by Jillian Hart
Icy rain blew in her face and slapped against her coat as she sloshed and slid across the yard. Snow hung on the miles of forest surrounding the yard, weighing heavily on branches. Low clouds and a heavy rain veil obscured all view of the valley below and the mountains beyond. She swiped rivulets out of her eyes, wrenched open the stubborn barn door enough to slip in. Whoops. She had to hold in her breath to squeeze through. Her stomach wasn’t as flat as it had been.
The baby was showing. Her heart stuttered as she laid a hand there, where the faintest bump made real the child’s existence. She thought of Austin’s nephews—her nephews now—and for the first time let herself wonder about the new life. A little bundle to cradle in her arms, who would grin up at her the way Delia’s baby had, who would grow up to run and play like the older nephews, so sweet in his or her own unique way.
Emotion ached behind her eyes, feelings she didn’t understand. As she gave the door a harder push, she wondered if she could ever be the kind of mother Delia was, so loving and happy. Or if she could ever be as patient and warm as Berry.
Rosie lowed in welcome. Big brown eyes peeked over the top of her stall, ears pricked forward. The cow danced in place, happy to have company.
“How have you ladies been?” she asked, also glancing at the mare, which was nothing but a shadow in the far corner.
Rosie mooed cheerfully in a very long answer, perhaps a bovine comment on her day.
Amused, Willa heaved the door closed behind her and hurried to light the lantern hung on the closest post. “How about you, little mare?”
The shadow in the back stall didn’t move. Her wary eyes blinked.
“I know the feeling.” The match flared, the wick caught and she shook the match’s flame out carefully. “Austin told me you had a hard experience before you came here, but you don’t need to be afraid of me.”
The mare froze, her eyes wide with uncertainty. The poor little thing. Willa grabbed the three-legged stool from the corner and the clean milk pail from its hook and hauled both into the aisle.
“Moo!” Rosie leaned her chin against the top of the gate and lifted her eyebrows in censure.
“Yes, yes, I won’t forget the grain. And I can see if I did, you would remind me.” She couldn’t exactly say why she was so merry, but today everything felt lighter. Even spring dared to show its face and an old familiar emotion lifted her up—a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Hope. She pried open the barrel lid, and the creak it made drowned out all other noise. She startled when a cool wind puffed against her, swirling her skirts.
“Allow me.” A big gloved hand caught the lid and held it.
Austin. Raindrops glistened on his hat brim and glittered across the line of his shoulders. Her breath caught and his nearness washed over her like heat from a warm and cozy fire. Her stomach felt strange and floaty, like a soap bubble about to pop.
“You’re home early.” Her voice caught, sounding thin and not at all like her own.
“I wanted to have time to give you a driving lesson before it got too dark, but halfway home it started to rain. It’s tough going out there.” The low notes he spoke wrapped around her like a warm blanket, snug and comfortable and she couldn’t step away. He unhooked a small pail from the wall and held it for her.
“Another time then.”
“I promise. Do you want me to take the scoop?”
“What? Oh, no.” She blinked, realizing her hand was still in the barrel holding the grain scoop. She’d been so absorbed by him she’d forgotten what she was doing. It was a mystery how he grabbed her attention. Her gaze stayed centered on him and refused to go anywhere else, which made filling the pail tricky. It was even harder pretending she wasn’t affected by him.
“That’s a lot of grain,” he commented, taking a peek at the bucket.
“I’m trying to make friends with her. With the mare.” What was wrong with her? She could seem to make her mouth work, either. “I thought grain would help.”
“Grain always helps.”
Rosie mooed, as if that were her opinion, too, but it sounded far away, miles away. Everything did—everything except Austin.
Concentrate, Willa, she told herself for all the good it did. The scoop sank into the grain but she couldn’t tell how much was in it when she aimed for the pail. The rush of kernels spilling into the bucket told her she’d hit her mark, but all she could see was Austin half-in and half-out of the shadows, with a day’s growth stubbling his jaw and caring softening his granite face.
This was very disconcerting. What was the matter with her? It had to be gratitude. That’s what she was feeling, that’s all and nothing else. What else could it be?
Mystery solved. Relieved, she left the scoop in the barrel, hoping she had enough in her pail. Austin didn’t say anything, so maybe she did. Something else filled her—longing—as she eased around his big frame. He stole the oxygen from the air, making it hard to breathe, and her knees wobbled as she walked away. Best to ignore it.
“I stopped by the mercantile on my way home.” He turned to heft the door shut against the battering wind. “I remembered what you said about knitting. I had Mrs. Pole choose some yarn for you, something to make for the baby.”
“You did that?” Surprise crept across her face as she clutched the grain pail in her arms.
“Sure. There’s no reason you shouldn’t have picked out what you wanted, but I did it on impulse. If I’d planned it, I would have asked what you wanted over breakfast.” He patted Calvin’s neck. “Mrs. Pole said you can always trade it in if you don’t like it. I just thought you might want to get started. Time’s a wastin’.”
Whew, that was a long explanation, he told himself. Maybe he was trying to pretend what he felt for her was casual and that he wasn’t all wrapped up in her. That he didn’t spend nearly every waking hour of the day thinking of her. Calvin gave a snort and grabbed at the Stetson’s brim. He lifted his muzzle high, intentionally keeping the hat out of Austin’s reach.
Funny guy. He made an unsuccessful grab at the hat and the gelding preened with delight. It was hard to notice, what with watching Willa the way he did. He couldn’t look away. He didn’t even want to blink. She held him spellbound simply standing in the aisle. Dark wisps framing her face caressed the sides of her cheeks the way his fingers ached to.
“I would love to get started on a project.” Happiness swept across her, upturning the corners of her mouth and animating her eyes in a way he’d never seen before. “Berry, Delia and Evelyn promised to write down their favorite baby patterns for me.”
“Good.” He bent to unhitch the horse, his fingers working quickly. He liked knowing that she could see his gesture for what it was. He’d wanted to do something for her, that was all. There was always the chance a knitting project could distract her from her determination to excel at every aspect of housekeeping.
“I’m starting to realize how much I need to get done.” Willa didn’t seem to notice as Rosie leaned against her stall door and dipped her nose into the grain bucket. Jowls worked and grain disappeared and Willa didn’t respond. Her gaze stayed on his, shrinking the distance between them.
“The next six months will zip by before you know it.” He released Calvin from his collar, hardly aware of anything but the woman holding the pail. During his day at work, he’d missed her presence, the melody of her voice and the way his pulse caught when her honest blue eyes met his.
“I thought I had plenty of time until Evelyn told me all the things she’s already made. I don’t have a single piece of clothing ready, not even a blanket. I don’t want to get caught short come October. I want to be a good mother and have what the baby will need.”
“We’ll make sure to be ready for him. Or her,” he added, giving Calvin a pat before sweeping the wrapped bundle of yawn from the sleigh sea
t. “You’re not alone in this, right? I’m here to help you.”
“I know, Austin. Thank you. You have no notion how much I appreciate you.” She tilted her head back to look at him. Soft little tendrils stroked her face again, tempting him even more to do the same. He swallowed hard, holding back the urge to kiss the worry away from the corner of her lips.
There he went, thinking about kissing her again, this convenient bride of his. He reached over to take the bucket before Rosie ate more than her share. In the corner, the little mare watched them, her nose up to scent the grain, but she didn’t come close.
“Just doin’ my job as a husband,” he drawled, once again trying to be casual when what he felt wasn’t casual at all. He leaned over the mare’s stall and poured grain into her trough. The animal watched him with wary eyes, keeping her distance. At least Willa was comfortable letting him close to her. She didn’t stiffen in the relatively close quarters of the aisle when he brushed close. “I wouldn’t want you to decide I wasn’t good enough, annul this marriage and find a better man.”
“I can’t see that happening.” She ran a careful finger across the soft skeins of lightweight yarn peeking out of their package. “Then again, I haven’t met any of the eligible men in town yet. Berry made it a point to let me know you are one of many men around these parts who couldn’t find a wife.”
“Yes, but unlike me, those other men all have something lacking.” He winked, petted Rosie’s nose and emptied the bucket in her trough. “Those other men aren’t worth even a look.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then it’s a good thing you found me.” Laughter twinkled like blue dreams in her eyes. Nothing could be more exquisite. She tilted her head to one side, studying him through the thick dark curls of her lashes. “I guess I’d better stick with you.”
“Guess so.” He moved away with the empty bucket, or at least he meant to. Funny how his feet didn’t carry him away from her like he told them to. He seemed stuck in place, unable to step away from the dazzle of her smile, breathing in her rose-and-woman scent until his lungs threatened to burst. Tenderness welled up too strong to hold back. He swallowed hard, but it clung to his voice, vibrating in the low notes, revealed. “Do you like the yarn?”
“It’s beautiful. It’s perfect.” She was luminous, gleaming with emotions soft and gentle, something that could be the start of caring. Her gaze boldly met his, unafraid, no longer reserved, filled with what looked like trust.
“Mrs. Pole said you’d want something neutral, that could go with either a boy or a girl.” The words stuttered out of him, not sounding like his normal easygoing self. Then again, his heart thundered in his ears so loudly, he couldn’t hear well enough to tell.
“The yellow is a beautiful shade, lemony and cheerful. It’s soft.”
“Yes, soft.” He swallowed hard, staring at her mouth again, trying hard to concentrate on the yarn when all he could see was the satin of her lips, slightly parted.
“I’m going to start with little socks.” Unaware, she ran her fingertip over the fragile strand of wool. “Socks are practical.”
“Good idea.” He felt Rosie nudge him square in the middle of his back, but he didn’t budge. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Calvin in the aisle, waiting to be rubbed down. The gelding gave a toss of his head, his teeth still gripped on the brim of the Stetson. The black mare stayed in the shadows, her dark gaze silently watching.
“I can’t tell you what this means, Austin. What you’ve already given this baby is enough.”
“What do you mean?” He hadn’t done so much. Not yet, anyway. “There isn’t much I can do until October. I know a little about rocking babies. I’m an uncle three times over, you know.”
“Oh, I know.” Willa dared to reach out and lay a hand on his chest, right above the rapid-fire beat of his heart. He covered her hand with his, keeping her trapped there. Could she feel what she did to him? How she made him react to her? Hard to tell. Looking down at her with emotion tucked into the corners of her face, so real and earnest he’d never seen the like.
“Such a nice house to live in. Plenty of good food on the table. Medical care. The doctor’s visit went well today. Everything is fine as long as I gain more weight.” She smiled up at him. Such a beautiful smile. “But this life you’re able to give him—or her. Fine warm things to wear, a real family. He—or she—will have aunts, uncles, a grandfather, cousins and you. The baby will have you.”
With the way she gazed up at him as if he’d hung the moon, maybe he’d better make things real clear. “I was teasing you before about all those other men. I’m not sure how I compare. I’m not all that you seem to think I am.”
“I think you are.” She went up on tiptoe, so sweet she made his eyes burn. She leaned in, the tendrils of her hair tickling his chin and catching on his day’s stubble. The tenderness rising up inside him threatened to take over as the warm satin of her lips brushed his cheek.
Hell, he was hooked. There was no going backward. There was nothing to be done about it. I love you, he thought as she slipped away, the yarn skeins in her arms. She set them on top of the grain barrel.
He could deny it no longer. He was in love with a woman who could never love him.
How was this all going to work out? He didn’t know, but judging by the hurt already in his heart, not well.
* * *
Perched on the wooden stool, Willa leaned her forehead against Rosie’s warm side. Milk zinged into the pail as she gently squeezed. The cow stood patiently eating away at the fresh hay in her feeder.
She couldn’t see Austin from behind Rosie, but her ears had fine-tuned themselves to his every sound. The rustle of his movements in the straw as he readied Calvin’s stall for the night, the low murmur of his voice as he spoke to his horse or the timid little mare and the pad of his boots in the aisle, it all moved through her like a beloved song.
She listened, ears straining for his next sounds as she stripped the last of the milk from Rosie’s udder. She heard the jingle of the harness as he put it away, the metallic clink as he stowed Calvin’s grooming tools and the creak as a stall gate opened.
“I was going to come in here and finish up, but you beat me to it.” Straw crackled as his big black boots came into sight. “Let me get that. I have to make myself useful somewhere.”
“Uh—” She didn’t exactly know why her tongue tied up in an unexpected knot. As the lingering effects of his rumbling baritone moved through her, she looked up the long length of his denim-encased legs, up his muscled torso to the wide set of his shoulders. My, but he was a terribly well-built man. That truth had never quite struck her like this before. His manly strength seemed so overpowering her fingers itched to settle on him and feel once again his iron strength.
Goodness, what was wrong with her? She stood up slowly, laying both hands on Rosie’s flank for support. Perhaps she was light-headed from leaning over for so long. Yes, that had to be it because her knees definitely felt weak as he ambled closer. His masculine heat seemed to sizzle across her skin as he leaned so close to her she could see the raindrops still damp in his thick dark hair. A cowlick sat at the crown of his head in a swirl. Her fingertips yearned to reach out and smooth down that whirl of hair.
“That’s a good girl,” he crooned, talking low to Rosie. “Your water tub is full. You’re all ready for the night.”
The cow looked over her shoulder at him, mooing gently in return. Those big chocolate-brown eyes shone with adoration as the cow gazed at Austin.
Willa didn’t blame her one bit. It was hard not to admire him as he swept the stool away and turned to her with an intense focus. She felt like the only woman in the world.
“Whew, listen to it rain.” Austin tipped his head, listening to the drumbeat battering the roof. Tinkling sounds rang everywhere as
the snow began to melt. Water dripped off the eaves and plopped on the snowy ground, and the music of it serenaded her as she stumbled through the gate and into the aisle.
The black mare watched with unblinking eyes, poised as if ready to leap away at any danger.
“Good night, girl.” She gripped the top rail, breathless as the man sidled up behind her. The steely wall of his chest wasn’t exactly touching her back but she felt as if it were. Heat swirled down her spine and left her dizzy.
Maybe she should have taken a longer nap this afternoon, she thought. Then she couldn’t think anymore, as her entire mind went blank because Austin leaned closer. His chest pressed against her right shoulder blade and when he spoke, his words vibrated through her from her fingertips to her toes.
“Good night, little mare.” Kindness layered his voice, so rich and deep it was impossible to ignore. Curls of emotion came to life around her heart—her heart that remained worn and lifeless, scarred and empty.
The mare didn’t move, watching them from the shadows where she felt safe.
Willa knew how that felt. Lantern light licked over her as Austin moved away.
“C’mon.” His easygoing drawl hooked her and she turned toward him.
“Let’s go in,” he said. “I’m starving. That lunch you packed me didn’t help one bit. It was so tasty, I kept thinking, hmm, I wonder what she’s making for supper?”
“It was just a roast beef sandwich.” Honestly, the man could flatter.
“I’m not sure all you did to make it taste good and I don’t care, as long as you do it again tomorrow.” He swung the milking stool into place and set the milk pail down next to her package of yarn. “The cornbread, the cookies, the leftover pie from Sunday. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”