Read Online After the Storm by Jo Ann Ferguson - Free Book Online Page B

You’re as cool as a spring morn.” Samuel regarded her with confusion, and she could not blame him. How could she explain that it would be simpler if her thoughts had been a hallucination brought on by fever?
    â€œGood.” She sounded foolish, but it would be even more unwise to speak of how she had been ready to let him take her into his arms. It must be the weakness left by her illness and the loneliness of her broken heart. She would not make the same mistake with another man as she had with Abban. She had been shown how silly trust in a man could be. If Abban had been alive when she reached New York with the children …
    â€œThen what’s wrong?” Samuel asked. “Are you in pain?”
    â€œMy head is aching.” She would cling to the truth as long as she was able.
    â€œMaybe you should rest some more.”
    She hoped her voice did not sound as breathless to him as it did to her own ears when his firm fingers curled around hers, enclosing them in a warm cocoon of flesh. “No, I want to spend more time with the children.”
    â€œThey’ve worn you out.” His smile was as paternal as the one he wore when he teased Brendan.
    â€œI’ve waited a long time for this. Now that I’m in Haven …”
    â€œYou’re staying here?”
    â€œI can’t leave. I don’t have enough money to pay for even one train fare back to New York.”
    His expressive brows lowered. “You mean you bought a one-way ticket?”
    â€œIt was all I could afford, and I didn’t want to wait a moment longer than necessary to find my children.”
    Samuel’s shoulders grew rigid as Cailin’s had been a few minutes ago. Did she always have to put that slight emphasis on my when she mentioned the children? He did not ask, because it might be his ears that were hearing that stress on the word he had come to enjoy using when he spoke of the Rafferty children.
    â€œI’m sure you understand,” she continued, her fingers quivering in his.
    Her hand in his? When had that happened? He released her slender fingers, realizing he must have taken her hand when he wanted to be certain she was not sickening again.
    She hastily drew her hand away, holding it close to her chest. His eyes followed the motion and took note of how her breasts pressed against the borrowed shirt—his shirt—with each breath she took. His own breathing was as unsteady as hers. Were they both out of their minds?
    Lifting his gaze to a face that seemed to have no more color than the pillows beneath her, he tried to imagine her at Megan’s age so he could finish this conversation with what dignity he had left. It was impossible. Even though her high cheekbones and softly rounded chin surrounded by rich auburn hair were the same as the child’s, he could not ignore the pink invitation of her lips or the very adult emotions in her dark eyes.
    He mumbled something and went out of the bedroom. As he walked toward the front door, he was not surprised to hear the kitchen door open and shut and running feet behind him. He paused in the doorway to see both Brendan and Lottie vanishing back into the bedroom. A moment later, her hands covered with flour, Megan followed them.
    Walking out onto the porch, Samuel stretched his tense shoulders as he gazed out over the fields of ripe corn. He had spent too much time during the past few days standing guard at Cailin’s door so the children would not sneak in and disturb her. Now he had work to catch up on. Lots of it.
    Good. That would keep his mind on something other than dark brown eyes and soft lips. He had thought he had learned his lesson, but it was clear he would end up being taught the same lesson over again if he was not careful.
    As he crossed the yard toward the red barn, he heard laughter coming through the bedroom window. He paused and listened to Brendan talk about the first stop the orphan train had made, and how the