Gingham Bride - By Jillian Hart Page 0,72
whistle of the train, the too-slow beat of his pulse were too commonplace for this moment. When Fiona turned to him, he sensed more than tolerance in her manner. Perhaps more than friendship.
“I see you have had a very busy day without me.” She touched his sleeve, nodding toward the sled’s bed. “What do you have under the tarp?”
“Fence posts. When I went to repair the broken board in the corral, I decided it would do little good if the post was ready to fall down. So I stopped by the lumberyard.”
“I’m sure Flannigan will be pleased. He will get to romp in the corral again. Right, boy?” Although she had drifted away from his side, a form of closeness remained. A tie Ian could not explain or prove, but he felt it.
Or he surely hoped he did. He worked the tether free, watching as Fiona ran her fingers through the horse’s forelock. He enjoyed her musical laugh as the gelding tossed his head, preferring to have his nose stroked instead.
“All right, have your way, big fella.” She obliged. “As long as you know I am boss when we drive home.”
The gelding nickered low in his throat, perhaps a bit of a protest, and Ian felt hope as Fiona laughed again. She had the kind of spirit that she would be happy wherever her future took her.
“Did you hear that, Ian? I think he is planning on giving me some trouble.” She didn’t look worried, no, she looked like perfection. She was his dream come true.
Please, Lord, he prayed. If it is Your will, let her know it one day. I am a patient man. I do not mind waiting.
No answer came from above, but then, he did not expect one so soon. He took hold of the driving reins, for the gelding did have trouble glinting in his adoring eyes. He knew just how the horse felt.
“Aye, I think Flannigan is making plans.” He helped her into the sled, something he wouldn’t mind doing the rest of his life. “I guess you had best be making some plans of your own.”
“You’re going to leave me to deal with him if he runs away?”
“Don’t think you can give over the reins to me when times get tough.” He spread the lap blanket over her, tucking it in so she would be warm.
“Who else would I turn to, Ian?” She took the reins from him, but it felt as if she took something else. Likely it was his eternal devotion, for she already had his love. “There is no one else in this sled.”
“You think I will rescue you whenever you need it, is that it?” He settled on the seat beside her, taking care to double the blanket over so that she had all of it. The thermometer in the tailor’s store window said it was fifteen degrees below. “You know me too well, for I will always be here when you need me.”
“I know.” Deeper meaning layered her words and chased away every shadow. What she didn’t say—perhaps what she couldn’t—remained between them, a sweetness he felt soul deep.
“I care for you, too, lass.” He tried to keep all the affection he felt from his voice, but he failed. It was too great to hide, too powerful to hold back. Like an avalanche it crashed through him.
Never in his life had there been a love like this. He laid an arm across the back of the seat and drew Fiona close against him. She did not shy away. She bowed her head, studying the reins for a moment as if she could find some answer there.
Flannigan broke the moment and darted into the street before Ian could know Fiona’s reaction. Would she say the same, or would she turn away from him? The horse had impeccable timing, that was for sure.
“Tighten the reins more,” he advised. “A little heavier bit will give you more control.”
“I like going fast.” She didn’t draw up the reins but she didn’t move away, either. The town’s last block flew by in a blur and they raced toward the dazzling white prairie together, blessed by a winter-blue sky.
Storm clouds gathered at the horizon, but for this perfect moment it was a clear day.
Fiona loved driving. She loved the feel of Flannigan’s strength telegraphing down the thick leather reins and into her hands. She liked being the one to direct the horse, to give him his head so he could run as fast as he