Homespun Bride

Jillian Hart 189words, his presence and the promise that made her feelfree again.“I’ll never let you fall.” He used that wondrous voiceof his against her, replete with humor and unspokendreams. Quiet, secret dreams that had her heart openingand her wishes coming to life.Wishes she could not give life to.He guided her along the uneven path with a gentlehand—not a domineering one—on her elbow.“Sit here.” His baritone dipped low. With quiet tenderness,he helped her settle on the garden bench.She hardly noticed the cold trying to seep in throughher layers of wool and flannel. The burn of the wind,the twitter of winter birds and the scent of wood smokeon the air faded away. There was only the crunch ofsnow beneath his boots, the rustle of his clothes as heknelt before her. His scent of hay and horseflesh andleather and his soothing presence was all she couldthink about. All she could notice.He lifted her right foot onto his knee, and emotionsthat had sat like a heavy lump in her chest began tounravel, one aching thread at a time.She could no longer hold back the question that hadbeen troubling her. “I think I know why you ran offinstead of marrying me and why you left me behind.”The ice skate slipped from his fingers. “Let’s leavethe past where it belongs.”“I’m not speaking about the past. I’m talking aboutthis moment. Right now. What’s happened between ussince you’ve come back.”“There’s no sense in digging up what’s done.”“But—”“Trust me, Noelle. It’s for the best if we don’t talk