“Yes, and plenty of water.”
“There’s hay in the stall, and I don’t think we need to worry about water.” He laughed again when a drop of water fell on the very end of her nose. “The roof could use some work.”
“I hope this is all the rain we get.”
“I do, too.” He held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
She hoped he did not notice how her fingers trembled when she put her hand in his. He gave no hint of what he was thinking, and the darkness hid his face as he led her out of the barn. Pausing at the wagon to collect her lantern, he handed it to her, then edged closer. Did he plan to kiss her again? Here in his front dooryard?
The step of the wagon pressed the back of her skirt, giving her no escape when he did not release her hand. But did she want to escape? As she gazed up into the shadows which concealed his eyes, she wanted to become lost once more within them. His fingers slid up her wrist, setting her skin to tingling as if she had grasped a telegraph wire.
He folded his arm, drawing hers up against him. The odor of pine pitch from his woodlot struck her on each breath, but she could think only of the warmth of his fingers against her wrist and the firm muscles woven across his chest. She breathed in tempo with him, aware of how the tips of her breasts would graze that hard wall if the quilts were not between them. Could he tell how her heart beat like thunder rolling across the fields?
“Miss Delancy!”
She started to turn at the young voice, but Noah continued to hold her hand. “Belinda and Sean are waiting for us on the porch,” she whispered.
“I know.” He brushed a strand of hair back under her bonnet, and she closed her eyes to savor the rough texture of his work-toughened skin against her cheek. His finger trailed along her jaw, curving beneath her chin to tilt it toward him. “How about, if it stops raining, I give you a tour of the farm after dinner?”
“It’s dark,” she murmured, opening her eyes to discover his dangerously close to hers.
“I know.” He gave a hushed chuckle.
Emma was uncertain what she should say and was spared from having to decide when a whirlwind pushed its way between her and Noah.
Belinda flung one arm around her father and the other around Emma. “It is you, Miss Delancy. I told Gladys it was your wagon coming into the yard. Then that boy came up to knock on the door.”
“His name is Sean.”
The little girl nodded as her father took off the quilt and wrapped it around her. “I remember now. What did you bring us?”
Noah squatted so his eyes were even with his daughter’s. “She brought us her company along with Sean’s for dinner.”
“No candy?”
Emma held out her hand to the little girl while they walked up the hill to the house. “Why don’t you ride into town with me tomorrow, and we shall see what is in the candy jar at the store?”
“Can we, Papa?”
“Maybe not tomorrow.” He looked up at Emma, his expression now grim. “We shall have to wait and see in the morning. Right now—”
Belinda’s excitement raised her voice. “Right now, come and see Fuzzball, Miss Delancy. He’ll want to see you, too.” She grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her toward the house.
Emma looked back over her shoulder to see Noah following as he laughed indulgently. No one could doubt who possessed Noah’s heart. He adored his daughter, and that love was returned by Belinda.
A twinge ached within Emma. This was no time to think of how some nights, when she sat with her cats and Butch, she listened for footfalls that would never come. She was not alone. Sean lived with her now, but the child, no matter how hard he was trying to fit in, did not have the steps she longed to hear coming up the walk. She had missed hearing the assertive sound of a man’s boots, even though the last man who had walked home to her in the evening had caught her up in his tangled web of treachery and crime.
She had not needed to be alone … if she did not want to be. She could let Noah take her on that tour later. And Noah Sawyer was not the only man around Haven who would be glad to keep the unmarried Emma Delancy from being lonely. She shoved those thoughts out of her head as she swung clasped hands with Belinda and hurried up the four steps to the front porch.
Noah watched as Belinda led Emma and Sean into the house after pointing out the swing on the far side of the porch. The two children giggled eagerly about the idea of using it later.
He should be glad Belinda had intruded when she did. Things were getting out of hand. He could not blame Emma. She had only come to his side to make sure he was not injured. He had tugged her into his arms and let the temptation of her soft lips overwhelm his good sense. He could not rid himself of the luscious sensation of Emma against him. She had not stiffened as he had half expected, proving she was not as prudish as she pretended to be. She could not hide the passions that roused more than his curiosity about this lovely woman.
Light glittered from the windows where lace curtains soon would be fluttering out on a spring breeze. As he walked along the porch, the unmistakable scent of chocolate coaxed him to put Emma out of his mind as he lingered over images of rich, dark cake with white sugar frosting.
Even that was impossible.
“Good day in the woodlot?” asked a raspy voice as the screen door slammed close. A woman nearly as tall as he came out onto the porch.
He smiled. “Are you keeping an eye on me, Gladys?”
“Someone has to.” As she rubbed her hands into her stained apron, her smile transformed her plain face beneath her graying hair. “Miss Delancy is paying a sick call on the pup at Belinda’s insistence. The boy is sitting in the kitchen, staring at the cake.”
“I should have warned Emma what she was about to endure.”
“Nonsense! They’re having a grand time.” She did not move from in front of the door, warning she had more to talk to him about before he went inside. That amazed him, for he had not thought Gladys would let dinner wait even if the world were coming to an end.
“How is Fuzzball doing?” he asked.
“Much better.”
“I’m very glad to hear that.” He leaned one hand against the clapboards that needed painting, like all the buildings on this farm. “Did Belinda stir from his side all day?”
“Not an inch. After a week, she needs to spend a day or two out in the sunshine.”
“First we have to have some sunshine.” He glanced uneasily toward the river again.
Gladys jabbed a stray hair back into her conservative bun. “That Miss Delancy did a fine job bandaging up the pup.”
Noah frowned. “Is that jealousy I hear?”
“You could have gotten me, Mr. Sawyer. I would have tended to Fuzzball.”
He patted her meaty shoulder. “You almost swooned when Belinda scraped her knee. This was worse.”
“Belinda is a child. The pup is a beast.”
“True.” He gave her an apologetic smile. Was this all Gladys had to speak with him about? He wanted to get inside and return to Emma’s company. “I didn’t want to bother you at that hour, Gladys.”
“So you bothered Miss Delancy?” Her eyes narrowed as she gave him a calculating smile. “I can guess why now that I’ve seen that pretty young thing. I should have known you’d be the first to heed all the talk about how she needs a gentleman calling on her.”
“I heeded that she was good with animals.” He folded his arms in front of him. This was what Gladys wanted to discuss. He should have guessed. Gladys watched over him as if he were a virginal miss who must guard her virtue. “And she was very good with Fuzzball.”
“So you didn’t go to get her help because she has hair as golden as ripe wheat?” Her smile wavered as she glanced back at the door.
“No.” Or not totally, he added silently.
“But now you’ve brought her and the lad here to spend the night. That’s going to cause talk.”
“Talk is what folks here seem to like to do best. It doesn’t matter if ther
e’s any truth in it.”
“Some of it is true. Heard how you and she had some private talking right in the middle of the street the last time you went into town.” She chuckled. “It doesn’t take much time for a man and a woman to figure out they would rather talk bout courting than the boy helping himself to an old hammer and half a bag of nails.”
He grinned and wagged a finger at her. “Gladys, I’m going to need that old hammer and the nails now that the bridge into town is gone.”
“Gone?”
“The creek swept it away.” He did not see any reason to upset her with a recitation of all that had happened.
“So that’s why she’s here!”
“Why else?”
“Why else, indeed?” With a rusty laugh, she stepped aside. “I thought you might like having a pretty lady here for dinner and whatever.”
“Whatever shouldn’t be on your mind.”
“Should be on yours!” Gladys wafted her apron at him before opening the door. Over her shoulder, she shot, “And another word of advice.”
“Which is?”
“Next time you go courting, Mr. Sawyer, take the young gal something other than a wounded pup.”
The door slammed in her wake, and Noah laughed. Gladys was as plainspoken as he used to be. His smile drifted away on the twilight breeze. There were a lot of things he used to be, but he needed to think about what he was now.
Gazing around the yard and down toward the barn, which was an ebony block as the clouds lowered in the sky, he rested his head against the pole holding up the porch roof. He had been damned lucky to find this place. It was close enough to a village to make it easy to get what they needed, and it was far enough away to give him privacy. Off the main road that followed the creek, the farm looked no different from dozens of others amid the lazily rolling hills.
This place was perfect. Especially now that inside the house was a lovely lass who … Dammit! He had spent all day today trying to concentrate on work. Instead of figuring out which tree would give him the right boards, he had let Emma Delancy’s face trespass into his mind, so easily he could recreate it and spend hours admiring each quirk of her lips and the bright fire in her eyes.
Now she was inside, and even Gladys, who preached propriety to him, seemed to think he would be a fool not to take advantage of the situation.
He smiled wryly. He was no lad suffering puppy love for the girl next door. He had Belinda and this farm to think about. Maybe some other time. Maybe when things settled down and he could feel really comfortable here, he might enjoy asking Emma again about taking that tour of the farm alone. His laugh was sad. By that time, she probably would be wooed and wed and have a child of her own. Her husband would not appreciate her answering the door in the middle of the night to a strange man, a child, and a wounded pup.
His smile became a frown as he stared up at the clouds again. It was odd, now that he had a chance to think about it. Emma had not asked him how the dog had gotten home or who had spoken to him about her. That lack of curiosity disturbed him for some reason he could not name.
Maybe because he was trying to learn to act the same way, not asking unnecessary questions that might start a dangerous conversation. Could it be she had something to hide, too?
As he reached for the door, he murmured, “Everyone has something to hide.”
He held out his hands to Belinda, who ran along the narrow hall toward him. Some people had things that were important enough to give up everything for. He swung her up in his arms, hugging her, but his gaze was caught by Emma’s as she came out of the parlor, smiling.
He looked hastily away, burying his face in Belinda’s soft hair. Yes, some people had things that were important enough to give up everything for. That had always seemed so easy to remember, but now he could not keep from meeting Emma’s eyes, which glowed almost as brightly as Belinda’s. As every muscle responded to that sweet fire, he tried to remind himself of the reason he was here, the reason he had given up everything to protect the child in his arms, the reason he should not think of holding Emma instead.
It had always been so easy to remember … until now.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Emma thanked Gladys for passing her the plate with the roast chicken on it. Taking a piece, she handed the plate to Belinda. When the little girl had trouble balancing it, Emma held one side while Belinda selected what she wanted.
“Thank you,” Noah said as he took the plate.
Emma mumbled something. Looking around the table in the elegant dining room, she tried to hide her amazement. The room had recently had new wallpaper hung. The cabbage roses were the same color as the fancy china on the stylishly modern oak table. She had seen these dishes and the table in a catalog she had received at the store. Not Mr. Montgomery Ward’s catalog, which most of her customers used for the things she could not otherwise get for them. This furniture and even the rug on the wide-board floor had all been in that fancy catalog from some company in Chicago. She remembered the picture clearly, because she had admired the claw-footed table and wished she could have something like it for her house.
The furnishings in the parlor were just as new and expensive, and the runner going up the stairs did not appear to have been walked upon for more than a few weeks. She guessed she could find pictures of them as well in that catalog. Upstairs in Belinda’s room, the only thing that seemed not new was a wonderful dollhouse with a collection of delightful furniture to fill its six rooms.
Yet Noah was a furniture maker. He had told her that, and earlier, on the way toward Haven, she had seen the area in the woodlot where trees had been cut, although she had not seen him then. Belinda had told her Noah had made the dollhouse and all the furnishings. Making such a delightful toy for his daughter was a reasonable thing for a man who worked with wood to do. But if he was a woodworker, why was all the furniture in his house from some factory in Chicago?
A flash of lightning tore through her thoughts. Belinda moaned and hid her face beneath the lacy tablecloth as thunder shook the house.
Noah picked her up out of her chair and set her on his lap. “It’ll be all right, pumpkin.” Over her head, he said quite unnecessarily, “Thunderstorms frighten her.” He pulled her chair closer to his and said, “Sit and have something to eat, Belinda. I’m right here.”
“Can I stay on your lap? Please!”
He ruffled her hair and smiled. “If you eat everything on your plate.”
“Including the vegetables?”
“Yes.”
Belinda’s nose wrinkled and her lip twisted with disgust, but she reached for her fork. When lightning flashed again, she pressed her face to Noah’s shirt. He kept his arm around her.
The expression on his face made Emma uncomfortable, because it was private between the little girl and her doting father. She looked away and smiled swiftly at Gladys, who was taking a bowl of peas from Sean. He let go of it too quickly, but Gladys caught it before it could fall to the floor, scattering the peas across the rug.
Emma was about to chide Sean for being so careless, then saw his expression. He was staring at Noah and Belinda with both disbelief and envy. Wanting to reach across the table to take the boy’s hand and say how sorry she was that he was so far from any family he might have still alive, she folded her hands in her lap. Saying that would embarrass everyone at the table.
Turning away so Sean would not see her dismay, she was astonished to see Noah staring at her. What did he hope to see—or was it nothing more than that he had seen Sean’s dismay and was trying to avoid looking at the boy, too? No, for his gaze edged along her face like a caress. Her fingers curled against her palm before she could give in to the yearning to touch his whisker-scored cheeks as she had by the creek.
Gladys began to talk about the weather. A safe topic, Emma decided, though if this storm became a cloudburst, both the creek and the Ohio would threaten a rampage through the low-lying areas.
She ate, but barely tasted the food. Th
e way Sean swallowed his chicken with gusto, she guessed it was delicious. She tried not to think of how Noah had kissed her with the same fervor, forcing her thoughts to focus on her store. Although the village was high enough above the river to be safe, she needed to bring out the supplies she kept ready in the storage room for those who might get flooded out.
Emma did not realize she had finished until Gladys went into the kitchen and came back into the dining room with a chocolate cake. Putting it on the table, she sliced through the dark frosting. Crumbs fell across the plate that she held out to Sean.
“For me?” he asked, not taking it.
“Yes.” Gladys looked at Emma, clearly confused.
“It’s your dessert, Sean,” Emma said in a hushed voice. “Take it and thank Gladys.”
“Thank you,” he said in the most insincere tone she had ever heard. His nose turned up. “Miss Delancy, you can’t want me to eat this. It looks disgusting!”
“Sean!” she gasped. “Remember your manners.”
“My manners? I’m not trying to serve someone dirt.”
Gladys chuckled. “Dirt, do you say, my boy? Is that any way to talk about my fine cake? You certainly liked the looks of it when it was in the kitchen.”
“Then it was all fine and covered with smooth candy.”
“There’s no candy on the cake.”
“Saw it myself. Sure, that I did.” His brogue thickened as he argued with the housekeeper. “Thick brown candy melted all over it.”
Emma said quietly, “I believe he’s describing the icing on the cake.”
“Icing?” Sean regarded her with a scowl. “Miss Delancy, it’s too warm for ice. If it’d been cold enough, the creek wouldn’t be racing like a copper after a pickpocket.”
“If he isn’t going to try it,” Gladys said, “I shall. I never let a good dessert go to waste.” She patted her side. “Just to my waist. The mark of every cook.”
As the others laughed, Sean scowled. Belinda slid off her father’s lap and walked over to him. Handing Sean a fork, she said, “Try it. It’s good.”
Twice Blessed Page 8
