Homespun Bride. Jillian Hart

peak.

      Time to leave, man. He nodded in Worthington’s direction. “Good luck with that wild boy of yours.”

      Robert looked up from rechecking the bridle buckles and grinned. “You say that like you think I need good luck.”

      I think you’re gonna need more than that. Thad glanced at the big white stallion, teeth bared and ears plastered flat against his head, and was glad he didn’t have to deal with that animal. “I hope you got a good price for him.”

      “Cost me a pretty penny.”

      That’s what Thad was afraid of. “I meant a low price, sir.”

      “Well now, he’s got excellent confirmation. And his pedigree. Why, it’s about as impressive as it can be.”

      “I’m not about to argue with you, but personally I like a horse who isn’t keen on biting me when I get anywhere near him.” Thad tipped his hat. “Good day to you, ma’am.”

      “Uh, well, thank you, young man.” With the ferocity of an army general the fine lady squinted her eyes and looked him up and down. “Do you have relatives up north?”

      “I believe so. My father’s side of the family.”

      “Very well. It showed a fair amount of character to deliver our lost packages. You went out of your way when you didn’t need to.”

      “I just did what anyone would do.” He took a step away before she could invite him back into the parlor for supper or some such nonsense. He didn’t figure that she’d want much to do with him if she knew the truth about the way he’d treated Noelle. “Again, good luck, Mr. Worthington. You be careful when you’re handling that stallion.”

      “I intend to.” Robert straightened and took the mare by the bit to lead her, but seemed frozen in midstep. He glanced through the wide, open double doors to the picture Noelle made, befriending the gold-and-white mustang. “You wouldn’t know a good horseman you could recommend to me, would you? I could use some help around here.”

      “I, uh—” Me. He clamped his mouth shut before the words could escape. He needed a job, but not that bad. Besides, Noelle wouldn’t like that idea. And the notion of facing who he was every day—the man she made him remember. The man she saw as a coward. That’s what he felt like, even though he knew it wasn’t true.

      Maybe Noelle’s opinion of him meant more than he’d ever thought. He steeled his chest and took a step back, staring hard at the ground, at his scuffed boots, anywhere but where she stood, framed in silver light. “I’ll let you know if I hear of anyone.”

      He left the husband and wife to their chatter, keeping his eyes low, feeling the ache of regret tug at him. There she was. He could sense her somehow like warmth on a spring breeze. What did he do? Walk up to her and make pleasant conversation? He didn’t reckon she wanted that. He didn’t, either.

      The trick was to keep control of that spark of caring in his heart. Keep it small and eventually it would snuff right out. That was his hope anyway.

      She must have heard him coming because she turned toward him. There was no smile on her face and she stood in shadow. He’d always remembered Noelle as she’d been when he’d left her—she’d never aged or changed for him in memory, but time changed everyone.

      He saw that now. The way hard loss and sorrow had changed the shape of her mouth and eyes, no longer wide with an easy, assumed happiness. Her face was as soft as a rose blossom still, but leaner. Time and maturity had sharpened her high cheekbones. Her emerald-green eyes, still so lovely, did not twinkle and smile at him with good humor, the way they once had. The way they never would again.

      She was lovelier than ever, but changed. It was the change now he saw, not the similarities to the young woman he remembered.

      “You have a very polite buddy,” she said gently, politely. “Unlike my poor uncle’s horse.”

      “Sunny’s the best. I’m lucky to have him.” He didn’t bother to hide the affection he felt. “Pardon me, your uncle seems like a fine man but not that good with horses. I’m worried about that stallion in there.”

      “As am I. My uncle is inexperienced with horse handling. He’s city raised.” She turned her attention back to Sunny, who didn’t seem to mind more petting a bit. “My aunt is not pleased with this notion of his to quit the bank and realize his dream of raising horses.”

      “Pleased? Nah. It’s worse than that. When I left, she was lighting into him real good.” Thad came close to reach for the reins. “Doesn’t a family like this have hired stable help?”

      “We’re between hands right now. Henrietta disapproved of the last one’s interest in one of her daughters—my cousins. Two are in town at school, and two more were sent away to finishing school. That’s where Angelina will be next year, especially if another stable boy becomes interested in her again.”

      “Of course. I suppose a family has to be careful of its reputation.”

      “My aunt seems to think so. Listening to her, it would be impossible to find anyone good enough for her daughters to marry.” Noelle kept a careful lid on her heart. Hearing the creak of the saddle and the jingle of the bridle as he obviously gathered the reins so he could mount up, she stepped back so he could leave. Good. She didn’t have anything to say to him that hadn’t already been said.

      He was the one who seemed to be lingering. “Well, now, I’d better get along.”

      “Yes.”

      Perhaps she’d answered too quickly. Perhaps that single word had been too sharp. She hadn’t meant it to be, but it was too late to change the awkward silence that settled between them like the frigid air. She was sorry about that. “I shouldn’t have—”

      “No, don’t.” He stopped her with a hand to her arm. “You have every right to hate me.”

      She didn’t hate him, but she couldn’t seem to correct him, either. His touch made a sweet, heartfelt power sweep through her, and it was unsettling. In memory came the summer’s heat beating on her sunbonnet, casting a blue shade from the bonnet’s brim, the scent of fresh cinnamon rolls and ripening wild grasses, and the pleasantly rough texture of Thad’s large hand engulfing hers. Grass crushed beneath her summer shoes as they left their picnic basket and strolled near the river’s edge.

      The memory of color and shape and sight came, too. She remembered the way Thad’s thick, collar-length hair shone blue-black with the sunlight on it. His eyes were the honest blue of the Montana sky before sunset. She could see again the shape of his sunbrowned, handsome face, rugged with high slashing cheekbones and a strong blade of a nose. His jaw had been cut square and stubbornly; she supposed it still was.

      The horse—Sunny—gave a low nicker of complaint. Thad’s hand fell away from her arm, the bridle jingled and Thad spoke. “Looks like your horse and sleigh are ready to go.”

      The past spiraled away, bringing her solidly into the present with not even the memories of images and color before her eyes.

      In darkness, she stood shivering in the cold, listening to the clip-clop of the mare, Miss Bradshaw’s gait and the faint hush of the sleigh’s runners on the icy crust of snow. Hurt rose up like a cold cutting fog until it was all she could feel.

      As if from a great distance she heard her aunt and uncle saying goodbye to Thad, she heard the beat of his steeled horseshoes on the icy ground and felt the tears of the girl she’d used to be, the girl who believed in love and in the goodness of the man who was riding away from her. Even now.

      Please let him move on, Lord, she prayed as Henrietta’s no-nonsense gait pounded in her direction. Please take this pain from my heart.

      She didn’t want to feel, especially after all this time, the ragged pieces of her spirit broken. She’d waited at the window for Thad watching the moon rise and the stars wheel across the sky. She stood waiting, shivering as the