by Danni Roan
For long moments she sat there letting the silence soak into her soul. Yet even in the peaceful stillness there was no help to be found- she would have to muddle through the best way she knew how on her own.
Fiona knew in the depths of her soul that no matter how much she had feelings for Hank or for Eric that what was most important was that they would be happy, even if it meant that she would not. A bitter smile tugged at her lips. There was no point sitting here wishing for what might have been. She would just have to find her rewards in other things.
Voices drifted to her as she sat in the deep shadow of the trees.
“A winter wedding would be lovely.” She heard Meg’s voice trailing along the back of the sod shack.
“Do you think so?” Hanks deep rumble rose on the wind. “Don’t most woman want a spring wedding, with loads of flowers and things?”
Meg’s lyrical laughter filled the stillness in answer.
Quickly getting to her feet, Fiona slipped along the back of the house on silent feet and across to the barn and unlatched the small inner door as the first tears began to fall. The earthy smells of horse, hay, and manure filled her senses; familiar, comforting.
Making her way to the pen where the ewes and late lambs were kept, she reached a shaking hand in and pulled up the smallest lamb, cradling it in her arms as she began to cry.
Closing her eyes, she could see the handsome face of Hank Ballard; his strong square jaw, his soft, smiling gray eyes, the way his dark blond hair fell over his high forehead.
Huddled over the soft warm creature, her tears slowly dropping onto its snowy wool, Fiona didn’t hear the barn door creak open, or the advancing tread of the man her heart had attached itself to.
Hank opened the barn door softly. Realizing Eric was sleepy he’d walked him back to the soddy with Meg who had kindly agreed to put the boy down for his nap. Now returning to complete his earlier chore he was shocked to find Fiona kneeling by the sheep pen, a small white lamb cuddled in her arms. A fierce wave of anger and fear ripped through his body when he realized she was weeping. In long, sweeping strides he reached her side.
“Fiona,” he cried softly, all of his raw emotions in his voice. What could have upset her, what had happened? He wanted to rail against anything that could possibly hurt her. He wanted to take who ever had made her cry and shake them like a rag doll.
Instead he reached out, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her to him. Her eyes had gone wide with shock as his hands came to rest on her upper arms, he could see a tempest raging within them.
“What’s wrong darlin’?” he asked his large hands wrapped gently around her arms.
Fiona gasped. Why was he here? Why was he talking to her like this? Didn’t he know he was breaking her heart?
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Hank pleaded. His deep gray eyes searching her face for some clue as to what could have caused her distress. “Just tell me so I can fix it.”
A huge sob shook Fiona’s whole frame as she desperately clung to the little lamb in her arms, knowing that if she let it go she’d put them around Hank Ballard’s neck and never want to let go. She couldn’t speak and instead shook her head.
Hank looked at the woman before him seeing the turmoil that gripped her. Why wouldn’t she answer him? Why wouldn’t she tell him what was wrong?
“Is someone hurt? Did something happen?” Hank asked desperation climbing into his tone.
Again she only shook her head, the motion tossing her unruly hair and causing the pins to loosen.
“Fiona. Darling.” He tried to pull her to him but she still held the lamb. Gently he pried the small placid creature from her arms and placed it back in the small box.
Fiona had wrapped her arms around her middle, squeezing herself tight as if in pain. It felt like someone was squeezing Hank’s heart. Frustration rose in him, battering at his self-control.
“Please, Fiona; tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded.
Again she shook her head and tendrils of dark chestnut hair fell around her mixing with the soft streaks of lighter hair that framed her lovely face. Lifting a large, square fingered hand he pushed the curls away, hooking them behind a small pert ear.
Fiona’s eyes grew larger as she clamped down on her lips, more tears spilling in a cascade down her face.
Hank couldn’t bare it anymore. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her, engulfing her with his whole presence. He felt her sobs coming in waves, and anger filled him. Something was very wrong but what was it? How was he supposed to fix it if she wouldn’t tell him what was wrong?
“Please Fiona?” he pleaded, his voice husky with emotion. “Please tell me what’s wrong. I can’t bear to see you like this.” Placing a finger under her chin, he lifted her tear damp face to his, gazing into eyes flooded with sorrow. “You’re breaking my heart, darlin’.”
Fiona’s eyes, large and luminous, grew wider as she studied his. Confusion, doubt, hope, fear all flickered across her face and all the anger and frustration left Hank in a breath. Still holding her chin in his hand he leaned in and gently brushed a soft kiss against her pink rose petal lips.
Fiona took in a shuddering breath as the shock hit her. Hank had just kissed her.
The big man eased back on his heels, looking into the beautiful smoky green eyes of the girl he’d just kissed. He watched, mesmerized, as she lifted her hand and laid her fingertips on her lips, a look of shock and wonder on her face.
“You…you kissed me,” she stuttered.
He smiled, gently stroking his thumb along her jaw. “That’s what men often do when they’re sparkin’ a woman,” he said, a half smile playing across his full mouth.
Fiona continued to stare at him, her lips forming a perfect O. “But...” she couldn’t continue.
“But what?” he asked, his thumb still stroking along her jaw, sending strange little shocks across her skin. His eyes remained steady on her face.
“But Meg,” she forced out, blinking at him, trying to find words in her muddled head.
“Meg? What about Meg?” he asked now more confused than ever.
“You… you and Meg,” she stammered, half raising and arm in the direction of the house.
Sudden understanding hit him like a fist. She had thought he was falling for Meg. What on earth could possibly have given her that idea?
“Meg?” he said again, almost too shocked to deal with the situation. “Meg’s a lovely girl,” he finally said. “But since the day we met it's always been you.”
Fiona gasped, and he chuckled, that deep rumbling buzz in his chest rising and spilling out. Still on his knees, he pulled her close to him.
“Oh darling. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. How could I?”
He wrapped his arms around her, laying her head against his rough clad shoulder. “I was asking Meg how I might win your heart.”
Fiona sunk into his bulk, feeling the warmth of him, feeling his strength as his big hands stroked up and down her back.
“I’m crazy about you darling,” he finally said.
Fiona forced herself out of his embrace, holding him at arm’s length and studying his face. There was a softness in his eyes. A light that was shining just for her. He cared for her, he actually cared for her. A gentle smile broke across her face like the sun after the rain.
“I just thought that with all of the time you were spending with Meg…” she couldn’t finish the foolish thought.
Hank smiled, then gently wiped away the tears that stained her face.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” he asked.
Fiona just shook her head. How was it possible that this big, wonderful, soft hearted man would choose her over her beautiful sister?
The last shake of her head was too much for the pins trying to hold back the heavy weight of curls and her glorious hair fell around her shoulders like a waterfall.
Gently Hank reached out beefy fingers and buried them in her locks. Her hair was soft and thick
and felt like heaven in his hands. Moving his hand to the back of her neck he gently pulled her to him and lowered his lips to hers.
This time the kiss was no gentle, comforting touch but a kiss full of love and promise and hope. Fiona leaned into him, a deep sigh escaping as she met his lips. Her arms went around his neck and she stood on tiptoe as he crushed her to him.
As Fiona’s body came into contact with his Hank vibrated with the joy of her touch, and holding her tighter, he deepened the kiss until he felt his blood quickening. With an effort he released her, carefully untangling his hands from her hair.
Fiona looked up at him, a deep flush on her cheeks but a sparkle in her eyes.
Chapter 11
It was all Hank and Fiona could do at supper that night not to let on to the others about their fledgling relationship. Hank had explained that he wanted time to woo Fiona, to get to know her and allow her the chance to get to know him, flaws and all.
Still the joy in her heart threatened to spill over as she sat beside Eric at the big table. The usual raucous conversations at least helped to keep anyone else from noticing anything different.
After supper Meg accompanied Hank to the barn to ostensibly check on the stock just one more time, and no one seemed to feel that there was any impropriety in the cattleman’s daughter escorting the big man. Once safely sealed behind the closed doors of the sprawling structure Hank confessed everything, even admitting, with a bright tinge to his face that he’d kissed her younger sister.
Meg listened with glimmering eyes at the romantic plight of the couple and when Hank finally wound down with an explanation of his intent to woo Fiona properly, Meg threw her arms around the man and gave him an enthusiastic sisterly hug.
Too wrapped up in their own conversation and congratulations neither Hank nor Meg noticed as Walter’s opened the inset barn door, observing the embrace.
The next morning the whole ranch woke to a fresh snow that covered the prairie. The crisp chill of winter seemed to have settled over the lowlands.
Fiona woke feeling almost giddy. Her face flushed at the remembered kiss from the day before, she knew she shouldn’t be so please about it, but she found herself hoping it would happen again. She smiled into her mirror as she pondered her earlier dismissal of Katie and Will’s penchant for kissing.
With a spring in her step she headed down stairs to help with breakfast. This morning Nona had a huge pan of bread dough proofing on top of the warming cupboard and a large kettle of water simmering on the stove.
No sooner had Fiona entered the kitchen than her grandmother poured some of the hot water into a cup that already sat on the work board with a thick black scoop of molasses in it then handed it to Fiona with a stern nod.
Fiona took the cup, kissed her grandmother then added milk before stirring the molasses tea. She preferred hers with cinnamon, ginger, and cloves, but she didn’t think her grandmother would be pleased at the use of her precious spices. At least she liked the brew.
Meg was not so enthusiastic when she was handed her dark mug, but drank it all under the watchful eye of Nona. All of the girls on entering the heart of the house were given their own cup of the rich black beverage each with differing degrees of eagerness. Mae’s face was priceless as she grimaced and added a heaping spoonful of sugar, but she drank it down.
“Good.” Nona proclaimed as the last girl drained the dregs. “Now no more sniffles, or long faces. This will keep you strong.” And with that she turned back to her stove and began flipping pancakes.
Breakfast brought men from around the ranch, huffing steam, in the cold air, and stomping thick snow from boots.
Hank came in brushing snow off of Eric’s pant legs where the boy had skipped through the inches’ deep powder. He smiled at everyone, offering a cheerful “good morning,” as his eyes lingered on Fiona for just a fraction longer than it should have. Greetings were passed around with good will.
Meg, beaming at the thought of being in on the secret, smiled warmly at the big man.
“I hope you slept well,” she offered ushering him to the table with a nod.
“Yes, ma’am,” Hank replied, his eyes once more drifting to Fiona who was carefully ignoring him.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Nona chimed in, passing a plate to one of the twins who carried it to the table.
Breakfast was a feast that morning-pancakes, bacon and eggs, with a choice of canned cherries, maple syrup or sorghum, for topping. Once everyone was at the table and the food had arrived.
Joshua James looked up and down the table, a contented smile on his face, then bowed his head to say thanks for their bounty.
With every eye closed, and head bowed, Hank took the opportunity to reach behind Eric and touch Fiona on the sleeve. She turned her smiling eyes at him, then closed them again reverently offering up her own prayer of thanks.
Over the next several days snow continued to accumulate and the work of the ranch moved on as it had for so many years.
Katie, along with Will and the other hands checked stock, while Deeks put Hank to use at the forge, helping to make horse shoes and mend other steel or iron implements around the place.
Hank also found himself kept busy providing a steady supply of wood for the cook fire and fireplaces as well and a gentle winter routine settled on the Broken J.
In the evenings Meg continued to go to the barn to check the stock with him, discussing his progress with his courting of her sister. But in the afternoons Hank always made an excuse to go check on Eric, once Fiona had put him down for his nap affording him time to talk with her. It was only two weeks before Christmas and the ranch was buzzing with talk of decorating for the festive holiday.
“How big is Christmas around here?” Hank asked as he sat across from Fiona one afternoon drinking coffee and eating a few cookies she’d brought along.
“Nona’s crazy about Christmas,” Fiona said with a smile. “She makes everyone crazy the last week before the big day. If you thought she went all out for Thanksgiving just wait until you see the food on Christmas.”
“What do you do?” the big man asked, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to keep his hands to himself.
“Pretty soon she’ll expect everyone to start decorating. We’ll put pine boughs around the front porch, tying them with red ribbons. Then there’s the tree. She’ll insist Pa go out and cut down a big pine and bring it back to decorate. Over the years we’ve made all sorts of things to hang on the tree. I’ve been helping Eric makes some ornaments this week.” She turned to smile at the boy, sleeping peacefully under a bright quilt.
Seemingly of its own free will Hank’s hand reached across the table and grasped Fiona’s small one.
“Thank you for being so good to Eric.” His soft voice carried across the table as his thumb stroked gently along her knuckles. He felt her shiver at his touch and heat pooled in his groin. This woman had captured not only his interest but his heart.
“Anyone would have done the same.” Fiona’s reply was breathy, her eyes bright as they looked deep into his. She could see the affection, the desire and once again marveled at the fact that he could have chosen her. She leaned across the table absorbed in his gaze.
Hanks eyes dropped to her lips, the soft inviting curve of them calling to him and he leaned across the miniscule table until his lips brushed hers gently.
Fiona closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, feeling his lips, warm and soft against her own and her heart began to race. How could something so simple make her whole body tingle?
Hank’s hand reached behind her neck pulling her closer as they now both leaned across the table. A low growl broke from Hank’s throat at the obstruction between him and Fiona, the sound sending shock waves to her very core.
In an instant the big man rose to his impressive height, took her by the waist and twirled her over the table to stand in front of him. He lifted her as if she were no more than a doll and the sudden rush of sensation made her knees wobble.
> Placing broad hands on Fiona’s tiny waist, Hank pulled her to him, their bodies making contact as his lips fell on hers once more. Fiona, stretched wrapping her arms around his neck and sank into his body. Her whole being seemed to cry out to be closer to him. His lips on hers were now rough, demanding and she opened her mouth on a sigh. His kiss became more heated, his hands stroking up her spine sending waves of shivers along her whole length.
Hank’s breathing was heavy, as he explored her mouth with his tongue. His body vibrated with desire.
A small huffing from the other side of the room made the two jump apart as if scalded, both turning toward the sound, their cheeks flaming red in the dim light. The little boy snuggled deeper in the blankets but didn’t wake.
Fiona placed a hand over her racing heart, then smiled shyly up at the man who had stolen her heart.
“Darlin’” he whispered his voice husky and rough. “I think I’d better talk to your pa pretty soon.”
Fiona only nodded, and squeezed his hand.
Hank spent the rest of the day chopping wood at the back of the house. His mind a muddle of hope, love and desire. The steady rhythmic labor steadied his mind and the hard physical labor eased his need. There was no doubt about it.
