Leonardo (Romancing the Weavers #5) - Kit Morgan Page 0,50
Savannah and Gabby’s direction. “We should see if they’ve caught anything else.”
“Trust me.” She cleared her throat. “We’ll know. Savannah will let everyone know.” She sighed, realized how close they were and scooted away.
Leo watched her. “And you? What would you do if you caught a fish?”
Parthena glanced at her cousin and back. What would she do? But she knew. She looked Leo in the eyes as all the walls around her heart fell like Jericho’s. “I’d give it to you.”
As it turned out, Savannah caught four trout. Gabby said it was the most fish anyone had caught in one sitting in years.
“That sure smells good,” Father commented as he hovered near the stove. “I do get a bite, don’t I?”
Savannah turned the fish in the pan. “Uncle Colin, don’t stand so close. And yes, I’ll make sure you get some.” She faced the table. “What about you, Aunt Belle? Do you want some trout too?”
“None for me, thanks.” She left the table. “I’m going to the sewing room to help Ma with some hemming.”
Parthena watched her mother go, still fighting the urge to look at Leo. He sat across the table from her, an empty plate in front of him.
“You’re sure you don’t want any?” he asked.
Great. He spoke to her. Now she’d have to look his way to avoid being rude. “Quite sure.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing, sweet one,” Father said.
She smiled. Her father loved fresh-caught fish. “If I have a portion then there won’t be enough to go around.”
“You can have part of mine,” Leo offered.
She shook her head. “No, I know you’re looking forward to it. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your treat.”
He smiled. “You would give yours up for me?”
“With four older siblings at home,” Father said, “she’s used to it.”
“I have six, so I am too.” Leo grinned. “But I did learn to move quickly over the years. I guess you could call me a fast draw.”
“Or a fast grab.” Father laughed.
Parthena laughed too. Father could be very witty when he wanted to be. “What about the rest of your siblings?” she asked out of curiosity.
“Mel could be quick,” Leo replied. “Alfonso had his moments. I could usually outrace most of the rest. Of course, sometimes there would be fights and we all got yelled at.”
Father laughed. “Survival of the fittest.”
When the fish was served Leo, true to his word, broke off a portion of his and gave it to Parthena. “Here, you at least have to try it.”
“But …” she began to protest.
“No.” He waved his fork at her. “Eat. Enjoy.” He leaned toward her. “I insist.”
Father laughed again. “Best do as he says, sweetness. He obviously wants you to.”
She smiled shyly at Leo and picked up her fork. The trout was delicious. “Thank you.”
“What about me?” Savannah asked as she sat. “I’m the one that cooked it. And caught it.”
Parthena smiled. “My compliments to the chef.”
Savannah turned to Leo. “Well, what do you think?”
Parthena noticed he hadn’t eaten any yet. “Yes, what do you think?”
He glanced between them, then took a bite. “Delicious.”
Parthena watched Father devour his, much to Savannah’s delight, and did her best not to stare at Leo again. Savannah wolfed hers down and took her plate to the dry sink, and soon Leo did the same. “Would you like to help me with the dishes?” Savannah asked.
“I can do that.” Leo glanced over his shoulder at Parthena and smiled. What was that about? Well, she didn’t want to find out. It was hard enough to sit and watch them. She could imagine Leo and Savannah in their own home, cooking supper for guests, happy, content … it was more than she could bear. She left the table.
“Where are you off to, sweetness?” Father asked.
“I need some air.” She headed for the door.
“Mind if I come along?”
She stopped, her hand on the doorknob. What she really wanted was to be alone, but she didn’t want Father questioning her later. “Of course not.” She opened the door and hurried down the back steps.
Father caught up to her. “Parthena?”
She stopped and turned in his direction. “Yes?”
Father glanced at the house and back. “All right. Out with it.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Out with what?”
“Something is troubling you, I can tell.”
Unable to help it, she glanced at the house too. “It’s nothing.”
“Poppet, what have I told you about fibbing to me?”
Drat. Father always could tell when something was wrong. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”
He began to walk toward the