Part 6 (1/2)
”I baked you an apple pie,” she said abruptly. ”Wait here and I'll bring you a big slice.”
Surprised, he agreed and held the screen door while she rolled her chair into the house. Several minutes later, she returned with a small tray in her lap. ”I couldn't fill the gla.s.s, because I spill when I cross the doorway,” she apologized, handing him a partially full gla.s.s of milk.
”I don't mind,” he said, taking the cold tumbler from her.
”The pie tastes pretty good. I tried a bite earlier.”
He accepted the plate and seated himself on the wicker chair, placing the gla.s.s on a small table. He tasted her offering, the apples still warm from the oven. Cinnamon sweetness melted on his tongue. ”No one has ever baked me a pie before.”
”No?”
He shook his head and enjoyed another mouthwatering bite.
”It's my first one. I just followed a recipe.”
”It's better than the pies at Dora Edgewood's cafe. You could give her a tip or two.”
Annie laughed, a delicate ear-pleasing sound of delight. ”Are you flattering me?”
”Yes, but it's true.” He finished the slice of pie and drank the milk.
”Mother says it's improper to welcome flattery.” She set the empty tray on the floor, and Luke placed his dishes on it.
”I guess your mother'd know about things like that.”
”A lady may accept a delicate compliment, but she should not appear to expect or encourage them.”
”I hardly think you expect compliments, Annie.”
She folded her hands in her lap. ”I want to go write the telegram, but I don't want to miss another minute with you.”
Her honesty warmed him. ”Why don't you just tell me what it should say then, and I'll remember.”
”But I'll have to find the doctor's address.”
”Will it take long?”
”No.”
He placed the tray on her lap and opened the screen door for her. ”Hurry.”
Precious minutes ticked by before she returned with an envelope and handed it to him. He folded it and tucked it into his s.h.i.+rt pocket. ”How will I get the reply to you when it arrives?”
”Glenda comes every afternoon. You could catch her on her way here and give it to her. She promised to keep my secret when I sent you the note this afternoon. I trust her.”
A comfortable silence settled between them. Distant piano music drifted on the night air.
”Luke?”
”Yes.”
”It's probably highly improper, but would you mind holding my hand, so I can move over there and sit beside you on the glider?”
”That would be my pleasure,” he replied.
She took his hand for support, and using it and the arm of her chair, pushed herself up. Then, with only a few awkward steps, she made it to the padded glider and sat.
Luke lowered his weight to the seat next to her, unwilling to release her hand. She smelled wonderful, an enticing combination of vanilla and lilacs and starched cotton. Her voluminous skirts draped across his knee. He closed his eyes and joyfully inhaled her presence.
”I've thought a lot about the night of the wedding,” she said softly.
Thoughts of her kisses had driven him crazy every night since. Even today, he'd found himself staring off into the forge, letting a piece of iron cool, and having to heat it over again. ”Me, too.”
”Good thoughts?” she asked.
He smiled at her delightful frankness. ”Very good thoughts. Was that a delicate enough compliment?”
She smiled and nodded. ”Would you mind-kissing me again?”
The question was laughable. ”Let me think about it. Hmm. No.” He pulled her hand, which brought her face to his, and leaned toward her. She met his lips with hers, a sweet, eager union that immediately had his blood pounding.
He released her hand, and she placed it tentatively on his shoulder. He'd never known she returned his feelings; he'd only hoped, maybe just dreamed. Finding out like this that she was drawn to him, too, gave him so much pleasure, his heart swelled to bursting.
Their lips parted and Luke remembered to draw a breath.
”You taste like cinnamon,” she said.
”You smell like lilacs,” he replied.
She leaned closer, placing her nose against his neck. A wispy curl grazed his cheek. A shudder pa.s.sed through his body. ”You smell like...” she said, her breath against his neck exquisite torture, ”...I don't know...heaven. You smell like heaven.”
He turned his face, so that his lips and nose were a scant breath from her ear. ”You think there are horses in heaven?”
She moved as though to see his eyes, though it was dark and she couldn't possibly read his expression. ”You don't smell like a horse.”
”I must. I even sleep in the livery.”
”Well, you don't. You smell like...like you shaved.”
”Mm-hmm,” he agreed. He had shaved before he'd come to see her. ”And how would you know what that smells like?”
”My father shaves. But he doesn't smell nearly as good as you do.”
”Your mother probably thinks so.”
Annie sat up straight and her eyes widened in the moonlight. ”What a thought! Don't you ever place another thought like that in my mind! Goodness, if I imagine my mother sniffing my father, I'll die of laughter and you'll never get to kiss me again.”
”Well, we can't have that, so forget all thoughts of your parents. They probably don't even sleep in the same room.”
”Luke Carpenter, you're incorrigible!” She laughed out loud that time, however. Lord, she was fun.