Jillian Hart - Jonah's Bride

Amazing. She and Jonah Hunter with his fine clapboard house and worldly possessions had this in common.

As her foot lighted on the last step and the warm heat from the parlor's hearth rushed at her face, she saw him stride across the room toward her. He held something dark in hand.

"Since you do not accept payment, then let me offer this." He held out the dark gray wool, folded precisely, the fabric so fine she took a step back. "Yours was ruined by the wolf."

"A cloak." Tessa spoke the words with wonder, but she would not reach out. She longed to touch that fine wool. But it was wrong. " 'Tis beautiful."

"This was my mother's." The bleak note that lowered his voice made her look up, forced her to see the emptiness in his eyes. "Not my stepmother, you remember her. But my real mother. She died when I was very young."

"You should keep such a fine remembrance."Tessa's throat tightened. "Such a thing is far too fine for the likes of me."

"Nonsense." Jonah shook out the folds of wool.

Why, she had never seen a cloak so beautiful. There was a pattern of checks to the wool, so dark and carefully woven. To own such a thing would be marvelous.

And what would her grandfather say? What would everyone else say? Wouldn't they laugh and wonder if poor spinster Tessa Bradford was holding out hopes for the man who had given her something so exquisite?

She had heard enough taunting and cruel remarks over the years. Her grandfather would probably take the garment from her anyway.

"You saved my life. That was payment enough." Tessa tried to smile, yet felt her chin wobble. She was no good at lying. And probably no good at hiding the liking she felt for that cloak.

"I will come by later today to check on your father," she said stiffly, forcing herself to move away from tempting Jonah Hunter and the beautiful cloak he held. "Keep him home from meeting and make sure he is warm. He must not take a chill."

"Tessa, I warrant the cloak is old." Jonah looked pained. Even disappointed.

Then she knew he meant only kindness in offering her such a gift, a payment for risking her grandfather's wrath and for tending his father. But she could not accept it.

"The cloak is precious and I would love it more than anything, but it is not meant for me, Jonah. 'Tis something you should save for the wife everyone is saying you have come home to choose."

He blushed. The wicked, outrageous rogue of a man turned pink from his collar to his ears. Aye, he was human after all. Tessa bit back a chuckle, knowing any friendliness between them was foolish. He would marry one of the pretty young girls from the village, but not her. Never her.

Her gaze strayed to the window where daylight shone through a scattering of pewter clouds. Her heart squeezed. "The sooner I am home, the better. Grandfather is…" she paused. "Strict"

Jonah winced and began carefully folding the beloved cloak. "I shall take you home."

"I have no need of an escort"

"Aye, but perhaps you will come across another wolf and need rescuing." A small light teased his eyes, but there was so much sadness there.

Tessa looked away, refusing to see the man inside. "Do not try to fool me, Jonah Hunter. You are the wolf, and I shall do my best to avoid you."

He barely managed a nod. There was no smile and no wicked laughter in his eyes as he continued folding the cloak. Carefully, the way a loving son might.

"Besides, once Grandfather sees I have disobeyed him, there will be no man on this earth able to rescue me. Good day to you, Jonah Hunter."

She turned to the door, refusing to think of the man greater than myth, the man who'd fought for the colonies, saved lives and farms with honor and courage. Everyone knew the stories, for Colonel Hunter, Jonah's father, spoke of it often enough that the boys around town lived on the stories.

How would the legend take to living an ordinary life, Tessa wondered as she headed out in the snow. How would a hero become an ordinary man?

"Thankful Bowman is an awful pretty girl. 'Course she is a little long in the tooth, but since she does not often smile, a man would not notice so much."

Jonah slammed his fist on the table, rattling silverware, fighting a suffocating panic. "Enough. I never said I wanted a wife."

On the other side of the cider pitcher, his unmanageable younger brother, hardly more than twenty, howled. "Surely, Jonah. Tell that to Father. He has done nothing more than talk of your homecoming for the last five years and of the wife you will take."

"I did not come home all this while because I knew what he wanted. Marriage is a trap I would rather avoid." The weight of his promise now tightened about his throat like a hanging noose. The idea of marriage was not a comforting one.

"So, you will break your vow to Father?"

Jonah felt his chest turn cold and it grew difficult to breathe. "Nay, I warrant this is a promise I'll keep."

As much as he wanted to run for freedom, Jonah knew he'd come home for good. With Father nearing the end of his days, there was naught he could do but fulfill the dying man's final wishes. He loved his father, and marriage was his duty. No matter how distasteful, Jonah vowed to find a bride.

Andy gulped down a great amount of cider before digging into his huge bowl of corn pone. "Why, every female in town has talked of little else for months. They seem to think you would make a fine catch, Jonah."

Thomas, the middle brother and more practical than salt, shook his head and helped himself to two more biscuits. " 'Tis true. A smart maiden has taken a good look at this house and figured how fine it would be to live here. Of course, once those maids get a good eyeful of our ugly brother, they will likely change their minds."

"Ugly?" Jonah roared. "Who in blazes are you calling ugly?"

His brothers laughed, and Jonah shook his head. "I will have no more talk of brides today."

"Brother, bellow orders at someone who'll listen." Andy wiped his brow. "If I was not mistaken, I heard a woman's voice in the hallway this morning, quite early too, just as the sun was rising. Have you been sowing oats your first night back in town?"

"Sowing oats? There is not a wench this side of Boston who will have him," Thomas declared gravely. There was more laughter.

Jonah grabbed his spoon and dug into his pudding, unable to stop thinking of the woman Andy had mentioned. He saw flashes of Tessa's face, made so tender and vulnerable in the lamplight, and jeweled blue eyes filled with sadness as she walked away from this house not an hour before.

At first Jonah feared the fine cloak didn't meet with her approval, an old piece of wool nearly thirty years old. But there was no mistaking the want in her eyes. Aye, Tessa Bradford coveted the garment he'd offered, but she'd walked away wearing nothing more than a coarse and faded homespun dress to protect her against the wind.

Truly a mystery. Jonah had met never a female who would refuse a man's gift, especially finery she didn't have. You cannot buy me, Hunter . Tessa's words haunted him.

"See? There was a woman in his room last night," Andy accused. "And he's smitten by her, too."

Jonah studied the amused light in his brother's eyes, read the interest and the delight "I am bound to disappoint you, little brother. There was no woman in my bed. Just Tessa Bradford come to tend Father."

The glee died from the room. Thomas cleared his throat, as if uncomfortable with the thought of one so severe as Mistress Bradford in the house at all. "She is a capable healer, no doubt. A sickness went through the village last winter, and half the children would be dead if not for her herbs and such."

"She scares me," Andy ruefully admitted as he spooned more corn pudding into his mouth. "Rumor was Horace Walling is thinking of marrying her."