“Do ye think so?” Her face sparkled like frost in a sunrise. “I love a good snow.”
“Ye don’t think it is too cold for Miss Mattie?”
“Certainly not. I expect ye will find her ready to best ye in a sled race.”
Reed placed a hand on Ann’s elbow and gently directed her to the stable while keeping his gaze fixed on Jacob. “I will leave that to ye and mother. Ann and I have an errand.”
Randall met them with two pacers saddled.
Once beyond the confines of the yard and barn, Reed relaxed into his saddle. He and Ann were alone at last. He planned on making it count. A gust blew out of the northwest and slipped down the neck of his coat. “Are ye warm enough?”
She turned her sparkling blue eyes on him. “Yes. This is my favorite time of year.”
“Ye don’t find it too cold?”
“No. I find it energizing.”
“I prefer a little more warmth.”
She cocked her head to one side in a little nod.
“There is one thing about which I believe I can set yer mind at rest,” he said.
Ann slowed to regard him quietly.
“Jacob fully intends to secure the hand of yer friend Mattie this Christmastide.”
The smile on Ann’s face radiate genuine joy mixed with relief. “Are ye sure?”
“It is why he came.” They rode in silence for some time as Reed considered that he could get very used to seeing that smile every day.
“Such a convoluted and bothersome thing, is it not?”
“What is?”
“Courting.” Ann steered her pacer toward her home. “I think I much prefer yer aunt’s method.”
Reed chuckled. “I am not sure I would call bluntness a method. It borders on the rude.”
“Plain speaking, then. Take us, for example. Since we have spoken openly with one another and agreed that we will not suit, we can proceed forward as friends. Poor Mattie has been on tenterhooks waiting for signs and hoping she interprets them correctly. Ye must agree our approach is much kinder. The only trouble is we have to convince the rest of the world of what we already know.”
“Ann.”
“We’re here.” Ann increased her pace and arrived at the front door of Wright’s Wold before Reed arrived mid-driveway. The white clap-board house with its stately gardens rolling into the fields behind it brought cheerful memories of Ann’s grandfather and learning to carve in the stables.
Ann returned immediately carrying a covered basket.
“What is it?”
“A gift for the Brent twins. They lost their parents to a fever this summer. They live with their uncle. Richard Hobson.”
Reed stilled.
Had she deliberately planned this encounter?
Reed urged his pacer to follow Ann.
The transformation of Hobson farm warmed his heart, but didn’t ease the cold anger steeling his spine. How would anything work out between them if she couldn’t release him from his past?
~*~
Smoke from the fireplace smoothed flat by the wind scented the air.
Richard’s lame gait, never a comfortable thing to see, was worse with the cold.
Ann smiled a greeting, but Richard had eyes only for Reed. A pang of guilt shafted through her. She should have warned them both. Most especially Richard. How would he feel seeing the man who’d cause him such trouble—all for a lark and a laugh.
Reed slipped from the saddle and extended his hand.
Ann watched in confusion as Richard took it and pulled Reed into a one armed, back slapping hug. “Good to see ye, old friend.”
Well, Richard always was a generous man. She moved to dismount.
Dorcas Hobson stepped from the house wiping her hands on her apron before tucking a curl of jet black hair into the pile on the top of her head. “Invite them in, Mr. Hobson.” She grinned up at Ann. “Happy Christmastide, Miss Wright.”
Ann handed her basket to Dorcas and alighted. “I’ve brought something for the children.” She followed Richard’s wife into a large cheerful room. Dorcas was seven years her senior, closer in age to Ann’s sister Olivia, but Ann cherished their friendship. There were things she could talk to Dorcas about that she would never think to ask her own mother. Sprigs of ivy and rosemary accented the room with green and the smells of a prosperous Christmastide feast. The boys played in a corner with a small set of blocks under the watchful eye of Eve, the Hobson’s only daughter. Ann had just enough time to put down her basket before the three buried themselves in her skirts.
“Whatcha got, Miss Ann?” Eve asked.
