by Kirst, Karen
His smile burned itself into her consciousness. He didn’t smile enough, she thought suddenly. Who would bring fun to Nathan’s life? In her opinion, he needed a little shake-up.
“I like that one, too. Mr. Hostettler has a nice voice.”
“If you’re satisfied with this performance,” a commanding voice intruded, “you should hear my church choir. Now there’s real talent.”
Nathan straightened and Sophie pushed away from the railing as Cordelia strolled into the pale light spilling through the windows, gray-threaded hair piled high and topped with yet another feathered concoction passing as a hat. Adorned in head-to-toe black, she wore her usual expression—mouth pinched in perpetual criticism, astute gaze missing nothing.
“I thought the singers were remarkable.” Sophie met her aunt’s stare with one of her own. The more time she spent in the older woman’s company, the less intimidated she became.
“Hmm.” She regarded them with narrowed eyes. “I will concede the cook—Mrs. Calhoun, I believe her name was—did a passable job with the hors d’oeuvres.”
“It’s Madge Calhoun. She and her husband, Fred, manage the property for Charles Newman’s grandson, Lucian. Surely you remember them, Aunt? They’ve lived here many years.”
Hands clasped behind her back, Cordelia glared imperiously down her nose. “When I left, I did my utmost to forget everything about this town, including the residents.”
Sophie glanced at Nathan, whose classic features were arranged in thoughtful consideration. Was he wondering—as she was—what life must have been like for her aunt? Based on her own experience, Sophie could only guess how the townspeople had treated the sister of Lester Tanner.
She touched her aunt’s arm. “They must’ve been very cruel for you to want to do that.”
Shock softened Cordelia’s features. Then she snapped her mouth shut and reassumed control, sniffing as if such a sentiment was far-fetched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sophia Tanner.”
“It couldn’t have been easy,” she continued quietly. “Pa wasn’t exactly well-liked, was he? I saw how horribly he treated my mother. And—” her heart squeezed with regret “—I also saw how he controlled and manipulated Granddad. If Granddad didn’t stand up for Ma, I’m guessing he didn’t do that for you, either.” She loved Tobias with all her heart, but that didn’t mean she was blind to his faults. “Lester must have made your life miserable.”
Cordelia blinked fast. In the dim light, Sophie could see tears glistening. Her heart softened. She didn’t really know her aunt at all, did she?
Cordelia addressed Nathan. “Would you mind giving us a moment alone?”
“I’ll be inside.” He shot Sophie a meaningful glance. He’d be nearby in case she needed him. Typical.
When they were alone, her aunt joined her at the railing, all business once again. The faint scent of verbena wafted over, the delicate perfume an unexpected choice for the tough-as-nails lady. “How is your hunt for a husband going?”
A sigh escaped. “Slow.”
“You mustn’t dillydally, Sophia. You need to use the momentum created by your transformation to snag one before the men’s interest wanes.”
“This decision will affect the rest of our lives. I won’t rush it.” Sophie sucked in a calming breath. “Surely you want what’s best for us?”
“You don’t have to marry at all.” Cordelia watched her closely. “You can come and live with me. Will would receive a good education, and you can get involved with the many social organizations available to young women. When you’re ready to marry, you can have your pick of suitable men.”
Sophie stilled at the note of entreaty in her voice. What had happened to her simply doing her duty? Could it be possible Cordelia wanted them there with her? If that were so, why would she be pushing Sophie to marry?
“We’re happy here. We don’t want to leave.”
“In the city, you won’t have to toil from dawn to dusk each and every day. We have indoor plumbing. The shops offer all sorts of merchandise. Why, we can get you a whole new wardrobe. My cook was once employed by a ritzy French couple, and she turns out the most delectable dishes you’ve ever tasted. How can you turn that down?”
“It does sound wonderful,” Sophie admitted with a slight smile, “especially the indoor plumbing. But those things aren’t important to me. You’re right, life here can be difficult and demanding. But this is our home. Our heritage. While we appreciate your offer, this is where we want to be.”
Compressing her lips, Cordelia turned her attention to the gardens, illuminated with flickering gas lamps. Hand in hand, a couple slowly wound their way along the stone path, heads close together as they swapped secrets. Her aunt’s solitary station in life was impressed upon her then. Cordelia lived alone. Ate the majority of her meals alone. Sophie could picture her in an enormous dining room, seated at the head of a ridiculously long dining table, the chairs all empty. How depressing.
“Do you have a lot of friends, Aunt?” she blurted.
“Of course I do,” she retorted sharply, glowering. “Why would you ask such a question?”
“No reason.” Prickly, wasn’t she?
“Speaking of friends, I’m certain they’re becoming concerned over my prolonged absence. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve put my entire life on hold for you. The clock is ticking, Sophia. You have three weeks remaining. I won’t wait a minute longer.”
* * *
Engaged in a predictable conversation about farming, Nathan excused himself when he spotted Cordelia in the entryway preparing to leave. He beat her hand to the doorknob, earning an imperious look when he held the door for her. And when he followed her outside, she turned before descending the steps.
“You wished to speak with me?” she demanded.
“I’d like to talk to you about Sophie.” Lord, help me keep a cool head. “What you’re doing to her is wrong and unnecessary. It’s unfair to them both.”
“I’m not surprised you feel that way. You didn’t have to utter a word for me to ascertain your opinion on the subject.” She cocked her head, her forceful gaze reminding him of a certain intimidating schoolteacher he’d had as a boy. He held his ground. “Why unnecessary? Surely you admit a farm is too much for a young girl to handle on her own.”
“It is.” At her satisfied expression, he held up a hand. “But Sophie doesn’t have to do it on her own. She’s part of the family, and we take care of our own.”
“You’re very passionate about my niece’s well-being. Why don’t you marry her if you’re so concerned?”
“Sophie and I would make each other miserable, believe me,” he scoffed. “We’re friends. That’s all we’ll ever be.”
She looked thoughtful. “Are you so sure about that? Sometimes the best marriages start out as friendships.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“Well, then, I suppose you have two choices. Help her choose wisely or convince her to leave Gatlinburg.”
Tipping her head, she bid him good-night. Left him there to stew over her parting advice, neither choice an appealing one. Either way, he would lose his friend.
* * *
“I enjoyed our ride, Sophie.”
Strolling beside her in the shaded lane, Landon flashed a satisfied smile. He’d removed his hat and hooked it on the saddle horn, unaware the rumpled look lent him a boyish appeal, his short blond hair slightly damp at the temples and sticking up in spots.
Their horses plodding behind them, she said with some surprise, “I did, too.”
After those few, awkward moments with him last evening, she’d been slightly apprehensive about spending the afternoon with him. As if to make up for his slipups, he’d turned on the charm, soothing the agitation aroused by her uncomfortable lunch at the Dennisons’ home.
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Philip was getting scratched off her list. He was nice and all, but she wasn’t about to subject herself or Will to his parents’ barely concealed dislike.
“Come out to the farm one day this week. Let me show you around for a bit and then you can have supper with us.”
Another awkward family meal? Landon’s parents were nice people. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad. Besides, if she was seriously considering him, she’d have to spend time with them. Test the waters.
“Hey.” He snagged her hand a little too forcefully, compelling her and her horse to come up short. She opened her mouth to protest, stalling when he lifted a finger and smoothed the line between her brows. “It’s not a marriage proposal.” He chuckled. “Just a simple dinner invitation. No need to fret over it.”
She tugged her hand free and backed up a step. “I accept.”
“Good.”
“Soph? You all right?”
Spinning on her heel, she realized they were at the turnoff to her cabin. Nathan, a string of fish dangling from the pole balanced on his shoulder, stood watching them with narrowed eyes and a scowl shouting his displeasure.
“Of course she is.” Landon stiffened, his good humor slipping away. “Are you insinuating I’m not a gentleman, O’Malley?”
Nathan’s gaze never wavered from hers. “Soph?”
What was with these two? “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
* * *
Nathan thought the top of his head was going to blow off.
Her perturbed tone warned him to back off. Fat chance. The instant Landon touched her, fury had licked through his veins like flames in a pile of dry leaves, threatening to burn up every last shred of self-control. If the brute so much as left a finger imprint on her skin—
“Nathan.”
Her cool fingers wrapped around his wrist, applying slight pressure. Glancing down, he attempted to blink away the red haze.
“He’s leaving,” she said, dark gaze shooting daggers.
Retreating horses’ hooves finally registered. Sophie was safe for the time being, but men like Landon Greene didn’t reveal their true natures in the beginning. No, they bided their time, lowering your guard until you were caught in their web of deception. Nathan knew from experience. He and Landon had been friends once, a long time ago.
Releasing him, she lifted a hand to flip her braid behind her shoulder only to realize there was no braid. She huffed in frustration. “Why are you here?”
“I’m spending time with your brother.” He shifted the pole higher on his shoulder. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“You know I don’t.”
“Then why the attitude? Oh, wait, I know.” He snapped his fingers. “You’re irritated because I caught you in a lie.”
She gasped. “What lie? I never said I would cancel my ride with him!”
“You let me assume. Same thing.”
“That’s not true.” But her gaze slid sideways and she bit her lip, sure signs she wasn’t being entirely forthcoming. He stamped out the urge to shake some sense into her.
“I thought you agreed to trust me on this. Behind the slick smiles, Landon Greene is a brute and a bully. His ultimate goal is to gain control over you.”
“Why are you saying this? Are you jealous of him or something?”
A snort of derisive laughter escaped. “You’re joking, right?”
“There have to be reasons for your allegations.” She jutted her chin. “I’d like to know what they are.”
He didn’t blame her. What did he expect from the headstrong miss, anyway? To simply take him at his word? That wasn’t her nature. His either, truth be told. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to talk about the past. Too humiliating.
“I know what he’s really like, Sophie. You only see what he wants you to see. He’s doing his best to impress you. To gain your trust.” When she continued to look at him with disbelief, he gritted his teeth. “If you set everything I’ve said aside and focus on his behavior toward women, would you agree he’s a flirt?”
“I will give you that, yes.”
“What do you think he and April were doing in Lucian’s garden? Naming constellations?”
Her cheeks pinked. “I said I agreed, didn’t I?”
“And you don’t have a problem with that?”
Brushing past him, she shot him a look over her shoulder. “He’s not married, nor is he in a committed relationship. Being a flirt doesn’t make him an adulterer.”
Fingers digging into the rough-hewn pole, he strode after her. “I would think after what your pa did that you’d want a man you could trust wholeheartedly. No reservations.”
Sophie stopped so suddenly he nearly plowed into her.
“What—”
“Don’t do that.” She spoke quietly. “I know you don’t like Landon, but don’t bring Lester into this.”
He’d spoken without thinking. Knew how sensitive she was about the subject. “Soph—” He gently squeezed her upper arm. She flinched. Retreated again.
“Wait.” Hurrying ahead, he cut her off, disregarding her withering glare. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories. What do you say we call a truce for one night?” He summoned a smile. “I’ve got these fish that need frying and a little friend who’s probably wondering where I am.”
Shifting her gaze to the forest and the descending dusk, she nodded. “And who’s probably hungry, too.” With a sigh, she thrust out her hand. “Fine. Truce.”
Nathan wrapped his free hand around hers, unable to resist stroking the soft skin with his thumb. “Fine,” he rasped, struck by an impossible yearning to ease her closer, to caress her nape, her face.
What would it be like to kiss her without an audience? an irrational voice prompted. Enough.
This was nothing but age-old physical attraction. He wasn’t blind to the changes in his friend. Of course he would notice and be appreciative. That didn’t mean he could give in to it.
With reluctance, he released her. Cleared his throat. “One more thing. You know how you feel about discussing Lester? That’s how I feel about divulging my history with Landon. Can you understand that?”
Her brows pulled together, her blue eyes churning with speculation. “Something happened between you two. Something bad.”
An understatement. “Yes.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” She wasn’t going to press him?
Her stomach rumbled, and she grinned. Surprised him by linking her arm with his and tugging. “Will’s not the only one who’s starving around here. Let’s get going.”
Lecturing himself all the way, he allowed her to lead him to her cabin.
* * *
Will did not attempt to hide his enthusiasm. He whooped and hollered and did a quick jig.
Chuckling, Nathan ruffled the boy’s hair. Will was bright, sensitive at times, eager to please. As they crouched side by side at the stream, skinning and gutting the fish, it struck him that Sophie’s marriage would change things. He and Will wouldn’t have as much time to spend together. Her new husband would take the boy fishing and hunting, teach him the ways of farming.
He frowned. He didn’t even know if they’d stick around. Maybe they’d go live on her husband’s homestead.
Preoccupied, his knife slipped, slicing deep into his finger. He smothered an oath. Dropping the knife, he jerked his hand back before the blood dripped all over the fish.
“I’ll get Sophie!” Will bolted toward the cabin before he could stop him.
Fumbling for the handkerchief in his pocket, he covered the wound and yanked the material taut. He hoped it wasn’t deep enough to warrant stitches. Needles were for fabric, not human skin. He shivered.
What’s the matter
? a voice from the past taunted. Not tough enough to handle the sight of blood?
Forehead growing damp, he shoved away the memories. He heard the door slam open, and then Sophie was skidding to a stop in front of him, face white but otherwise calm. Will tripped along behind her.
“What happened?”
“It’s nothing. A small cut, is all.”
She focused on his hand, held steady against his belly. “Let me see.”
As she peeled back the material, he trained his gaze on her hair. No need to risk making himself sick.
“It’s still bleeding,” she said matter-of-factly, replacing the blood-soaked handkerchief. “You’re going to need stitches. Do you want me to do it or would you rather I take you into town to see Doc Owens?”
“Neither.”
She pressed a hand against his lower back. “Come on, big guy,” she cajoled. “Let’s go get this over with. I’m known for my speed and precision. You won’t even have a scar.”
When she had him seated at her table, she flitted around the room gathering supplies. He watched her to keep his mind off the throbbing pain and the looming prospect of more.
“It’s better if you don’t watch,” she warned as she gently cleansed the site.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” he drawled, closing his eyes and homing in on her delicate scent, the whisper of her skirts and the slight pressure of her leg against his thigh as she worked.
When she inserted the needle, a rogue groan escaped. He locked his jaw and held his breath. To her credit, Sophie didn’t pause. She worked quickly and efficiently and had him sewed up in a flash.
His finger ached something fierce, but at least the worst part was over. But then he made the mistake of looking at it, the misshapen, angry-looking flesh. Images from long ago rose up to taunt him. And his stomach revolted. Lunging for the door, he made it to the side yard before casting up his accounts.
Walking back inside, he felt shaky and weak. And foolish.
Sophie watched him with large, compassion-filled eyes. “Are you okay?”
Sinking onto the sofa, he grimaced. “You’d think I’d be able to handle a little blood. I am a farmer, after all. For some weird reason, I can handle animal blood a sight better than human.”