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she did, never more than when the words fell from his lips with such beautiful, thrilling promise.
    “And I want to do all that,” he added, his voice thick with mischief, “without worry for my life. You may yet be the death of me, but I prefer that fate come from your own hand and not your father’s.”
    Beyond Josiah’s teasing tone, a hefty truth existed in his words. One that grew more prevalent with each passing moment spent in his room. Through the lifting haze of a desire that would not fully release her, a new sense of urgency drifted to awareness.
    But despite the risk, Anne could not keep the smile from her lips as she slipped from Josiah’s room into the dark corridor. The house remained still, and she was just a couple of steps from the kitchen—a room to which she could easily justify a visit, even at the late hour. Quickly, she pulled his door to the jamb, careful not to shut it fully for the noise it would make.
    The sound of his muttered oath crept through the door and she smiled. That she could get under his skin as readily as he did hers left her with a smile she would wear forever.
    Until a soft sound ahead drew her attention.
    To the deep green eyes fixed on her every move.

Chapter Eight
    Josiah must have dreamed the whole event. Anne surprised him endlessly, but never more so than to enter his bedroom with her parents so nearby. She had left him undone in the greatest sense of the word. He had never intended such intimacies, but his own sensibilities had been lost to the pleasures she granted. It had taken all of his willpower to put an end to what happened between them, but he had meant what he said.
    He would deny her no more.
    Anne kept her distance the next morning. Josiah worried briefly that their encounter had been discovered, but Susannah Scudder’s terse greeting was as it usually was. Odd, the comfort he took in that. That concern out of the way, he settled into a stomach-churning fear that she harbored regrets for what had happened between them.
    Or worse, had she discovered the truth about Samuel?
    Josiah was taking his frustrations out on the weeds behind the garden when George Scudder approached. Handing Josiah a hunk of bread, the goodman said, “You missed the noon meal.”
    Josiah missed many meals, though he usually took a small portion of bread, if any remained. He performed the work asked of him as well as anything else he found that needed tending. He did not feel the minor tasks sufficient to earn his keep. The room he occupied came at no added expense to the Scudders, but accepting food from the table was another circumstance. He left that for the family and the patrons of the inn.
    “Thank you, sir,” Josiah said. “I skip the table as I do not wish to become a burden on your home.”
    George waved a hand. “Worry not,” he said. “Our means are plentiful enough. Come, son. Walk with me.”
    Startled, Josiah looked to the goodman. The bite of bread Josiah had just taken saved him from forming an immediate response—a circumstance for which he was exceedingly grateful. Though he would not deny Anne’s father, his initial shock would likely bring on suspicion, for a man with nothing to hide would not startle so.
    George looked on expectantly, so Josiah nodded his agreement as he settled his hat further on his head and fell into step alongside the goodman. He wanted to ask if something was wrong, but thought better of it. No matter how suspect the timing, George did not appear angry—assuredly nothing like a man whose only daughter had been caught cavorting with the hired help—and there was little value in drawing attention to a problem that had not made itself known.
    Unlike the village of Salem, which was widespread but sparsely populated, the side of Salem known as Town was dense and crowded. The Scudder Inn rested near the western edge of town, somewhat out of the way of the more boisterous trade and nestled alongside the road that led to Salem Village. The