Homespun Bride

Jillian Hart21rehitched him to the sleigh but secured the driving reinsto his saddle horn. He used the two horses workingtogether to free the sleigh and get it realigned toward theroad.The older woman looked uncertain about gettingback into the vehicle. With the way that black geldingof theirs was twitchy and wild-eyed, he didn’t blameher. “Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll see you two ladieshome.”“Th-that would be very good of you, sir. I’m rathershaken up. I’m of half a mind to walk the entire milehome, except for my dear niece.”Noelle. He wouldn’t let his heart react to her. All thatmattered was doing right by her—and that was onething that hadn’t changed. He came around to help theaunt into the sleigh and after she was safely seated,turned toward Noelle. Her scarf had slid down to revealthe curve of her face, the slope of her nose and therosebud smile of her mouth.What had happened to her? How had she lost hersight? Sadness filled him for her blindness and for whatcould have been between them, once. He thought aboutsaying something to her, so she would know who hewas, but what good would that do? The past was doneand over. Only the emptiness of it remained.“Thank you so much, sir.” She turned toward thesound of his step and smiled in his direction. If she, too,wondered who he was, she gave no real hint of it.He didn’t expect her to. Chances were she hardly rememberedhim, and if she did, she wouldn’t think toowell of him. She would never know what good wisheshe wanted for her as he took her gloved hand. Thelayers of wool and leather and sheepskin lining