Patchwork Bride. Jillian Hart

face as she took smaller and smaller steps toward the waiting buggy. He was there, as remote as stone, as unmoving as marble. He did not even seem to be breathing.

      Perhaps it was especially difficult for him to be anywhere in proximity to her. She pushed Minnie ahead of her, gently nudging her along so she would reach the buggy first. She’d worried over this moment all night long, whenever dreams would pull her from her sleep, taunting dreams of Shane’s smile, his dimples, the snap of aliveness she’d felt in his presence. Regret had chased her all night long, keeping her sleep fitful and dawn a welcome release. She’d risen out of bed, dreading each step she took, each word to her sisters, every bite at the breakfast table because it led her all inexorably here to this unstoppable moment as he helped Minnie into the buggy’s backseat and then held out his gloved hand.

      Memories of that hand in hers mocked her. Worse, he gazed past her, as if she didn’t exist to him. Much worse than she’d anticipated. She didn’t have to worry about meeting his gaze and being reminded of his words last night. She ignored his hand and clamored into the buggy of her own accord, settling her skirts and reaching for the lap robe before he could help.

      You can be tougher than this, Meredith. She set her chin, focused her gaze forward, aware of his hesitation, so near to her she could hear him breathe. His gaze scorched her, raking the side of her face like a touch. If she turned and dared to face him, would she see regret softening the rugged angles of his handsome face? Or would she see his disdain?

      His opinion of you doesn’t matter, she told herself, curling her fingers tightly around the hem of the robe. She was independent. She should not need any man’s regard, and it irked her beyond all reason that his opinion did matter. Somehow the air turned colder, the morning less bright as he took a silent step away and settled with a creak of leather onto the front.

      “What about the roads?” Minnie scooted forward and laid her arms against the back of his seat. “Are we going to get stuck again?”

      “We’ll have to wait and see,” came Shane’s reply, warm and friendly as he gathered Sweetie’s reins. “The snow is too wet for the sleigh and the road is too soft for the wheels. It ought to be interesting.”

      “I trust you.” Minnie grinned at him, flashing her adorable dimples. “I know you’re a really good driver. I can tell because Papa hired you.”

      “Then I’ll try not to let you or your papa down.” Shane released the brake and gave the thick leather straps a careful slap. The old gray mare stepped out into the yard, eager to lift her nose to the flyaway snowflakes tumbling from the sky. An arctic wind fluttered her mane and ruffled the edges of the lap robe, letting in a cold blast of air.

      “That’s good, because I don’t want to be late. I have a spelling test this morning and I can’t miss it,” Minnie chattered on. “I really worked hard and I know every word perfectly.”

      “You do?” Shane seemed interested in a kindly, brotherly way.

      If Meredith didn’t have her heart set against him, then she would have liked how he treated her little sister.

      “It’s the very first time I have studied so hard.” Minnie swiped snow from her eyes. “I always pretend to study, but Mama keeps getting really mad at my grades. I have to go to finishing school in two years, and my marks are abysmal. That’s what Mama says. I don’t think they are all that bad. I would rather be riding horses than sitting in school.”

      “That’s the way I felt, too, shortcakes. I finished school first, and then I started working with horses.” He turned his attention to the road ahead of them, the half-frozen mud clutching the buggy wheels like glue. The old mare struggled, lowering her head to dig in with all her might.

      “You called me shortcakes.” Minnie’s grin stretched from ear to ear. She knocked the snow accumulating on her pink cap. “How come?”

      “’Cuz you’re cute and you’re sweet.”

      “I am?” Pleased, her grin went dazzling. No doubt about it, in a few years she would be breaking more than a few young men’s hearts.

      “I would appreciate it if you were not so familiar with my sister.” That cool voice could only belong to Meredith. How he could ever have mistaken her for a sweet country miss was beyond him. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know she had her chin up and a regal look on her beautiful face.

      “The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree?” he asked.

      With a gasp, she fell silent. He gave thanks for the whipping wind and thick snow sailing into the buggy. He had his opinion on many things, such as a fancy summer buggy being used for winter driving, but he kept his tongue. He tried to convince himself it didn’t hurt that she obviously didn’t like him. As he guided the mare down the snowy landscape, doing his best to guess where the higher ground beneath the snow might be, he felt her disregard like the beat of the wind.