Naomi massaged the sensitive flesh that weighed heavily in her own hand. As she increased the pressure, she pictured a man suckling and even biting softly. Heat rushed to her core, and she resisted lowering her other hand to offer herself some relief.
“Mrs. Gilcrest.” Ester’s voice from the other side of the door had Naomi jumping guiltily. “The major asked me to bring you some tea and a bite to eat. Are you unwell?”
“I’m—I’m fine.” Naomi opened the door. Tea was an excellent idea. She obviously needed… something. Although a niggling voice in the back of her head assured her that whatever it was she needed, it definitely wasn’t tea.
LINGERING
Luke sighed and climbed down the ladder. With each repair he made, he seemed to find a dozen others that needed to be addressed. Weather permitting, he’d have to get on the roof again tomorrow.
He couldn’t help but wonder that the house hadn’t already fallen down around her. She’d wanted to paint the room, but it wouldn’t do any good to do that until the leak was repaired.
He turned his head when the door, which had been left partially ajar, pushed all the way open.
“I don’t know what came over me.” Naomi paused, looking hesitant. Her color seemed normal again, although her cheeks still held a soft pink rosy glow.
He’d caught her staring at his behind and, although he was tempted to tease her about it, checked himself. Now wasn’t the time.
It wasn’t as though he hadn’t ogled her a time or two over the past week. And it wasn’t as though he didn’t experience a pang of sickening guilt afterward either—for yearning after her, with Gil barely dead a month.
It was the only reason he’d been able to recognize the expression on her face so easily. He’d been fighting the same desires himself.
And then a horrid thought turned his stomach. Had she imagined that he was Gil? He swallowed hard.
Unlike him, she’d had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. Her housekeeper-maid, Ester, had commented more than once about how sensitive expectant women were. Carrying the baby affected Naomi’s emotions, it affected her physically, it even affected which foods she could eat. Naomi had said she used to like beef in stew, but on the one occasion Ester attempted to serve her red meat, she’d turned a pale shade of green and hurried outside.
Of course, carrying the baby would affect other appetites as well.
“Luke?” Her voice broke through his thoughts.
“Sorry, I was woolgathering. What is it you were saying?”
“I was asking if you thought it could be repaired. Will I have to choose a different room to turn into a nursery?”
If he could keep her smiling, he’d erect an entirely new roof if necessary. “I’ll make it tight as a drum for your spud, don’t you worry.”
Two days later,crawling along the apex of the roof, one end of a piece of rope around his waist and the other around a questionably stable chimney, Luke wondered if he wasn’t going to have to do exactly that. He’d lingered here for almost two weeks, and his primary reason for remaining was nearly concluded. A rational man would be in a hurry to tie things upand make his departure, and yet he had no desire whatsoever to do so.
Apparently, he couldn’t lay claim to rationality.
His nightmares had subsided, but a new disturbance disrupted his sleep.
The never-ending guilt over losing men under his watch was now compounded by guilt over lusting after his recently-deceased friend’s wife. In his dreams, he’d done far more than lust after her. He’d given himself legitimate reasons for significant remorse.
Thinking to squash his inappropriate designs, he had since spent most of his time at Milton Cottage on the roof. It was easier when he didn’t run into her at every turn. Because when he worked in close proximity to her, he found himself far too often leaning in to inhale her fragrance, hoping some of her hair would brush his face. And when he wasn’t doing that, he was placing his hand on the small of her back or brushing his arm casually along hers. On one occasion, after explaining a particularly complicated fix to shore up her crumbling house, he’d nearly dropped his hands onto her shoulders to loosen the muscles that had visibly tightened before he’d caught himself. Whenever she was seated, he caught himself watching carefully for when she wanted to rise and then he’d rush over and assist her.
But he’d kept himself more distant from her ever since the morning she’d fled from the nursery.
Even if she hadn’t been the widow of one of his oldest friends, he’d resist the attraction developing between them. A woman was expected to mourn her husband for at least a year. It wasn’t a written rule, and it mattered even less in the country, but it was the decent thing to do.
Luke didn’t imagine the ideas he’d been getting were what Gil had had in mind when he’d extracted his promise to look after her.
He was safe from all of that on the roof. He was safe from her.
And she was safe from him.
Bam!
He pounded the hammer into the nail with one final blow. Instead of sinking deeper into the wood, however, the metal bent, ruining the third one in a row. Luke exhaled loudly and drew his arm across his brow to wipe away the sweat.
