Read Online Love's Reckoning by Laura Frantz - Free Book Online Page A

to his task, Silas was aware of endless silhouettes darkening the smithy door. Though the weather was frigid, men still came. To have something made or mended. To talk trade or politics or simply warm themselves by the fire while they waited.
    The morning passed in a whirl of work, each project requiring a different tool and skill, and always a careful eye. Before Silas had finished forging a link on a broken chain, Elspeth appeared, summoning them for dinner. Though he turned his back to her and removed his leather apron, he felt her eyes on him. Unlike Eden, who kept to the house, she always seemed to be hovering.
    â€œWhen she’s well, she’ll assist us,” Liege had announced that morning when Elspeth brought him the ledgers.
    When she’s well . . .
    Though pale, she looked robust, Silas thought. Hardly the invalid he’d envisioned when Greathouse had first spoken of her. He refrained from saying the smithy was no place for a woman. Injuries—burns—were easily gotten. And the male attention she was sure to garner was not a thing to be trifled with, surely.
    Bending over his work, Silas had asked quietly, “What is your daughter’s malady?”
    Silence.
    Though he didn’t look at Liege, he sensed the man’s surprise and confusion. Apprentices did not question their masters, and Silas expected a swift reminder. But instead of uttering a rebuke, Liege mumbled about his gout.
    Silas thought of it now as he followed Elspeth down a rock path overhung with what looked to be an unfinished arbor. Rose canes, pruned severely, stood layered in old snow on both sides. She walked slowly, he noticed, and he felt a spasm of guilt. Mayhap she was ill. His suspicions, easily aroused due to his own misfortunes, were likely out of place here. Judge not lest ye be judged. He’d best take things at face value till he knew the moods and rhythms of this strange household.
    Stopping to wash in a corner of the kitchen, he noticed Eden taking bread from a beehive oven to the right of the hearth. She worked quietly and efficiently, never looking up—basketing the bread, stirring the soup, layering meat and cheese on a platter—all with a bandaged hand. Concern riffled through him. Though he’d been here but a few days, it was long enough to know she was the girl of all work. But with a mother newly delivered and an ill sister, why would it be any different?
    Thomas played quietly by an open cupboard, studying Silas with somber eyes as he passed through the kitchen, while the bairn slept in his cradle near the hearth. Mrs. Lee and Elspeth were already seated in the dining room. He took his place at one end of the table, waiting for Liege to occupy the other, and tried to quell his discontent. At least he had warm lodgings here—and more food than he’d ever dreamed of.
    Fixing a thankful eye on the pewter and redware in front of him, he heard the kitchen door squeak open. Eden came in, ladling broth into bowls and placing all else on the table. When she sat to the left of him, she bowed her head briefly and he felt a sting of surprise. Other than this, there was no grace said at the Lee table. The practice—or lack of it—was so strange the meal always seemed to be wanting, as if missing seasoning or salt.
    How did a girl—a young woman—like Eden warm to Christ in a cold household?
    â€œShe has Quaker leanings,” Greathouse had said.
    How had that happened? Silas wondered.
    His eyes roamed the mustard-colored walls, the simple furnishings, and the gaping rock fireplace. Without Liege, the room was missing its usual tension, and he found himself wishing the master would stay away and they could enjoy one meal in peace. But Elspeth was to his right, and peace, he was finding, had little to do with her presence.
    â€œSo, Mr. Ballantyne, what do your people partake of in Scotland?”
    Her pert question hung in the air, shattering the rule of