Bartered Bride Romance Collection (72 page)

He raised his head, his heart too full for words, and saw the same written on his wife’s face. And his soul rejoiced within him.

Chapter 4

A
bby lay in bed, feeling her spirit moving within her as much as the child who kicked in her womb. She had never heard anyone pray like James had prayed tonight. Of course she recognized that he had borrowed a portion of his prayer from Psalm 139. Yet the way that he had prayed, with such assurance and fervor, amazed her. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to think of God as anything other than a tyrant. What used to be second nature now seemed unreal.

James was such a good person. She could tell from that very first day that she would face a constant battle to keep her vow. How easy it would be to love James and let him love her. She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes followed her around the kitchen. And he always remembered to thank her for the meals she prepared.

“Mmph!” The baby gave a hard kick, and Abby grimaced. It was getting harder and harder to find a comfortable sleeping position. She rolled over on her side, trying to concentrate on the soothing smell of lavender that wafted from the fat bouquets she had hung in the attic to dry.

The fire had died down, but in the moonlight she could see enough to make out the features of James’s face as he lay asleep on his bedroll. How many times had she caught herself in the last few days, just before she reached up to caress his cheek or to smooth his fair hair off of his forehead?

He was becoming dear to her. But that must not be. She would not allow it. If she started to love him, he would be taken away. Just like Papa. Just like Charles. Just like—she wrapped her arms around her stomach, hugging the babe to her in the cold night. No, she wouldn’t even think it. Not her child, too. Even God wouldn’t be so cruel, would He?

She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain and fear that threatened to overwhelm her. But her efforts did no good. The fear was like a living thing, threatening to squeeze the very breath out of her body.

“Abby! What’s wrong?”

Her eyes flew open to see James standing over her. She must have cried out. She shook her head, taking a couple of deep breaths.

He sank down on his knees next to the bed and laid a cool hand on her forehead. “What is it, love?” he whispered. “Are you in pain? Is it the child?”

She shook her head again, tears welling up into her eyes. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she grasped his hand and clung to it. Slowly the bands of fear loosened from around her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just that sometimes I’m so afraid.”

She felt him nod.

“Do you want me to sit with you for a while?” he whispered.

No, she wanted him to take her in his arms and hold her until she felt safe again. She wanted him to lie next to her so she could feel protected. Loved. Secure. But that could never be. She was being weak to even let him sit near her and hold her hand.

She sighed. “I know you’re tired. I’ll be fine.” She thought if he could have seen her face, he would have known she was lying.

He sat still for a few moments then brushed his lips across her forehead. “He will never leave you nor forsake you, Abby,” he whispered.

The outdoorsy smell of his warm skin lingered in her senses as he returned to his makeshift bed to lie back down. She squeezed her eyes shut against the lonely tears that seemed determined to fall. Surely morning would come soon.

Morning did finally dawn, and with it a new resolve. She would gather the eggs today, no matter how the task frightened her.

James had shown her how to do it once or twice, but she still felt intimidated by the chore. The very idea of reaching under a squawking bird into its warm nest was unnerving, not to mention the possibility of roosters pecking at her shoes and fluttering in her face.

James had chuckled at her timidity and told her he’d take care of it. But egg gathering was really woman’s work, she knew. Besides, he already had enough to do.

She timidly approached the front of the coop, basket in hand. She had first made certain that the hound, Frank, was nowhere in sight. She wasn’t quite so afraid of the dog now, but her heart still skipped a beat when he came galloping up to her. She hoped he was as nice as James said he was, because he had awfully big teeth.

As the sun beat down on her head, Abby decided she had procrastinated long enough. “Well, little one, it’s now or never,” she said to her unborn child. Flinging open the door of the coop, she hollered, “Rise and shine!”

The startled birds flew everywhere, and Abby backed out of the coop, flailing her arms. “Shoo! Shoo!” she yelled, feeling ridiculous.

“I’ve never seen it done quite like that before,” came an amused voice behind her.

Abby turned with a groan. “Hello, Iris.”

James’s sister grinned. “What are you doing, Abby?”

“Gathering eggs.” She tried to keep a straight face then gave up. “I thought maybe if I made them all get out first, it might be easier.”

“Hmmm.” Iris made a comical face, and both women giggled. “Didn’t your know-it-all husband show you how to do it?”

“Yes, but I can’t stand reaching under those poor hens.” Abby grimaced. “Besides, the smell makes me feel ill.”

“You do look a little green, dear,” Iris said. “Why don’t you go put the teakettle on the stove. I’ll gather these eggs.”

“You’re an angel,” Abby said.

Iris snorted. “Don’t think I’ve ever been called that before,” she replied. “Here, take this pie into your kitchen. I’ll be in before you know it.”

Abby headed toward the back door, feeling guilty for allowing her sister-in-law to do her work.

“Hello, girls,” she heard Iris say soothingly, and she had to grin. She had never thought of chickens as girls before. She had a lot to learn about farming, that was for sure.

James had been pleased that the eggs were gathered, but Abby felt compelled to admit it was Iris who had done it.

“She’s a sweet gal,” he said. “She reminds me of my mama.”

Abby knew his mother had died in childbirth years ago. “Mothers are very special people,” she said softly.

He appeared to be very interested in the piece of pie on his fork, but she could see that his eyes had misted over. “You’ll be a wonderful mother, Abby,” he whispered.

She stared at him for a moment in silence. Why would he bring that up right now? She cleared her throat. “What kind of pie is this that Iris brought? It’s very good.”

He speared another bite and took her cue to change the subject. “You’ve never had rhubarb pie before?”

“Rhubarb?” She poked at the tart red and green chunks that swam in the sweet pink juice, the flaky crust crumbling under her fork. “I’ve never even heard of it. Perhaps rhubarb doesn’t grow in New York.”

“Come here and I’ll show you.” James pushed his chair away from the table and led Abby to a garden patch next to the well. He pointed to a leafy plant growing in the moist, black dirt. Abby had noticed it before, vaguely wondering at its enormous leaves.

“This is a rhubarb plant,” he said. “You just reach down and twist on the stalk a little bit.” He straightened back up with a slender stalk in his hand. “It’s best in the spring.”

She smiled up at him, conscious of his nearness as his arm brushed hers. “I think I’ll do without the reaching down part for now.”

He chuckled, reaching out to pat her stomach. Then apparently catching himself, he jerked his hand away. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right, James,” she said, touching his arm. “After all, you are going to be the child’s father.”
My goodness!
She hadn’t really said that aloud, had she? She had thought of it before, of course, but wouldn’t he think that she was being rather presumptuous?

The smile that lit his face was enough to reassure her that she hadn’t said the wrong thing. He laid his hand gently on her stomach for a brief moment. “You’re right, Abby,” he said, his voice husky.

She froze, ensnared by the tenderness that glowed in his sea-blue eyes. What was he thinking?

She didn’t have long to wonder. Somehow all of a sudden, she was enfolded in his strong arms. And in that moment, she couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be. Couldn’t think at all, actually. She just knew that she had come home. She sighed, feeling safe and secure. Loved.

“Uhhh!” The baby kicked. Hard.

James backed away, his eyes wide. Abby had to laugh at the expression on his face, though she wished the moment had not ended so abruptly. “Guess this little one is getting impatient,” she murmured, smiling up into James’s face.

He grinned. “Me, too.”

The look he gave her made her pulse pound, and she lowered her gaze to the rhubarb plant. Her commitment to keep her vow was becoming increasingly difficult.

Chapter 5

M
mm! Something smells good in here!”

“James!” Abby whirled from the stove. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He grinned at her, and her heart lurched.
He truly is a handsome man
, she thought.
What would it be like—?
”

Did you fall in?”

“What?” She blinked up at him, feeling flustered.

He chuckled. “Did you fall into the flour bin?”

“Oh.” She brushed at her face with her apron then glanced up to find him directly in front of her. His blue gaze twinkled into hers as his hands gently cupped her face.

“I don’t think you got it all off,” he whispered, lowering his face to her.

Surely he wasn’t going to … Her arms slid around him of their own accord, it seemed. He kissed her slowly and tenderly then pressed her head to his chest. She stood in the circle of his arms, stunned at the feelings coursing through her mind and heart.

Even in her brief marriage to Charles, she had never felt such things. This man seemed to bring out her innate tenderness and vulnerability. Nevertheless, what was she thinking? She would be breaking her promise to God and sinning against Him if she allowed herself to love James Parrish, even if he were her husband.

She pushed her hands against his chest, her heart suddenly leaden. She could not break the vow she had made to God, not even if she wanted to.
And, oh how I want to
, she admitted to herself.