“I... You… But…”
He pressed his lips together in that way he did when he was amused but trying not to show it as he halved the distance between us. Strong fingers found my own and pulled them off the pole to tangle together with only the slightest grimace at their sticky, dirty state. “I did notice—was flustered by you. Leaving you—for your own good, I might add—was painful. I was there—with you—experiencing all of those first flutterings of affection.”
“Oh…” It was utterly inane, but there was no word sufficient to express my awestruck adoration and joy—at least none I was in a state to name.
He pressed in closer, seeking a kiss—a gift I was all too happy to bestow. Just as I was to meet his lips, a whinny broke through the clearing. We sprang apart, Xander leaning down and snatching the nearby blade knife to inspect with absurd interest while I drove the postholer into the ground once again with newfound strength.
My heart was still pounding when Lock and Godfrey rounded the corner in a wagon loaded with timber.
“Ho!” Lock called as he bounded off the wagon. “Where do ye want this?”
“What is it?”
“Wych Elm.”
“I think the pine here is best for the sheepfold. Best to save that for inside. Do you know, is the door still intact and we just need to replace the hinges? Or do we need to construct an entire new one?”
“Hinges were rusted through. Picked up a few of those and other bits and bobs in town. Also talked to a few folks. Found a carpenter who is free. They’ll come by tomorrow,” Lock explained.
“Thank you.” My gratitude was sincere. I could probably manage the door but repairing the broken slats was beyond my knowledge—and masonry was well out of my grasp.
Xander was still staring at the blade knife in fascination while I dug another hole. It had me biting back a smile.
“Would you two see if there are sawhorses in the shed? I’d ask His Grace, but I suspect the effort would be traumatic.”
“Aye, I’ll look. Godfrey was to start on supper. Hopefully the lass has finished an inventory of the kitchens at least.”
They set off to their respective tasks while I nudged Xander with a shoulder, offering him a crooked smile. Though his lips remained twisted in a pout, he curled one up at the corner for a second to placate me.
I felt it, too, the lost moment. It hung there, waiting to be fulfilled—acted on. But we could not, an oppressive reminder that any future we could have would be peppered with unfulfilled moments, missing kisses, tempered conversations, and longing glances.
Lock grunted from inside the shed, before exiting with two sawhorses.
“All right then, lads. I best be off before my wife has a fit. The two of ye can manage yer log?”
“You have a wife?” Xander asked, all puzzlement.
“Aye.”
Xander’s expression was one of baffled silence. Eventually, he shrugged when Lock didn’t seem inclined to elaborate.
“If ye have problems with the sap, scotch will take it right off.”
Filled with relief, Xander started toward the house.
“Not so fast!” I called after him before turning to Lock. “Thank you. Will you be back tomorrow?”
“Aye.”
“Send my best to your wife.”
He merely nodded. In the meantime, Xander had frozen and pivoted back to face me. “We need to split the log—I’ll need your help. Best not to waste the scotch.
Broad shoulders slumped as Xander all but trudged back to my side. “Help me get it up and split and you can go wash the sap off.”
“Fine,” he muttered. I was fairly certain he was more distressed about the sap than our aborted kiss, and I tried not to take that personally.
In the end, we only got the timber on the sawhorses before light abandoned us. I tied Fenella up in the stables with little faith she would remain there until morning while Xander went to wash the sap off.
