Jillian Hart - Jonah's Bride

"Slowly, now," he said, almost kindly, as he helped her to her feet.

Jonah Hunter kind? As if the devil could change sides.

"I needn't your advice," she said quietly. It would be so easy to lash out at him, but her gaze landed on the lifeless animal's body. "You shot twice."

"And killed two wolves." His hand lighted on her shoulder.

Heat seared through layers of wool and flannel to scorch her skin beneath. Tessa managed a shallow breath. "Two wolves?"

"Seems you attracted the attention of the entire pack." Low, powerful, Jonah's voice sailed. He studied the ground behind them. "See? The wolves have already claimed the first body. There are tracks."

Tessa was not interested, but her gaze slid downward, past the width of Jonah's chest to the snow-covered earth. A maze of prints covered her own in the moonlit snow. Maybe a dozen creatures, she guessed. Made bold by hunger.

Icy fear shivered over her skin. "They would have-" She couldn't finish the sentence. Her knees began to wobble. Her eyes teared. Death had been so close. The wolf-the one that had landed on her back-it must have been pouncing when Jonah's bullet snatched it out of the air. She would be dead, gone without a trace or a proper burial, if not for Jonah Hunter.

"You are safe now." His second hand landed on her shoulder and he drew her against him.

Locked in his arms, her cheek pressed against his snow-damp cloak and the solid chest beneath. Tessa closed her eyes. Silly to let him hold her this way. Silly to think she needed any comfort. But her fists filled with his cloak and she could not force herself to step away.

"You saved my life," she whispered. "I-"

"Jonah!" A faraway voice split the night's air.

Only after Tessa stepped away from his solid chest and out of his comforting embrace did she hear the drum of footsteps on the frozen earth. Her senses spinning, panic rising, she took another step back toward the heavy shadows.

The boys who'd been skating on the frozen pond at the far end of the meadow heard the shots and were coming to investigate.

Boys from the village. Would they recognize her even in the dark? Would they talk? And would that talk get back to her grandfather and every one of the selectmen of the village? Fear quickened the beat of her heart. Oh, why had she been so foolish? Even to escape the prison of her grandfather's home?

Jonah shielded her with his big body, casting her more deeply in shadow. The din of the approaching boys shattered the forest's peace and frightened her more.

"Go," he said. "Before you land yourself in more trouble."

Her heart twisted. So, he understood. To be caught with him alone in these woods would mean nothing short of disaster. "Th-thank you."

Even in the dark, the light in Jonah's eyes gleamed. "Remember this. You owe me, Tessa Bradford. There is no good deed done without a price."

A chill snaked down Tessa's spine. His words frightened her. He frightened her. What did he mean? What price would he expect for saving her life? Feeling as if she'd just bargained with the devil, Tessa slipped into the shadows and escaped just as the boys gathered around Jonah, already spinning tales of heroism.

Jonah stepped foot in the pitch-black room, apprehension a tight ball in his chest. He'd been too long from this house in which he'd grown from boy to man, too long disappointing the one man he loved above all. "Father?"

"I am here, boy."

Jonah's conscience twisted at the raspy sound of his once strong papa's voice. He stepped carefully, moving by feel rather than memory through the parlor. Strange to think he'd come home for good.

"I have been awaiting your return." Father's breath drew short and shallow, filling the dark room.

I have failed him. The knowledge defeated what still lived in his heart. Jonah's throat filled. I should have come home. I should have made Fathers life easier. And yet being a soldier, that's what Father had wanted for his firstborn son.

"I would have been home sooner." Jonah fisted his hands. "There were… complications."

"Always are in war."

"I was wounded," he confessed. But held back the truth that would shame his father, that he had not liked soldiering.

"As long as you have all your parts, son." Father's chuckle came like a cough, but humor still sparkled in his voice "I can think of only one appendage a man cannot live without."

" Tis true." Jonah saw nothing humorous about his father's health, about the sadness filling the room like smoke. "I have come to care for you, Papa."

" 'Tis high time too, boy." Withered hands, once so powerful, gripped his-hard and needy, the way a child might. "I have missed you, Jonah."

"That is why I've come home." He felt both the aching loneliness and the weakness in his father's grip. All these years while he'd been gone proving himself, his father had turned into an old sick man.

I never should have left him. I never should have-

"Now that you are here, will you stay, boy?"

"I intend to be the son you need, as always." Jonah felt resolve ball in his chest, tight and sustaining. Promises. They did not come easy to him, but when he gave his word, he would die before breaking it. "Tell me what you want, Father, and I will do it."

A cough rent the air, filling Jonah's heart with dread. The frail man sputtered for breath, then settled back in his chair, exhausted. The moonlight slipping through the diamond shaped windowpanes illuminated the weary circles beneath his half-closed eyes.

When he spoke, his voice was a scarce whisper. "This land is everything, Jonah. My father claimed this piece of earth not by handing over money in exchange for it, nay, he paid for it with his life, with the strength in his back, clearing this wilderness with naught more than an ax. He braved starvation and illness and wild animals. He earned this land with every drop of his blood and sweat shed for it. I have fought my battles for this land, too."

"Father, I-"

"Jonah, I raised you to be independent, an American, to think for yourself. When you, as a grown man, asked to leave, I let you go. For ten long years you have made your way in the world and I asked nothing of you until now."

Admiration for his father burned in his chest. Jonah's throat closed, and he tightened his grip on the old man's hands. He loved his father, who had loved him all his life no matter the mistakes he made, who always forgave him. A son-a man-could not ask for more.

"Find yourself a wife, Jonah, bring her here before I die. Fill this house with children. Promise me. You are my first son, Jonah. This land is your inheritance, and family is your duty."

Father fell silent, yet the moonlight did not hide the gleam of tears on his cheeks.

Jonah settled heavily to his knees. The words balled in his throat, words he'd meant to tell his father. Of the killing a soldier had to do. Of his life. Of why he could truly never call any place home again.

But duty-and the sadness on his father's face-kept him silent about his past.

"I vow it, Father. I will take a wife."

Her cloak was ruined. There was no saving it. The thick stain of blood from the wolf had soaked into the weave of the fabric. No amount of her homemade lye soap would remove it, even though she'd been scrubbing for two long hours.

Tessa hung her head, defeated. Dawn would come and with it a new day. How would she explain the ruined garment? She had no other. Surely Grandfather would notice her lack of a cloak during this morning's frigid walk to Sunday meeting.

She stood and hung the ruined length of wool to dry in the cow's stall. No one in the family would notice it there. With a heavy heart, she lifted the bucket of lye water.