Twice Blessed (10 page)

Noah cleared his throat, and she started with a gasp. He stepped down from the wagon. When she started to move, too, he motioned for her to stay where she was. She looked down and saw rain falling into a puddle.

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn't mean to startle you.”

“I'm just a little nervous.” That much was the truth. Talking here in this dusky bower with a man as handsome and enigmatic as Noah Sawyer, even with Sean watching, would have been enough to unnerve her under any circumstances.

He lifted Sean out and then said, “Slide over here, Emma. I'll help you down so you don't ruin your pretty shoes.”

She laughed. She was wearing shoes that were as scuffed as his boots. Doing as he asked, she put her hands on his shoulders while he assisted her down. He released her as soon as her feet touched the ground. She was amazed how disappointed she was that his fingers had not lingered … for just a second.

“Why don't you go up to the house?” he asked. “I'll put Toby here in the barn for the night.”

“I can do that. Sean, run to the house.” She glanced toward where the Ohio was an ebony ribbon wider than it customarily was. “You've already got a lot of work ahead of you here, Noah. If the river rises much more …”

“Don't even say it.”

“It'll ruin your fields.” She frowned as she went to unhook Toby on one side from the wagon while Noah did the same on the far side. “You're behind on your planting.”

“If I till the fields.”

“You aren't going to farm here?”

“I haven't decided yet.” When he glanced across the open meadows that were washed of color by the thin veil of rain, the firm lines of his silhouette teased her finger to run along his aquiline nose and the firm line of his lips.

“But you bought all that seed from me.”

He chuckled as he led Toby away from the wagon. Tossing the quilt back onto the wagon, because the rain was letting up, he said, “Just in case. I can resell it if I decide not to use it. Jim Moore stopped by a few days ago and asked about renting some of the fields to graze his stock.”

“I'm glad to hear that.”

“Really? Why?”

“Jim and his wife have an even dozen children, with one more on the way. Renting out more land will help him increase his herd.”

“You're speaking of cows, not children, I assume.”

Emma smiled. “You assume correctly, although it seems the Moore family grows as fast in the house as the number of head they raise in the fields.”

“Supper!” came a shout from the house.

“I told you Gladys gets crotchety if I'm late.” He took the horse into the barn. When she followed, he asked, “Don't you trust me to look after him?”

“Old Toby can be pretty persnickety about what he eats. No oats at night, or he'll get sick.”

He opened a stall door and slapped Toby on the rump. The horse went in, but gave him a glare that suggested Noah would be sorry for doing that. “Does hay agree with him?”

“Yes, and plenty of water.”

“There's hay in the stall, and I don't think we need to worry about water.” He laughed again when a drop of water fell on the very end of her nose. “The roof could use some work.”

“I hope this is all the rain we get.”

“I do, too.” He held out his hand. “Let's go.”

She hoped he did not notice how her fingers trembled when she put her hand in his. He gave no hint of what he was thinking, and the darkness hid his face as he led her out of the barn. Pausing at the wagon to collect her lantern, he handed it to her, then edged closer. Did he plan to kiss her again? Here in his front dooryard?

The step of the wagon pressed the back of her skirt, giving her no escape when he did not release her hand. But did she want to escape? As she gazed up into the shadows which concealed his eyes, she wanted to become lost once more within them. His fingers slid up her wrist, setting her skin to tingling as if she had grasped a telegraph wire.

He folded his arm, drawing hers up against him. The odor of pine pitch from his woodlot struck her on each breath, but she could think only of the warmth of his fingers against her wrist and the firm muscles woven across his chest. She breathed in tempo with him, aware of how the tips of her breasts would graze that hard wall if the quilts were not between them. Could he tell how her heart beat like thunder rolling across the fields?

“Miss Delancy!”

She started to turn at the young voice, but Noah continued to hold her hand. “Belinda and Sean are waiting for us on the porch,” she whispered.

“I know.” He brushed a strand of hair back under her bonnet, and she closed her eyes to savor the rough texture of his work-toughened skin against her cheek. His finger trailed along her jaw, curving beneath her chin to tilt it toward him. “How about, if it stops raining, I give you a tour of the farm after dinner?”

“It's dark,” she murmured, opening her eyes to discover his dangerously close to hers.

“I know.” He gave a hushed chuckle.

Emma was uncertain what she should say and was spared from having to decide when a whirlwind pushed its way between her and Noah.

Belinda flung one arm around her father and the other around Emma. “It
is
you, Miss Delancy. I told Gladys it was your wagon coming into the yard. Then that boy came up to knock on the door.”

“His name is Sean.”

The little girl nodded as her father took off the quilt and wrapped it around her. “I remember now. What did you bring us?”

Noah squatted so his eyes were even with his daughter's. “She brought us her company along with Sean's for dinner.”

“No candy?”

Emma held out her hand to the little girl while they walked up the hill to the house. “Why don't you ride into town with me tomorrow, and we shall see what is in the candy jar at the store?”

“Can we, Papa?”

“Maybe not tomorrow.” He looked up at Emma, his expression now grim. “We shall have to wait and see in the morning. Right now—”

Belinda's excitement raised her voice. “Right now, come and see Fuzzball, Miss Delancy. He'll want to see you, too.” She grabbed Emma's hand and pulled her toward the house.

Emma looked back over her shoulder to see Noah following as he laughed indulgently. No one could doubt who possessed Noah's heart. He adored his daughter, and that love was returned by Belinda.

A twinge ached within Emma. This was no time to think of how some nights, when she sat with her cats and Butch, she listened for footfalls that would never come. She was not alone. Sean lived with her now, but the child, no matter how hard he was trying to fit in, did not have the steps she longed to hear coming up the walk. She had missed hearing the assertive sound of a man's boots, even though the last man who had walked home to her in the evening had caught her up in his tangled web of treachery and crime.

She had not needed to be alone … if she did not want to be. She could let Noah take her on that tour later. And Noah Sawyer was not the only man around Haven who would be glad to keep the unmarried Emma Delancy from being lonely. She shoved those thoughts out of her head as she swung clasped hands with Belinda and hurried up the four steps to the front porch.

Noah watched as Belinda led Emma and Sean into the house after pointing out the swing on the far side of the porch. The two children giggled eagerly about the idea of using it later.

He should be glad Belinda had intruded when she did. Things were getting out of hand. He could not blame Emma. She had only come to his side to make sure he was not injured.
He
had tugged her into his arms and let the temptation of her soft lips overwhelm his good sense. He could not rid himself of the luscious sensation of Emma against him. She had not stiffened as he had half expected, proving she was not as prudish as she pretended to be. She could not hide the passions that roused more than his curiosity about this lovely woman.

Light glittered from the windows where lace curtains soon would be fluttering out on a spring breeze. As he walked along the porch, the unmistakable scent of chocolate coaxed him to put Emma out of his mind as he lingered over images of rich, dark cake with white sugar frosting.

Even that was impossible.

“Good day in the woodlot?” asked a raspy voice as the screen door slammed close. A woman nearly as tall as he came out onto the porch.

He smiled. “Are you keeping an eye on me, Gladys?”

“Someone has to.” As she rubbed her hands into her stained apron, her smile transformed her plain face beneath her graying hair. “Miss Delancy is paying a sick call on the pup at Belinda's insistence. The boy is sitting in the kitchen, staring at the cake.”

“I should have warned Emma what she was about to endure.”

“Nonsense! They're having a grand time.” She did not move from in front of the door, warning she had more to talk to him about before he went inside. That amazed him, for he had not thought Gladys would let dinner wait even if the world were coming to an end.

“How is Fuzzball doing?” he asked.

“Much better.”

“I'm very glad to hear that.” He leaned one hand against the clapboards that needed painting, like all the buildings on this farm. “Did Belinda stir from his side all day?”

“Not an inch. After a week, she needs to spend a day or two out in the sunshine.”

“First we have to have some sunshine.” He glanced uneasily toward the river again.

Gladys jabbed a stray hair back into her conservative bun. “That Miss Delancy did a fine job bandaging up the pup.”

Noah frowned. “Is that jealousy I hear?”

“You could have gotten me, Mr. Sawyer. I would have tended to Fuzzball.”

He patted her meaty shoulder. “You almost swooned when Belinda scraped her knee. This was worse.”

“Belinda is a child. The pup is a beast.”

“True.” He gave her an apologetic smile. Was this all Gladys had to speak with him about? He wanted to get inside and return to Emma's company. “I didn't want to bother you at that hour, Gladys.”

“So you bothered Miss Delancy?” Her eyes narrowed as she gave him a calculating smile. “I can guess why now that I've seen that pretty young thing. I should have known you'd be the first to heed all the talk about how she needs a gentleman calling on her.”

“I heeded that she was good with animals.” He folded his arms in front of him.
This
was what Gladys wanted to discuss. He should have guessed. Gladys watched over him as if he were a virginal miss who must guard her virtue. “And she was very good with Fuzzball.”

“So you didn't go to get her help because she has hair as golden as ripe wheat?” Her smile wavered as she glanced back at the door.

“No.”
Or not totally
, he added silently.

“But now you've brought her and the lad here to spend the night. That's going to cause talk.”

“Talk is what folks here seem to like to do best. It doesn't matter if there's any truth in it.”

“Some of it is true. Heard how you and she had some private talking right in the middle of the street the last time you went into town.” She chuckled. “It doesn't take much time for a man and a woman to figure out they would rather talk bout courting than the boy helping himself to an old hammer and half a bag of nails.”

He grinned and wagged a finger at her. “Gladys, I'm going to need that old hammer and the nails now that the bridge into town is gone.”

“Gone?”

“The creek swept it away.” He did not see any reason to upset her with a recitation of all that had happened.

“So that's why she's here!”

“Why else?”

“Why else, indeed?” With a rusty laugh, she stepped aside. “I thought you might like having a pretty lady here for dinner and whatever.”

“Whatever shouldn't be on your mind.”

“Should be on yours!” Gladys wafted her apron at him before opening the door. Over her shoulder, she shot, “And another word of advice.”

“Which is?”

“Next time you go courting, Mr. Sawyer, take the young gal something other than a wounded pup.”

The door slammed in her wake, and Noah laughed. Gladys was as plainspoken as he used to be. His smile drifted away on the twilight breeze. There were a lot of things he
used
to be, but he needed to think about what he was now.

Gazing around the yard and down toward the barn, which was an ebony block as the clouds lowered in the sky, he rested his head against the pole holding up the porch roof. He had been damned lucky to find this place. It was close enough to a village to make it easy to get what they needed, and it was far enough away to give him privacy. Off the main road that followed the creek, the farm looked no different from dozens of others amid the lazily rolling hills.

This place
was
perfect. Especially now that inside the house was a lovely lass who … Dammit! He had spent all day today trying to concentrate on work. Instead of figuring out which tree would give him the right boards, he had let Emma Delancy's face trespass into his mind, so easily he could recreate it and spend hours admiring each quirk of her lips and the bright fire in her eyes.

Now she was inside, and even Gladys, who preached propriety to him, seemed to think he would be a fool not to take advantage of the situation.

He smiled wryly. He was no lad suffering puppy love for the girl next door. He had Belinda and this farm to think about. Maybe some other time. Maybe when things settled down and he could feel really comfortable here, he might enjoy asking Emma again about taking that tour of the farm alone. His laugh was sad. By that time, she probably would be wooed and wed and have a child of her own. Her husband would not appreciate her answering the door in the middle of the night to a strange man, a child, and a wounded pup.

His smile became a frown as he stared up at the clouds again. It was odd, now that he had a chance to think about it. Emma had not asked him how the dog had gotten home or who had spoken to him about her. That lack of curiosity disturbed him for some reason he could not name.