Winning the Gentleman (Hearts on the Heath #2) - Kristi Ann Hunter Page 0,130
a coachman waiting, or a groom. There was, however, a man.
“I don’t think you’re the coachman,” Sophia said breathlessly as she edged toward him until they stood face-to-face in an empty stall.
Aaron ran a hand over his face. “I’m not.” He took a step closer and slid his hand down her arm until his fingers could wrap around hers. “I don’t have much yet. Won’t ever have a lot, really.”
Sophia frowned. He did remember all her belongings fit in a knapsack when they met, didn’t he?
Aaron sighed. “I’m making a muck of this. Words have never been good for me.”
“Then don’t use them.” Sophia grinned and stepped a little closer. He had come for her, dragged all their friends here from Newmarket, and was stumbling through an ill-prepared speech in the middle of a small, smelly stable. If that wasn’t a sign that he loved her, she didn’t know what was.
One of his arms wrapped low around her back. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
“Aaron Whitworth, do you know how many times I thought you were going to kiss me in the past eight weeks?”
“One hundred twelve? That’s at least how many times I’ve thought of doing it.”
Sophia tried not to laugh but failed. “Given that I have already kissed you twice, I could hardly do it again and remain a lady. As a gentleman, it is your duty to initiate the next one.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Aaron grinned and lowered his head.
After several moments, he eased back, resting his forehead against hers as they worked to calm their hearts and catch their breath. “You know,” he said, “a gentleman should never kiss a lady like that unless he’s completely in love with her.”
“I suppose it’s a good thing you’re a gentleman, then.” Sophia smiled up at him. “And I love you too.”
His eyes were bright, even in the dimness of the stable. “Would this be an appropriate time to tell you that, as a gentleman, I didn’t want to wait to marry you and obtained a special license this morning?”
Sophia pursed her lips and pretended to think about it. “I believe that news can wait until we’ve evened up the number of kisses, don’t you?”
“Absolutely,” he said and kissed her again.
Epilogue
Aaron was tying his cravat in preparation for walking up to Trenton Hall for dinner when the door burst open and Sophia stumbled in, laughing so hard she nearly fell over.
He leaned one shoulder against the wall and smiled, knowing his wife of three months would eventually get around to sharing the humor. Then she’d tell him about her day while she changed clothes. Chances were he wouldn’t say more than yes and mm-hmm until they were walking toward the large house for dinner.
His lack of a real kitchen had been one of his concerns when they’d married, but Sophia declared it would be nice to put off learning to cook for another year.
Her practicality was just one more thing to love about her.
She dropped her head back against the door and pulled in a shaky breath. “Harriet . . .” Then she collapsed into giggles again.
The way she enjoyed every single moment of life was another thing he loved. The list grew every day, and while he still wasn’t good at telling her, he always made sure she knew it.
Aaron crossed the floor and scooped her up in his arms, feeling her shake against his chest as she laughed. He settled onto the sofa and just held her. If he was going to have to wait for her to speak—an uncommon occurrence to be sure—he was going to enjoy it.
Finally, the laughter stopped and she sat up in his lap, wiping tears from her eyes. After another shaky breath, she said, “Harriet wanted to show me something today.”
Aaron lifted his brows. At least once a week Sophia and Harriet went riding together. They visited at other times as well, since Harriet enjoyed lingering about the ring where Sophia gave several local women riding lessons. Harriet didn’t do anything except talk to the ladies before and after the lessons, but it seemed to keep everyone happy.
Sophia folded her hands in her lap. “Harriet, as you know, has a good deal of land. Aside from the corner the house sits on, she rents the rest out to a farmer. She likes her privacy and didn’t want crops growing close to the house, so there’s quite a large border around the house portion.”
Aaron didn’t care, but he liked how much she enjoyed stringing out whatever story she was telling him, so he nodded encouragingly.
“She lets most of it grow wild because she thinks it’s pretty and it makes her feel like she’s living somewhere exotic and undiscovered instead of a mile out of Newmarket.”
Aaron settled further into the cushion behind him. It was a good thing he liked hearing his wife talk.
“Last week she decided to wander her property, and today she took me to her discovery. It seems she inadvertently became a patron of the arts.”
Aaron frowned. How did one inadvertently sponsor anyone?
Sophia giggled again and Aaron smiled. Harriet could accidentally drop her money wherever she wished if it amused his wife so.
“She took me to an abandoned cottage. Half falling down, with trees and plants growing right up to the door—which was no longer on its hinges.”
Aaron’s eyes widened. “Her property extends that far?” And then more besides? He’d known Harriet was wealthy, but he was beginning to realize he had no idea just how wealthy.
“It does.”
“Did you tell her it was Jonas?”
Sophia scoffed. “Of course not. It would ruin the mystery for her.” She laid her head on Aaron’s shoulder. “It was nice to see it again and remember how far I’ve come. I thought we were alone that day, Jonas and me against the world. Looking back, I’m amazed at the path God was laying. Living it was difficult, but I wouldn’t change who I became or where I am.”
She sat up. “I love you, Aaron Whitworth.”
“I love you, Sophia Whitworth.”
“Thank you for being my home.” Then she leaned in with a smile and gave him a kiss.
As they prepared to leave their little cottage, he glanced at the Bible, still in a place of honor in the center of the table. Yes, the road to get here had been painful, but he wouldn’t trade where he was now for anything.
He took Sophia’s arm and nestled it in the crook of his elbow, a gentleman escorting his lady to dinner, walking into the future together.
Acknowledgments
My love of horses started as a child, and my parents willingly fed the obsession by allowing me to plaster my walls in horse posters, own a plethora of My Little Ponies, and fill the bookcase with books featuring the animal. For a brief time, they even let me take riding lessons. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for supporting my fascination.
If you’ve read my other acknowledgments, you know the people who made this book possible: my husband, my children, the makers of State Fair corndogs and Totino’s frozen pizzas.
Also my Voxer Girls, who help my brainstorming and my brain in general and insisted that my books needed more kissing. My beta readers, who point out the plot holes I need to fix—particularly Regina Jennings, who spent hours on the phone helping me change a section when I refused to believe everyone who told me I needed to cut it. (I did eventually cut it, because sometimes the editors are right.) Thanks to Debb Hackett for combing through the manuscript to find any lurking Americanisms, particularly around the word mad.
Thank you to the team at Bethany House Publishers and my fantastic agent, Natasha Kern. It truly takes a village to keep my professional life straight.
Finally, my utmost gratitude to all the horse experts who were ever so patient with my ignorance, particularly Charlotte Osborne, who shared her vast knowledge of dressage and horse care. Your insight brought this book to life.
Kristi Ann Hunter is the author of the HAWTHORNE HOUSE and HAVEN MANOR series, and a 2016 RITA Award winner, a Christy Award finalist, and a Georgia Romance Writers Maggie Award for Excellence winner. She lives with her husband and three children in Georgia. Find her online at www.kristiannhunter.com.