Page 26 of The Autumn Wife
Theo grunted in agreement, welcoming the distraction as he handed Jules a clean trowel. “With luck, we can still set stone for another few weeks.”
“And after that?” Jules asked, spreading a hunk of mortar and pushing it into every crevice. “Are you sending us away until the spring? I’m not looking forward to chopping wood all winter for somehabitant. I’d rather stay here and hew bluestone for the chapel lintels or something.”
“I’ll keep you and the men through early October at least.” He frowned, still trying to redirect histhoughts. “We should gather more fieldstone for when the building starts up again in spring. I’ll talk to the Reverend Mother about—”
“Monsieur Martin.”
His words ceased. He would recognize Cecile’s voice from a crowd of thousands, but the uncertainty in her voice pierced him with cold. He stilled with his trowel inches above the swiftly drying mortar.
“Hey.” Jules cocked his head toward the bottom of the ladder. “Don’t keep a pretty woman like that waiting.”
Theo gave Jules a ferocious eye, but the mason returned the look with a wicked grin. “Every fool here is hoping for her attention. But you’re the only one she’ll talk to—”
“Enough.”
“Monsieur!”
Her voice, louder now. Theo glanced down the scaffolding, a good twenty-five feet to the ground. There she was, in a pool of nun-gray skirts, her face bleach-white as she stood next to a squinting Mother Superior.
“Sister Martha,” she called up, “would like to speak with you for a moment.”
Jules snickered. “Wrong woman.”
Ignoring him, Theo scraped his trowel free of mortar—scraping and scraping to give himself time to compose himself—and placed the tool on top of the last stone he’d set. He swung one foot down to a rung and then another until he could hop onto thechurned-up ground. Turning, he focused on Mother Superior instead of the woman he ached to seize by the arm, drag behind a wall, and kiss not-so-softly into submission.
“Reverend Mother,” he said, bowing his head. “Welcome back.”
“And what a welcome!” The nun spread her arms to take in the solid walls of the rising chapel. “Sir, I’m astonished. You’ve accomplished in my absence more than has been done in twenty years.”
He absorbed the tribute with a swelling of his chest even as he strained to see, out of the corner of his eye, how Cecile reacted. Did she take note of this praise and let him rise in her estimation? No sooner had the thought darted through his mind than he batted it away. He shouldn’t want her to notice. Whatever feelings had been growing between them, he had an obligation to stop those feelingsnow.
“I’d hoped for progress,” the nun continued, grasping the wooden cross hanging around her neck. “I prayed fervently for it in every church and chapel in Quebec. I’ve been disappointed so many times before, but you’ve worked a miracle, sir.”
“All acclaim goes to these men,” he said, throwing a hand up to the workers. “They have labored long and hard. It’s them you should be thanking.”
“Ah, you’re hiding your light under a bushel basket.” The nun raised her voice. “With my thanks,gentlemen, I shall lay out a feast for you, come Sunday.”
Amid the distraction of cheers, Theo couldn’t resist any longer. He slid his gaze to Cecile, who had dropped her attention to the grass while flexing her fingers over a covered tray she held tucked against her side.
He couldn’t help himself. Inside, he commanded her,Look at me.
“Well, that’s settled,” the nun said. “Attend me in my office later, sir. I have many questions. Come now, my dear.” The nun patted Cecile’s shoulder. “We have accounts to go over, and it’s best to get the unpleasantness done first.”
“I’ll join you in a moment.” Cecile jiggled the tray digging into her hip. “Monsieur Martin has not yet had his dinner. I was just setting something out for him.”
The nun frowned. “You really mustn’t skip a meal, sir, with all the hard work you do.” The Reverend Mother slid a curious glance between them both before turning toward the main building. “Cecile, see me after.”
“Yes, Sister Martha.”
“You must be famished,” she said gently, raising those fathomless brown eyes as the nun walked away. “You skipped breakfast.”
“I started work early. I had a section to finish.” It was as good an excuse as the true one—that he’dmissed breakfast to keep away from the woman who was serving it.
“The food is getting cold.” Cecile granted him a soft smile that was nearly his undoing. “Follow me to the table—”
“I’m not hungry.”
His stomach growled.
