She squirmed in her chair. Luke held out his hands, and Jane and Elizabeth joined theirs to his before he said grace. Jane didn’t hear a word. His hand was warm and rough against hers, and for the first time she noticed his hand engulfed hers. Her palms began to sweat, and Jane wished he would hurry.
Just then, she felt his thumb stroke hers with deliberate slowness. Under this gentle assault, her own thumb trembled, tingled with each light touch. His slightest movement sent shivers rippling through the rest of her body until Jane was sure she was going to faint.
With a final squeeze, Luke released her hand, and Jane quickly reclaimed it, while avoiding his eyes. Throughout breakfast, Luke bantered with Elizabeth and attempted to include Jane. Jane tried to act normally but felt as if her laughter was stiff and strained.
How did other women do it? Cassy and Katy made the whole thing seem so effortless. They engaged in clever repartee, lowered their eyelashes at just the right moment, and even blushed at the right time. And they were never tongue-tied. She had observed her sisters with their beaus countless times, and they had never seemed ill at ease—the way she felt now.
Jane struggled through breakfast, ever conscious of Luke’s scrutiny. As much as she wanted to get to know him, she was most eager for his departure so she could relax.
Breakfast finally ended, and Jane heaved a sigh of relief when Luke left. She and Elizabeth began a batch of bread dough. As hot as the day was likely to be, the dough would rise in record time.
Elizabeth had been begging Jane to sketch her, so while the dough rose, Elizabeth found a spot in the shade to pose. She was a perfect model, sitting as still as a sunbathing turtle. Time passed quickly as the strokes of lead took shape. When she was finished, Elizabeth smiled back from the page, a mischievous tomboy with long braids.
“Oh, I can’t wait to show Mary! She’ll be so jealous!” Elizabeth said around a giggle.
When they went inside, the bread was ready to be punched down and shaped into loaves. After lunch, Jane showed Elizabeth the dress she had almost completed. With only a little hemming left, Jane turned the task over to Elizabeth to finish, while she scrubbed the floors.
Dinnertime arrived with extraordinary speed, giving Jane no time to fret over seeing Luke. With so little time to prepare the meal, Jane decided on chipped beef, fried potatoes, and slices of fresh bread.
After Luke washed up, they seated themselves at the table and joined hands. Jane held her breath waiting for Luke to repeat this morning’s caresses, but her anxiety was for naught.
“Oh, Luke!” Elizabeth said after the prayer. “You should see the picture Jane drew of me today. It looks just like me!”
Jane ducked her head as Luke’s gaze skimmed her face. “Well, now, I’d like to have a look at that.”
Elizabeth hurriedly swallowed a mouthful of potatoes. “I’ll show it to you after supper. Jane is a good drawer.” Suddenly her face lit up. “Why don’t you draw Luke, too?”
Jane dropped her fork, and it clattered on her plate. “I. . . I don’t know, Elizabeth. . .”
“He’d sit real still—wouldn’t you, Luke?”
Jane glanced at Luke, and he winked at her, his dimple coming out to play. “I sure would. I’d be the best model you’ve ever had.”
Jane swallowed and sputtered as the food went down the wrong way. She grabbed her glass and gulped down the remainder of her lemonade. When she recovered, she spoke. “I–I don’t think—”
Luke’s lips twitched. “What? Am I too ugly to draw?”
Elizabeth giggled, and Jane searched for an excuse. Perhaps she could just put it off—indefinitely. “Maybe later I could—”
Elizabeth interrupted. “How ’bout after supper?” She looked from Jane to Luke in expectation.
“Well, I don’t know. . . .”
“Sounds great!” they responded simultaneously. Naturally his reply overruled hers.
Luke and Elizabeth resumed eating, and Jane gave a sigh of resignation. How was she going to draw anything with Luke staring at her? She couldn’t even carry on an intelligent conversation with him present. If she just admitted she’d already sketched him, she wouldn’t have to go through this, but there was no way she was going to admit that! She’d just work quickly.
After supper, Jane’s efforts at stalling were made ineffective by Elizabeth’s enthusiastic cleaning. All hopes of waiting until the daylight faded were dashed when Elizabeth slapped the wet washcloth over the basin to drain. “Every-thing’s done! I’ll go show Luke my picture.”
She scurried around the corner, and Jane walked in resignation to the cottage to gather her supplies. Next, she set up two chairs opposite one another on her porch. Thin, wispy clouds covered the low-hanging sun, and she knew from experience this would prevent unnatural shadows from appearing on Luke’s face.
She took a seat and perched her drawing pad on her knee. At least Elizabeth would be present for the sitting. Jane wasn’t keen on having a spectator while she sketched, but the girl would be a distraction for Luke.
“I’m ready. Where do you want me?”
Jane jumped, and her sketch pad tumbled to the ground. She scrambled to gather the papers, remembering Luke’s portrait was among them.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.” Luke tried to assist Jane, but she was too quick.
“That’s okay. Sit over there.” She gestured to the Boston rocker, and Luke lowered himself onto the chair and re-moved his hat. He ran a hand through his wavy brown locks.
“Where’s Elizabeth?” Jane balanced her pad on her leg and began a series of strokes that would become the outline of his face.
One side of Luke’s mouth tipped up. “I told her it might make you nervous to have her watch. She went to Mary’s to play.”
Jane’s stomach gave a disheartened flop, and her heart rate accelerated. If he only knew—he was the cause of her nervousness. Her hands trembled with each stroke, and she paused a moment, under the guise of studying his face, to collect herself. She drew a deep breath and silently re-leased it.
“What’s wrong? Do you want me to sit a different way?”
“What? Oh. No, you’re fine.”
Luke began a story about one of Caleb’s childhood antics. Jane relaxed as he talked, relieved to have the attention diverted from her. She listened to him for a few moments, but then found her attention drawn to Luke’s features, his bass voice a pleasant rumble in the background. A stray lock of hair hung rebelliously over his brow and, as she drew it, she found herself longing to brush it away.
Her gaze went continually from Luke, to her paper, then back to Luke again. He tilted his head and smiled in the telling of his story, but Jane knew his features so well that the sketch progressed rapidly. Once the basic outline was in place, Jane spent the majority of the time looking at the sketch: darkening in shadows, giving his hair texture, contouring his cheekbones. She glanced up only periodically to check on lighting details and such. With her index finger, she smudged the lead, blending the shadows to smooth out the lines. Jane looked up at Luke to note the angle of a shadow.
He wasn’t there. She gasped when she saw him standing beside her.
Jane clutched the sketch pad to her chest. “I’m not finished yet!”
Luke, his hand on the back of her chair, squatted down until his face was even with hers. His eyes crinkled. “I already saw it. You’re quite good, you know.” Luke withdrew the pad from her clutches and set it back on her knee.
Jane looked away from Luke, his nearness playing havoc with her senses, and blew gently on the portrait, scattering the particles of dust. She held her breath as Luke quietly studied his picture. What did he think of it? Drawing was such a personal part of her. She wondered if her feelings for him were somehow etched into the lines that depicted his face.
“You flatter me.” She heard the smile in his voice and met his warm gaze. “I’m not nearly that handsome.”
Jane ducked her head, and heat filled her body, spreading ou
tward toward her limbs.
Luke tilted her chin up with his fingertips. His eyes bore into hers with a strange intensity. “Didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Jane, uneasy and apprehensive, tried to turn away, but his fingers did not relinquish their hold. His eyes, burning with fervor, held hers captive. She hardly dared to breathe and, when his gaze dropped to her lips, her breath caught in her throat.
Silence swelled around them, filling every available cranny. Jane was cognizant of only Luke, his beautiful face mere inches from hers. And then the distance dwindled to nothing as his lips met hers. It was a caress, feather-soft and tentative, lasting only a second, but its effect was extensive.
A knot tightened in her stomach as Luke drew away. His eyes, normally alive with laughter, blazed with compelling earnestness. “Maybe I should apologize, but I’m not going to,” he said huskily. His lips tilted gently. “You have a smudge right here,” he said as he smoothed the blotch away with the pad of his thumb.
Jane turned her head and rubbed at the spot with un-steady hands, unsure of what to say. She could still feel Luke’s lips on hers, warm and soft.
“Can I keep the picture?” Luke’s voice rumbled in her ear.
“I’m not finished.” Jane mechanically went to work on the portrait, glad to give her hands something to do. Her mind was on Luke, still sitting so near, his arm encircling the back of her chair. She made an effort to regulate her shallow breathing.
Luke spoke, his breath tickling her ear. “I guess you could say I have mixed feelings about your going home.”
Jane waited for him to finish, but he said nothing, so she spurred him on. “Oh?”
Luke was silent until Jane met his gaze. “I hate that I won’t see you every day, but I’m looking forward to courting you.”
He was so direct. Jane gulped, then slowly resumed her work, unsure of what to say and unwilling to be so bold as to return the compliment.
“You are still going to allow me to call on you?”
Jane gritted her teeth. “Yes.” Must she spell it out for him? She’d let him kiss her, for heaven’s sake.
She heard a noise and realized Luke was stifling his laughter. “What?” she demanded, pinning him with a glare.
A full-fledged smile appeared, and his twinkling eyes softened. “You know something, Jane? I think I like you.”
Jane stiffened her back and tilted her chin, unwilling to soften. “Your picture’s finished,” she said, extending it in his direction, but keeping her eyes straight ahead.
She felt him kiss her cheek and had to restrain herself from reacting.
“Good night, Jane. See you in the morning.”
She heard the smile in his voice, but didn’t look his direction until he was walking away. Then she watched him until he disappeared into the house.
❧
That night Jane tossed about on the hard, hay-filled mattress. She was almost used to the uncomfortable bedding by now. No, the mattress wasn’t keeping her awake.
Luke was to blame.
She smiled in the private darkness and allowed her mind to review for the umpteenth time the kiss she and Luke had shared. So this was what all the fuss was about! No wonder Cassy had acted so silly over Caleb. She felt like her brain was filled with warm mush, and when Luke was with her, she was never happier. Joy wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
Jane sighed deeply and snuggled into her pillow. Who would have thought anyone would ever care for her? And not just anyone, but Luke. He was so handsome, and so. . . good. Any woman would be lucky to have him, but he cared for her. She could hardly fathom it.
And his kiss. Her heart thumped heavily just thinking about it. How could a mere touch elicit such passion? Why, she knew the exchange had hardly lasted a second, yet his kiss had shaken her clear down to her toes. Had he felt that way, too? He’d seemed perfectly calm. Maybe he regretted it, she thought for an anxious moment. But, no, he’d said he wasn’t sorry. He’d even said he was looking forward to courting her. Her. Plain Jane Cooper.
thirteen
The next day, they fixed and served breakfast in typical fashion, then Luke left with his rifle and a promise to bring home some game. That morning Jane had felt like a housewife for the first time, fixing breakfast for Luke and Elizabeth. She’d been doing it nearly four weeks now, but with Luke gazing at her from across the table, it was easy to pretend he was her husband and Elizabeth her daughter.
She mentally scolded herself as she hung the wet laundry. He had barely even begun to show an interest in her, and she was dreaming of being his wife. Yet, here she stood performing the intimate task of washing and hanging his undershorts. It was an odd situation, to be sure. At least when she returned home, they could begin courting like a normal couple, and they would have the advantage of already knowing one another quite well.
“Can we go riding after lunch, Jane?” Elizabeth asked.
“I guess we may as well. The laundry won’t be dry for a while, even with the wind.” Jane was glad to feel competent enough to ride a horse. She was no equestrian, that was for certain, but it felt good to have conquered one of her biggest fears.
After lunch, Elizabeth helped Jane saddle their horses, and then they started off, following the western border of the property. As they rode, Elizabeth told Jane about the dolls she and Mary were making. Twin dolls, with matching pinafores and golden yarn for hair. Jane smiled at Elizabeth’s enthusiasm.
Jane’s back was beginning to ache by the time they’d crossed the vast prairie and entered the heavily wooded grove. She was about to suggest they turn back when Elizabeth pointed through the thick copse of trees.
“Look, there’s Luke.”
Sure enough, through the thick foliage, relaxing with his back against the base of a tree about fifty yards away was Luke. His horse was tied to a nearby tree. Jane and Elizabeth turned their horses toward him.
Elizabeth giggled. “So this is what he does all day. Let’s sneak up on him!”
Jane met Elizabeth’s gaze and smiled at her in conspiracy. There was only the rustle of the wind through the trees to disguise their approach, so they agreed to dismount and approach on foot.
Elizabeth dismounted her horse, watching Luke with an impish gleam in her eye. Jane had just started to swing her leg around, when she saw Elizabeth’s expression change, her mouth dropping in horror. Her eyes widening in terror. Jane glanced toward Luke, but the heavily wooded area shielded him from her view.
It all happened at once. A scream. A fierce cracking sound.
Then all she knew was panic when Brownie bolted with lightning speed through the woods. Balanced with one foot on the stirrup, Jane instinctively clung to the horse. Her right foot searched for the elusive stirrup.
Branches clawed at her face and body, threatening to rip her from the saddle. Her foot gave up its futile search and instead hugged the massive body that seemed intent on unseating her. Jane hunched down low, clutching a handful of mane in one hand and the saddle horn in the other.
God, help me! The words exploded in her mind repeatedly as she struggled with all her strength to maintain her precarious balance. Jolts assaulted her body. She grunted as the wind was knocked from her stomach. Brownie dodged left and right, narrowly missing overhanging branches.
Screams pierced the wooded sanctuary, echoing eerily off the trees. Suddenly the light blinded her as Brownie darted from the darkness of the forest to the flat plain of the prairie. She felt her body shift to the right as the crazed horse launched to the left. She was going to fall. . . . She couldn’t hang on much longer!
The strides lengthened with speed, but her balance was gone. Oh, God, help me! There was one last jolt as Brownie cleared a ditch. She went flying through the air. In a flash she saw a fence and the ground racing toward her. She flung out her hands in desperation. Then, mercifully, oblivion claimed her.
❧
Luke sank down against the huge oak and rested his rifle across his lap. Moments ago
he’d sighted the buck he’d been trailing for the last thirty minutes, but before he could get the gun to his shoulder it had disappeared through the foliage. He was sure it had gone this way, and he was willing to wait as long as it took.
His ears pricked when he heard leaves crunching. He turned his head sideways, listening intently for the rustling. There it was again. Off to his right. He quietly raised the rifle to his shoulder and aimed it in the direction of the noise. Within seconds he saw the telltale brown hide. With expertise, he sighted the beast down the barrel of his gun and squeezed the trigger.
A scream pierced the woods. Panic ripped through him. Chills shot down his spine. “Dear God!” Luke leaped to his feet and scrambled in the direction of his shot. Before he’d covered a few feet, he spotted them. Brownie plunged through the woods, and Jane was hanging on frantically. Oh, dear God! Did I shoot her?
Elizabeth stood beside her horse, her hands covering her mouth.
Luke scrambled to untie Maizy, then vaulted on. He snapped her into a gallop, dodging limbs as he went, wishing frantically he’d chosen a faster mount that morning. As soon as he cleared the woods, he saw Brownie’s dashing figure and nudged his horse into a full run.
Jane’s frantic screams were carried to him by the wind. “Come on, girl, go!” he urged. His eyes pinned on Jane, the distance slowly dwindled. But to his horror, he saw her slipping sideways in the saddle. “Hang on, Jane!” Please, God, keep her safe!
When he saw Brownie shoot over the gully, he knew. The scene played out cruelly in slow motion as the jolt hurled Jane through the air. Her body flew like a rag doll, her limbs outstretched. Luke watched helplessly as she tangled with the fence before finally hitting the ground with a thud.
“JANE!” The words tore from his mouth in desperation. “Oh, God, please let her be all right!”
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