Fire Along the Sky
Page 113
Elizabeth found Nathaniel in the barn, but no Hannah, who had gone down to the village to look at a trapper with some frostbitten toes that might need amputation.
“But I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet,” Elizabeth said, disappointed and oddly put out that Hannah should evade her so neatly.
“She'll be back shortly,” Nathaniel said. He had been examining the hoof of Curiosity's horse, which he dropped as he straightened. Then he grinned at her in a way that made her step back, and draw in a breath.
“Ain't it neighborly of you to come out here to keep me company,” he said, advancing.
“Nathaniel.” Trying to sound firm.
“Boots. That was a good piece of work you did today.”
She stepped back again, and found herself up against a wall. “It didn't go as I expected it to. All I wanted—”
He stopped in front of her. “Was to get those boys to behave. You did that.”
“There were less . . . disruptive ways to accomplish the same thing.”
“But what fun would that have been?” He tilted his head, stemmed one arm against the wall behind her, and kissed her briefly. “I for one don't have anything against a little excitement in the middle of winter.” His free hand strayed to her waist and then to the small of her back.
“What is it about this barn that always gets you started?” Elizabeth asked, her hands on his chest. “I have never understood it.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you telling me you ain't in a romantic frame of mind?”
“I'm asking a question,” Elizabeth said, slipping out from between him and the barrels. “And we're too old for such foolishness in the middle of the afternoon.”
“Speak for yourself.” Nathaniel walked over to the tackle shelf and the bench underneath it, where he sat with his hands on his knees. “Come set over here next to me, Boots.”
She did it against her better judgment, and realized immediately what he was about.
“Oh,” she said. “You're thinking of the night—”
“You asked me to marry you.”
She swallowed down her irritation. “Yes, I suppose that's the way you'd remember it. It was right here.”
At that he laughed out loud and slipped an arm around her waist, put his face to the crook of her neck. With one hand he worked the ties of her cloak while he pressed a kiss just under her ear.
“Nathaniel.”
“Boots.”
“Really, Nathaniel, you can't—”
“Watch me.”
She made an effort to pull away, halfhearted, wanting to be held down, wanting to be convinced. And he knew it, of course. That was the miracle.
On an indrawn breath she said, “What kind of example are we for the children?”
He paused to think about that, though his hands continued to stroke her back.
“The best kind of example, seems to me. We like each other real well even after all these years and the troubles we been through. I ain't in the habit of beating you and you don't throw dishes at my head when you're feeling out of sorts. A man who likes to touch his wife, and a woman who likes it that he does—I don't know there's anything to be ashamed of in that. Most men I know would call us damn fortunate. Most women too, I'd wager.”
Elizabeth grasped his hands in both of hers and kissed one callused palm. “Drat you, Nathaniel, I had a whole list of excellent arguments and I can't think of a single one. You disarm me every time.”
He turned her to him then and kissed her soundly. “You go ahead, Boots,” he said, smiling against her mouth. “When those arguments come to you, I'll be right here. Listening.”
“Supper on the table,” she muttered. “It'll be cold.”
“You won't,” he said, and drew her down to the hay.
Chapter 23
By the fourth morning of the journey, Lily had begun to suspect that they were the only people not just in the endless forests, but the world. Every other kind of living thing seemed to show itself: moose, elk, deer, wolves, panthers—at that, the team nearly bolted, but for Simon's quick handling. He never had to go very far or long to bring them a steady diet of meat: partridge, turkey, grouse, and the occasional rabbit. Lily was at first amused and then put out when Simon took it upon himself to point out tracks, as if she had not taken note, or did not know what they were. Then she realized that while he had been in this country for a long time, the bounty of the woods still surprised and delighted him.
She remembered nothing of her short time in Scotland; she had been no more than a baby. But the stories were fresh in her mind and she asked him about the bare Scots hillsides and the fairy tree that figured so largely in Jennet's girlhood stories.
Jennet. She would give a great deal to have Jennet along on this journey, or Hannah, or any woman, really.
Lily was just thinking about her sudden and very intense yearning to be among other women, when Simon cleared his throat in a way she recognized: he had something important to tell her.
“It's the next day or two that are the most dangerous,” he said in his calmest, most disturbing voice. “For we're near the border and only a few miles from the Sorel. The woods are full of every manner of man who ever put on a uniform. Revenue agents, mostly, looking for smugglers.”
“And militia,” Lily suggested.
“Aye, militia and regulars both.”
“But I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet,” Elizabeth said, disappointed and oddly put out that Hannah should evade her so neatly.
“She'll be back shortly,” Nathaniel said. He had been examining the hoof of Curiosity's horse, which he dropped as he straightened. Then he grinned at her in a way that made her step back, and draw in a breath.
“Ain't it neighborly of you to come out here to keep me company,” he said, advancing.
“Nathaniel.” Trying to sound firm.
“Boots. That was a good piece of work you did today.”
She stepped back again, and found herself up against a wall. “It didn't go as I expected it to. All I wanted—”
He stopped in front of her. “Was to get those boys to behave. You did that.”
“There were less . . . disruptive ways to accomplish the same thing.”
“But what fun would that have been?” He tilted his head, stemmed one arm against the wall behind her, and kissed her briefly. “I for one don't have anything against a little excitement in the middle of winter.” His free hand strayed to her waist and then to the small of her back.
“What is it about this barn that always gets you started?” Elizabeth asked, her hands on his chest. “I have never understood it.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you telling me you ain't in a romantic frame of mind?”
“I'm asking a question,” Elizabeth said, slipping out from between him and the barrels. “And we're too old for such foolishness in the middle of the afternoon.”
“Speak for yourself.” Nathaniel walked over to the tackle shelf and the bench underneath it, where he sat with his hands on his knees. “Come set over here next to me, Boots.”
She did it against her better judgment, and realized immediately what he was about.
“Oh,” she said. “You're thinking of the night—”
“You asked me to marry you.”
She swallowed down her irritation. “Yes, I suppose that's the way you'd remember it. It was right here.”
At that he laughed out loud and slipped an arm around her waist, put his face to the crook of her neck. With one hand he worked the ties of her cloak while he pressed a kiss just under her ear.
“Nathaniel.”
“Boots.”
“Really, Nathaniel, you can't—”
“Watch me.”
She made an effort to pull away, halfhearted, wanting to be held down, wanting to be convinced. And he knew it, of course. That was the miracle.
On an indrawn breath she said, “What kind of example are we for the children?”
He paused to think about that, though his hands continued to stroke her back.
“The best kind of example, seems to me. We like each other real well even after all these years and the troubles we been through. I ain't in the habit of beating you and you don't throw dishes at my head when you're feeling out of sorts. A man who likes to touch his wife, and a woman who likes it that he does—I don't know there's anything to be ashamed of in that. Most men I know would call us damn fortunate. Most women too, I'd wager.”
Elizabeth grasped his hands in both of hers and kissed one callused palm. “Drat you, Nathaniel, I had a whole list of excellent arguments and I can't think of a single one. You disarm me every time.”
He turned her to him then and kissed her soundly. “You go ahead, Boots,” he said, smiling against her mouth. “When those arguments come to you, I'll be right here. Listening.”
“Supper on the table,” she muttered. “It'll be cold.”
“You won't,” he said, and drew her down to the hay.
Chapter 23
By the fourth morning of the journey, Lily had begun to suspect that they were the only people not just in the endless forests, but the world. Every other kind of living thing seemed to show itself: moose, elk, deer, wolves, panthers—at that, the team nearly bolted, but for Simon's quick handling. He never had to go very far or long to bring them a steady diet of meat: partridge, turkey, grouse, and the occasional rabbit. Lily was at first amused and then put out when Simon took it upon himself to point out tracks, as if she had not taken note, or did not know what they were. Then she realized that while he had been in this country for a long time, the bounty of the woods still surprised and delighted him.
She remembered nothing of her short time in Scotland; she had been no more than a baby. But the stories were fresh in her mind and she asked him about the bare Scots hillsides and the fairy tree that figured so largely in Jennet's girlhood stories.
Jennet. She would give a great deal to have Jennet along on this journey, or Hannah, or any woman, really.
Lily was just thinking about her sudden and very intense yearning to be among other women, when Simon cleared his throat in a way she recognized: he had something important to tell her.
“It's the next day or two that are the most dangerous,” he said in his calmest, most disturbing voice. “For we're near the border and only a few miles from the Sorel. The woods are full of every manner of man who ever put on a uniform. Revenue agents, mostly, looking for smugglers.”
“And militia,” Lily suggested.
“Aye, militia and regulars both.”
