Page 67 of Mail-Order Bride Runaway
Blue eyes widened. “No.” Her voice filled with horror. “I would not like that. Besides, there’s no need now. That horrible man is dead.”
“True.” No doubt she would encounter other dangers. Other unsavory men. But he didn’t point that out as he faced the awful truth. She would be departing in a day or two, back to Toledo where he’d not be around to take care of her. Not that she needed coddling. But there were all sorts of things that could harm her. Again, he thought of relocating to Toledo so he could be with her. If not as her husband, then at least as a friend and protector.
Even though the thought of living in a city held no appeal. He shuddered.
“You’re cold.” She darted down the hall and returned with a quilt he recognized as coming from her bed.
He inhaled the sweetness of her scent as she tucked it around his shoulders and drew it tight across his chest, a movement that brought her face to face with him.
A rising tightness inside him made it difficult to fill his lungs. His gaze lingered on her lips. He was her husband. He had every right to kiss her. But he’d promised to end the marriage. Told himself he wouldn’t take any more forbidden kisses. But she was so close. Her breath whispered over his face. Her eyes begged—
“Della.” Her name ached from him as he pulled her closer and claimed her lips.
It might have been his imagination, his wishful thinking but she came readily enough.
Their lips brushed gently, questioningly. And then she backed away, her eyes wide.
Seeing her distress, he knew he’d overstepped the boundaries between them.
“I’m sorry.” Not that he regretted kissing her. Not for a single second. He’d treasure those few stolen kisses forever.
She continued backing away until she reached the door to the hallway.
“It’s time for bed.” She darted down the hall.
As she disappeared from sight, he banged the heel of his hand on his forehead. Was he ever going to learn to listen to his head rather than let his foolish heart control him?
17
Della’s heart pounded as she leaned against the closed door of the room that she’d been sleeping in. Her reaction to his kiss had left her shaken. It was only out of relief at knowing Mr. Hartman wouldn’t bother her again. And gratitude that Andy had saved her.
I would give my life to save you.
His assertation echoed through her thoughts making it impossible to bring them under submission. And yet she must. She had commitments, promises to keep. Ma would even now be beside herself with concern over Della.
She straightened.I must guard my heart and mind.
The bed was bare. She’d taken the only covering to Andy. Unless she retraced her steps she’d be in for a cold night.
A gentle rap on the door sent her heart into a frenzy. She forced in a deep breath and opened to her visitor.
“Mrs. Bennet.”
“I brought your quilt back. Andy says thanks.” There was something in the older woman’s tone that seemed knowing. As if she’d witnessed their kiss.
Her cheeks burning, Della took the quilt. “Thank you.” She heaved a sigh of relief when Mrs. Bennet murmured goodnight and pulled the door closed. But not before Della glanced down the hall. She didn’t see Andy and told herself, firmly, that she hadn’t hoped to.
The soundof metal against metal wakened Della the next morning and she opened her eyes to a dark room. Recalling why the drapes were pulled so tightly, her heart kicked into a gallop, and then she remembered that the danger of Mr. Hartman had ended. She could return home in peace. Outward peace only for inside her a war raged.
If only she hadn’t promised Pa that she’d go to Europe and see some of the things he’d enjoyed while he was growing up. If only she didn’t need to go back and help Ma. If only she hadn’t agreed to a pretend, temporary marriage to Andy.
If only she didn’t wish it was real and forever.
But as Pa had often said, “‘If ifs and ands were pots and pans, there'd be no work for tinkers' hands.’” With her mind set to follow through on her promises, she pushed from bed, dressed, and hurried to the kitchen.
Mrs. Bennet stood at the stove tending a pot. Andy sat at the table, a steaming cup of coffee between his hands.
All Della’s silent admonitions vanished as she stared at him, her mouth dry, her heart yearning—
