“Will you be able to drive?” Noah jumped over the railing and grasped the reins of his horse.
“Yes.” She shivered as Gladys put Belinda, who was now wearing the kitchen tablecloth over her head, on the seat beside Emma. The little girl held an umbrella over Emma’s head, but it could not protect her from the rain that was nearly vertical. “Sit down, Belinda, and keep the umbrella over your head.”
“But, Emma, you’ll get all wet.”
“I have to be able to see where your father is going.”
With a lead that was connected to Toby, Noah asked, “Which way?”
“To the left.”
He laughed tightly. “That I knew.”
Emma smiled in spite of the rain. “I guess you did. We’ll be turning left again onto a road about a half mile from here. It should lead us right to the bridge. If it’s out, Samuel Jennings’s farm is about another mile past it.”
Noah bowed his head as the storm swirled around them and gave the command to Patches to start. Behind him, he heard Emma echoing his command to her horse. He tried to see through the storm. Just as he was going to call to Emma to darken the lantern, its light vanished.
Water splashed beneath the horse, and he heard the wagon striking the puddles in the deepening pool where his yard had been. He should have gotten them out of here after the previous time he had checked the barn. Instead he had waited, hoping the river would halt its steady progress up the hillside. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the bright windows of the house. There was nothing there that could not be replaced … again.
Just where Emma had told him there would be a road to the left, he turned. The road here was thick mud. He could feel Toby straining to pull the wagon through it. If the old horse refused to move forward, they would be reduced to walking. But the old horse kept going.
“Here!” called Emma. “Turn left here to get to the bridge.”
Wondering how she could see what he did not, he reminded himself she had been traveling these roads for seven years. He squinted through the rain and saw a narrow road on the left. It looked barely wide enough between two lines of trees to allow the wagon through. He turned onto it and looked back to be certain Emma could steer her wagon between the trees.
“Keep going!” she shouted as she competently guided the horse onto the path. “This bridge isn’t too much higher above the creek than the other one.”
Wondering if there was anything this woman could not handle with competence, Noah continued down the road. The roar of the creek became deafening. When he released Toby’s head, he drew his horse beneath the trees as he let the wagon pass until he could take the lantern off its side. He saw Emma’s grim but resolute expression when she glanced at him.
“I’m going ahead to see if the bridge is still there,” he said.
“Good! I’m not sure if I could turn the wagon here, and Toby balks at going backward very far.”
Noah bent and kissed her quickly. He saw her smile as he opened the lantern. Taking that sight with him to help battle off the storm, he rode through the trees until he was ahead of the wagon. Back on the road, he followed it toward the creek.
Water was being thrown up onto the shore, but the bridge was still there. He sighed with relief until he noted how narrow and rickety it appeared in the lantern light. Hearing the wagon rattle up behind him, he held the lantern high, so Emma could see him. He went back to where she sat next to Belinda.
Emma’s hair was in drenched strands around her shoulders, but she smiled as she said, “It’s still here.”
“I’m not sure how strong it is, so I’ll go first.”
“Noah—”
“Don’t argue with me about this, Emma. I’m not going to risk all of you.”
“Just yourself?”
He took one of her hands off the reins and pressed his mouth to it. He was sure the water must sizzle away, for her skin was lusciously warm, even in the midst of this damp, chilled night. Or was it his own reaction to her loveliness and her concern for him? He could not recall the last time someone had been concerned for him, just about what he might do.
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll call back if it’s safe to traverse.”
“We could just go on to Samuel Jennings’s farm.”
“I know you want to check on the store.” Seeing her eyes grow wide with astonishment, he did not give her a chance to reply. He rode toward the bridge.
His horse shied, and he guessed Patches was spooked by the sound of the fast water. Patting the horse on the neck, he swung down out of the saddle. He considered leaving Patches here while he crossed the bridge, but the horse’s weight would help determine if it was safe for the wagon to cross.
He drew in a deep breath, wiped rain out of his eyes, and grabbed the reins. The bridge creaked even before he stepped onto it, and he knew it was fighting the current that was trying to wash it away. Holding the lantern out so he could watch where he placed his feet, he put his foot on the bridge. It was surprisingly solid. He crossed the boards, wanting to cheer when Patches stepped off on the other side.
He thought of lashing Patches’s reins to a bush, but let them fall to the ground. If for some reason he could not get back across, he did not want the horse to be bound here and drown. Patches whinnied lowly, and he patted the horse’s haunches.
“Saying thank you or good-bye?” he asked, then laughed. “I’m talking to horses again.”
He raced back across the bridge and lifted the children out of the wagon. Lowering the back, he helped Gladys out.
“Go!” he ordered. “Get across while you can.”
Gladys grasped both children by the hand and rushed into the darkness.
He reached up to help Emma down from the driver’s seat, but she cried, “What are you doing? Get over to the other side, then call me to let me know you’re out of the way.”
“Do you think I’m going to let you drive this wagon across that bridge?”
“No, you aren’t going to let me. I’m going to do it because I’m familiar with both Toby and this wagon. You aren’t. That bridge is barely wide enough for the wagon to cross, and you could drive a wheel off the side and send the wagon and Toby and you into the creek.”
“Emma, be sensible.”
“You be sensible.” She slanted toward him, her wet palm curving along his cheek. “Go, Noah, please!”
For a moment, Emma thought Noah would argue more. Then he nodded. “But I’m going to go right in front of you so you can see where you are driving.”
“All right,” she said with reluctance. She did not want him to be on the bridge with her and the wagon. If the bridge collapsed, they would both be killed. Then Sean and Belinda would have no one but Gladys.
He grasped Toby’s leading rein again and looked back at her. She slapped the reins lightly to tell Toby to go forward. Steeling herself for the old horse to refuse to go over the bridge, she released the breath burning in her chest when each step of his heavy hoofs echoed on the boards. She could barely hear the sound over the crash of the water against the bridge supports.
She shrieked when the bridge was struck. Debris hit her. Bark and twigs. A tree must have been ripped out of the ground and washed here.
“Let go of Toby!” she cried.
“Emma—”
“Go! Off the bridge! Now!”
The lantern light bounced as he raced toward the other shore. She slapped the reins on the horse’s back. “Get us out of here, Toby!”
The bridge wobbled as it was battered again. She tightened her grip on the reins in case Toby got one of his strange ideas. She quickly realized the only idea he had in his head now was the same one she had. With the speed of a horse half his age, he pulled the wagon across the bridge.
She cried out in terror when one of the wheels bounced off the boards. Toby did not slow. The wagon struck the far shore, sending a concussion of pain through her. She did not release the reins as the wagon bounced up and onto solid ground.
&
nbsp; Drawing in the reins, she closed her eyes and let the rain and wind twist around her like an insane whirlpool. She heard a crack and turned in the seat to see Noah standing by the shore. In the light from the lantern, she saw the bridge was now encased in the branches of some huge tree. The branches broke and were forced beneath the bridge even as she watched.
He walked to where she sat. Putting his hand on her knee, he asked, “How are you?”
“Tired and cold and wanting to get out of the rain,” she said, setting her hand atop his. “Let’s get back to Haven.”
He smiled. “That may be the best idea I’ve heard all night.”
“Me, too, Noah.” She began to laugh.
“What’s so amusing?”
“Noah and the flood.”
“We may need to build an ark or two if it keeps raining like this.”
She looked up at the sky. “It won’t be stopping before morning.”
This time, he did not ask her how she knew about the vagaries of weather along the river. He just nodded. When he had helped the children and Gladys back into the wagon, he swung up into his saddle. He handed her the lantern, and she darkened it.
“How far are we from Haven?” he asked.
“If we don’t have to bypass any water, we should be there in an hour.” Emma looked over the back of the seat. “Are you all set?”
“We’re set,” Gladys answered.
“How is Sean?”
“Better,” the boy replied, his voice still weak.
Following Noah and his horse, she steered the wagon beneath the trees and toward Haven. The name had never seemed more appropriate.
CHAPTER NINE
“I am afraid it will be very crowded,” Emma said as she pulled another pillow from the very back of the linen closet. She handed it to Belinda, who carried it into the room that had become Sean’s. The little girl and Gladys would be sleeping in his bed tonight. Sean had a pallet in the kitchen, where he was already asleep with Cleo and Queenie curled up against him. The two dogs had been sent to the stable because neither of them would stop barking.
“No more crowded than we would have been at my house,” Noah replied. He handed two blankets to Gladys and set two more on the floor.
Until they arrived at her house, Emma had not guessed Noah had put some supplies under the oilcloth along with Gladys and Sean. He had brought the blankets and food into the house while she was checking the store.
Although the furious rush of the river could be heard even through the downpour and the closed windows, the river’s water was not close to reaching the top of the hill where Haven sat. Soaked and tired, Emma had come back to the house, promising herself she would get up early and have the store open for anyone who might need emergency supplies. She had quickly changed into dry clothes and braided her hair like Belinda’s so the wet mass did not strike her on every step.
Emma watched with a smile as Belinda gave her father an enthusiastic kiss good night. Gladys steered the little girl into Sean’s bedroom.
“Let me help,” Noah said as he turned to her and held out his arms.
For a moment, Emma considered throwing herself into those strong arms as she gave in to the panic she had submerged during the trip from his farm. She only handed him the blankets and pillows for the sofa in the parlor. She gathered up more of the wet clothes that had been piled in the hallway. Going downstairs, she tiptoed into the kitchen and hung them to dry by the stove.
She smiled when she smelled freshly brewed tea. Gladys must have made it before she had gone upstairs to bed. Unlike coffee, tea never kept Emma awake, and its warmth would be comforting tonight. She poured two cups, then eased back out of the kitchen, closing the door behind her so they did not disturb Sean.
“Some tea, Noah?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful.
He shook his head. “Not now.” He was at the window and staring out at the storm.
She set down both cups. Going to him, she leaned her cheek against the strong sinews of his back. Her arms slipped around him, curving up along his chest as she whispered, “Thank you for getting us all back here safely.”
“Me? You were our guide. If you hadn’t been there, I’d probably be stuck back on the other side of the creek, bailing out the parlor now.” He cursed, then added, “I never expected to be flooded out right after we moved in there.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
“You may have lost your home.”
“It’s a house. Everything in it can be replaced,” he murmured. “I’m just very grateful to you.”
“Just very grateful?” she whispered.
With a low groan, he faced her and pulled her up against his chest. She wrapped one arm around his shoulder. Her fingertips grazed the rough texture of his cheek before stroking his lips, which could burn into her, revealing the pain and fear she had hidden during their precarious journey back to Haven. His face blurred as tears of commiseration filled her eyes.
He tilted her lips toward his as an odd intensity burned in his eyes. “No, I’m most assuredly not ‘just very grateful,’ Emma. Don’t you think it’s about time for me to admit that?”
His husky words seeped through her, washing away her fear into a stronger, infinitely sweeter sensation. Slowly her hand rose to sift through the wisps of his dark auburn hair that was only half dry. At her touch, that odd intensity deepened, and he drew her more tightly to him.
She could feel his heartbeat through his damp shirt. Its pounding matched the pulse roiling through her, faster, sharper, unrestrained. She steered his mouth toward hers.
His lips grazed hers, offering her a tenderness beyond any she could have imagined. Too quickly he raised his mouth away, and she looked look up into the magical, mysterious depths of his eyes. “Noah, please …”
“Please?”
“Don’t stop with only that kiss.”
He put his hands along the side of her face. Their coarse warmth thrilled her.
In a ragged voice, he whispered, “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do. I’m asking you to kiss me.”
“Only that?”
“Isn’t it enough for now?”
“You’re a grown woman. I think you know what the answer to that is, sweetheart.”
She looked away. She did know the answer to that, but she could not tell him how she knew it. Then she would have to explain she was really a widow, not a spinster. She shivered as she was caught, anew, in the horrific maw of her memories.
He whispered her name, and she met his eyes again. His finger beneath her chin drew her back toward him. Tingles pulsated from his fingertip, and she did not resist when he tilted her face upward.
“You look exhausted, Emma.”
She was not sure whether she wanted to laugh at his jest or cry because he was not kissing her. With a sigh, she said, “You’re right. I can’t afford to be drowsy in the morning, because the store will be busy. Why don’t we go to bed?”
“Now there is an invitation to be truly grateful for.”
“Invitation? What invitation? What are you talking about now?”
“This.”
This kiss was anything but cursory. His lips seemed determined to discover each inch of hers. As his arms tugged her up against him again, his tongue delved into her mouth with a scintillating, teasing caress. She heard her own breath grow uneven, but she gasped with pleasure when his mouth moved along her jaw and then trailed fire down her neck. His thumb gently tilted her chin so he could lave the curve of her ear with his tongue and his unsteady breath.
She quivered and pressed closer, fearing her knees would collapse as the bridge had. Her fingers sought up along his shirt, rumpling the damp fabric beneath them. Boldly, she slipped her hands beneath it and slid them up his back, savoring each firm sinew.
He drew in his breath sharply and combed his fingers through her hair to curve them along the nape of her neck. Tilting her head,
he found her lips again. The rough texture of his day’s growth of whiskers burnished her with yearning. Effervescent kisses sparkled across her cheeks and along her neck. Their eager breaths, straining to escape, merged and threatened to consume her. Her hands tightened on him. She wanted to hold on to him amid the storm of craving.
Slowly, reluctantly, his lips drew back from hers. Smiling, she twisted a single finger through the thick hair at his temple. He turned to kiss the sensitive skin at her wrist. When she gasped, shocked by the billow of craving that raced to the very tips of her toes, he chuckled.
“That invitation is the one I meant,” he whispered. “You look at me with promises in your eyes, even as you send me off to sleep on this sofa alone.”
“Sleep is what I need most tonight.”
He laughed and kissed her lightly. “You sure know how to tell a man what he wants to hear!”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Whatever you meant, you’re right. Sleep is what I want most right now, too.”
“Should I return the thanks for your gracious compliment?” She stepped back, hoping humor would cover the empty feeling when his arms were no longer around her.
“Sleep well, Emma. We both are going to be busy tomorrow.”
“And tonight,” she said as the door opened from the kitchen and Sean peeked out, his face a bilious shade of green. “I’ll be right there with some ginger tea to ease your tummy, Sean.”
He nodded and went back into the kitchen.
“Do you think you should send for the doctor?” Noah asked.
She shook her head. “There’s no reason to ask Doc Bamburger to come out on such a stormy night when I can tend to Sean.” Turning to Noah, she added, “Why don’t you sleep in my room tonight? I should stay here close to Sean. I think he’s going to have a rough night.” She took a step toward the kitchen.
He halted her by catching her hand. “I don’t want to sleep in your bed without you there, Emma.”
She stared up into his hungry gaze, unable to speak. She must not say what she was thinking, for she wanted him there with her, too. But this was moving too fast. She had made a mistake once by letting a man sweep her off her feet. She could not do that again.
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