ready, they’ll be eager to grow and bloom.”
“Uncle Bo . . .”
“Maggie-mine, you’re a woman full grown. Stop clinging to your past and open your heart.”
Leaning against a barren tree, Miss Rose stared toward the house. Todd made no attempt to muffle his steps. Edgy as she was, he owed her fair warning that she wasn’t alone anymore. “Tell me you see a burning bush and have made up your mind.”
She turned to glower at him. “Uncle Bo made up his mind. For me. I haven’t decided anything, but he’s in there, packing my things!”
“Your uncle is a ball of fire.” Todd waited a heartbeat while she nodded. His lips twitched. “God used a pillar of fire to direct Moses and the Hebrews. When the time came, they left quickly. Look where it got them.”
She turned away, buried her face in her hands, and her shoulders shuddered.
He moaned. “Miss Margaret, there is no call to weep.” He moved so his chest grazed her back and wrapped his arms around her. She couldn’t muffle the sound any longer.
Turning, she looked up into his eyes. Choked laughter shook her voice. “Have you forgotten all the wars the Hebrews fought throughout the exodus?”
Relieved she wasn’t crying, he gave her waist a tiny squeeze. “No doubt we will disagree on occasion, but the only weapon would be the sword of truth.”
“Next you’re going to tell me the pillar of fire will bake that silly apple pie of love and the sword will cut it.”
“Nein. I misspoke. I will have to get a sword – to fight off men when they discover how well you cook.” He softened his voice. “But the apple pie – that will be something only you and I share. Come, Miss Margaret. Be my bride.”
She studied him. Indecision played across her features. At long last she set her jaw and lifted it, and his heart missed a few beats. “I’m a magpie through and through. If I agreed, would you allow me my treasures and legacy?”
Six silly boxes and one more thing mattered that much to her? Undoubtedly she’d fill a crate with her clothing and a few more with kitchen necessities and bedding. All brides brought such essentials to their marriage. She’d expect that, and they needed those things. Ten. Maybe twelve crates, considering her magpie-like nature. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t mind at all.”
Yet she scrutinized his face. He hoped and prayed she’d see what she sought in his steady gaze. A slow exhalation shivered out of her. Hesitantly Miss Rose extended her hand, as if to shake on a business deal. “Then I’ll marry you.”
“Come here, my little magpie!” He brushed aside her hand, swept her up, and spun around. She let out a shriek of laughter and insisted on being put down. He leaned close and rubbed noses with her. “Margaret?”
“What?”
“Waiting to kiss you was worth it.” His head dipped.
“Was?!” She jerked away. “Oh no. You promised me all day today. You got my decision about marriage, but you asked about the kiss separately. You won’t have my kiss until tomorrow.”
He groaned. Loudly.
It wasn’t until almost the end of lunch that she spoke to him again. “Mr. Valmer?”
“Hmmm?” A spoonful of jam hovered an inch from his lips. He felt guilty as a hound with a maw of feathers – about the jelly, not about coaxing her to wed him.
“I’d like to make a proposal.” She rushed on, “If, perchance, you went home and your mother stayed here awhile, then you and I could wed comfortably.”
Ma shouted, “Absolutely not!”
Seven
“Absolutely not!” Mrs. Crewel repeated. “I’ll not stay here one minute longer than necessary. Furthermore, girl, you have no couth or manners. A lady waits for the gentleman to propose. She doesn’t pounce upon him and decide they’ll wed.”
While Maggie gaped at her, Uncle Bo started chortling.
“Todd, you must get us away from here at once. They’re – ”
“Going to be family by this time tomorrow, Ma.” He reached across the table and took hold
“Uncle Bo . . .”
“Maggie-mine, you’re a woman full grown. Stop clinging to your past and open your heart.”
Leaning against a barren tree, Miss Rose stared toward the house. Todd made no attempt to muffle his steps. Edgy as she was, he owed her fair warning that she wasn’t alone anymore. “Tell me you see a burning bush and have made up your mind.”
She turned to glower at him. “Uncle Bo made up his mind. For me. I haven’t decided anything, but he’s in there, packing my things!”
“Your uncle is a ball of fire.” Todd waited a heartbeat while she nodded. His lips twitched. “God used a pillar of fire to direct Moses and the Hebrews. When the time came, they left quickly. Look where it got them.”
She turned away, buried her face in her hands, and her shoulders shuddered.
He moaned. “Miss Margaret, there is no call to weep.” He moved so his chest grazed her back and wrapped his arms around her. She couldn’t muffle the sound any longer.
Turning, she looked up into his eyes. Choked laughter shook her voice. “Have you forgotten all the wars the Hebrews fought throughout the exodus?”
Relieved she wasn’t crying, he gave her waist a tiny squeeze. “No doubt we will disagree on occasion, but the only weapon would be the sword of truth.”
“Next you’re going to tell me the pillar of fire will bake that silly apple pie of love and the sword will cut it.”
“Nein. I misspoke. I will have to get a sword – to fight off men when they discover how well you cook.” He softened his voice. “But the apple pie – that will be something only you and I share. Come, Miss Margaret. Be my bride.”
She studied him. Indecision played across her features. At long last she set her jaw and lifted it, and his heart missed a few beats. “I’m a magpie through and through. If I agreed, would you allow me my treasures and legacy?”
Six silly boxes and one more thing mattered that much to her? Undoubtedly she’d fill a crate with her clothing and a few more with kitchen necessities and bedding. All brides brought such essentials to their marriage. She’d expect that, and they needed those things. Ten. Maybe twelve crates, considering her magpie-like nature. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t mind at all.”
Yet she scrutinized his face. He hoped and prayed she’d see what she sought in his steady gaze. A slow exhalation shivered out of her. Hesitantly Miss Rose extended her hand, as if to shake on a business deal. “Then I’ll marry you.”
“Come here, my little magpie!” He brushed aside her hand, swept her up, and spun around. She let out a shriek of laughter and insisted on being put down. He leaned close and rubbed noses with her. “Margaret?”
“What?”
“Waiting to kiss you was worth it.” His head dipped.
“Was?!” She jerked away. “Oh no. You promised me all day today. You got my decision about marriage, but you asked about the kiss separately. You won’t have my kiss until tomorrow.”
He groaned. Loudly.
It wasn’t until almost the end of lunch that she spoke to him again. “Mr. Valmer?”
“Hmmm?” A spoonful of jam hovered an inch from his lips. He felt guilty as a hound with a maw of feathers – about the jelly, not about coaxing her to wed him.
“I’d like to make a proposal.” She rushed on, “If, perchance, you went home and your mother stayed here awhile, then you and I could wed comfortably.”
Ma shouted, “Absolutely not!”
Seven
“Absolutely not!” Mrs. Crewel repeated. “I’ll not stay here one minute longer than necessary. Furthermore, girl, you have no couth or manners. A lady waits for the gentleman to propose. She doesn’t pounce upon him and decide they’ll wed.”
While Maggie gaped at her, Uncle Bo started chortling.
“Todd, you must get us away from here at once. They’re – ”
“Going to be family by this time tomorrow, Ma.” He reached across the table and took hold
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