down from the horse and ran over to her little quilted bundle. Picking it up, she came back and stood at Luke’s knee. “I can’t leave this behind.”
Luke nodded. She held out a hand so he could help her mount behind him. Instead he leaned over and picked her up, tugging her back across his lap as if she weighed no more than a child.
Unfastening his coat, he pulled her to his chest and wrapped his coat around them both. She soaked in his warmth and he breathed in her rose scent, mingled with the cold night air.
“Let’s go home,” he rumbled and started Drake back toward town.
Arriving back at the house, he left Filly at the door and returned Drake to the barn. It gave him the time he needed to calm down and get his thoughts back in order. Holding Filly to his chest, with her scent filling his senses, he wanted to kiss her until they both were so lost in each other they’d never be found.
Filly’s fear of his striking her was a reminder why he needed to take things very slowly with his bride.
Coming in from the barn, he could hear Filly in the kitchen. She made them both a cup of hot tea and was sitting at the table, looking repentant.
“Filly, promise you won’t run away again,” Luke said, sitting down and taking a drink of the hot liquid. “I don’t want to have to make too many of these midnight rides.”
“Luke, I…” Filly looked defeated and tired. “I promise.”
“Good. Now how about another piece of that cake. I think I worked up an appetite,” Luke waggled his eyebrows at her and Filly smiled.
“I suppose one more piece wouldn’t hurt,” she said, cutting him a large slice. Setting it down in front of him and returning to her seat, she cleared her throat twice before speaking in a whisper. “Luke, I, um… thank you for not hitting me. I know I deserved it.”
Luke choked on his cake and swallowed the hot tea, burning his tongue as he tried to get the cake to go down.
When he finally quit coughing, he reached out his hand to Filly and laid it gently on her cheek. “Filly, I promise I won’t ever hit you. No one ever deserves to be hit. Ever. You understand me? I’ll make you a vow right now that the only touch you’ll ever feel from me will be gentle.”
Filly nodded her head, amazed again at what a kind, caring man she had been blessed to marry. Her father would have beaten her half senseless if it had been him. Luke wasn’t Alford Booth, though.
Luke was an upright, good man. One she was coming to care for deeply. It was hard not to be drawn to him for his warm, friendly demeanor and kind heart. Who wouldn’t be attracted to his tall, powerful physique, his handsome face, those memorable blue eyes or that thick wavy hair?
She sipped her tea while Luke finished his cake then he walked her to her bedroom door. She carried the little quilted bundle in her arms and Luke ran his hand over the quilt.
“This must be pretty special to you for a reason,” he said, looking at the deep green, burgundy and cream pieces of the quilt.
“Mama made it for me the Christmas before she died. I kept it stored under my bed. It was one of the few things of hers Pa didn’t destroy. All I’ve got to remember her by, besides my memories, is right here,” Filly said, growing misty-eyed again.
“What else is in there?” Luke asked, pushing open her bedroom door as Filly walked inside. Turning up the light, he watched as she placed the bundle on the bed and began to unfold it. She pulled out a silver hand mirror decorated with ornate raised roses. The glass had long since been broken out, but Luke could tell it meant something to his wife. Next she showed him a little silver jewelry box. The lid was missing the hinge to keep it attached, but the box itself was in pretty good shape. Inside the box was a cameo on a pale pink background. Taking it out of the box, Luke held it in his long, calloused fingers.
“You should wear this, Filly. It must have belonged to your mother,” Luke
Luke nodded. She held out a hand so he could help her mount behind him. Instead he leaned over and picked her up, tugging her back across his lap as if she weighed no more than a child.
Unfastening his coat, he pulled her to his chest and wrapped his coat around them both. She soaked in his warmth and he breathed in her rose scent, mingled with the cold night air.
“Let’s go home,” he rumbled and started Drake back toward town.
Arriving back at the house, he left Filly at the door and returned Drake to the barn. It gave him the time he needed to calm down and get his thoughts back in order. Holding Filly to his chest, with her scent filling his senses, he wanted to kiss her until they both were so lost in each other they’d never be found.
Filly’s fear of his striking her was a reminder why he needed to take things very slowly with his bride.
Coming in from the barn, he could hear Filly in the kitchen. She made them both a cup of hot tea and was sitting at the table, looking repentant.
“Filly, promise you won’t run away again,” Luke said, sitting down and taking a drink of the hot liquid. “I don’t want to have to make too many of these midnight rides.”
“Luke, I…” Filly looked defeated and tired. “I promise.”
“Good. Now how about another piece of that cake. I think I worked up an appetite,” Luke waggled his eyebrows at her and Filly smiled.
“I suppose one more piece wouldn’t hurt,” she said, cutting him a large slice. Setting it down in front of him and returning to her seat, she cleared her throat twice before speaking in a whisper. “Luke, I, um… thank you for not hitting me. I know I deserved it.”
Luke choked on his cake and swallowed the hot tea, burning his tongue as he tried to get the cake to go down.
When he finally quit coughing, he reached out his hand to Filly and laid it gently on her cheek. “Filly, I promise I won’t ever hit you. No one ever deserves to be hit. Ever. You understand me? I’ll make you a vow right now that the only touch you’ll ever feel from me will be gentle.”
Filly nodded her head, amazed again at what a kind, caring man she had been blessed to marry. Her father would have beaten her half senseless if it had been him. Luke wasn’t Alford Booth, though.
Luke was an upright, good man. One she was coming to care for deeply. It was hard not to be drawn to him for his warm, friendly demeanor and kind heart. Who wouldn’t be attracted to his tall, powerful physique, his handsome face, those memorable blue eyes or that thick wavy hair?
She sipped her tea while Luke finished his cake then he walked her to her bedroom door. She carried the little quilted bundle in her arms and Luke ran his hand over the quilt.
“This must be pretty special to you for a reason,” he said, looking at the deep green, burgundy and cream pieces of the quilt.
“Mama made it for me the Christmas before she died. I kept it stored under my bed. It was one of the few things of hers Pa didn’t destroy. All I’ve got to remember her by, besides my memories, is right here,” Filly said, growing misty-eyed again.
“What else is in there?” Luke asked, pushing open her bedroom door as Filly walked inside. Turning up the light, he watched as she placed the bundle on the bed and began to unfold it. She pulled out a silver hand mirror decorated with ornate raised roses. The glass had long since been broken out, but Luke could tell it meant something to his wife. Next she showed him a little silver jewelry box. The lid was missing the hinge to keep it attached, but the box itself was in pretty good shape. Inside the box was a cameo on a pale pink background. Taking it out of the box, Luke held it in his long, calloused fingers.
“You should wear this, Filly. It must have belonged to your mother,” Luke
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