Homespun Bride. Jillian Hart
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I miss you, Papa. She felt the lonesomeness for him as solidly as the boards at her feet. Her knees felt weak as she tripped down the steps. Thad had brought all this up. Simply waltzing into her home, pretending he was such a good dependable man. Why the pretense? She already knew the kind of man he was.
An opportunist, her father had said to her, kindly, while she’d sobbed. She remembered how her mother had come into her room with a steaming pot of tea for all of them. She sure ached for her parents’ comfort, their company, everything. They had held her up after her innocent illusions had been so thoroughly destroyed.
If they were still alive, they would be the first to reassure her and to send Thaddeus McKaslin back on his way to wherever it was he’d run off to. Good riddance.
But as she reached the brick walk, she heard the low, deep-throated nicker of a horse’s greeting and the chink of steeled shoes shifting in the ice-crusted snow. Was it Thad’s horse? Was he still here? And why was she allowing herself to be so upset by him that she hadn’t paid enough attention to remember if she’d distinctly heard him riding away or not?
The horse’s bridle jingled and she could hear him take a step her way. She held out her hand and the steel-shod hooves padded closer. This time the low nicker was accompanied by the radiant warmth of a horse’s big body, and the tickle of whiskers against her fingertips warned her a second before the horse scented her palm and rubbed against her.
Oh, she loved horses. She cherished the warm-silk feel of his muzzle and stroked the animal’s nose.
“You are a handsome one,” she said, running her fingers over the length of his nose to his forelock. He snorted as if in answer and pressed into her touch. Joy, warm and quiet, flowed through her. “I miss riding the most but you’ll just keep that secret, right? My aunt does not approve of women horseback riding, even sidesaddle.”
The horse seemed likewise offended as he snorted and leaned in, lowering his head to give her better access; at least that’s how she chose to think of it. “It’s a pleasure to be with a well-behaved horse. That’s not usual around here now that my uncle has—”
An angry, buglelike whinny shattered the morning’s peace. Noelle spun toward the sound—the stable. That new stallion of Uncle Robert’s was so spirited, he was dangerous. “—has decided he’s a horseman,” she finished.
Please, don’t let my uncle get hurt, Lord. She took a step off the brick walk and stopped, unsure of the uneven drifts of snow that would be no challenge if she could see them. Not that she could help if there was a problem, but she wanted to help. Robert knew next to nothing about horses, although he was certain he knew everything, the poor, dear, misguided man. Perhaps that’s where Thad was, giving her uncle a hand and a word of advice. Robert needed it.
The front door slammed shut and Henrietta barreled down the steps with the speed of a tornado. “Where is my horse? Why hasn’t Robert brought out Miss Bradshaw?”
“I don’t know why your mare is not hitched up yet. It sounds as if he’s having problems with the stallion again.”
“The stallion? What about my mare? He’d best not even contemplate the possibility of my driving to town behind that—that creature! As if that new gelding hadn’t been bad enough of an experience. We shall meet peril for certain. Wait here, dear.” Henrietta tromped by on the walk, her shoes striking against the brick and then muffled by the snow.
Noelle imagined her aunt lifting her skirts and wading through the snowdrifts like a Viking conquering the fjords. Since she had to stand alone in the cold, she may as well get better acquainted with Thad’s horse. As if the horse agreed, his bridle bit jingled—perhaps he was shaking his head—and then he nosed her hand for more affection.
How could she resist? She savored the little joys of it. The alive feeling of the warm, velvet coat. The rhythmic breathing hot against her hand. The ticklish muzzle whiskers. The heart of the horse as he politely lipped at the pocket of her cloak. She liked him; it was hard not to. Once, in simpler times, she had dreams of horses and living all her life with them—and Thad.
Thad. At least she didn’t have to worry about him lingering around, or coming back into her life to stay. His leaving was a certainty. She ran her fingers through the horse’s coarse forelock. What was keeping Henrietta’s sleigh?
Chapter Four
Seeing her haloed by the frozen mist and chatting with his horse was like being kicked by a bull. He’d been kicked several times, so he knew exactly how it felt. The sight of her knocked the wind from his chest. She looked like his dreams. She looked like his idea of heaven. Always had. Always would.
“So, McKaslin,” Robert Worthington said from the finely built stable’s main aisle where he fastened the last buckle on a docile mare’s harness. “What do you think of my fine purchase in that stall over there?”
Thad looked up and down the aisle; only a few stalls were occupied and one by a white horse showing his teeth. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say to compliment the ill-tempered colt. The scent of newly cut wood and fresh shavings at his feet told him this enterprise of Worthington’s was brand-new.
Noelle’s aunt marched into sight. “Is that fine purchase the reason my sleigh is not ready? Poor Noelle is out there half-frozen in this cold. She’s fragile, you know that.”
“I know, dear. Just had a bit of a problem is all. McKaslin gave me a hand.”
“A problem? It looks like a wild bull got loose in this stable—”
Noelle. Thad’s attention swung back to her and stayed there. She was petting Sunny. The mustang was no fool. He was nosing her hand affectionately, looking as though he wanted nothing more in the world than to win a smile from her. Poor fella. Thad knew how he felt. He’d once felt the same way.
Seeing her again—Whew. He froze in place. He’d wanted to avoid her this morning so he wouldn’t cause her any pain, but now he realized he wasn’t as tough as he liked to think.
He could resist making a mistake like her again, but what he couldn’t seem to do was to stop the pain. Why, it was impossible to forget how his love for her had once filled his spirit the way a rising sun filled the hollows of a mountain’s 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.”