He stared at her for a moment, and then his shoulders slumped. “Where will you go?”
“I don't have a set place yet.” Nella had recommended The Hollows, but she kept that to herself. “East, I reckon.”
A fire lit his eyes. “I want to know because I mean to prove to you that I'm a man of my word.” He surged forward, mere inches away. “When Mama dies, Iwillcome find you.”
Oh, how she wanted to believe him, to trust that his affection for her went deeper than an easy conquest and a sweet thought. “Charlie will know about his daddy. He'll know all the good and wonderful and kind things. I'll make sure he knows.”
The tension in his jaw wobbled a little, and he stepped back with a nod. “And make sure he knows that I'm not the one who took him away from his daddy.” All warmth fled his expression. “His mama was.”
The declaration hit like a blow to her chest, but she refused to bend beneath it. Hurt people were like hurt animals. In their pain, they'd bite the hand trying to help them.
She remained quiet, holding his gaze.
Without warning, he split the distance between them and pulled her into a hard kiss. His arms caged her in, his mouth almost painful against hers. Her body stiffened against his hold before he drew back, the scent of wine on his breath. “You're mine, Kizzie. You'll always be mine, no matter where you go.”
After another searing kiss, he released her and marched to the house without one backward glance. Her body shook, her mind reeling. It took a few moments for her to gather her wits and strength to climb into the buggy, tears still coursing down her cheeks.
What had just happened? What sort of new pain gaped wide inside her chest?
She set Daisy into motion at a canter, a sob shaking from her.
You'll always be mine.
His voice, his scent, the steel in his eyes and arms, took on a memory she'd never paired with him, a possessiveness. He had been hurt. Surprised. Surely those behaviors only emerged because of his fear and hurt. His … love?
She flinched at the thought. Was it love?
She raised her gaze to the darkening sky as oranges, pinks, and golds mingled into fading blue, another similar phrase rising to combat Charles’.
I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.
With a smooth of her palm against her cheek to wipe away the tears, she embraced her new life with both hands. She'd never belonged to Charles Morgan. Not fully.
But she did belong to God.
She drew in a shivering breath. And whatever came tomorrow, no matter where she went, He promised to be with her.
Always.
And He would be enough.
Chapter 10
“FIRE!”
The single word shot a chill through Noah Lewis’ veins and sent his feet into motion. He ran toward the call. The rhythmic clatter of the knitting machines continued as if unconcerned about the possible devastation ingrained in such a warning, especially in a mill where cotton fibers coated the air in wait of ignition.
Noah rushed between the rows, following the sound of the growing commotion. Smoke rose near one of the back knitting machines, and just as he turned the corner, the sparks from the feeble flames on a small pile of yarn lit a nearby collection of fabric scraps, doubling the fire's size.
“Fire!” someone else shouted, the woman's voice reverberating against the ceilings and the high windows that allowed light into the crowded space.
“Sand buckets,” Noah called out to anyone who would hear. “Get the sand buckets.”
Pausing only to catch one of the bucket's handles, he continued forward, the flames licking higher. If they made it to one of the machines, there was no way Noah or anyone else could stop the devastation. Each machine stood near enough to another to create a fiery domino effect to take down the entire mill.
“Jack!”
The woman's cry mingled with all the other sounds, diverting Noah's attention to the left. A little boy, no more than three, stood with a skein in hand, the yarn as frozen in his grasp as his expression.
