Where The Heart Is (Choices of the Heart, book 1) by Jennie Marsland

figure, and the subtle color brought out the bloom of her skin.
    Watching her, Martin felt his blood warm in a straightforward male response. He averted his eyes. It brought up too many confusing feelings, resentment, sadness, appreciation, to watch someone other than Eleanor take a mother’s place with Leah. As for his body’s response, that was natural enough, but it only added to the confusion.
    Leah stopped her game and scampered to him with Chelle behind her, flushed and smiling.
    “Good morning.”
    Something of his uneasiness must have shown. Her smile faded, and she stepped back as Martin picked up his daughter.
    “Mornin’, young lassie. Have you had your breakfast yet?”
    “Yes, she has.” Chelle retreated to the table, pulled her hair over her shoulder and began braiding it, her movements quick and Martin thought, a little nervous. She drew a ribbon from her pocket, tied her braid and began setting the table. He still hadn’t spoken to her.
    Jessie set a pan of sizzling sausages and potatoes in the middle of the table. Martin hugged Leah, put her down and included both women in a nod of thanks. “This looks a treat. How’d the little one fare overnight?”
    Her face still flushed from her game with Leah, Chelle handed him the plate Jessie had just filled. “She only woke once, and she went right back to sleep when she realized I was there.”
    “Good. Jessie, I’ll be goin’ in to the store for the mail this afternoon. Let me know if you need anything.”
    Martin hadn’t realized he was so rusty at ordinary conversation. Or perhaps it was his new awareness of Chelle that kept him silent. He bolted his breakfast, harnessed his team and headed for the fields, hurrying as if he could leave his feelings behind.
    * * *
    After settling Leah for her afternoon nap, Chelle found herself at loose ends. Jessie had already done the lunch dishes and started a pot of corned beef and cabbage for supper. Now she was concocting a milk pudding. Chelle hadn’t been allowed to do anything useful all day other than look after the baby. Perhaps Jessie was afraid that if she slowed down, Martin would decide he didn’t need her.
    The only chore waiting now was milking. Leah would sleep for at least an hour, so Chelle slipped out without saying anything to Jessie, found the milk pails in the cellar and brought the two cows in from the paddock behind the byre. She breathed a sigh of relief when she got the animals safely inside without Jessie seeing what she was about.
    Chelle approached the first Jersey cautiously, but the cow gave her no trouble. She seemed to be used to a woman’s hand. Likely Martin’s wife had done the milking. Chelle shook off a vague feeling of guilt as her hands worked the cow’s teats. It was cruel that Eleanor Rainnie hadn’t been given the chance to enjoy her baby and her marriage.
    Chelle’s cheeks warmed, remembering the way Martin had looked at her that morning when he came downstairs. Was it her imagination, or had she seen a glimmer of attraction there? She shrugged off the thought. She’d had enough attention from men at home to know these stray feelings came and went. Martin was no carefree boy looking to flirt, and she had no intention of getting involved with a man who needed a mother for his child. When she left the farm, this pull between her and Martin, if she hadn’t imagined it, would die as quickly as it had formed.
    The same ginger tabby Chelle had seen before came skulking into the byre, looking expectant. At home, they’d always given the cats a treat at milking time. It seemed Mr. Rainnie did the same. Sure enough, the tabby came closer and opened his mouth for a squirt of milk. Chelle obliged him, just before she heard the clatter of hooves and the creak of a wagon coming to a halt.
    A few minutes later, Martin led his team past the stall where Chelle sat. Walking between the two massive mares, he didn’t see her. Gyp followed.
    “Now then, Tessa, get over, there’s