After scouring the corners of the barn and as much of the surrounding area as he could without the lantern blowing out, he tried to reassure himself that no one was there, that he was fine for one more night. Then he located a couple of ropes and tied them together before fastening one end to the barn and starting back to the house.
The wind and snow wrestled against him, as if to keep him away from Felicity. But he pressed forward, the glow from the windows guiding him back. When he reached the cellar, he ran out of rope and had to tie the end to the cellar door. But thankfully, the back entrance to the house was only a dozen paces away, and he used the side of the house to guide him there.
As he pushed the door open and stumbled inside, Felicity was wiping her hands on a rag, the dinner dishes mostly washed, only a pan left in the sink.
He was covered in a layer of snow and half frozen—not nearly as cold as earlier, but stiff nonetheless.
She reached for the top button of his coat. “How was the pack of wolves waiting to tear down our house?”
“They’re vicious. I fought them away with my bare hands.” He tried for a smile.
She cocked her head as though she could see through his humor. “Then I guess you deserve another cup of coffee and a second slice of pie for your bravery.”
“Why, yes, actually I do. I’m glad you agree.” The banter came easily again. And it was a safer place for their conversation—a place where they wouldn’t have to worry about growing too close.
Her fingers flew down his coat, and before he knew it, she was tugging him free, shaking off the layer of snow. Within minutes, he disposed of his outer garb, had a cup of coffee to warm his hands, and was eating a second piece of pie.
He stood at the center worktable and savored the moment as she finished cleaning up their supper. He purposefully kept the conversation lighter. As she wiped down the sauce splatters on the stove, he tucked away his last bite and washed it down with the coffee.
If only he could have many more such evenings in his life, he’d die a happy man. Even as the thought came, he rapidly banished it. “I know what you’re scheming.”
“You do?” One of her brows rose.
“Yes, you tempted me this morning with the scent of the sauce and the bread, giving me no choice but to come back for the meal tonight.”
“Oh, so you battled the ice and the freezing rain so that you could taste my cooking?”
“Exactly.”
“You told me you came because you couldn’t force yourself to leave Fairplay without seeing me one more time. But all along, you came for the food.”
“I did.” He used his finger to get a last dollop of the cinnamon sauce left on his plate. As he stuck his finger in his mouth, she paused in polishing the iron stovetop to watch him. He had a sudden need to go slow and make a show of licking all his fingers and gauging her reaction as he did so. But he refrained.
Even so, as he finished cleaning off his finger, her eyes grew wide and a flush moved into her cheeks. For all of her wit and the attention she garnered from men, she was clearly an innocent. And that thought pleased him more than it should.
“With the storm outside, it’s a good thing you have a big, strong man around.”
“A big, strong man?” She scanned the room with faux innocence. “Where?”
He chuckled. “Just admit it. You’re glad I’m here.” He resisted the urge to swipe his finger across the pie plate again, and instead, set the dish on the worktable.
“And why should I be glad?”
“I can chop wood for you.”
She gathered up a couple of misshapen pieces from the wood bin. “I hate to be the one to inform you, but my five-year-old self could chop wood better than this.”
“You’re brutal.” He laid a hand over his heart, feigning a wound.
She dropped the logs back onto the pile he’d cut that morning. Then she brushed the dust and wood chips from her hand. “I’ll admit, your strangely cut pieces are better than nothing.”
“Is that your way of thanking me for replenishing the wood box?” With the way the storm was raging outside, he was glad he’d taken the time to bring in the fuel before it became drenched with rain and ice.
“It might be.”
“If it isn’t, I know another way you can thank me.” The flirtatious words were out before he could stop them.
In the process of draping a damp towel over the edge of the sink, she paused. For several irregular beats of his heart, the howl of the wind and the rattle of the house echoed in the kitchen.
He was tempted to grin and tap at his lips so that she knew exactly what kind of thank-you he wanted. But again, he forced himself to swallow his desire for her and instead kept the conversation from getting too intimate.
“Don’t you want to know how?” he persisted.
“No.” Her expression turned adorably sassy. “I can already guess what you have in mind.”
“You can?”
“Yes, because you’re a shameless ladies’ man.”
“I thought we already determined at dinner that I’m not interested in anyone else but you.” His words came out light and teasing, and he hoped his tone masked just how interested he was in her. In fact, his interest was growing larger and more life-sized every moment he was with her.
“I’m the apple pie of the day.” Her retort was tart. “I’m sure you’ll find a new favorite flavor soon enough.”
“I can’t imagine ever getting tired of apple pie.” This time his comment came out low and full of suggestion, and the second it did, he wanted to palm his forehead.
She just shook her head, her lips pursed even as the flush remained in her cheeks.
He made himself smile casually, but deep in his gut, heat was smoldering.
At a soft thump overhead, he forced his gaze to the ceiling. “I think it’s time for Mrs. Keller to have a break. I’ll go sit with Mr. Keller for a while.”
“I can do it.”
He started toward the door that led into the front sitting room. “Let me give the two of you one more night’s break.”
She didn’t respond right away, but her footsteps followed after him. Was she thinking about how they were in the same position as the previous night? That their time together was short? That all too soon, she’d be back to having disrupted sleep at night?
At the bottom of the steps, he paused and looked back at her. She stood in the kitchen door, the lantern glow outlining her, making her look like an angel radiating heavenly light. The overwhelming urge prodded him to go back and gently brush his lips to hers. A tiny kiss. Soft, short, and sweet. That was all.
No. He couldn’t. Not now. And not anytime.
Even if someday he could wrestle himself free of Gustaf’s threats, would she be someone parliament would consider for his wife? A young, beautiful American without any prominent family ties, no political influence, and no impressive lineage. She had some wealth, but certainly nothing that would make her an advantageous match in the eyes of those who would be deciding for him.
He couldn’t let himself fall for her. And he certainly couldn’t give her reason to fall for him.
“Get a good night’s sleep. Please.” Then without waiting for her response, he hurried up the stairs before he changed his mind and went back to her.