Her cheeks turned strawberry colored. Amazing. Married almost a year and he could still make her blush. Somehow that made him real happy inside.
He studied every little thing about her—the way her black hair fell forward across her cheek when she bent over the oven; the small pink shell of her ear and the pale skin just behind it where he wanted to put his mouth. The throb of her pulse in the vein that ran down her neck.
As he watched, her heartbeat, visible under her light shirtwaist, began to thump faster. Maybe because she knew he was watching her.
Did she want him? He knew she loved him, but a woman could feel that way and not want a man’s body.
Did she want him?
It was agony not knowing. He rose, gathered up the supper plates and mugs, and plunked them in the sink. Working the pump hard, he managed to draw a scant half kettle of water, which he set on the stove to heat.
She hadn’t moved from her chair, but he could feel her eyes on him. Heavens above, this was like their wedding night, when he had been so nervous he hadn’t been able to touch her.
The coffeepot beckoned, but he’d put his empty mug in the sink. He grabbed it, anyway, and poured it full. Figured he wouldn’t sleep much tonight, either.
“Leah?”
She turned her head toward him. “Leah,” he said again, his voice unsteady. He wanted to touch her. Wanted to feel her softness, her warmth. Her strength.
She stood up, untied her apron and walked toward him. His breathing stopped, started, stopped again. She reached around him to hang the apron on the hook over the wood box, and he caught the scent of her hair. Lemon and something musky.
He closed his eyes. Then, with a low groan, he pulled her close enough to feel her breasts press against his chest. She gave a little cry and buried her nose in his shirt front.
“Leah, do you want—”
She lifted her head. “You know that I do,” she whispered. How, Thad wondered, could this extraordinary woman be sensible and hardworking one minute, and playful and seductive the next?
The instant his lips met hers, he forgot the question, drugged by her scent. The feel of her body trembling against his made him hard. He lifted her into his arms, puffed out the single lamp and made his way down the hall to the bedroom.
He would always remember how crisp and clean the bedsheets were, how cool they felt against his bare skin.
They made love all night, devoured slices of Uncle Charlie’s lemon cake in bed and then made love again. Thad knew he would never forget it.
At dawn, Thad woke to the sound of laughter. And voices. He sat up, then climbed out of bed to peek through the curtained window. He could see nothing but the blush of sunrise.
“What is it?” Leah said in a sleep-fuzzed voice.
“Dunno. Sounds like people.”
“People?” She jerked upright, pulling the sheet over her naked body. Thad, too, was naked, and in spite of herself, she giggled. They had slept, when they’d slept, skin to skin.
But people? At this hour?
She was dressed before Thad could button his jeans. On the porch she tripped over Teddy, still in his pajamas and popeyed with curiosity.
“What’re all those people doin’ in our pasture? We havin’ a picnic or somethin’?”
Thad banged through the front screen door. “How many people?”
“I dunno, Pa. They’re all ridin’ horses.”
“Horses! Well, let’s go and see, son.”
Thad and Leah tramped across the pasture, followed by Teddy, hastily dressed in jeans and his pajama top. When they came within sight of the wheat field, a shiver went down Thad’s back.
“Would you look at that,” he breathed.
Wash and Jeanne Halliday stood at the fence. Little Manette and her grandfather, Rooney Cloudman, were just dismounting. Next to them, Ike Bruhn came swaggering up to the gate, and—
Thad could scarcely believe his eyes. A trim little black buggy rolled up with Verena Forester, a crocheted lap robe spread across her knees, and Uncle Charlie in the driver’s seat!
Thad blinked, then blinked again.
“Heard you had some wheat that needed gleaning,” Wash called out. He gestured to the gathering behind him. “We brought bags for the seed. We plan to work straight through this field, strip it right down to the nubs.”
Thad was speechless. With numb fingers he opened the single gate and stood back while his neighbors and the townspeople swarmed through and spread out across the field.
“By sundown,” Wash yelled, “you’ll be ready to plow this field. And by October, you can replant.”
Leah reached out for Thad. His blue eyes were wet and shiny, and she bit her lips to keep from crying.
“Leah, honey,” he choked out. “What did we do to deserve this?”
She rested her head against his chest, listening to the unsteady thump of his heart. “If I knew,” she said, her voice shaking, “I would do a lot more of it.”
Her mother had been right, the slow drip had marked the stone.
Thad held Leah away from him, then bent to kiss her wet eyelids. “You are a bonny, bonny lass, Leah. It was a good omen when you stepped off the train in Smoke River.”
He took her hand and together they turned toward the open gate, walked through it and joined the gleaners.
Epilogue
The following year, Thad and Leah MacAllister were the toast of Smoke River. At harvesttime, Thad’s wheat field brought in twice as much as anyone expected, and the next week the mercantile was flooded with orders for seed.
Even more unexpected was the birth of Violet Marie MacAllister in October. After Violet’s entrance into the MacAllister family, nothing was ever the same for Thad’s son, Teddy, who had always claimed he didn’t like girls.
But Teddy took one look at the pink-and-white creature in the wicker cradle and fell head over boots in love with his baby sister.
That year and all the years that followed, both father and son were the proudest males in town.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
First published in Great Britain 2013
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited.
Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© The Woolston Family Trust 2013
eISBN: 978-1-472-00402-4
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