Hannah released a shuddered breath, more audible than she’d hoped, and she could feel his sudden gaze upon her. The sensation pressed stronger, and she fought the urge to crane her neck toward him. If she turned now, he might note the pain—that chronic throbbing of the heart that sometimes burned behind her eyes.
“Are you well?”
She could only nod.
He tugged on the reins, pulling the horses to a stop.
“What is it?” Sure her emotions were buried once more, she looked to him. “Why have we stopped?”
His eyes trailed over her, and his brow twitched down. Reaching behind her into the wagon, he felt for something. “I fear you are becoming too cold. We’ve only ten more miles before we reach the inn.” He retrieved a large blanket and handed it to her. “This should provide a measure of extra warmth.”
She took the offering, careful not to meet his gaze or allow her fingers to brush against his. If only he weren’t so kind. This venture was rife enough with conflicting emotions. She needn’t the chafing cloth of his generosity to rub her raw. “Thank you.”
Unfolding it, she carefully tucked the heavy covering around her knees and behind her back, watching the thick snowflakes land upon her lap, as if the large white flecks felt the need to blanket her as well.
When the wagon didn’t immediately roll forward, she turned, and her gaze collided with his. She couldn’t breathe, and yet her heart beat a frantic rhythm. All the strength she willed to pull her eyes away betrayed her, keeping her face toward him. Sweet heaven, but he was handsome. The years had not marred him but enhanced his rugged appeal, adding to the steep angle of his jaw and broadening the shape of his muscular frame. Not only was he pleasing to the eye. He was kind, strong, and as sincere as he had always been. She felt herself slipping, a gradual slide that would gain strength and pull her down a never-ending slope if she had not the strength to grip her nails into the mound and strain with her might against it.
A painful throbbing pushed tears through the crack in her heart. What happened, Joseph?
Putting a tight smile to her mouth, she tugged herself free from the power of his stare and faced forward, tucking her hands beneath the blanket. Shielding herself from his arrows of sincerity with a curt nod to the road, she questioned, “Why do you wait?”
Again, he didn’t answer, his unyielding stare heating the side of her face. “Joseph, come now. This is foolishness.” She flung another look, and his arsenal splintered to pieces the shield she’d so hastily constructed. His eyes, as endlessly blue as a summer sky, seemed to cup around her, holding her motionless as he studied her.
Determined to keep herself alert by the hurt that pricked, she huffed a light breath. What right had he to stare—to ignore the vast chasm that gaped open between them? “Why do you wait? We shall freeze here.”
“Why have you not married?”
All the world stilled. Even the flakes drifted slower. He had not actually dared ask such a thing.
She blinked, her movements slow and words hushed by the disbelief that gripped her. “What did you say?”
He finally released her from his gripping stare and turned to the road with an irritated shift of his jaw. “Why have you not married? ’Tis a simple question.”
Pins pricked her chest and the back of her eyes. “I need not answer that.”
“I am in earnest, Hannah.” He twisted toward her again. “We are to be cousins—not strangers. I would know this of you and more if I am to have a ready answer when asked why such a lovely woman has no family of her own.”
Lovely woman.
Hannah lowered her gaze and turned away. What right had he to speak to her that way? To compliment her under the guise of only doing his duty for the cause they undertook instead of the honest truth of his curiosity?
Shame burned from the crown of her head down to her neck. She blamed him, but she was no innocent party. Deep down she’d wanted him to say everything that ripened on the air between them, for she hadn’t the strength to reach for the low-hanging fruit of truth. Such a coward she was.
Sighing, she knotted her hands beneath the blanket, praying she could douse her sparking emotions with at least a cupful of truth. “My need to care for my family took my time and devotion.” Which was true. Aunt Bea had always been of frail health, and after the heartbreak of losing the one thing that might have brought her and Joseph back together, Hannah had needed the distraction from her own woes by caring for the needs of another. The weight of memory pulled her vision to her lap. “And I suppose…I suppose I could not marry, since I did not love.”
“You did not?”
The rich bass of his timbre lured her face to his and she stilled. Not since you. Numbed by all that was unspoken, the words streamed from her mouth. “Did not you love? Why have you not married? I should know the same of you, should I not?”
His gaze trailed over her face, then drifted to the road. After a breath he straightened, reins in hand. “I never cared to marry.”
With a flick of the reins, they jerked forward, Hannah’s heart leaving a trail of crimson on the snow behind them. She clutched her knitted fingers so tight she feared her bones would snap. Neck cording, she made sure to breathe in long, steady strokes. All these years, she’d wished not to believe it. But so it was. Just as Father had said. He is done with you, Hannah. He is not the marrying kind. You had best move on and forget him.
* * *
Forget it, man. Leave it be.
Joseph ground his teeth. Such an easy thought for an impossible task.
Glancing to Hannah, he noted the pinch of her mouth, the rise of her chin. The woman had sat so rigid these days past he’d feared at every bump she’d fall from the bench.
Letting out a slow, quiet exhale, Joseph reined in the growl that nearly got away from him. Why have you not married? How could he ask such a thing? He hadn’t intended to of course, but the question had whirled so harsh in his mind that his lips had begun speaking before he was able to stop them. Though as he considered it, his excuse was valid. They did need to have their histories straight, or their quest would be over before it began.
As he stared at the white road ahead of him, the flakes dotting the horses’ backs as they walked, he submitted to the siren song of memory. Why she’d refused to see him after that night they’d become one burned like a winter bonfire, hot and high and fierce. Was it true what she said? That she’d never loved? He blinked, straining to focus on the snow that fell on the road, but his mind snatched him away to the night his heart had been taken. Nay, not taken. Given. Freely and with passion. Their vow to marry had not been taken lightly. Not by him. And he’d thought, not by her.
He breathed out and rolled his shoulders back. No use in trying to untie a knot that had been tangling itself for so long. He’d struggled for years to come to an understanding. He’d made no progress then, and he wouldn’t now.
Ignoring all his former thoughts, he tried to communicate as if his insides weren’t afire. “When we arrive, we must ever be cautious, ever alert. Do not allow yourself to be alone with them.” He would focus on their mission. That and nothing else. Though no matter how he tried, his instinct to protect her surpassed everything. “Do you understand?”
She offered a cursory glance, then looked away and nodded.
“I cannot have you doing anything foolish, Hannah.”
“Foolish?” She scowled. “You act as if I know nothing of what is ahead of us. I am not a young girl, Joseph.”
“No, you are not.” He stopped the horses again and turned to face her. “You are a beautiful woman. You will attract the attention of every soldier—your every action will be watched. Closely.”
Her mouth dropped open slightly, and she pulled back, as if the thought slapped her. “That is ridiculous. They shall be far more intent upon their own duties than upon me.”
Leaning forward, he held her as motionless with his glare as he nearly did with his hands. His voice rumbled through hi
s chest. “If you believe that, then you do not understand the ways of men.”
She squirmed and averted her eyes. Good. Perhaps his need to frighten her was working. “Our utmost caution in all things is paramount. Especially your safety.”
She straightened, her mouth a thin line. “We spoke of all of this before we left. Captain Donaldson and Nathaniel made everything clear, and I do take it seriously, no matter what you may think.” She crossed her arms, the steely creases in her brow not as imposing as she might have thought. “I do not see why you should still be so concerned even after we’ve planned this so well. I begin to think you do not trust me.”
“Trust has nothing to do with it.” Small measured breaths ensured his volume wouldn’t rise. “And what have we planned, exactly? Have we considered that you are known well enough for anyone in town to become suspicious should they see both of us at the foundry?”
“’Twill be over in two weeks, hardly time enough to raise suspicions.” A dainty sigh left her mouth, and her chest dropped. “Visitors are rare, and all the workers have gone. Joseph, I cannot understand—”
“What of your father?”
The words made her freeze, the color in her cheeks slipping from red to pink. Another victory, though it pained him to halt her in such a way.
Her gaze fell, and her mouth twitched. “What of him?”
“When did you see him last?”
“I…” She brushed a snowflake from her cheek, glancing away. “When I refused to return to Sandwich with him six years ago, when I told him my home was with his brother, he vowed he would never see me again.” Raising her eyes to him, she finished the thought, her tone a cold thread. “That vow he has not broken, though he never ceased his continual rain of hatred on Ensign. I doubt even the knowledge of his brother’s death would entice him to mend anything between us.” Flinging a look to him, a flash of pain darkened her eyes before courage turned them evergreen. “Joseph, I would not have accepted this had I any indication my father would make an appearance.”
Joseph’s muscles cramped as he wrestled the reality he knew and that she did not. Her gentle features strained as she stared at the wood at their feet. The vulnerability that lined her eyes and mouth tugged at him like a thickly twined rope. The battle against the desire to reach for her hand, to promise their safety and success, drained all the strength from his limbs.
Sighing, he turned forward, ready to flick the reins. Perhaps he should turn back. Perhaps he should force her to forfeit by revealing all that he knew. Aye, ’twas what he wished—for the safety of her life and the safety of his heart. But reason nudged his thoughts in line. “Keep in mind the mission and the danger. That is all I ask.”
“I am committed in every way.” She smiled, all ease and friendliness as if their very lives were not in the balance. “We shall not be discovered.”
“You cannot be sure.”
“I have never been more sure.” She placed her hands in her lap. “If you are not, then I suggest before you retreat, depositing me back home, and I will do it all myself.”
Blast it, woman! He bent forward, his nose almost touching hers. “It is my responsibility to keep you safe, and I will do that as best I can, but as I cannot chain you to my side, I must ask you to be wise.”
The black centers of her eyes grew wide, and her brow plummeted. “You think I would not be?”
He dipped his chin, his voice low. “Nay…but I know your impetuous nature, your determined mind. And as you are under my care—”
“Under your care?” Cheeks scarlet, she faced him in full. “Must I remind you that we are merely reluctant partners in this venture, two people emboldened by a greater cause? So do not believe for a moment—”
“Hannah.” His volume roared louder than he’d wished. “You cannot begin to think that—”
“I refuse to—”
A sound around the bend hushed them both, and they looked to the road, then to each other before assuming postures that told nothing of their argument.
Snatching the reins, he flicked them, rousing the horses to move. His instincts cocked like a ready pistol as he strained his hearing on the noise of the approaching riders. The drumming of hooves and mumble of several voices gave tell of at least three or four travelers, but it was the glint of red around the corner that made his blood chill far more than the temperature biting his flesh.
He glanced to Hannah, ready to shield her, ready to see a flash of fear in her eyes. But she only looked up at him briefly, her voice as smooth as glass. “We begin.”
The riders came within view, five in total, coming at them in the center of the road.
“Halt!” The soldier in front raised his hand out toward them.
The knowledge that Joseph would from here forward be forced to do the will of the enemy seared his skin, but he obeyed, acting his part.
“Good day, sirs.” He molded a small, polite smile on his lips.
The nearest soldier nodded and halted his mount beside Joseph. “What are you doing on this road?” He looked around the wood. “’Tis unpleasant weather to be traveling in indeed.”
Joseph glanced to Hannah. Had she seen the soldier’s eyes take her in in a single sweep? ’Twas just as he’d feared, and they’d not even reached the foundry. Dear Lord, what have I done? “My cousin and I are just returning home from Salem, sir.”
The soldier’s mount shuffled sideways, and he tugged on the reins. “Is that so?”
“Aye.” He snarled the rest of it, not lowering his gaze from the men who now surrounded them. “The bloody Patriots ransacked my cousin’s home because he refuses to join their cause. We went to help.”
The same soldier nodded, flinging a glance to the man on the horse behind him. “You are loyal to the crown?”
“We are no friend to the Patriots.” He nodded toward them, the next words burning a path through his throat. “God save the king.”
A grin broadened the lines on the soldier’s face. “God save the king.” Sitting straighter, the man looked to Hannah, his gaze lingering overlong on her face. “I should hope you are near home. Your cousin looks chilled to the bone.”
Joseph shook his head in reply, suddenly wishing perhaps they had posed as husband and wife. Then perchance the men would be less likely to pursue her. Then again, maybe not.
He flexed all his anxiety into his arms. “We are stopping at Greenborrow for the night, then on to Plymouth.”
“Plymouth, eh? We have just come from there.”
A nod was all he could offer. He glanced at Hannah, scanning her expression for any indication of recognition, but her painted geniality took center stage.
“Plymouth is our home.” Her voice trilled like birdsong. “’Tis lovely there. I am surprised you would wish to leave it.”
“I should have regretted to leave, indeed, if such loveliness as yours had been present.” He tugged at the reins of his mount again. “But alas, the army does not have…” He stopped, his gaze suddenly gripping to her with a scrutiny that stabbed blades into Joseph’s gut. “Forgive me. I do believe I feel as if we have met before. Have we not?”
Hannah’s cheeks reddened, and she looked away. “Sir, you speak too freely.”
His smile quirked at one end. “Deepest apologies, my lady.” Again the man looked behind to the others with him, the bob of his eyebrows making Joseph’s shoulders grow taut. “Greenborrow is still ten miles south, is it not?” He shook his head. “I should hate to see someone so lovely suffer in such weather as this.”
Joseph shook his head, knowing full well what the man would say. “It will not be long—”
“As a point of fact…” The soldier looked back from where they’d ridden. “Though we have just come from there, I would be most happy to take you the rest of the way.”
Had Joseph a ready pistol, he would have brandished it. “That will not be necessary.”
“Nay, nay, I insist. ’Tis the least I can do for any colonist willing to stand up to t
he Patriots.” The man’s eyes narrowed in the corners, but his smile widened. He turned his attention to Hannah. “A ride on horseback would bring you to the warmth of the inn much quicker.”
Never. Joseph all but leapt from his seat. “We thank you for the offer, but—”
“You will not let the lady answer for herself?” The words were barked before he grinned immediately after. “My lady, I would be honored if you would let me take you to the inn. Your cousin shall follow right behind. I do believe that warmth and a meal will do you good.”
Hannah turned to him. “May I?”
The glance and accompanying smile she fed Joseph did strange things to his soul. He wanted to slay every other man who touched her and in the same second scold her reckless foolishness. Did she not know what horrors might await her if she trusted this stranger?
He swallowed and cant his head in the most cousinly way he could. “It isn’t that much farther, and I promised Aunt Libby I would not let you out of my sight.”
She slanted her chin with an equally slanted grin and reached out to touch his arm. “These are the king’s men, cousin. They will treat me far better than the Patriots have, I am sure of that.” That shallow dimple made a brief appearance before she lifted her face to the soldier. “I should be most pleased to accept your offer, sir. I thank you.”
“My pleasure, of course.”
She stood to climb down, but Joseph gripped her fingers, and she twisted to face him, fire pluming from the backs of her eyes, as he knew it did from his. But she would not be moved.
“Do not worry, cousin.” Rising, she planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I shall see you before sunset.”
The soldier dismounted and helped Hannah down from the wagon, his hands lingering at her waist far longer than they should. In truth, Joseph should not have let the man touch her at all. What was he thinking allowing her to go through with this? Yet how could he protest? She was not a woman to be contradicted no matter how he wished he could rope her to the seat beside him and never allow her to leave his side.
So Pure a Heart (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 4) Page 8