Follow Your Heart by Rosanne Bittner

Author:Rosanne Bittner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Ingrid rubbed her eyes at the sound of voices outside Jude’s room. She realized it was dawn. She’d slept in the chair beside Jude’s bed all night. She stood up and stretched as she tucked some loose hairs back into her bun. The door burst open then, startling her.

Two men entered the room, and both stopped in their tracks at the sight of her. She assumed they must be Jude’s father and brother, though neither looked like Jude in the least. The father was not as handsome nor as tall as Jude. The brother was even shorter and resembled his father in features and in the coloring of his sandy hair and blue eyes. Both were dressed in obviously expensive suits, gold watch chains hanging from satin brocade vest pockets, hair slicked back beneath silk hats.

“You’re Ingrid Svensson?” the brother asked.

Ingrid held up her chin proudly. “I am.”

He looked her over as though she were trash and snickered. “So, the milkmaid is moving in on the rich man.”

“That’s enough, Mark,” Jude’s father ordered.

Ingrid could just imagine their thoughts—a peasant woman sitting with their esteemed family member.

“I am Jefferson Kingman,” the older man told her, “and this is my son Mark.” He spoke the words as though he expected her to be highly impressed.

“You did not have to tell me who you are,” she answered, standing her ground. “I knew you would come. Jude will be fine, according to the doctor.”

“We’ll get our own doctor’s opinion on that,” Mark told her, literally shoving her aside to move around to the other side of the bed. “And the man who did this will pay dearly.”

Ingrid folded her arms. “Like the farmers who have already been killed for fighting the railroad?” Ingrid asked, instantly regretting the words. The look that came into Mark Kingman’s eyes made her want to wilt.

“You have no proof the railroad had anything to do with that,” the young man practically snarled.

“You can leave now, Miss Svensson,” Jefferson told her. “We’ll take care of things from here on. We’ll be taking Jude back to Chicago.”

“The doctor said it would be better if he was not moved yet,” she reminded him.

“I guarantee he’ll be handled with the utmost care, and he’ll certainly get the best attention once he’s in a real hospital.”

Ingrid did not miss the emphasis on the word real. She could tell it would be useless to ask to go along, but she knew instinctively that Jude would want to wake up to find her there. Once last night, after rousing for a brief moment, he’d been too weak to speak, but the look on his face had told her he was glad she was there. Since then he’d slept again from more laudanum.

“Your son wants me with him,” she dared tell the senior Kingman.

The man grinned and looked her over as though she were a lowly servant. “Tell me, Miss Svensson, how did you manage to get under Jude’s skin, other than with your beauty, I mean?”

Mark chuckled.

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