The Homesteader's Sweetheart (25 page)

“Come into the kitchen.” Penny took Jonas’s arm and pulled him along the hallway and into a large, open room with a long table in the center. She pushed him down onto one of the stools lining the table and turned to rustle through a cupboard. “I know it’s here…”

She let out a triumphant exclamation and turned back to set a glass bottle of antiseptic and a clean cloth next to Jonas’s elbow. He lost his breath when she moved close, thumbing his chin to tilt his head to one side.

“You’ve got a scrape on your jaw…” Her breath warmed his cheek, sending goose bumps along his neck and down his spine.

It was a reversal of the few moments he’d spent doctoring her scrape after Breanna’s seizure in the wagon, back when he hadn’t known her at all.

With her chin just inches away, he couldn’t help focusing on the sweet bow of her lips. She’d kissed him once before with those very lips.

“Here, tilt up a little more. I can’t see…” She dabbed at his jaw with a damp cloth, almost businesslike in her movements. Did she not feel the bubbling current between them?

“I can’t believe you just attacked Mr. Abbott like that. Did you know he had a gun?”

“Yes.” It hadn’t mattered to him, except not wanting the weapon to be pointed at Penny.

“Well, you could’ve been hurt. Or killed. Who would’ve taken care of your children if something had happened to you?”

Couldn’t she sound a little happy to see him? “Nothing did happen.”

“Shh, be still,” she scolded him. “Let me finish here.”

Was this his answer? Should he not even ask her father if he could court her? She didn’t seem to have any reaction to seeing him. He clenched his jaw to keep from asking her something that would embarrass them both.

He couldn’t help the flare of his nostrils when she dabbed the antiseptic on his skin. It burned. Almost as much as the hand she’d braced on his shoulder.

“There. Almost…”

She set aside the cloth and her hand moved from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair.

She pursed her lips and blew on his stinging skin. He needed to draw away—she was too close—

And then the pressure of her thumb and forefinger holding his chin changed and she drew his face upward. Their lips met and this time he did what he wished he’d done the first time: he crushed her to his chest, arms coming around her slender waist. He couldn’t be sure which of them deepened the kiss, but it didn’t matter because he was drowning in the sensation of holding her, the smell of her, her mouth against his—

She broke from the kiss, pulled away, pressing her face into his shoulder and whispering, “I’m so glad you weren’t killed.”

Her words doused him in cold reality. Was relief the reason she’d kissed him? He’d thought they were coming together this time out of similar emotions—because they cared for each other. Had he been wrong?

“You’ve ripped your jacket, too,” she said, voice muffled against his collarbone. She fingered the seam above his shoulder. “Perhaps I can mend it for you after your discussion with father. It wouldn’t take long.”

He wanted her to mend it for him while sitting in the rocker in his cabin. A strangled “Maybe,” was all he could manage to push past his suddenly stiff lips.

He wished he knew more about females. What did her kiss mean? Did she have feelings for him at all?

He released his hold on her waist, gently pushing her away. “I need to go—your father’s waiting.” He’d come here for a reason, and he wouldn’t back out, even if he was unsure of her feelings. He’d promised the boys he would go through with it, and he couldn’t disappoint them. Even if he ended up being the one disappointed.

“Jonas.” She put a hand on his arm, halting him when he would have stood up from the stool. “Please, I’d like to speak to you after you and my father are done discussing your business. It’s important.”

It sounded as if she didn’t know that
she
was the business he was here to take care of.

Still reeling from her kiss and confused by her manner—maybe he’d gotten whacked harder than he thought by Abbott because he couldn’t get his thoughts to make any sense—he only nodded dumbly and allowed her to point him to her father’s study down the hall from the kitchen.

Castlerock was waiting for him, sitting behind a wide, expensive-looking desk with fingers steepled above his paunch.

Jonas took a seat in the chair the other man indicated. The furnishings in this room alone were much nicer than those in his cabin. It reminded him of the Broadhursts’ home in Philadelphia. He was also conscious of Castlerock’s orderly appearance, while he knew his Sunday suit was rumpled from the scuffle. In the past, it might’ve made him feel out of place or uncomfortable, but after Penny’s admiration when she’d introduced him, he felt confident. Somewhat.

“What can I do for you, son? Still looking for money?”

Jonas swallowed. So Castlerock did remember him from the evening Jonas had interrupted his elegant party, and Jonas’s meeting at the bank the next morning. Jonas could only hope that those impressions wouldn’t affect Castlerock’s answer to what Jonas was getting ready to ask.

“No, sir. Not about money.” He stopped, all the words he’d practiced on the ride into Calvin fleeing his brain. He went on, knowing he should just get this over with. “Your daughter was a big help to both Walt and me while she was visiting.”

Castlerock’s eyebrows rose. “I find that hard to believe. Penelope hasn’t done an ounce of manual labor in her life.”

“Well, maybe she wasn’t so much help at first, but she learned.” And she’d brought color into his life, his family’s life. “The thing is, as I came to know your daughter, I started to—to care about her.” He couldn’t say the word
love,
not when Castlerock was staring him down so intently.

His chest was tightening up at the same rate that Castlerock’s face was closing off. Jonas rushed to get the words out. “I’d like to ask permission to court your daughter. With the—with the intention of getting married. If she’ll have me.”

Castlerock’s face was completely devoid of emotion. Jonas had no idea what the man was going to say.

“That’s an interesting proposition from someone who not six weeks ago was barging in on my party and begging for money.”

Jonas’s face flamed. What Castlerock said was true. Although he hadn’t quite begged for money, he’d been desperate to get funds to pay for Breanna’s treatment.

“I have to admit I’m concerned how a man in circumstances such as yours plans to take care of my daughter. As you know, she’s used to certain fine things.” Castlerock gestured expansively at their surroundings.

Jonas knew that. He knew there was a chance Penny wouldn’t be happy living in the conditions his homestead could support. But wasn’t that her decision to make?

“Or perhaps you think if you marry my daughter, I will support you and your passel of offspring? I can assure you that is not an option.”

Anger surged through Jonas’s veins, sending him to his feet, as he finally understood what Castlerock had been getting at. “I don’t want to marry your daughter for money,” he argued hotly. “That thought never crossed my mind. I know we come from different social circles, but I love your daughter. That’s what she wants from a husband, you know.”

Jonas turned to leave, pulse thundering in his ears. He knew he’d ruined his chances this time. He should turn back, apologize to the other man, but the implication that he wanted to be with Penny for her possible inheritance was too big an insult.

“Wait,” Castlerock commanded.

Jonas stopped, one hand on the door, blood still boiling.

The man considered him for a long moment. “You’d better sit back down. We’ve more talking to do.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

P
enny’s mother had returned from her afternoon tea while the men were sequestered in her father’s study. She’d demanded an explanation for the disheveled state of her house and the broken lamp, and when Penny had told her everything that had happened, went into a swoon.

After reviving her mother and settling her in bed upstairs with a moist towel covering her face, Penny stopped for a moment in her room for a quick glance in her looking glass.

Cheeks flushed, hair wisping out of the pins she’d put in earlier, eyes shining. She looked like what she was—a woman in love. But could she convince Jonas to give their relationship another try?

Voices from below alerted her that the men had exited her father’s study. She rushed into the hallway and met her father on the stairs.

“Your mother?” her father asked.

“In her room. She didn’t react well to the events of the evening.”

He half smiled. “I’d better go check on her. Your young man is waiting in the parlor.”

Was it her imagination, or was her father’s gaze a bit more considering than it had been since she’d returned home from Philadelphia without a husband? He patted her hand and then moved past her on the stairs, leaving her to go to Jonas on her own.

She found him standing in the parlor doorway, looking anxious, bending his hatbrim in both fists. He watched her descend the last few steps without saying anything. He cleared his throat.

Suddenly nervous herself, she asked, “Should we—do you want to sit down?” Her hand flipped toward the parlor, gesturing awkwardly.

“I—” He grimaced and looked over his shoulder to the room that was still in disarray.

“Oh. There’s a swing on the front veranda,” she offered and he nodded, still silent.

She preceded him out the door and sat on the swing, settling her skirts around her. Jonas hesitated, but then perched beside her, dropping his hat on one knee. In the fading sunlight, she could see his hands shaking.

His subdued manner made her ask, “Did my father—did your business conclude in a satisfactory manner?” That wasn’t too forward, was it?

He coughed. “Yes. At least I hope so.” He shifted on the seat, angling more in her direction. “I came to ask your father if I could court you.”

“You did?”

He captured her hand in one of his larger hands, then remained looking down on their joined appendages. “Is this all right?”

She nodded, dizzy with emotion, heart pounding nearly as loudly as it had when she’d been threatened by Abbott earlier.

“I told your father that I’ve come to care about you. And he said—your father said it was all right if you felt the same—if you agreed to allow me to court.”

A slow smile spread across her face, echoing the joy in her heart. “He did? But how did you come to change your mind? You sent me away…”

She watched in fascination as a flush spread up his neck and into his face. “I had some help.”

She could only imagine. “Was it purely Breanna, or did the boys have a hand in it?”

He shook his head, responding to her smile with a tentative one of his own. “It wasn’t Breanna at all. Oscar, Maxwell and Edgar concocted a plan to convince me to come after you.”

“Edgar? Really?”

He squeezed her hand. “Mmm. Seems you’ve won him over, just like everyone else in the family.”

“Even you?”

He let his gaze rest on her face, let her see the seriousness in his eyes. “Especially me. You captured my heart in Philadelphia and have kept it all this time. Only I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to love someone like me,” he admitted.

He lowered his face to look at their clasped hands. His thumb slowly followed the line of her finger and then back, sending shivers up her arm. “You haven’t given me an answer yet.”

“Hmm. Well, considering my plans from earlier this evening, before Abbott came in and ruined everything, I’d say the answer would be yes.”

“What plans?”

“I’d just received a letter—a very important letter concerning Breanna’s health and future prospects—and I was waiting for my father to arrive so I could convince him that I needed to visit you.”

She shrugged and looked out over the dark lawn as she spoke her next words, knowing she was blushing. “I was planning to make a passionate appeal about Breanna needing a woman in her life. And something about how I’ve proven that I can handle myself on your homestead and that you should give our relationship a second chance.”

“And if that didn’t work…”

“Then I planned to just admit it outright. That I love you. And see if that worked to change your mind.”

She risked a glance at him, taking in his stunned expression and slightly open mouth.

“You…love…
me?
”

“Yes—”

He crushed her to his chest, sending the swing swaying and creaking. His jaw pressed against her temple and she heard his ragged breaths and realized that it wasn’t just his hands that were shaking—his whole body was quaking.

She also realized it was quite a pleasant feeling, being held so tightly.

“Penny—” The stubble on his jaw rasped against her cheek as he placed a kiss in the hair just above her ear. “I can’t—”

She slipped her arm, the only part of her she could move, around his side and grasped a handful of his jacket, holding him just as tightly.

“I feel as if I’m about to burst from all the happiness inside,” he whispered. “I never—I didn’t really believe you could actually love me back.”

“Love you back, hmm?”

He eased away, hands still locked behind her back, until she could see his dear face.

“I think I’ve loved you since that first day, riding in the wagon. When you held Breanna after her seizure…”

His eyes raked over her face as if he wanted to memorize every feature. Her chin tilted toward his naturally and this time
he
kissed
her,
melding their lips together the same way their hearts had just connected.

Moments later, he drew away, breathing hard, and pressed her head against his shoulder once more. “I think I like your kisses entirely too much.”

She gave a soft “hmm” of agreement, content to be close with him like this. Until she remembered his last words before the kiss.

“Speaking of Breanna,” she murmured, “I have the letter here.”

She touched her pocket and the paper rattled, but it was too much effort to remove it. She liked where she was settled next to Jonas.

“I can’t read it,” he returned. “Not until you teach me how.”

She smiled against his shoulder. “Maxwell giving you a hard time about his lessons?”

He shook his head, chin brushing against her hair. “No. It’s something I want for myself.”

She felt another surge of joy that he’d decided to do something simply for himself. “Breanna’s letter,” she went on, trying to remain focused, “is actually from Millie. I was a little disappointed that she wasn’t more concerned about her own daughter. She barely mentioned her, was more interested in telling me all about her own life now.”

He released a breath she hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. “I’m not disappointed. I don’t want—I thought the family might one day try to take Breanna back.”

Her breath caught. Of course he worried about that. When nearly everyone in his life had abandoned him, he didn’t want to lose his beloved daughter. She squeezed his waist.

“I have my doubts. They were so worried about scandal and the circumstances of her conception would certainly qualify. Anyway, the
important
part of the letter was that Millie
did
suffer from seizures during her childhood, but they went away during her teen years. No treatments required. And I’ve corresponded with a couple of other doctors, well-respected ones, about the possibility that she might get better with time.”

He moved away slightly and she wondered if he was still angry that she’d contacted Millie. But when he spoke, his voice was hesitant. “What do the doctors say?”

“With a condition like Breanna’s, they can’t say for certain that the seizures will go away as she gets older, but it
has
happened for other children. And if the condition is hereditary, if Breanna only has it because Millie had it, then it seems likely it will go away on its own.”

He tensed. “I know that you care about Breanna and want what’s best for her. I’d like to talk to some of these doctors myself. I’m not ready to give up on a cure for her. I love her too much.”

“If you want to keep searching for a cure, we will. I love Breanna, too, you know. And all the boys. Even Davy and his mischief.”

“That’s good to know. They’re all waiting over at the hotel to find out if you accepted my suit.”

She stood up from the swing. “Why didn’t you say so? Let’s go tell them together.”