Montana Bride by Jillian Hart

Author:Jillian Hart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-09-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

He didn’t like how chilly Willa looked as he shouldered through the front door. To make matters worse, the house radiated iciness. Frosty nails in the floor crunched beneath his boots as he led her to the sofa.

“Leave your wraps on until I have this place warm.” He hated leaving her side to stir the embers in the hearth, but he needed to get her warm. As he knelt before the hearth, he remained aware of her…of her quiet breath in the stillness, the rustle of her clothes as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the clack of her teeth chattering in the icy air. It didn’t feel like April, almost May. He added moss to the embers, and flames snapped to life, tossing more light into the room.

He glanced over his shoulder. Willa had wrapped her arms around herself. It was too cold for her. Maybe he should have bundled her up in a blanket or two. He worried about her frailty. Regular meals in this house had done her good, her face had lost that too-thin look, but he still worried.

He added kindling and wood to the blaze, remembering how proud he’d been to show her off to his family. Nothing could be finer than the feeling of sitting at the family dinner table with her at his side. Only unless it was the ride home in the sleigh, with her snug against his side. Her body had felt warm and soft against his. Her rose fragrance still clung to him—faintly, but it was there—and every time he breathed in, warmth kicked into his blood. Desire for his bride.

The bride who did not desire him. Chances were good she never would. That was a secret he’d kept from his family, a failure he didn’t know how to fix.

“Things should start warming up now.” He stood, his knees cracking from the cold. “I’ll put the leftovers Berry sent with us in the kitchen, but I want you to stay put until the house is warm. No kitchen work, at least until I get back from milking.”

“But I’m fine.” Her chin came up, a show of strength. A plea whisked across her face, a silent question he couldn’t understand or guess at, but his feelings strengthened, just like the fire in the hearth. “I’ll get supper warming. It’s hardly effort at all.”

“I know, but I worry.” Emotions he couldn’t stop or name. He resisted the urge to lean forward and plant a kiss on her forehead. She would never know how hard it was to take a step backward when everything within him wanted to draw her close and be a part of her.

“You have to take extra care of yourself,” he said instead. “Think of the baby.”

“Yes, but I’m not going to sit around. I’m not so good at that.” Clear eyes met his, brimming with sincerity. “I want to have supper waiting when you come in. You’ve got to be cold and hungry.

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