Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 111362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Another reason, I’ll be sorry to see him leave. He often saves you from yourself.” James chuckled as he walked off.
“Funny, James, funny,” Sorrell called after him and his chuckle turned to a hardy laugh.
Talking about John, she decided it would be wise to see that Melvin had followed her orders. Although, she wouldn’t mind the opportunity to see John. He hadn’t been at supper last night and when she had checked with Dorrit this morning, she had told her that he had collected supper to take to his cottage and the same with the morning meal. She had been relieved to learn that, since she worried he might have left without a word.
Maybe it would be better that way, when the time came. She didn’t know what she would say to him when he bid her good-bye. She had grown accustomed to having him around the last few days and looked forward to seeing him.
You’re growing to care for him.
Her sisters had told her that more than a few times and maybe she was, but he was a good man and why wouldn’t she care what happened to a good man? It was nothing more than that. She couldn’t let herself think it could be more than that. While she wanted to believe that somehow this union with Seth MacCannish could be avoided, it wasn’t likely. This was one time she feared her fate was sealed.
She approached the smithy’s place. It was set apart from the cottages, the blazing fires making it too dangerous to sit close to other structures for fear of catching fire. She spotted John using the grinding wheel to sharpen an axe. His sleeves were rolled up and his forearms and face held a fine sheen of sweat.
She sometimes wondered what he would look like without the bushy beard, since the rest of his features were striking on their own, especially his blue eyes, so intense in color, though at times icy as if he himself had turned cold.
The grinding wheel slowed and John turned. “Is there something you want, Sorrell?”
It wasn’t lost on her that his hearing was good, knowing when someone approached, but it might be more exceptional since he had heard her over the sound of the grinding wheel.
“I wanted to make sure Melvin came to you to learn what chores you assigned him today,” she said, entering the smithy’s domain and looking around. Not that she wasn’t familiar with it, having been there a few times.
“He did and I sent him to repair the stable fence, a minor chore.”
He stood and took the sharpened axe and placed it on the bench with several tools that looked to have already been sharpened. It was when he drew his hand away that she noticed the iron shackle had rubbed a section of his skin red.
“You need to rid yourself of that thing,” she said, pointing to the shackle.
“In time.”
“It’s rubbed your skin raw.”
“The skin isn’t rubbed raw, just irritated.”
“A good enough reason to rid yourself of it,” she insisted.
“Let it be, Sorrell.”
The commanding authority in his voice surprised her, but then she had reminded him about the shackle several times. She should let it be, but she hated to see that it had rubbed his skin red and would turn raw soon if he continued this work. Besides, she was curious how it had come to be on his wrist.
“One good whack on the pin and the shackle would be gone,” she said and reached out with two hands for the hammer on the nearby table.
She lifted it with a quick force and her eyes went wide as the weight of the solid hammer sent her tumbling back.
John lunged forward, his arm shooting down to slip beneath her back and stop her from hitting the ground as his other hand grabbed the hammer so that it wouldn’t pound against her chest when she came to an abrupt halt.
“That’s a heavy hammer,” she said as John took it from her and placed it on the ground.
He leaned forward, his nose nearly touching hers, his blue eyes intent on her green ones.
His breath was warm and smelled of mint and his lips peeked out from his bushy beard and all she could think was… how his lips would feel on hers. The thought sent a mixture of excitement and fear through her. Could it be possible? Did she care more for him than she had thought? Her heart skipped a beat or two as she waited, or did she hope he would kiss her?
“You are a danger to yourself, woman,” he said and brought her to her feet.
He turned away annoyed with himself for almost losing his senses and kissing her. He should have never brought his face so close to hers. Her lips tempted, particularly the bottom one. It was plumper than the top one and he ached to nip at it.