Gingham Bride - By Jillian Hart Page 0,40
fear staining her perfect blue eyes. He would do anything to take away her fear. He would give up everything so she could be safe. “I got as far as Newberry, but the drifts were too much for Duchess. She’s expecting a foal come spring, so I stabled her in town and bought a ticket here. It was only twenty miles, so the journey did not cost much.”
“You rode the train out of consideration to your horse?”
“Aye, it was a dollar I did not want to spend, but she is the best friend I have. What is a fellow to do? You, on the other hand, cannot catch a train until tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to take the train.” She swept hay from the floorboards in front of her. “Why did you come back?”
“It seems I had no choice.” He thanked the Lord for leading him back. What would have happened had he not followed his conscience? His stomach knotted. He couldn’t stay the urge to caress the side of her soft cheek with his knuckle. A gentle touch, and he wished it could take away her pain, heal what was bruised and battered.
“Did you leave something behind?” She hauled up a small length of board.
“You might say that.” There was nothing to say but the truth. “I could not make myself ride another step east, so I followed my heart back to you.”
“Back to me? I don’t understand.” She pulled out a small box, which she hugged to her. The first hint of moonlight streamed over her as if it, too, wanted to hold her dearly.
“I’m here to help you.” It was the deepest truth he had ever known on this earth, a commitment that bound him as surely as God was in the heavens. “I’m going to make sure you are never frightened like that again.”
Duchess chose that moment to whicker, a low nervous sound in her throat. Flannigan neighed, and a thud of steeled horseshoe connected with a wood wall. Sounded like trouble was coming. Ian was already rising when the barn door slammed open like a hammer-strike.
“Fiona! What in blazes is going on in here?” O’Rourke’s color was high from fury and whiskey, made brighter by the lantern he carried. “McPherson. What are you doing here?”
“I’ve reconsidered the offer.” He pushed the wooden box back into the hiding place. “Fiona is my fiancée from this moment on.”
He heard Fiona’s gasp of shock, and if he feared she would hate him for it, then he ignored that fear. He wanted to give her time to hide what had to be her money, so he climbed over the beam and down the ladder to discuss the rest of his terms with O’Rourke.
Chapter Nine
Fiona is my fiancée from this moment on. Ian’s words rang in her head like a funeral bell with every step she took carrying the water buckets back to the house. Da had ordered her out of the barn and the rise of temper ruddy on his face made her knees knock. She’d fled into the frigid twilight, longing to know what the men were discussing.
How could she feel so much gratitude toward Ian and hate him even more? How could Ian do this to her? She’d trusted him. I followed my heart back to you, he’d said. Trying to charm her, no doubt, when he really saw her as a means to get the land he couldn’t buy any other way.
Wasn’t that a man for you? She felt torn apart, like the aftermath of a twister leaving rubble in its path. The edge of the bucket slammed against her shin with a clang and a snap of pain.
Pay attention, Fiona. She shook her head, trying to scatter her thoughts, but it did no good. Her mind looped straight to Ian, how tenderly he had cared for her and his kindness in the loft. Before he’d announced he intended to marry her against her will. What happened to being friends?
“Hurry up, you lazy girl,” Ma bellowed from the doorway. “You have caused enough trouble for one evening. That man, the one who came to meet you, he left angry. You have much to make up for, young lady.”
Miserable, she stumbled up the steps, spilling water as she went, hardly able to see where she was going. Her vision was still blurry, and her nose was throbbing. She let the kitchen door slam shut and heaved the buckets onto the small counter.
“You are getting snow everywhere.” Ma whirled