5

“I didn’t deserve to know?” she repeated.

“A poor choice of words.” It still pointed to the issue he’d not resolved. How could they move forward if this is what she thought of him? How could he have been so wrong about her, about what he thought he’d heard from the Lord about her? He should start to purge her from his mind.

Snow salted the path before them outlining tree branches against a gray sky.

“Would ye have believed me?”

“I don’t know.”

A slice of anger dissipated in her honesty. “Right. Ye needed to see Richard.”

She spun in her saddle to face him. “I didn’t go there for that. Ye asked to come with me, remember?”

“Yes, but ye could have told me.”

She righted herself to the front. “Yes. I should have told ye, and if I could have gotten a message to him, I should have warned Richard.”

Yes, she should have. The scowl of remorse on her face did the trick, the last of his anger disappeared.

Thickening snow didn’t slow the horses’ amble on the narrow path through the woods. They walked for some minutes in the midst of snow heavy branches.

“Are ye warm enough?”

She nodded as a ghost of a smile lifted the corners of her lips. “I told ye, snow is…magic.”

Everything he’d felt today seemed all at once to be fired up and racing through his blood to fill up his heart until it would burst. He needed to walk. “Can we stop for just a minute?”

Ann pulled her pacer to a stop.

Reed dismounted.

She slipped down into his offered hands. She stepped away as soon as her feet were stable.

“About that night.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Richard has forgiven ye.”

Snowflakes landed gently on her upturned face. Being this close to her tempted him to forget his reservations and take her into his arms. “That’s not what I wanted—let’s walk.”

The path was just wide enough for two. Reed took the reins of both horses. They fell into step behind him. He took a deep breath and related the events of that horrible night over five years ago. About Hugh’s leadership and Reed’s role. “Apparently I’m easily led when I’m in my cups.”

“Does Richard know about Hugh?”

“I’m not sure. We’ve talked about my responsibility. Honestly, it was my fault. It was Hugh’s idea, but he’s not strong enough to tip an outhouse. Only I could have done that.”

“Was he there?”

He nodded. “He ran when he heard Richard scream.”

“Why did ye invite him to yer house for Christmas?”

“Mother did that. She assumed I’d want to see all my old friends. In fact, I only wanted to see ye.”

She paused. Her storm-blue eyes riveted their gaze to his. “Me?”

He stepped closer. So close that he could have wrapped her into the circle of his arms.

She didn’t move.

“Ye are the only true friend—except for Jacob—that I ever had.”

“We hardly saw each other after that.” Her tone teased, but her eyes betrayed the seriousness of the question. She did care.

His hands came to rest on her arms.

She poked a finger at his chest. “I thought ye liked Betsy Carson?”

He ran his hands down her arms. “I was angry.”

“So was I.”

She didn’t feel angry now. She was soft, supple. He wanted to pull her close and kiss her until she couldn’t stand up. “I know. Ye were the only one who told me the truth. My father paid. Ye chastised me like he never could.”

Her breath caught. Her supple body stiffened under his hands. “He didn’t beat ye?”

“I was too big by then. And besides, he didn’t think a farmer like Hobson was worth his time. He paid for the repair and washed his hands of the whole thing. I was set to leave for school anyway. But ye, dear Ann.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Ye told me to grow up. Showed me the consequences of my actions.” He looked to the tops of the trees. “I went to see Richard before I left. Gave him what money I had and wrote to him. Together we modernized his farm. While at school, I met a new group of friends. They introduced me to Jesus. I knew ye’d be the only one who’d believe me. It was yer faith that brought me to mine.”

The stormy blue of her eyes deepened.

Reed held her gaze while all he longed for bloomed between them. Her gaze dropped to his lips. Her mouth softened. He touched his lips to hers. She leaned farther into him, sliding her fingers into his hair. He pressed her closer and deepened the kiss. Never had anything felt so right. He pulled away before he forgot himself, and tucked her next to his pounding heart.

~*~

Ann stood in his arms until he noticed the drifts of snow piling up on the horses. “Shall we ride?”

She agreed though she knew the snow would never be as magical as standing in his arms. Good grief, what was she thinking? This was Reed Archer. Maimer of friends. Son of a wicked, hard man who beat his children. How could she feel…she wasn’t actually certain what she felt. But whatever it was, how could she feel it for him?

The taste of him lingered on her lips.

Being held by him, talking to him in the snow. It all felt right, but it couldn’t be. She needed to think. To talk to Mattie.

They didn’t speak the rest of the way home, though when the road widened and he reached for her hand, she let him take it. She didn’t want to hurt him, at least not while she figured this out.

“Reed.”

The smile he gave her reflected the welcome of the candlelight glowing from the windows of the Hall up ahead.

She hesitated. Truly, she didn’t want to hurt him. “I need time to think.”

He pulled his hand back.

“Let’s just continue the way we planned for the whole two weeks.”

His smile returned. “I won’t give up on ye, Annie Wright. I’ve waited a long time.”

She cast her gaze down to hide the effect on her unruly heart. Just two hours ago, she’d have been annoyed at his arrogance and not giddy like a school girl with her first crush. If she’d been on her stallion, she’d have raced him to the stable. On her pacer, she just kicked it up a notch and arrived in the yard with him at her elbow.

“Will ye ride with me tomorrow morning?” he asked as she slid once again into his hands.

Her blush burned. “Yes.”

A tantalizing aroma laced the smoke weaving its way through the snow filled yard.

Ann put a hand to her stomach to stop its rumbling.

“Is it deep?” Mattie met them at the door.

“About an inch, but it won’t stop anytime soon.”

Ann changed from her riding habit into a gown of deep indigo wool. She went downstairs with her workbasket to the sitting room to wait for the call for dinner. Ann sat next to Mattie on the warm side of an eighteen light window watching the snow fall and ignoring the doll gown in her lap.

Mattie angled her embroidery toward the light of a bayberry-scented, tapered candle. “How did yer outing go?”

Mattie’s face pinked and she cast her gaze down once more. “We rode until the snow began to fall. We were obliged to come back for the older ladies were feeling the cold.”

Ann wiggled her eyebrows. “That would have been my mother, I’m sure.”

Mattie smiled. “We had been out for quite some time. I don’t blame them for wanting to come inside.”

“Ye are always so kind.”

“Nonsense. Coming in out of the cold worked quite well for us. Outside we are always with other people. Coming inside meant that Jacob and I could actually speak alone for a few minutes.”

Excitement hummed in the room.

“And…”

A large smile lit her face. “And he’s still talking with Father. They called for Mother just before ye arrived.”

Joy billowed Ann from her chair. The doll gown stuck to the wool of her skirt. “And are ye happy?”

Mattie took Ann’s hands in her own and spun them around, eventually catching Ann in a hug. “I don’t have words to describe how I feel.”

“Mattie?” Mrs. Lawson, countenance beaming, rounded the door. “Yer father and I would like to speak to ye for a few minutes.”

Mattie froze and then a frisson of fluster agitated her first step. She clasped her hands in front of her waist as though she’d grabbed a lightning bug and didn’t want it to get away.

Ann heard the two whispering down the hallway toward the library.

“I think we will have good news from Miss Mattie today.” Betsy and the Vicar swept into the room. Betsy sat across from Ann.

The Vicar took a spot next to a window across the room.

“Working on yer hope chest?”

Ann felt the pink rise to her cheeks. She retrieved the doll dress from her skirt. “No. It’s a doll dress for my niece, my sister Olivia’s daughter.” Glad to have something to keep her from conversation, she stuck the needle into the seam.

“Working on yer hope chest?” Hugh bellowed into the room. He plopped on the settee next to Betsy.

“She’s working on a doll for her niece.”

Ann fumed. She barely knew the man. Of course, she wouldn’t be fuming if Reed hadn’t opened his heart today. No matter. The fact was she did know and could do nothing about it. It was also true that she barely knew the man and had no way to judge if the same incident that had drawn Reed to Christ had made a brother out of Hugh as well. Though his behavior caused her to seriously doubt it. She pierced the fabric again and began to draw the thread through the seam.

Mattie and Jacob returned to the room hand in hand.

“Well?” Hugh demanded.

A beaming Jacob sought approval from a glowing Mattie.

Mattie gave a slight nod and turned her gaze back to the room.

“We had planned on waiting to announce our news, but since ye are all here…” he glanced around the room, “except Reed.”

“I’m here.” Reed’s deep and commanding voice calmed the bristle Ann felt at Hugh’s presumed leadership of the room. Reed took the place behind Ann’s chair.

“Ah, there ye are. Good.” Jacob rubbed his hands together. “Well. Mattie has agreed…that is, Miss—”

“She’s made ye the happiest man in the world by agreeing to be yer wife.” Hugh’s announcement dripped with sarcasm. How dare he presume? How dare he make such an announcement in such a voice. Hot anger gripped Ann’s middle.

“That’s right…” Jacob’s voice drifted into a cacophony of glee that filled the room.

Ann glanced up at Reed and agreed with the scowl she saw on his face. She made her way to her friend. She pushed away her annoyance when Mattie turned her now radiant countenance on her. If Mattie didn’t notice or did not care about the slight, Ann didn’t need to carry the grudge either.

Talk of the bride and groom and all sorts of arrangements dominated the conversation the rest of the evening, the next day, and the day after that. A beaming Jacob no longer hid his regard, and Mattie blossomed under his attention.

Never had Ann seen her friend in such joy.

And then there was the change in Reed. He stood by her side nearly every moment, beating Griff for her hand at backgammon and cards. Dancing with her, escorting her. In short, he answered her petition to be attentive. Enough that Griff turned his attention to Ruby, who appeared to welcome his change in focus.

Three days after Jacob’s announcement, all but the older guests were showing signs of restlessness.

“Even ye have to be tiring of all this snow, Miss Ann.” Hugh challenged as they once again sat at cards.

“I never tire of snow.” Ann countered.

“I much prefer the summer.” Griff offered. “The activities are more varied. There is always something to do outside in summer.”

Across from him, Ruby nodded in agreement.

“I prefer to be outside un-accosted by insects.” Ann answered.

“Fair point, but the opportunities are limited in snow, don’t ye think?” Hugh smirked.

“On the contrary. There are things one can do in the snow that ye cannot in the summer. Perhaps we can agree that they both have their attractions and leave it at that.”

Hugh rolled his eyes.

Ann cast her gaze to the miserable hand of cards she’d been dealt. She stood as soon as the hand was over. “That’s enough for me tonight.”

Reed rose and met her in the middle of the floor. “Walk with me?”

She threaded her hand through his outstretched arm. He draped her cloak around her shoulders, and the brush of his fingers sent tendrils of warmth to her belly. The kiss he’d given days ago tingled on her lips as it had nearly every moment since. Despite her reservations, she wished he’d kiss her again.

A frozen wonderland awaited them in the garden. Bushes and trees encased in ice sparkled in the light of a full moon. Snow still suppressed all sound except the crunch of their boots over the uncleared path.

“I have been waiting to see you alone for days.” He tucked her a little closer to his warmth. “Are ye pleased for Mattie?”

“Beyond pleased. She’s waited for this moment for a long time.”

“How long?”

“Almost since we were children.”

His gaze remained fixed on some distant tree. “That is a long time.” He brought his focus back to her. “Ann, what is it that ye want from yer life?”

“Ye are the first person to ever ask me that question.” To say she was surprised was to misuse the word. Not even her dearest grandfather had asked her that question. It was understood. She was to marry and have children. To support her husband in all he did by providing a warm and loving home.

“I am surprised.”

“I want to be of use to God in the world. To remind people that they are not alone, that God loves them.”

“And ye do not think ye can do that as a wife and mother.” It was a statement of resignation. And for some reason she did not like his resignation one little bit.

“I never said that.”

“Right. Ye said that ye would not marry me.”

“Would yer father support yer mother in a business adventure?” She countered.

“Certainly not.”

She swiped her hand in front of him. “I rest my case.”

He bent toward her. “Yer case is flawed, my dear.”

“Point taken. All right. Would ye support yer wife in a business adventure.”

“I don’t know. It would depend on what it was and how it impacted our family.”

She could use a chair and her whittling knife about now. She’d never heard a man talk like that before, and it would take some time to ponder. Yet she’d never known Reed to be like other men—even before his professed conversion he was unique. Could it be?

“Suppose she wanted to carve animals, make dolls, things like that?” She steeled herself to ask the question. She might as well ask; boldness had worked for them so far. “And maybe sell them?”

“So ye do want to marry?”

Not a blip. Not a blink. A locked door in the furthest reaches of her heart flew open. “Oh, yes, and have lots of children.”

Once again, he looked far off.

She waited until he refocused on her. “Now I have a question for ye.”

He swung his arms wide. “Anything.”

“Did yer father beat ye?”

He deflated and crossed his arms. “Until I could defend myself, yes.”

“I will not allow anyone to beat my children. Not even their father.”

Lips pursed, arm rigid, he said nothing more, but offered his arm. He led them to the far side of the garden.

She’d made him angry.

Too bad.

Ann was mildly surprised that she didn’t fear his anger. When had she started to trust that he wouldn’t hurt her? It didn’t really matter. The unlocked door remained open. He had until the end of Christmas to decide what he would do about it.