by Jody Hedlund
“Time to go, Sophie.” As if from a dream, she heard Reinhold’s voice speaking to her. She looked up and was surprised to see him kneeling next to her.
“I’m not leaving until you do.” She tried to focus on the mound in front of her, but her fingers fumbled.
His hands came around hers, halting her choppy motions.
She struggled against his hold.
His grip fastened more firmly. “I’m going. We have to get the potatoes into the barn before they get wet.”
Setting aside one last potato, she sat back on her heels and realized for the first time that large drops of freezing rain had begun to pelt her.
She didn’t protest as he helped her to her feet and lifted her into the back of the wagon, settling her in the midst of the lumpy sacks of potatoes. By the time they reached the barn, she was shivering. She tried to climb down, but Reinhold was there before her feet could touch the ground. He scooped her up and carried her with long strides to the house.
He lowered her to her feet in the dark kitchen. “Take off your wet clothes and get warmed up,” he said gently, already opening the door and halfway outside again.
“What about you?” she said through chattering teeth. “You’re wet too.”
“I need to help Jakob unload the potatoes into the barn.” The door closed behind him before she could say anything else.
She stoked the stove until it was blazing and pumping out heat. Then she thawed her fingers before going upstairs and peeling off her wet clothes. After donning her nightdress and a dry shawl, she returned to the kitchen, where she set the coffee to boil and started warming the leftovers from dinner.
A short while later, Jakob came in dripping wet and blue-lipped. He changed, then gratefully accepted and devoured a plate of hot food before staggering back upstairs and dropping into bed.
Sophie peeked out the kitchen window. Through the hard pellets of rain hitting the glass, she couldn’t see the usual soft light emanating from the cracks in the barn door. She guessed Reinhold was tending to the horse and other animals, which had been neglected while they’d been in the fields.
After watching him work tonight, after seeing his determination, strength, and passion for the land, she was filled with a new respect for him. He inspired her to want to be better, work harder, and sacrifice more. And he inspired her to love this place, to fight for it, to make it into a home they could be proud of.
She’d never felt that way about anything before. After having been on the move from one place to the next for so long, she’d never understood all the hard work that went into making something come alive and be successful.
She slid the coffee and food off the heat, hung a blanket near the stove to keep it warm, and then lowered her aching body into a chair at the kitchen table. She spread her sewing out in front of her and smiled at the picture of her waiting up for Reinhold in ten or twenty years. Would they have a passel of boys like Barclay and Euphemia had? Boys who would lighten the workload? Or maybe they would have girls who would help preserve the garden and sew new clothes for winter.
A touch to her shoulder startled her. She lifted her head only to realize she’d dozed. At some point in her waiting for Reinhold, her eyelids had grown heavy and she’d laid her head down, intending to rest for just a minute.
She sat up and blinked. The kitchen was dark with the gray of dawn starting to show past the curtains.
The brush came against her shoulder again. “You should be in bed.”
“Reinhold.” She stood so quickly that she wavered.
He caught and steadied her. Through the low light of the lantern, she could see that he was still wet. His coat and shirt were plastered to his chest, and water dripped from his hat.
His fingers trembled against her waist, whether from exhaustion or cold she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that she wanted to take care of him the same way he’d done for her.
“You need to get out of your wet clothes,” she said, reaching up and taking off his hat, “before you catch a chill and end up sick.”
She tossed his hat aside, helped him out of his coat, and reached for the buttons of his shirt. Her fingers flew down the front, and she had it halfway peeled off before she realized he hadn’t pushed her away and insisted he could do it for himself.
Was he discouraged or just tired?
“How did we do?” she asked softly. “Did we lose a lot?”
“We did all right,” he replied. “We got more into the barn than I expected to.”
She let his shirt drop to the floor and then started to roll his wet undershirt up his torso. “Enough to pay off the debts?” He’d told her once before that his potato crop could be lucrative since not many farmers in the area were planting them. He’d netted a hefty profit last year from the potato field Mr. Turner had allowed him to plant, and he was counting on the profits from this crop to help alleviate some of his debt.
“I hope so.” He lifted his arms and helped her free the tangled wet shirt from his skin.
She tossed it with the other clothing and reached for the front of his trousers. He caught her hand and paused. Only then did she become conscious of his bare chest. The glow from the lantern turned his skin bronze and outlined every sculpted muscle. At the realization that he was half-clothed in front of her and that she was staring at him like a brazen woman, she quickly spun away. She fumbled to find the blanket she’d had warming. Her fingers closed around it, and she thrust it in his direction without looking at him.
“I have some coffee and food waiting for you,” she said as flames licked at her cheeks. Had she almost helped him remove his pants?
“I don’t need anything to eat,” he replied. “But I’ll take a cup of coffee.”
She reached for the pot and began to pour. At the thud of his pants joining his other wet garments, the coffee sloshed over the rim. Did she dare face him? But just as quickly as her embarrassment came on, she shoved it aside. He was freezing, and this was no time to worry about proprieties.
When she turned, he had the blanket draped over his shoulders and wrapped around his body. She handed him the mug. As he took it, the blanket fell away slightly to reveal his chest again. She turned back to the stove and busied herself by adding more fuel and stoking it.
“There,” she said and latched the oven door. “Are you getting warm yet?”
“Starting to,” he said with a loud slurp of coffee.
“Here.” She picked up the extra blanket she’d had for Jakob. Rather than wait for Reinhold to free his hands to take the blanket, she tucked it over his shoulders and brought it around the front of him. She leaned into him and groped for the opposite end of the blanket that had slipped away.
“Thank you for helping.” His voice rumbled near her ear as he leaned into the table and set aside his coffee.
“I didn’t do much,” she replied, finally making contact with the other edge of the blanket. She drew it around him more completely.
Before she could back away, he opened the blanket and folded her into the cocoon with him. The motion startled her, and she wasn’t sure what to do.
He drew her closer. “We wouldn’t have been able to get as much done without your help.”
She didn’t resist his embrace and laid her head against him. “I want to help you, Reinhold.”
He nodded. Was he finally accepting his need for her? She closed her eyes and hoped so.
After a few seconds, he pressed a kiss against her head and began to release her. At the same time, he shuddered.
Rather than letting go, she snaked her arms underneath the first blanket, prying it back, and wrapped her arms around his body. “I’ll help you get warm.” She laid her cheek against his bare chest and leaned into him, attempting to transfer her body heat to his.
He held himself stiffly, his arms loose, as though he wasn’t sure what to think of her boldness. He was only clad in his underdrawers now, which was completely inappropriate. Or was it? She was his wife, after
all. And she loved him.
“For just a minute,” she whispered, splaying her fingers against the cold flesh of his back. “I’ll warm you for just a minute.” She rubbed up and down his back, hoping the friction would thaw his skin.
After a few seconds, she could feel him relax against her. His arms slid around her and enfolded them both in the blankets. She began massaging his back, working her fingers all the way to his neck.
His breath near her forehead was warm, as was the stretch of him against her cheek. She closed her eyes and relished the mixture of heat and hardness that emanated from his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat thudded in her ear. He was a wall of strength, his arms like solid beams holding her up. She loved the security she felt within his embrace. It was unlike anything she’d known before.
She shifted her head so that her mouth brushed his chest. The sensation of his skin against her lips was more delicious than the sweetest of Euphemia’s cakes. She went back for more, needing another taste.
He sucked in a sharp breath. His body grew rigid and his hold taut.
What was she doing? She blinked away the haze that had apparently driven away her good senses. Why did she seem to lose herself whenever she was with Reinhold? Even if they were married, this wasn’t how she wanted to win him over.
She began to pull away, but then his lips grazed her forehead. His breathing was ragged. He shifted, and she waited for him to release her. She sensed he was holding back, that he was waging an inner battle. But instead of retreating, his fingers spread against her nightgown, moving her closer.
He buried his nose into her hair as though that was a safe place. Again he sucked in a breath, then let out a soft groan. He dug his fingers into her as he leaned in closer, his mouth hungrily seeking hers.
She only had to turn slightly for her lips to collide against his with a force that made her body tremble with wanting him. She deepened their connection in a long, breathless kiss. He lifted his lips away for a moment only to bring them down more eagerly, tangling together in a kiss that left her too weak to stand. She moved her hands to his arms to brace herself. At the same moment he let the blankets drop.
Without breaking his lips from hers, he swept her off her feet and cradled her against his chest. She wound her arms around his neck, savoring his nearness, the scrape of his stubble against her cheek, the pressure of his hands on her body.
With a heaving chest, he broke the kiss only to move his mouth to her jaw, then neck, then collarbone. The trail he made with his kisses fanned the sparks inside her.
“Sophie,” he whispered, his voice low. “Tell me to stop.”
“No . . . I don’t want you to stop.”
At her admission, he found her lips again. He claimed them in another kiss that tugged at her very core, pulling an invisible string taut. At the same time, she could feel him moving, carrying her toward the stairs. She wanted him to hurry, feeling an urgency she didn’t understand.
As he took them up one step, then two, a pounding against the front door drew him to a stop. He pulled back, cutting off their kiss abruptly. As they listened, their heavy breathing filled the stairwell.
After several seconds, another knock sounded, this one more insistent. Who would be at their door at this time of the morning? Had Euphemia sent one of the boys to find out if they needed more help?
Reinhold backed down the steps and set Sophie’s feet on the floor. He steadied her before releasing her and striding out of the kitchen into the front room.
Without the warmth of his body surrounding her, she hugged her arms and rubbed away the raised hairs. Her mind whirred with the realization she’d been kissing Reinhold and that he’d been in the process of taking her upstairs to the bedroom. She shivered again, this time with nervousness and anticipation.
She hoped the visitor was Fergus or Alastair and that Reinhold would send the boy on his way with just a word or two. When Reinhold returned, would he pick her up again? Would he resume where they’d left off? Or would they be shy and awkward with each other once more?
Reinhold’s firm steps came to a halt in the front room. A click sounded as he unlatched the lock. Then he opened the door, and a gust of wind whistled around the windowpanes.
“How can I help you?” Reinhold asked, his voice formal and containing a note of alarm.
Sophie knew she wasn’t attired to receive company and neither was Reinhold. Nevertheless, she crossed the kitchen and stepped into the front room. Through the growing light of dawn, she made out the hunched form of a woman standing outside, her long dark hair tangled and wet, falling across the torn shoulder of her bodice and revealing bare skin underneath.
“I need Sophie,” the woman said through chattering teeth.
At the voice, Sophie started. “Anna? Is that you?”
Chapter 19
Reinhold swallowed hard, trying to force down the self-loathing that was pushing up like bile. What had he been thinking?
Using a towel, he lifted the steaming pot from the stove and headed toward the steps. Sophie was waiting for the water, had asked him to set it to heating so she could wash the young woman.
The moment Sophie had ushered Anna inside, the woman had collapsed unconscious on the floor. Sophie had helped him carry her up to the bed. And then she’d proceeded to undress her friend, sending him to fetch warm water.
All he’d been able to think about since retreating to the kitchen was the fact that he’d almost taken Sophie to bed. “What in all that’s holy were you thinking?” he whispered harshly as he passed by his pile of discarded clothing and blankets on the floor.
But even as he chided himself, he stumbled, his legs turning weak at the memory of the softness of her body pressing into him, the hot mingling of their mouths, the delectable taste of her skin, and his desire for more.
He halted and closed his eyes, willing himself to forget about her low, sultry voice saying, “I don’t want you to stop.”
He had to stop. There was no other choice. As beautiful and desirable as Sophie was, she wasn’t his. At least not forever. He only had her for a short time. He was her guardian, the one who’d found her after all the time she’d been lost.
His goal was to return her to her family safe and unblemished, so she could have all the privileges and luxuries Elise and Marianne would provide. After working so diligently to prevent her from running away and to keep her safe from other men who’d lust after her, he very well could have ruined it all in one unguarded moment.
What had he almost done?
The self-loathing rose in his throat again.
He’d tried to maintain a distance from her since their wedding day. Although he relished when she sat at the kitchen table with him while he ate dinner or when she brought her sewing into the barn at night and they talked, he always stayed several feet away. He’d been tempted a time or two to bend in and steal a kiss. But he’d been strong and good and had held himself back. Until today . . .
With his heavy footfalls thudding against each step as though he carried an enormous burden, he trudged upstairs.
He shouldn’t have let her help him out of his wet clothing. She’d merely been trying to aid him in getting warm, but his thoughts had strayed into dangerous territory when she’d unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off. He should have gone upstairs and changed on his own. Or at the very least made sure she was completely covered at all times instead of admiring the way her silky nightgown had clung to her womanly form.
But instead of fleeing from temptation, he’d told himself one little look wouldn’t hurt. One small touch wouldn’t affect him. One innocent hug to warm him wouldn’t be wrong.
“What were you thinking?” he quietly berated himself again. The problem was, he hadn’t been thinking. He’d allowed himself to get carried away with his desires—desires he didn’t want or need.
As he reached the top of the dark stairwell, Sophie met him in the hallway. He could sense her worry more than see it.
; “There you are,” she whispered, reaching for the handle.
“Tell me where you want it,” he said tersely. “And I’ll carry it.”
She led the way into the bedroom and removed several items from the crate next to the bed, including the angel candle holder she’d placed there. He remembered that it had belonged to her mother. Mrs. Neumann had given each of the sisters items from among her meager possessions, and he was relieved to see Sophie had kept the candle holder. If she’d hung on to it all this time, surely that meant she still felt some kind of connection with her family—her sisters.
If Elise and Marianne discovered he’d been kissing Sophie like a possessed man, they’d be disappointed in him. It didn’t matter that Sophie was a grown woman and had proven herself to be capable and mature. They’d still expect him to treat Sophie like a sister, not a lover.
He placed the steaming pot of water on the crate and then moved out of Sophie’s way.
With every day that passed, Sophie had stepped into the role of a farmer’s wife as if she truly enjoyed it. She’d been an eager learner, catching on quickly to everything Euphemia taught her. In the two weeks of living with him, she’d transformed the farmhouse into a pretty but practical environment with curtains and rugs and decorations.
He appreciated all her efforts, not only with the house but also her hard work with harvesting the garden and preserving food for the winter. After building shelves in the cellar, he was excited to see the stores of food she’d brought in and was proud of her.
Jakob was thriving with her there, appreciating the regular meals and having someone to talk to besides him. She doted on the boy, teasing and caring for him as if he were her own brother.
She’d proven herself to be of value in the fields as well. Although he hadn’t liked subjecting her to harvesting the potatoes, he’d again felt a measure of pride and gratefulness for her willingness to do whatever needed to be done. She’d recognized how vital it was to get the potatoes out of the ground, and she hadn’t rested until the work was done, even though she’d clearly been cold and exhausted.