Winning the Gentleman (Hearts on the Heath #2) - Kristi Ann Hunter Page 0,13

of a wagon or a horse, or walking miles upon miles is not rest. It’s been months and you still can’t bear to sit down.”

Jonas sighed and looked at Sophia before giving his head a small shake. “We don’t know if that surgeon had any idea what he was talking about. It’s possible I’ll never heal.”

Sophia straightened her spine and stared into the deep darkness of the countryside. “It won’t hurt to try resting for a few weeks.”

Even the suggestion that Jonas might have to live in pain forever made her eyes burn. If rest wasn’t what he needed . . . if that would never be enough . . . She shook her head, refusing to entertain the option. “It’s not as if I’m asking you to try medication sold by that quack at the fair. Lying down is perfectly normal.”

He didn’t say anything, and she rushed on, trying to convince him—and maybe herself—that this was going to be a good turn of events. “It isn’t a new activity. You already lie down every day. Walking isn’t a bother until you’ve been on your feet for a long time, so now you can spend a month alternating a little walking with lying about.”

Jonas leaned down and snapped a flower from its stem but continued walking.

Sophia continued talking. “We can even take one of our bags and fashion you a pillow of sorts. Maybe stuff it with grass or—”

The taste of dirt and leaves and who even knew what else hit her tongue as the soft petals of the flower were smushed into her mouth, bringing an abrupt halt to her rambling. Spitting the flower out, she frowned at her brother but fell silent.

Jonas kept walking, his mouth pressed into a grim line. She knew that look. He was thinking, and nothing would make him talk before he was ready.

Often he came to a conclusion that made Sophia feel foolish, but in this case she knew he’d ultimately see things her way. If God hadn’t wanted them to take this chance, potentially less than honorable though it may be, He could have provided something else during their years of praying for relief.

Jonas sighed. “Tell me again what you’ll be doing?”

Sophia rolled her shoulders back and tucked her chin down. “Riding horses.”

“And to think I was worried.”

“Jonas.”

“Sophia.”

Sophia repeated the story, leaving out any question of the offer’s authenticity. The man had nodded at her. She ran one hand down Rhiannon’s neck and twined her fingers in the soft mane. “The job comes with food and board, so even though the wages aren’t high, we can save most or possibly even all of it while you heal. It should be enough to support us while we search for other employment.”

“May I see the paper?”

She bit her lip. “Why?”

Jonas turned his expressionless stare her way. “Originally because I was curious and there seems to be enough moonlight on this patch of road to read it, but now it’s because I’m guessing there’s something you aren’t telling me.”

With a sigh, Sophia pulled the paper from her pocket and handed it over. After several moments, Jonas passed it back to her. “He’s expecting me.”

There was no censure in his voice, but the frank statement sent a wave of guilt crashing through Sophia. “I believe so, yes.”

“Instead it will be you.”

She bit her lip again, intent on staying quiet and letting him think. Instead she blurted out, “You can’t ride. You cringe every time you sit on a horse. Riding in the wagon leaves you in a cold sweat. I know he’s expecting you, but I can do the job while you can’t.”

Jonas threw another flower at her, his threat clear enough to have her snapping her mouth shut with a click of teeth.

“We have to be smart about this. It’s best if he doesn’t see me at all.” He glanced at the horse. “Or Rhiannon. I don’t want you walking around with a valuable horse unprotected.”

The blow to Sophia’s plans cracked her resolve. Why hadn’t she considered that lodgings for her wouldn’t include a space for Jonas or her horse? “What will you do?”

He shrugged. “We’ll find a place to hide. This is English countryside. There’s bound to be a set of ruins or an abandoned cottage somewhere out there. We’ve done it before. The bigger question is, what are you going to do if he won’t let you work?”

“I have a contract.”

“Signed under false pretenses.”

Sophia frowned. “He hired the red-haired horse trainer named Fitzroy.