“I’d be delighted.” She finished the food and drink, breathing deeply to quiet the few quivers that remained. Finding a spot to stand beside the littered table, she sighed, forcing serenity into her voice. “I didn’t remember tonight’s meal was a celebration. What’s the occasion?”
“Eliza?” Kitty said, stirring something in a large pot hanging over the flame. “I believe you should have the honors of explaining.” Kitty looked back at Anna with a sprite spark in her expression. “She tells it best.”
“Oh?” Anna answered with a laugh.
Eliza peered up from the table, her fingers covered in dough. “Today marks the day we first came to Sandwich.”
Anna grinned, her nerves beginning to ease. “When was this?”
“Two years ago,” Eliza turned back to the pastry. “Each day has been a joy ever since.”
A curt laugh shot from Kitty. “Well, you remember things a mite differently than I.”
Eliza glanced behind again, a flash of warning in her eye, but it vanished the next instant. “Life provides trial, but that is to be expected.”
Kitty’s cheeks reddened as she lifted a cast-iron pot onto the hook above the fire. “Well said, Liza. I suppose I need to improve my outlook.” She smirked at Anna. “You should tell her about how you and Thomas met.” Kitty pointed to the carrots. “Anna, would you be willing to chop those?”
She nodded, infused with a kind of exotic excitement. She’d never chopped carrots. William had harvested a few of theirs, but she’d yet to use them as he had already hauled them to the cold cellar. Not knowing what to do with them, she’d left them there.
Anna moved to the table and retrieved the knife. “You weren’t married when you came here?”
Eliza’s face bloomed. “Nay, we hardly knew each other.”
“She was love-struck from the moment she saw him.” Kitty leaned over the table as if she were tattling. “I knew they would be married.”
Eliza’s brows shot up then instantly plummeted as a happy-irritated smile graced her face. “You did not.” She reached over and flicked flour from her fingers at Kitty’s face.
A giggle shot from Kitty’s throat. She looked at Anna, pointing an accusatory finger at her sister. “You see how I am treated?” She kissed Eliza on the cheek.
The strings around Anna’s heart loosened as she watched the sisters banter. How genuine they were. She’d been so surprised by their kindness at her and William’s wedding. It seemed unreal that a person could show so much love to a stranger. Yet here they were, including her in such an intimate way.
To have friends. A smile warmed from within. A joy she’d never truly known.
“Well,” Eliza said, “if we are speaking of who was love-struck I think it only fair to say you were purely besotted with Nathaniel.”
Kitty’s mouth scrunched as she looked upward. “’Tis true, I cannot deny it. Though I did try to suppress my feelings, it was all in vain.” She returned her smile to Anna. “Now, you must tell us…how are you enjoying married life?”
Putting her attention back on the carrots, Anna shrugged a single shoulder, fighting the sudden and alluring fog of memory. His scent, his tender hands, the husky sound of his voice. How he’d nearly touched his lips to hers…
“Anna?” Kitty asked. “Everything is well I hope?”
She gave a quick shake of her head to dispel the trance. “Aye, of course.” She rested the knife, mentally surveying the little mountain of carrot rounds. “’Twill take time of course, but we are becoming more familiar and I should like to believe our lives will be happy.”
Kitty leaned in. “Has he kissed you?”
“Kitty!” Eliza shot her sister a look. “Such a thing should not be asked.” She turned to Anna, a sly tilt to her features. “Unless of course you should like to share any such news.”
Anna’s face burned. She watched intently as her knife sliced the shrinking carrot.
“He has!” Kitty giggled. “I can see it in your face.”
Blood poured into Anna’s neck and cheeks. She peeked up quickly. Both Eliza and Kitty were motionless, their eyes round as the plates on the table and mouths slightly open. Were they surprised? Happy? Their looks said they wanted to know more. Never having had a sister of her own, never having had much female companionship at all, Anna debated how much more to reveal. Unable to stifle the grin that urged for freedom, she acquiesced to the beckoning need to share with someone. “Nay, he has not kissed me. But nearly…”
Kitty tilted her head back. “Oh! Such delightful tension.” She plucked a sticky pan from a pile at the end of the table and dunked it into a large pot of hot water. “Well, when he has finally kissed you, I should hope you would tell us.”
Eliza shot a loving but warning stare at her sister while her words were directed to Anna. “Not that we wish you to divulge anything you would prefer to keep silent, of course,” she said. “We simply hope for love to bloom between you.” She smirked. “And to be made privy to any romantic details you deem fit to share.”
Anna grinned in reply and looked down, her face heating all the more as she hovered over the one word that filled her mind. Love. Such a word. If a lifetime of equal partnership were accomplished that would be more than she would have dreamed possible. But William had nearly kissed her…why? She blew away the thought with an exhale. Men had urges that needed to be fulfilled. That she knew. Perhaps that was all. For certainly she would be a fool to ever consider otherwise.
“Anna?” Eliza asked, thankfully drawing her away from such thoughts. “There’s a pudding boiling at the back of the fire. Would you be willing to check and see if it is done? It should be about time to remove it.”
Nodding, Anna started toward the fire then froze. Done? She hadn’t the slightest idea how to tell if a pudding was done. Her hands began to sweat. Stooping to the pan resting on the ashes, she peered into the pot. A strange lump tied in a cloth rested at the bottom of the water. She licked her lip and turned behind her. Eliza was still focused on the bread.
She tapped her fingers against her knee. Perhaps she could retrieve it and then if it wasn’t done, they could simply return it to the pot? She tapped harder. That might not do. From what little she knew of cooking, to do such a thing to a dish before it was completely finished cooking might ruin it altogether.
“Anna?” Kitty asked, turning to her from her place at the work-table. “Do you…would you…” She closed her mouth and smiled as if searching for what to say. “Sometimes it is difficult to know when a pudding is ready.” Wiping her hands on her apron, she came and knelt beside Anna. “Let me have a look.” After poking it with the end of a spoon, she shook her head. “It will need another hour or so.”
Breathing easier, Anna followed Kitty back to the table.
Eliza pointed to the basin by the window. “If you’re finished with the potatoes, Kitty, you and Anna could prepare the fish.”
“Certainly.” Kitty brushed her palms together in excitement, looking at Anna with wide eyes. “The crowning course of the meal.”
Fish?
Kitty removed the rest of the dirty pans before bringing the wrapped fish to the end of the large cooking table.
Anna watched as Kitty unwrapped the creature, revealing the white and silver scales, fins, and open mouth. Anna gagged and put a hand to her lips as the unmistakable scent of fish assailed her. The creature’s large, glassy eye stared, as if to scold her for what she planned to do to it, daring her to come a step closer. Holding back another lurch of her stomach, she spun and stared at the yeast rolls that could not stare back.
“Anna, are you well?”
Now both nausea and shame swam in her stomach. “I’m perfectly well. Forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive,” Kitty said, her hand at Anna’s elbow.
Still, Anna couldn’t turn around for fear the creature might rise from the table and snap its mouth at her.
Silence circled the room and Anna could only guess the co
nversation going on between her friends’ wide-eyed expressions. And why shouldn’t they be curious? Anna tried to make them believe that this kind of life was all she’d ever known. But the audacity of such a lie became more apparent every day.
Truth, girl. You should have told the truth.
“Never mind the fish. It can wait.” Kitty took Anna’s hand. “How would you feel about chopping an onion?”
Chopping, aye. That was simple enough. She released a breath through tight lips. “Of course. That would be fine.”
Kitty reached for a vegetable-laden basket and retrieved a large, white onion. “You did so well with the carrots, I know this onion is in good hands.”
The compliment, as small as it was, picked a few pieces of her shattered spirit from the floor. She felt like a child being praised for trying something new, and somehow the comparison hugged her drooping spirit rather than stung it. For she was young in terms of such things, and for that, she determined to be less ashamed and more adventurous, despite the facade she must try to keep believable.
Eliza rested both hands against the table and lowered her head. After a few deep breaths, she put a hand on her head then her stomach. “Forgive me, ladies, but I fear I must sit down. I think I’ve been standing too long.”
Kitty hurried to Eliza’s side. “Are you having pains?”
“A few. But not consistent.”
Kitty shot Anna a look, her eyes large and lips tight. The expression disappeared when she turned back to her sister. “Well, your time will be here any day, we’ve known that for some time.” She took Eliza’s arm. “I’ll set you in your bedchamber and help you put your feet up.” At the door, she turned to Anna. “You’ll be all right for a moment?”
Nodding, Anna brushed the air in front of her. “Take your time making her comfortable. And should you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Eliza glanced over her shoulder, thanking her with a nod, and for the first time Anna noticed the perspiration that lined Eliza’s forehead. She shifted her feet, her stomach dropping. How selfish she’d been not to notice Eliza was unwell. Sending up a silent prayer for her friend, Anna turned to the onion.
She breathed in deep, releasing the air through her nose. Now, this was something she could do. A harmless vegetable. No scales, no menacing eye to stare at her.
With the crinkly outer layers removed, Anna sliced it in half and instantly the scent bit her nose. Not an unpleasant scent, but powerful indeed. She sliced again and again, marveling at the way the circular layers hugged so perfectly. She sniffed and her eyes began to burn. Blinking, she sliced once more and suddenly her eyes stung with such force, she was powerless to keep them open.
Sniffing more, she put down the knife and pressed her wrists into her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks. What had happened? The stinging worsened and she pressed her apron against her face. Come mai? She blotted her eyes, a growl in her throat. What a fool I am. What have I done wrong? At least Eliza and Kitty were not here to see her dreadful display.
Not to mention William.
CHAPTER TWELVE
William knocked on the Watson’s door then tapped the dust from his boots against the step while he waited. When no one answered, he knocked again, this time following after Nathaniel’s bold habit of opening the door.
“Hello?”
The parlor was empty. Only a few sounds shuffled out from the kitchen.
“Mrs. Watson?” Still no answer.
He followed the sound of muffled sniffles to the kitchen and halted in the doorway. Anna stood by the table alone, her face in her apron.
“Anna?” He strode forward, hand outstretched. “What’s happened?”
With a gasp, she jerked her hands down then turned away to dab at her eyes. “Aye, I am…I am well.”
Well? Nay. He reached for her, tugging at her elbow and asked again. “What’s happened? Tell me.” When she refused to look up, worry knit up his back. Was she hurt, sick perhaps?
More tender this time, he reached in front and took her other arm, turning her to face him. “Why are you crying?”
The tears on her soft cheeks and the red rimming her crystal-colored eyes pricked his memory. A protective shield shot up, guarding from incoming fire. The former Anna had done this. Used her tears to get her way, and he’d met every pleading request. His neck tensed. Do not give in, Henry. You know nothing about her. But he cut down the advancing fears before they could scar him with their sabers. There was something too real about this woman he had married—something far too innocent for him to equate her with the Anna of his past. At least, not completely.
She glanced up, dabbing at her cheeks. “Forgive me, I don’t know why I’m crying.” Sniffing, she pointed at the partially chopped onion on the table. “I was cutting and—”
“You hurt yourself.” He took her hands and turned them over, prepared to find a gash in her flesh, her fingers dripping red. But they were not, thank the Lord. Nay, they were not hurt, but they were…soft…and slender and warm. His thoughts slowed as he stared at her dainty hands in his. He gripped slightly stronger, moving his thumb against the silken skin between her knuckles. His heartbeat roared in his ears.
Looking up, his gaze twined with hers then slid to her parted mouth.
He cleared his throat and released his grip, attempting to clear the husky sound from his voice. But he failed. “You are not hurt then?”
Anna blinked, her own sweet voice almost a whisper. “Nay.”
She stilled, her misty eyes staring at him. Those same eyes that had begged him nearer the night before. He wiped his hand against his leg, hoping to brush away the tingling in his fingers.
“If you didn’t cut yourself, what happened?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged and pointed to the half-chopped onion. “I was simply cutting when suddenly my eyes started to burn and I couldn’t stop crying.”
William thrust his head forward. He gauged her expression and looked from her to the onion and back again. Could she be serious? He choked a laugh that worked its way up his chest.
Anna stared, her eyebrows pressed down. “Why do you look at me like that?”
“This cannot be your first time cutting an onion?”
“Why would you ask such a thing?”
The words fumbled so quickly from her mouth and her face turned such a deep shade of pink, the truth was obvious. And delightfully funny. Boiling bacon was one thing, but never having cut an onion? A smile flourished over his face as he looked at the sweet, innocent, determined women he’d married.
Her full lips pressed tight, and the way her fists flew to her hips made the laugh he’d tried to suppress bubble to the surface. He put a fist to his mouth and ground his teeth, attempting to smother the amusement that would not be contained.
She straightened, speaking loudly as if it would drown out the merry chuckle. “Pray, what do you find so amusing?”
After a few attempts to clear his throat and press away his smile, his answer came out smooth. “A cut onion can make a person cry, Anna.”
The tight lines around her mouth smoothed and her eyes went wide. She flung a glance to the offending vegetable. “You jest.”
“’Tis a well-known fact.” William stopped and ventured where he feared he ought not. “That is, ’tis well-known for anyone accustomed to work in a kitchen.”
Her shapely chin popped up and her mouth formed a hard line. “You think I have no skills in the kitchen.” She motioned to the door. “Unlike Eliza and Kitty, who are accomplished at such things.”
Tread carefully. “I simply think ’tis…unusual for a woman, such as yourself, to be unfamiliar with performing certain tasks unless she was brought up in a class of people where such labors were not of her concern.”
The suspicions he’d harbored now finally voiced, he waited, refusing to move his eyes from her should the language of her body bring credibility to his words.
Her throat shifted and her gaze dropped. She swal
lowed, and after a heavy stretch of silence, answered in a hushed voice. “I did tell you I would try my best, and I do.”
The sight of her sorrow-filled eyes smacked him with guilt. He doubted her story of poverty, aye, and with the answer now clear, more questions beseeched their unveiling. But he could not force her to speak, and any more prodding would only make her pull further away from him.
“I know you do.” He stepped forward and reached for her arm. “And you do well.”
“I do not.” She refused to meet his gaze and wrapped her arms tighter around her middle. “I see how little you eat. I am no fool.” A hard, breathy laugh left her mouth. “My cooking is not fit to consume.”
Blast it. Why had he brought it up? Had he known she felt her lack of skill so keenly, he would have bit back the words before they had a chance to leave his tongue. He shifted his feet, praying the levity he tapped into his words made it into her heart. “Man does not live on biscuits alone, hmm?”
A slight smile leaned on one half of her mouth. “Burned biscuits.”
William tilted his head, allowing half a smile to play on his face. Did that mean she was in good humor and not ruminating over her shortcomings? He continued on, the truth of his words resting deeper in his spirit than even he thought they would. “I would rather enjoy your burned biscuits than any made by Eliza or Kitty.”
She tilted her head, flinging him a quick look. “I hardly believe that is true.”
“Believe what you like.” He moved his fingers down her arm until they twined with hers, and once again those pleasurable tingles sprayed over his skin. “But I will enjoy them whether burned or under baked or golden, because you are my wife and I care for you.”
He may as well have said he loved her. Anna’s gaze shot to his and held there, searching. Her lips parted as the questioning look deepened and it took unearthly strength not to let his mind wander where it wished to. He could not permit such thoughts. Not when his tongue had slipped and said something so foolish. Though as the words floated between them, their truth settled. He did care. How much, he couldn’t tell. But ’twas certainly more than the day they spoke vows. And ’twas true—he did enjoy eating her biscuits, for the simple fact that she had baked them.
So Rare a Gift (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 3) Page 18