Christmas at Carnton (Carnton 0.5)(30)

“Andrew’s a fine boy, Mrs. Prescott. You’ve done well by him.” Jake sought and held her gaze. “You both did, ma’am.”

The light in her eyes warmed him where he stood.

“Are . . . you married, Captain Winston?”

The question was so unexpected, Jake had to smile. “No, ma’am. I’m not. And never have been.”

She nodded and returned to her task. Once everything was put away, he walked with her back to the house, insisting she keep his coat around her shoulders.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you out of uniform, Captain.”

He glanced down at his shirt and dungarees. “You planning on turning me in?”

She acted as though she were weighing that possibility. “Probably not just yet. I might need your help again sometime soon.”

He laughed, then offered a bow. “Well, if you do need my help, ma’am, please know in advance that you will always have it.”

She smiled up at him, her precise expression inscrutable in the shadows, and Jake found his gaze drawn to the inviting curve of her lips. His thoughts swiftly took a more intimate turn as his imagination led him down a path he knew was best left untrod. And it didn’t help his resolve when she didn’t look away. He reached up and fingered a loose curl at her temple and heard her breath quicken. He leaned closer, cupping the side of her face, all but able to taste her kiss and the softness of her lips.

“Captain Winston, I—” She took a hasty step backward, her breath coming hard. “I’d best be getting inside. It’s late, after all.”

The fullness of the moment and of what he’d been about to do hit him brick hard. “Mrs. Prescott—” Jake winced. “Please. Forgive me, ma’am. I—”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Captain.” Her smile was brief and unconvincing. “Good night.”

Far more hastily than he would’ve liked, she slipped in through the kitchen door and closed it behind her. Wishing he could recall the last moment and do it differently, he strode back to his cabin.

It wasn’t until later that evening, flipping through his sketchbook, that he realized just how much of his thoughts this woman occupied. Just as she did the pages of his notebook. More than was wise, he knew, given his circumstances. And hers.





CHAPTER 10

“Let’s go kill us some hogs!” Winder yelled, waving a make-believe sword in his hand. Andrew quickly joined in and both boys raced like the wind toward the field adjacent to the barn. Early morning fog still blanketed the winter grasses and clung to the evergreens on the hills, giving the estate a somewhat ethereal feel.

“Andrew, slow down!” Aletta called, pulling her shawl closer about her shoulders and waiting for Tempy to join her. “And be careful!”

She was none too sure about attending this event to begin with. A hog killing certainly didn’t feel like a festive Christmas pastime. Though the estate, at least, looked decidedly festive. Jake had hung nearly two dozen ribbon-swathed evergreen wreaths about the barns and fences, per Mrs. McGavock’s request, and the sight of Carnton arrayed so beautifully warmed her.

She yawned, her day having started especially early that morning with helping Tempy prepare breakfast for all the workers lending a hand in the event. They’d carried the food to the barn before sunup, then had let the men serve themselves as they arrived while she and Tempy returned to the kitchen to start on the noonday meal. The amount of food they’d prepared still amazed her, as did the McGavocks’ generosity in providing it.

“Andrew,” she called again. “Stay close. Don’t go too far.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Missus Prescott.” Tempy came up beside her. “Those boys’ll be fine. Every boy I ever knowed loves hog killin’ day.”

“I know I did when I was younger.”

Aletta turned to see Captain Winston walking toward them and felt a blush creeping into her cheeks. He smiled at her and she returned the gesture, same as she would to anyone else, she told herself.

Yet she found it impossible to deny her heightened awareness of the man.

No matter that she’d seen him several times over the last four days since Thanksgiving—and had ridden to and from the McGavocks’ church with him and Andrew yesterday morning. All she could think about was when he’d walked her back to the house the other night after helping her move the wood. She’d been so startled when he’d leaned in to kiss her. Which had been surprising enough. But what bothered her even more was that she hadn’t turned away. At least, not at first.

Here she was, seven months pregnant with Warren’s child, and she’d found herself actually wanting Captain Winston to kiss her. Wanting him to take her in his arms and hold her until she could feel the solid beat of his heart against hers. The blush in her face deepened.

Twice, Captain Winston had made polite attempts to speak with her privately, but she’d managed to avoid it, embarrassed and wishing they could simply go back and recapture the ease of their friendship before that moment. Because, as she had that night, she felt awkward and exposed.

But mostly, she felt unfaithful to Warren’s memory. And partly responsible.

Tempy peered up at him. “So you done this before then, Captain?”

“Oh yes, ma’am. Many times. I grew up on a farm in South Carolina.” He looked around. “It wasn’t near what Carnton is, but it was home. And it was special.” His voice gained a touch of melancholy.