“I can’t say that I blame them.” Luke nearly bit his tongue after the admission. As far as he knew, Gil had been loyal to his wife. Luke would allow Gil the benefit of the doubt and believe that marriage had changed him.
Of course, it had changed him. What man wouldn’t be faithful to the woman standing before him? “Perhaps they will change their minds once they’ve met their grandchild.”
“My mother, sister, and brother have all been forbidden to write to me. All my life, I’ve thought I would have my family’s unwavering support. I thought that was what love was about.” She offered the information easily.
“Do you regret it?”
She tightened her jaw, and not for the first time, Luke noticed her hand circling the material of her dress where it caught at the top of her belly. “Never.”
“Is it possible they will see things differently now, knowing you are alone?”
“I think my father will say I invited it.”
Luke couldn’t stop the grunt of disgust at her comment. Each new revelation he gleaned from their conversation reaffirmed his decision to remain here for at least a few weeks.
His gaze landed on one of the puddles from last night’s rain. “Did the roof hold up against the storm?”
She winced.
“I suppose that’s as good a place as any to begin.” He’d barely uttered the words when the door opened and Mrs. Gilcrest’s housekeeper stepped out and then nearly tripped on the floorboard. Words that would have blistered any soldiers’ ears flew from her mouth.
“Perhaps you should start a little lower,” her mistress suggested.
And then he saw it. That hint of a smile. His chest loosened the slightest amount. Hell, if he’d had that smile waiting for him, there was no way in hell he would have accepted another mission. Gil had been an idiot. A selfish fucking idiot.
But Luke wasn’t allowed to think that. He also needed to stop thinking of Gil’s wife in terms of complimentary adjectives.
Because Gil was dead. She would mourn the loss of him.
Luke swallowed hard. “Tools in the stable?”
Her answer was to shrug, almost as though she’d exhausted herself from their conversation. Her grief was a palpable thing.
“I’ll find them.” And with one last glance in her direction, he turned and marched the short distance to the small building set off from the house. If he wasn’t incorrect, it was leaning precariously toward the left. Floor. Roof. Stable. He began a mental list of tasks for himself. All that and he hadn’t yet ventured beyond the parlor.
If he took on the entire estate, perhaps he wouldn’t have to meet with Blackheart for damn near a year or so.
Or he could return to the conflict and avoid the meeting indefinitely.
Chapter Four
“I insist you stop and rest.” Naomi carried a tray with lemonade and sandwiches out to the major. She’d been avoiding him and so was more than a little taken aback when she realized he’d already pulled up every last floorboard that had previously made up her porch. A second glance revealed a wagon drawing to a halt at the end of her drive, loaded with roughly cut planks of wood.
“I thought…” And then her voice trailed off when her eyes landed on him, her mouth having gone dry.
She ought to have considered this, what with the unusually warm temperatures of late.
Because, since she’d abandoned the major to his own devices, he had shed his heavy coat and hat and other military adornment and was now standing in the hole where her porch had once been wearing only his shirt, boots, and tightly fitted breeches.
Sweat caused the white linen to cling like a second skin to thick, broad, and very muscled shoulders. His jacket had not been padded in the least.
Her gaze dropped to where sinewy and tanned forearms peeked out from rolled-up shirt sleeves and then lower to where one booted foot rested on one of the beams.
“My apologies, Mrs. Gilcrest.” His voice brought her gaze back to his face. As he went to reach for the coat draped over the railing, Naomi put out a hand to halt him.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He couldn’t work wearing that heavy coat.
“You’d be surprised at the conditions this coat has emerged from intact.”
And then an image of her husband dying while wearing that uniform wiped the smile from her face.
“I can’t afford to buy wood,” she admitted. It didn’t make sense to keep her circumstances private from this man. He was very determined to fulfill whatever promise he’d made to Arthur.
“You may repay me if you’d like some time in the future.” Naomi hated being in anyone’s debt. “Gil would have my hide if I allowed you to set foot on that porch one more time. You’ve more than yourself to keep safe.”
She couldn’t argue with that, so instead, she turned to observe the two laborers unloading lumber from an old farmer’s cart. She could hardly allow herself to keep ogling Major Cockfield’s chest for heaven’s sake.
She’d been alone in this house for too long. Even before Major Cockfield’s arrival, she’d been missing having her husband in her bed. Ester swore up and down that a lady was most plagued with irregular urges while expecting. Wanting a man’s attention was natural.
Naomi had wondered what her mother would have to say about that.
Luke hopped out of the pit he’d created and strode along the dirt path to the drive. Without asking, he set himself to assisting the men unloading the long pieces of wood.
Naomi hated the voice in her head that reminded her how many times she’d begged Arthur to repair that floorboard.
“I’m going to fall through to the ground one day, Arthur Gilcrest. Then you’ll be sorry.” She’d joked with him.
“Just step around it.” He’d sent her a cocky grin, his cinnamon eyes shining with mischief and then chased after her, patting her on the bum. “I’ve never known a woman better at worrying than you are, Naomi. It’ll still be there tomorrow.”
And then he’d lifted her into his arms and carried her to their bed. How could she complain when his highest priority had been loving her?
He’d been rather good at that.
A shiver ran through her when she realized she was still holding the tray of sandwiches while staring at Major Cockfield again.
“You’ve more than earned a break, Major,” she hollered across to him as he piled the last board on top of a neat stack. Glancing over his shoulder, he met her gaze, and then… He winked. She could almost believe she’d imagined his audacity when he again exchanged a few words with the older of the two gentlemen and then shook each of their hands. As they drove off the property, he turned to jog back across to the house.
“Might as well eat in the kitchen. Go around back and I’ll meet you there.” Naomi didn’t expect him to climb through the nonexistent floor to enter the parlor.
It was darker in the kitchen, and she might be a little less distracted there. She also had chores she could tend to. And Ester would be underfoot. Naomi could hardly sit and take lemonade with him alone.
She was a married woman.
And then she felt like something struck her.
Because she wasn’t.
She was a widow.