Tomorrow's Sun (Lost Sanctuary) - By Becky Melby Page 0,39
the moonlight his smile deepened the shadows around his eyes.
“It is your own freedom you buy, sir. Papa would hire you quick as lightning, and I would be as happy married to a clerk as a smith.”
His laugh tickled her face. “And would you be as happy if that man were miserable, balancing ledgers all day instead of using the hands God shaped to fit a horse’s hoof?” He spread the fingers of one large hand and held it inches from her face.
She pressed her palm against his. “These hands were not made for wielding a pen. Though I do dearly love what they do with one.”
His smile straightened then faded away. “I am going to speak to your father on Sunday.”
Her pulse quickened. Her smile would not obey. “About what?”
“I want you to go and stay with your aunt in Boston until this is over.”
Bile rose in her throat. “I will not! My father cannot fend for himself. He could not cook an egg nor make a decent cup of tea if his life depended on it. And who is to say this will be over before I am an old maid!” She kept her words low but could do nothing to stop the speed with which they came. “Liam Keegan, if you want to be done with me, please have the decency to address the matter forthright to—”
His lips, warm and rough and more tender than she had ever imagined, covered hers. Her legs bent like green twigs, but he held her up. She drifted above the clouds, to a weightless place where stars sang along with angel choirs. He pulled away, leaving her lips cold and longing for more.
“Now, Hannah Glennis Shaw, if ever for a moment you question my intentions or my promise, mind you remember this moment and hang those thoughts on the gallows.” Deep blue eyes bored into her, hot as the iron poker she’d seen him lift from the coals. “Do you believe me?”
Her eyes closed. “Almost.”
He shoved her, gently, at arm’s length. “Vixen.” His teeth caught the glow of the moon as he raised his head in a silent laugh. “Did the devil send you to test the strength of my convictions?”
It was a strange thing, this feeling of power. This man, strong as a bull, weakened by a kiss. Father, let me never cause him temptation. “I would never—”
“I know.” His fingertip touched her lips. “It is your very existence that tries me, my love.”
“Is it—? Are we wrong to—?” Warmth crept above the collar of her dress and spread to her face. If only Mama were still here. She had no sister or older friend to talk to. If Papa knew … In spite of the cold, she felt suddenly feverish.
“I don’t think so. These are different times. If I were free to court you openly, I would sit on your porch and drink tea with you every night. But God knows our desires. I have known for some time that you are the gift He handpicked for me. My heart is pure toward you and before Him.”
She nodded. “Is this … am I … ?”
“My first kiss?”
Turning from the laughter in his eyes, she stared down at the canoe he’d fashioned with his own hands. “Yes.” Was it wrong to ask a man such a question? Didn’t she need to know if she would someday be his wife? The heat she’d felt a moment ago deserted and she shivered.
Liam pulled her shawl onto her shoulders. “You can’t catch a chill. I won’t stand for that.” The twinkle still danced in his eyes, a reflection of moonlight and amusement. “I’ll be on my way as soon as you promise you’ll pray about going to Boston.”
“Then you and I shall both turn to icicles. You didn’t answer my question and yet you expect me to promise I will pray about something I already know is not within the will of God? I think not.”
He laughed again. “Are you sure you’re not Irish?”
“Bite your tongue!”
His expression darkened as if a cloud blotted the moonlight.
“You know I’m not serious.”
“I know.” But the teasing had left his voice.
“Be proud of your heritage, Liam.”
His hands dropped then folded across his chest. “There’s not a lot to be proud of. Da is exactly what they say all Irishmen are.”
“But you are not.”
“By the grace of God.”
“Of course, by the grace of God. But don’t berate yourself because you are what you are due to the intervention