

  &quot;And now they are back. For what again? She thought.
  &quot;Michael is the village philanthropist,&quot; His grandmother said, breaking into her thoughts. He built the hospital, school, and company we have in this village. He was the one who brought all these social amenities to the village. The roads were his doing too. But he doesn t like people to know about what he does.
  &quot;He did all that?&quot; She asked calmly. She was already getting used to finding out things that say quite the opposite of who she thought Michael to be. Who he wants people to think he is.
  &quot;Yes. He said that s his way of giving back to his village and its people&quot; His grandmother said
  &quot;Giving back?&quot; Mitchell thought. She could almost swear; he didn t like the village that treated him like an outcast. A village that wasn t very friendly to him but still, he had thought to give b

&quot;I should.&quot; He agreed. 
  Mitchell raised her face to look at him, she wanted to know why he chooses to appear mean and arrogant when he has a very kind side to him, but rather than ask, she shook her head and returned her gaze to the ground, picked up a stick lying on the sand beneath her feet and started to draw patterns on the ground with it.
  Michael watched her; he d seen she was about to ask him something but had decided against it. She became engrossed with the pattern she was drawing or probably lost in thought. Her hair spills over her face as the breeze gently blows. She didn t bother to put it to order. 
  &quot;She still looks very lovely with her hair a mess like that,&quot; Michael thought. And intelligent. He loved the way she handled and comported herself during their evening at the Williamson, especially after he had announced their engagement. Some of the ladies had sought her out on the pretense of wanting to congratulate her, but it was actually to hav

Chapter 118