Starving Hearts by Janine Mendenhall

Author:Janine Mendenhall [Mendenhall, Janine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Heritage Beacon Fiction
Published: 2016-05-15T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 33

ENCHANTED

Gently grasping her delicate fingers, Peter led Annette through the minuet as if she were a marionette. Her lithe form was most graceful. He also noticed when she stood still in front of him, her head would rest against his heart, making for a very comfortable embrace in which he could rest his chin perfectly atop her head.

“Pastor Adsley, may I ask you a question?” She opened conversation as she passed beneath his arm, and his heart sank. Pastor, again. He must tell her the truth.

“You may,” he responded on the next turn.

“Were you able to resolve matters with the man whose frightening roar startled me back in the forest at Buxton?”

“Yes.” But I am no longer a pastor.

She gave him an incredulous look. “If you answer so briefly, how shall I ever carry the conversation?”

“I am sure you will manage.” He meant to tease her, but it did not come out right.

She grimaced, circled, and then returned. “That was unkind.”

“I … A pastor cannot reveal one’s private concerns.”

“I understand, but was my encouragement useful to him?”

Now she was fishing. “I can assure you, the man is thankful for your exhortation.”

“What an amiable response.”

“As was yours when you … managed your father’s … very distinctive introduction.” He tried not to laugh.

“You do not say.”

“I do. It is doubtful whether anyone could produce such a pleasant rejoinder after being called an imp with tired wit.” He recognized his error immediately. “I mean—”

“Why Pastor Adsley, you should be ashamed of yourself. Papá said I had impish habits and tireless wit.”

“I beg your pardon, but I …”

Although he enjoyed dancing and was ordinarily quite skilled at it, Peter lost his count and missed a step. He caught up again and, grasping her hand at just the right moment, continued, “Do forgive me. I find myself rather challenged at the moment.”

“Indeed. Dancing is often complicated by conversation. I much prefer sitting or walking for the mental demands of a forthright and coherent discussion.”

He squelched a laugh and almost missed another step.

“Are you well, sir?”

“I fear the minuet is becoming quite tedious.”

“Or has my tireless wit gotten the better of you?”

As they moved in opposite circles, Peter followed her with his eyes. A growing sense of longing gnawed at his heart. He wanted to stay with her, to listen to her, to talk with her more, and to learn everything he could about her. He must find out if they shared a similar faith, not to mention explaining the change in his circumstances.

She returned to face him.

“If you will excuse me, but I would rather not engage in the customary social interactions and flattery an event such as this often necessitates.”

The twinkles in her eyes vanished. “Then you no longer desire to dance with me?”

“No. I mean…” Another turn demanded his attention. “We may dance as much as you like. I was speaking of shallow flirtations.”

“Then you prefer we do not speak?”

“On the contrary, I would converse with you for hours, but I haven’t the time.

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