Homespun Bride

Jillian Hart25“Me, too, but I don’t need a storm for that.” Therewas a touch of warmth to those words.She wondered if he were smiling, and what kind ofsmile he had. Just for curiosity’s sake, of course. Shebegan to shake the snow from the lap blanket.“Let me get that for you.”He blocked the storm as he towered beside her. Shefelt the weight of the snow-caked blanket fall away. Shebreathed in the wintry air, the faint scent of his soap andleather and wool and remembered that boy she’d onceloved.His hand cradled her elbow to help her step out ofthe sleigh. Cold snow sank to the tops of her ankle-highshoes. For a moment, she felt a strange quiver of familiarityand denial seized her like a fist. Thad McKaslinhere, in Angel Falls? Could it be?She took one step, and he moved to her side to blockthe worst of the wind and snow. And the way hetowered beside her made recognition shiver throughher.I don’t want it to be him, she thought, her stomachtightening even more. But just because she didn’t wantit to be Thad, didn’t mean it wasn’t. She took anotherstep. “Should I know you?”“Not really,” his comforting baritone rumbled.“When a man saves a woman’s life, well, twowomen’s, she likes to know what name to call herrescuer when she thanks him.”“Maybe some things are better left a mystery.”Friendly, that’s what his voice was and cozy, the waya fire crackling in the hearth was cozy. “Careful, now.There’s a deep drift coming up.”His grip tightened on her and he responded so