Chapter 20
James’s walking sticks slipped twice on his way across the yard, but he didn’t slow down.
The barn door stood exactly as he’d left it—slightly ajar, revealing only darkness beyond.
Had she found somewhere warm enough to wait?
The temperature had dropped while those vultures sat in his dining room asking their pointed questions.
“Rose?” He called her name softly as he stepped inside, his voice echoing in the hay-scented dimness.
No answer.
His pulse quickened as he scanned the interior, searching the shadows between the stalls. “Rose, they’re gone. You can come out.”
A rustling came from the hayloft above, followed by the creak of ladder rungs. Relief flooded through him so powerfully, his knees nearly buckled. She appeared at the top of the ladder, hay clinging to her auburn hair and skirt.
“I heard them leave.” She climbed down, her movements stiff from however long she’d been crammed into her hiding place.
James hobbled toward her. “Are you all right? You must be half-frozen.”
Rose brushed hay from her sleeves, her hands trembling—whether from cold or fear, he couldn’t tell. “I’m fine. What did they want?”
The careful control in her voice didn’t fool him. He could see the tension in every line of her body, the way she held herself like she was preparing for another blow.
“They were asking about you and your mother.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth. “About what happened to the Prescotts after Mother died.”
Rose went still, her hands frozen in the act of brushing hay from her skirt. “What did you tell them?”
“That your mother remarried and moved away. That we lost touch.” He shifted to get more weight off his leg. “Tom mentioned the missing person notice—said it reminded him of you.”
Something flickered across her face—fear, maybe, or resignation. The look of someone who’d been hunted for so long that discovery felt inevitable. “Did they believe you?”
He wanted to lie, to tell her that Tom and Rufus had accepted his explanation and would never think of it again. But the calculating look in Tom Holbrook’s eyes had been too sharp, too knowing.
“I don’t know.” The admission scraped against his throat. “Tom’s always been curious about other people’s business. But it doesn’t matter. We won’t let him find you.”
Rose nodded, though she wrapped her arms around herself. “I should leave.” The words came out so soft he almost missed them. “Before I bring more trouble on your family.”
“No.” The word came out too rough, sharp enough to make Rose take a step back. He forced himself to breathe, to gentle his voice despite the panic clawing at his chest. “You’re not going anywhere.”
The fear in her green eyes made something sharp twist beneath his ribs. She looked like she had as a child when she’d broken one of his mother’s teacups—braced for punishment, ready to bolt at the first harsh word.
He reached for her arm, half expecting her to pull back. But she let him tug her forward. Let him wrap his arms around her as he kept the walking sticks under his arms for balance.
The warmth of her body against his chest eased something that had been wound tight since those men rode into their yard. She was so small, fragile in a way that made every protective instinct in him roar to life.
“They can’t have you.” The words rumbled against her hair, fierce and certain despite the fear still churning in his gut. “I don’t care what Vincent wants or what contracts he thinks he has. You belong here.”
Rose’s arms slipped around his waist, careful of the walking sticks, and she pressed her face against his shoulder. The trust in that simple gesture nearly undid him.
Something shifted in the air between them, subtle as the change from winter to spring.
He felt it in the way her breathing deepened against his chest, in the slight tremor that ran through her frame.
When Rose tilted her head back to look at him, her green eyes held something that made his pulse stutter—not fear or gratitude, but something softer and infinitely more dangerous.
The space between them shrank without either of them moving.
Her face was so close he could see the faint dusting of freckles across her nose, could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin.
The scent of her hair filled his senses—clean and sweet with just a hint of the hay she’d been hiding in.
“James.” His name was barely a whisper on her lips, but it carried the weight of every unspoken word that had passed between them since she’d returned to his life.
He should step back. Should remember that she was still healing, still learning to trust again after years of Vincent’s control. But the way she looked at him—like he was something precious and fragile and worth protecting—made rational thought scatter like leaves in a mountain wind.
His hand found her face, tracing the line of her cheek. She leaned into the touch, sending a warmth through his chest. She felt it too. Her eyes fluttered closed for just a moment before opening again to meet his gaze.
“Rose.” Her name came out rough. But the longing inside him…the love he’d carried for her through eleven years of separation and loss…
When her lips parted, an invitation he’d dreamed of for so long, something inside his chest snapped like a rope finally reaching its breaking point.
He lowered his mouth to hers.
The first touch of her lips against his sent heat spiraling through every nerve in his body. She tasted like apples and coffee and…Rose. Her lips were soft beneath his, warm and yielding in a way that made his head spin.
And then…for a moment…she went completely still in his arms.
His heart stuttered to a halt. Terror crashed through him—had he misread her signals? Had he pushed too hard? Too fast?
He started to pull back. To somehow fix the mess he’d made by kissing her.
But Rose caught his face in her hands, stopping his retreat. “Don’t.” The word came out breathless, almost desperate. “Please don’t stop.”
Relief swept through him.
She wanted this. Wanted him.
Heat spiraled through his chest, chasing away the cold fear that had gripped him moments before.
This time when their lips met, there was no hesitation. Rose kissed him back with a sweetness that made his head spin, her mouth soft and warm beneath his. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close as though she was afraid he might disappear.
He knew that fear well.
After years of dreaming about this moment, of wondering what it would feel like to hold her in his arms as a woman instead of the girl he’d lost, the reality surpassed every fantasy he’d ever harbored.
Her mouth moved warm and soft beneath his, tentative but willing. When he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, she followed his lead with a trust that made his chest ache.
This was Rose—his Rose—finally in his arms where she belonged.
His walking sticks clattered to the barn floor as he brought both hands up to cradle her face. He wanted more of her, to pull her tight against him and submerge himself in her.
But Rose was precious—fragile in ways that went beyond the physical—and he couldn’t let his hunger for her override her needs.
Yet when she moved closer, eliminating the small space between them, rational thought scattered completely.
Her body pressed warm and soft against his, fitting into his arms like she’d been made for this moment.
The trust in her touch, the way she gave herself to this kiss despite everything she’d endured, made emotion swell in his throat until he could barely breathe.
And that’s why he didn’t hear the sound of footsteps until it was too late.
“What—”
The voice penetrated his haze, and James jerked back from Rose so fast he nearly lost his balance.
Thomas stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the midday sunlight outside. James could barely see his expression, much less read it. But something in the way Thomas held himself pressed wariness through James’s chest.
He was surely taking in the scene—Rose’s flushed cheeks, the walking sticks scattered on the floor, the way they’d sprung apart like guilty children caught stealing cookies.
Heat crawled up James’s neck as he bent to retrieve his supports, his injured leg protesting every movement. But did it really matter if his baby brother walked in on him kissing the woman he loved?
A surge of annoyance crept through him. Once he had the sticks, he straightened, sending his brother a glare as he propped the supports under his arms.
Thomas stepped farther into the barn, revealing the smirk twisting the corners of his mouth. “Enoch sent me back for a hammer and nails. We need to reinforce the shelter in the north pasture before the next storm hits.”
“Hammer’s hanging on the wall where it always is.” James nodded to the spot. Somehow he kept his voice steady despite the way his pulse still hammered from that kiss. “Nails are in the crate by the door.”
Thomas’s smirk widened as he moved toward the tools, but something flickered in his eyes when he glanced at Rose. Something that looked almost like…a warning?
The look lasted only a moment before Thomas turned his attention to gathering the supplies.
But an uncomfortable weight settled in James’s chest. What had that expression meant?
Rose stood frozen beside him, her cheeks still flushed from their kiss, her breathing slightly uneven.
The taste of her lingered on his lips, sweet and warm, making him want to pull her close again despite his brother’s presence. He would wait though. And they needed to talk about this change between them. He had to make sure she didn’t feel awkward or uncertain.
No matter what, he had to protect her.
But before James could reach out to reassure her, before Thomas had even gathered all the supplies he’d come for, Rose moved toward the barn door. “I should get back to the house.” Her voice sounded strange—too bright, too careful. “Mrs. Wang will be ready to work on the evening meal.”
“Rose, wait—” He started after her, his walking sticks catching in the dirt as he tried to hurry.
But she’d already reached the barn door, her steps quick and purposeful, putting space between them with every stride. Then she was gone, disappearing into the bright afternoon light.
He could only stare after her as a knot coiled tight in his gut.