Loving Linsey Read online

  And the worst part of it was, for a walking dead woman, she had never felt so alive.

  For the first time, Linsey understood what Addie had been going through all these years. When Daniel looked at her, her tongue tied itself into a knot. When he touched her, her heart sighed, and when he kissed her . . . Linsey felt like swooning.

  It was more than his extraordinary looks; Linsey couldn’t believe herself so shallow as to have her head turned by a pair of sensually brooding eyes and a sullen mouth. It had been more than his touch, too, though that had ignited a wildfire inside her.

  Deeper down, Linsey had sensed something more intimate. A loneliness that had spoken to her without words. A neediness that called out to the nurturer in her, beckoned to the woman in her who longed to make him laugh and smile and believe in luck.

  Oh, God. She buried her face in her hands. He was what—and who—she’d been waiting for. He was the reason she’d remained single well past the age when most girls were already married and bearing children. Not only did Daniel make her toes curl and her heart sigh and her skin tingle, but he challenged her wits, tempted her soul, and teased her spirit.

  He was a man she could fall head over heels in love with.

  And he belonged to her sister.

  Chapter 12

  There is nothing luckier any day of the week than a chance encounter with a chimney sweep.

  For two days, Linsey wrestled with the guilt and shame of her behavior. She thanked her lucky stars that Caroline’s recuperation prevented her from returning home, for she didn’t think she could bring herself to look Addie in the eye—not after what she had done.

  Then Axel Goodwin got back from Houston, and Linsey could put off facing her sister no longer.

  When she entered Briar House late Tuesday afternoon, a wave of relief rolled off her shoulders at finding the house empty. She headed upstairs and set down the valise Aunt Louisa had sent over yesterday morning, then lowered herself onto the bed.

  If only she could talk to Addie—ask her to help make sense of these confusing feelings Daniel stirred inside her. But what could she say? “Addie, I kissed the man you love, and now I can’t stop thinking about him?” It would break her heart.

  No, she thought with a despairing sigh, no matter that she and Addie had always told each other everything, this would be one secret Linsey took with her to her grave.

  As always when something weighed heavily on her mind, Linsey sought diversion in activity. She spent the day cleaning Briar House from top to bottom—polishing the banister until the beeswax coating made it so shiny and slick one could slide down it with ease; rubbing the silver so bright it could blind a person; ironing linens; carving soap bars into eccentric shapes; rearranging the goods in the pantry . . .

  But no amount of work stopped Daniel from plaguing her every moment. Image after image assailed her. The bright look on his face in the balloon, his tender handling of Caroline and her baby, the tentative smile he’d given her when she’d praised him.

  Even more shamefully, she recalled with acute clarity the wild sensation of his mouth on hers, and those hands—those gifted hands—along her back, cupping her bottom, pulling her so close she could feel his heart thudding beat-for-beat against her breast. . . .

  She slammed the cupboard shut. This had to stop. What happened between her and Daniel should never have happened—could never happen again. He belonged to Addie, and the sooner she got them married, and Daniel out of temptation’s reach, the better.

  Sooner came sooner than she expected.

  As Linsey walked outside to empty a pail of dirty scrub water, she spotted Noah Tabor leaning a ladder against the house. She barely recognized him at first. He was dressed in his work blacks—jet shirt and matching overalls. Brushes, brooms, and rods stuck out at all angles from the pack strapped to his back, and soot stained his hands and face, leaving all but the whites of his eyes and striking green irises visible.

  He released his hold on the ladder to tip the bill of his cap. “Afternoon, Linsey.”

  “Hello, Noah,” she greeted, her hand shading her eyes. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

  “I ran into your aunt in town, and she asked me to stop by. She said you’ve got a swallow stuck in your chimney.”

  “We do?”

  “That’s what she said. Mind if I have a look?”

  “Of course not.” It gave Linsey some comfort hearing that Aunt Louisa had hired him. Noah might be too proud to accept donations for his ever-growing family, but he never turned down honest work, and often tended to odd jobs unfit for one of the local youngsters. “How’s Jenny faring?”

  “Skittish as a doe. I’ll be glad when we get the knot tied and life gets back to normal.”

  “Only a couple more weeks left to go. What about you? Are you suffering any jitters?”

  “Not a one. I knew she was the woman for me the second time I kissed her.”

  “Not the first?” Linsey teased.

  Noah winked. “A gentleman never tells.” He tipped his bill again and, whistling a jaunty tune, scaled the ladder to the roof.

  Linsey watched him for a moment, then turned on her heel to resume her own work. In all the years she’d known Noah, she couldn’t remember seeing him so happy. He and Jenny would have a wonderful marriage—

  She stopped short as an idea struck. That was it! The perfect way to bring Addie and Daniel together. What better way to generate thoughts of one wedding, than by celebrating another? But she didn’t dare wait until Noah and Jenny actually exchanged vows; she couldn’t guarantee she’d be around that long. What if she threw them a party—an engagement party, with everyone in town invited? There’d be dancing and merriment—lots of opportunities to plant the seed of matrimonial bliss in Daniel’s mind. And with a crowd of people around, there was no risk of the episode at Caroline’s repeating itself.

  Linsey’s spirits took an upward swing. She dashed into the house and up the stairs, eager to begin her plans. So maybe having Addie play injured hadn’t turned out so well. And maybe Aunt Louisa’s dinner party could have ended on a better note. She’d even concede that the balloon incident had been nothing short of a catastrophe. But not every effort could turn out so badly. After all, a chance meeting with a chimney sweep was the harbinger of good luck.

  This plan couldn’t possibly fail.

  It was a total disaster.

  Days of planning and preparations went down the pipes within a matter of hours.

  A rainstorm blasted through the small community, causing over half of their invited guests to cancel out—including Addie, who had left that afternoon to run one of her mysterious errands and had yet to return. Bishop Harvey got drunk on Aunt Louisa’s burgundy wine and passed out directly on top of the dinner table, ruining the banquet it had taken Linsey two days to prepare.

  And Daniel . . . he hadn’t been there for more than ten minutes when his father stole him away to help with some emergency.

  By half past eight o’clock, all the guests who had braved the storm to attend the party had collected their cloaks and headed for home, leaving her sitting on the bottom step of the stairwell alone and frustrated and near tears. Why was it that every time she tried to do something good, it turned out so badly?

  At the sound of shuffling heels, Linsey hastened to get her emotions under control. She sniffled and wiped her eyes.

  Unfortunately nothing missed Aunt Louisa’s keen eye. Crossing the tails of her shawl around her middle, she took a seat next to Linsey. “What is it, child?”

  The gentle tone undid her. Tears welled up again, blurring her vision. Linsey blew her nose into a sodden hanky. “Everything is ruined. I thought the evening would be perfect, but nothing went the way it was supposed to. At this rate, I’ll never see them get married.”

  “I doubt this will dissuade Noah and Jenny from marrying.”

  “Not Noah and Jenny, Addie and Daniel.”

  “Addie and Daniel?” She shook her
head in confusion. “I must be spending too much time at Granny Yearling’s. When did he start courting her?”

  Even if she hadn’t made that vow of truth, Linsey could never lie to Aunt Louisa. “He isn’t exactly, but I’ve been hoping to change that.”

  “Playing matchmaker, are we?”

  At Linsey’s nod, the old woman brought her arm around Linsey’s shoulders and drew her close. “Child, matters of the heart have to be handled delicately. If one tries to force love where love is not meant to grow, it will only cause misery for everyone involved.”

  “Addie has always loved Daniel, though. They are perfect for one another.”

  “Are they?”

  “Of course. Daniel is just having a little trouble realizing it.”

  “Perhaps, then, they are not as perfect for one another as you might think.”

  “Are you saying that I’m wasting my time? That Daniel will never learn to love her?”

  “Not if he isn’t her destiny.”

  “But if Daniel isn’t Addie’s destiny, who is?”

  With a tiny shrug and a whimsical smile, she said, “Only Lady Fate knows the answer to that.”

  Linsey stared at the paper streamers she’d strung from the chandelier to each doorway. If Daniel wasn’t the man for Addie, then who was? Who was the man who would comfort her sister, be there for her through all of life’s joys and sorrows, give her the family she longed for and the love she so desperately needed? “Aunt Louisa, I need to know.”

  A twinkle entered the rheumy blue eyes. “Then ask her.”

  It felt strange sitting in the Potter’s quarters behind the smithy, listening to an eight-year-old boy read eloquently from Charles Dickens’s, A Tale of Two Cities. Rain poured down on the tin roof with a steady drumming, a fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and several lamps placed about the room gave the knotted pine interior a warm, cozy glow.

  It felt even stranger having the boy’s father in the same room, cooking up something that had a heavenly aroma.

  Addie sat at the kitchen table with Bryce, trying in vain to ignore the man whistling at the stove behind her. She’d been paying visits to the Potter’s quarters throughout the week, and each day found herself lingering longer and longer. She told herself it was because Aunt Louisa and Linsey were so busy planning Noah and Jenny’s engagement party that neither of them were ever home, and that Bryce’s education was too important to let anything stand in her way. If there was a chance that she could give him the advantages he deserved without separating him from the only family he had—how could she ignore that?

  In all honesty, though, Addie knew that Bryce wasn’t the only reason she went to the Potter’s.

  Not anymore.

  She hadn’t expected that Mr. Potter would want to sit in on the private lessons with Bryce. At first he had kept to the shop, working while she and Bryce studied. Then one day he showed up just as she’d been setting her books out, and began cooking dinner. Over the next few nights, he did the same thing.

  Now he seemed to always be around. Not interfering, but just there. Strong. Silent. And too intriguing for Addie’s good.

  She caught her gaze straying in his direction once more, and abruptly turned her attention to the window. Only then did she realize with a start that it was almost pitch dark. She glanced at the watch pinned to her bodice. Six o’clock? Oh, goodness. Linsey was going to kill her! She stood and began to gather her books and papers. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. I’d better start for home. Linsey is expecting me at Noah and Jenny’s party.”

  “It’s still raining, though,” Bryce said.

  “Don’t look like it’ll be letting up anytime soon, either,” his father added. “Why don’t you stay to supper with us, Miss Witt?” The smithy gestured toward the countertop, where a basket of biscuits sat beside a cast-iron kettle and pitcher of milk. “Everything’s finished. Nothing fancy, just rabbit and greens, but it’s fillin’.”

  An immediate refusal sprang to Addie’s lips. Not that she had anything against rabbit and greens—she simply didn’t think it wise to remain in this man’s company any longer than necessary. “I really shouldn’t. My family will be worried.”

  “I’m sure they wouldn’t expect you to venture out in this weather.”

  Oren obviously didn’t know Linsey very well. She’d been planning this party for days, throwing herself into the preparations like a mad hatter, and all she could talk about was how perfect an opportunity it was for her and Daniel to forge an attraction. Addie should be grateful that her sister was doing everything possible to make Daniel notice her, and should also have thrown herself whole-heartedly into the plans.

  Instead she’d spent the last few days buried in books with an eight-year-old and fighting a traitorous attraction to his father.

  “Please stay, Miss Witt,” Bryce said. “It’s been a long while since we’ve had a lady sit to supper with us.”

  Her resolve weakened. She never had been able to refuse the entreaty in a child’s eyes, Bryce’s especially.

  “All right, I would be honored.”

  Somehow the simple acceptance of the invitation made it seem more personal. Intimate, even. In the four years since she’d been teaching, she’d shared countless meals with the parents of her students. This time shouldn’t have been any different.

  It shouldn’t have been, but it was.

  From the moment Mr. Potter pulled out a chair for her, Addie felt pampered and special in a way she’d never known before, as if her presence was the most important event in their lives. Bryce scrambled around putting his books away and digging in the cupboards for linen napkins that looked as if they had never been used, while his father yanked on drawers and banged cabinet doors on a mission for dishes. The pair bumped into each other several times in their effort to ready the table for a guest.

  Finally the males took their seats, Bryce to her left and his father across from her. As they ate, Addie couldn’t resist stealing glances at him from beneath her lashes. With all his physical imperfections, Oren Potter could never be considered a handsome fellow, yet there was something about the way the firelight softened his craggy features that made him compelling to look at. He had a gentle voice, too, and, she’d discovered, a witty humor.

  And more patience than she’d ever known a man to have. Even when she’d been on the verge of hysterics the day Linsey had absconded in Robert Jarvis’s balloon, he had remained solid and sturdy as the pine tree he’d been named for. She set down her spoon and dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for bringing Linsey home the other day, Mr. Potter.”

  “Oren.”

  She smiled. “Oren.”

  “It was the least I could do. From what I hear, it’s a good thing she weren’t anywhere near that contraption when Robert found it.”

  “She ordered him another balloon from Philadelphia. Perhaps when it arrives, he’ll feel a little more lenient toward her.”

  “I expect it can’t hurt.”

  But he sounded doubtful. In all honesty, Addie didn’t think anything Linsey did from this point forward would make Jarvis forgive her.

  “Have you ever been in a balloon, Miss Witt?”

  Addie felt color steal into her cheeks at the child’s question. “Only for a brief while. I’m afraid I suffer a dreadful fear of heights.”

  Mr. Potter gasped. “Me too! Can’t hardly stand on a ladder without gettin’ dizzy.”

  “Remember when Miz Bender’s cat got caught on Mr. Puckett’s roof, Pa? And you had to climb up there and get it down for her?”

  “I done went and passed out cold. Wound up callin’ in the bucket brigade to fetch me down. Took four of ’em to load me in a blanket and lower me to ground.”

  Unabashed laughter filled the room at the image of the big, burly man being lowered from the roof by a blanket. One story led into another, and soon Addie found herself confessing a few of her own escapades, including the real reason sh
e and Linsey had been caught in the mayor’s cellar two years ago.

  It surprised her how easy it was to talk to Oren. Here he wasn’t the town blacksmith. Here he was a loving father to his child. A man of the house.

  A widower.

  She became achingly aware of that thought as she studied him over the rim of her water glass. She tried to remember when she’d ever felt this comfortable in Daniel’s company, and couldn’t. Around him, she felt as if she were standing before a giant. Though Oren topped him in height by at least a head, and his build was much more bulky, he seemed much more approachable.

  So much more affable.

  Infinitely more appealing.

  At the traitorous thought, Addie set down her glass harder than she intended. She loved Daniel. She had loved him for as long as she could remember. How could she be so aware of another man?

  Realizing Bryce and Mr. Potter were looking at her curiously, Addie cleared her throat. “Gentlemen, the evening has been a pleasure, but I’m afraid I must be getting home.” The rain had stopped some time in the last hour, and the winds had settled down. It was almost a shame that the storm passed.

  Oren nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I reckon it has.” He scooted back in his chair. “Bryce, you best get on to bed.”

  “Aw, Paaa.”

  “Go on now, son, you’ve got school in the mornin’. I’ll be up there in a bit to turn down the lamp.”

  “Yessir.” The towheaded boy’s head hung in clear disappointment as he dragged himself out of the chair. “Good night, Miss Witt.”

  “Good night, Bryce.”

  After Bryce disappeared into the loft, an acute silence descended on the room.

  Mr. Potter slipped her wrap off its hook and held it out for her. Addie thanked him with a wobbly smile, took her woolen cloak, and draped it over her arm, feeling suddenly too heated to wear the heavy garment.

  In companionable silence, they left the private living quarters and strode through the blacksmith shop, where the scent of his work lingered in the air—fire, coals, leather, and iron. Horses whinnied at their passing, and now and then one of the animals would poke its head out to receive an affectionate pat.