Chapter Six #2
Hammers, some far heavier than others for the really difficult work. Chisels for that delicate precision work that required a steady hand. The three sets she had, larger chisels with wooden handles for when the work got too hot. A hardy, Minny’s most used chisel that fitted into the anvil—
“Yes, I saw you use that the day I met you.”
Minny swallowed, heat rising through her chest. Why did such an innocuous sentence have to sound so…so intimate?
“Yes, I saw you use that the day I met you.”
The day they met. Was it truly over a week ago? It seemed impossible. He was already such a feature of the forge, Minny hardly knew what she would do with herself when he left.
She would have to chop more logs, for a start.
“Yes, when I was mending a belt buckle,” Minny said, focusing on the tool in her hand and not the handsome man looking carefully at it.
Her fingers curled around the instrument. It was cool to the touch, far cooler than her skin, which seemed to be rising in temperature with every passing moment.
“And then there’s the forge itself, the bellows, the vent…” Minny found everything was easier if she just allowed her mouth to take over.
If she was talking about the forge, then she couldn’t be asking the questions that dwelled in her heart.
What was he doing here? What did he really want?
And when he had what he wanted, whatever it was…he would leave, wouldn’t he?
“And the anvil,” Henry supplied, placing his hands upon it.
Minny placed the tool back on the rack and placed her own hands on the anvil with a grin. “My father’s anvil. His father’s anvil. The Banfield anvil.”
His hands were just inches away. The cooling metal of the anvil seemed to have no impact on her feverishly warm skin.
Minny swallowed. This had all felt very innocent—in the company of another, perhaps it would be. But there was something intensely different about this conversation when with Henry.
“This is all so interesting,” he said, enthused.
She raised an eyebrow. No one had ever described the smithy as interesting—certainly not with that tone.
Why, Alan had left as soon as he was able, only returning when he had run out of money or sense or both.
But Henry Everleigh…she did not know him well, of course. A mere matter of days.
Surely no one could falsify that look of genuine curiosity?
“I suppose it is,” Minny confessed. “I have never thought about it like that. I have always…well. I enjoy it, of course. It’s my life.”
“Your livelihood,” Henry nodded.
“My life.” It was easy to correct him, easy to slip into this happy comfort Minny had somehow found with this man who had been a stranger to her just two weeks ago. “When one has little else, something like a forge can swiftly absorb one. Become everything one has, everything one knows.”
Where had these words come from? Buried deep in her heart. Minny had never brought these sensations out into the light…but something about Henry drew them out.
It was most unaccountable.
“How did you find yourself here, alone?” Henry’s voice was quiet, gentle, but he was so close, Minny could feel his breath on her neck. “You said this is the Banfield anvil?”
Yes, that was what she should cling to, Minny told herself. The story of her family, facts, history.
Not the soaring excitement she felt whenever Henry was in the room with her.
“This place has been the Banfield forge for generations,” Minny said, forcing herself to step away from the anvil. She could do it, any time she wanted. So why not now? “My father was the blacksmith here for near on five and twenty years, and his father for a similar time before him.”
“And before that?”
Minny grinned as she ran her hands over the tools. “The family legend is that the village grew up around the smithy, though I am not sure that can be taken as gospel.”
He chuckled. “My father was similar, he always said…”
She watched as the light drifted from Henry’s eyes, all excitement gone. Interesting.
“You mentioned, I think, a family business.”
Henry nodded. “Yes, one I inherited—much like you inherited the forge, I suppose. Though did not your brother have a stronger claim?”
Minny’s insides became ice. This was the trouble, she told herself fiercely, of allowing your tongue to run away. She had known Henry had picked up on that slip about her brother, and he was not going to let it lie.
The important thing was to act as though it did not matter. As though one’s brother was just another part of the scenery. As though one did not fear for his life at every turn.
“Oh, my brother would have made a poor blacksmith,” Minny said as airily as she could manage.
Evidently not enough.
“Really? I would have assumed…well, forgive me,” said Henry with a dry laugh. “I know you can chop wood, and I am certain you can draw water. You forge well. But I would have thought this was a difficult life for a lady.”
Minny had to laugh. “Me, a lady?”
“You know what I mean,” said Henry, a teasing grin on his lips. “A woman.”
She shrugged, though her pride was knocked. “I can smithy as well as any man.”
“I did not say that you could not.”
“Besides, I like having my own forge,” Minny said, truth escaping before she could stop it. “How many women wish for their independence, their own choices, the opportunity to make a life for themselves?”
Henry blinked. “You…you know, I have never given it much thought.”
Minny rolled her eyes. “So few men do. But if you had a sister, say, she may not wish to merely marry and bear children and keep house. She may have—oh, I don’t know. Dreams of her own. Hopes. Ambitions, perhaps, a desire to earn great heaps of money.”
Henry snorted. “Peggy would never dream of—I mean…well. I don’t know, I suppose.”
Minny smiled. Poor Peggy. She evidently had a well-meaning brother, but perhaps when he returned to wherever he came from, there would be a little more thought given to her future.
If she weren’t married off already.
“It must be lonely.”
Minny stiffened. There had been such…well, such care in Henry’s voice. She glanced over at the tall man who was watching her with an unreadable expression.
“Nonsense,” she said curtly. “I see half the village month in and month out, for one thing or another.”
“It’s not the same, and you know it.”
Minny swallowed. She did know it. Sometimes she cried out in the night for the loneliness, aching for a lover’s touch, but also the comfort of a friend in dark times, someone to laugh with during the good.
Not that she was about to admit to such a thing. “I get by.”
“But you’re alone,” Henry persisted gently.
Minny met his gaze. “Not now.”
The moment hung between them, aching with possibility. Minny knew if she launched herself toward him now, he would kiss her. He wouldn’t be able to help himself; she knew attraction when she saw it, and he wanted kisses from her. Wanted more.
And she was smiling. Dear God, was she…flirting?
“And I think that’s quite enough new knowledge for you,” Minny said hastily, frowning as her smile disappeared. “I have a package you can deliver to the King’s Head, a set of five saucepans for the cook.”
Henry groaned.
“And I want you to be quick about it,” Minny lied, desperate for a moment to herself to recover. “I’ll have plenty of work for you when you get back.”
Henry’s eyes lit up. “Can I have a go at bashing something?”
Minny winched. “If you mean logs, absolutely.”