“I’ll get your water,” he said. “You don’t look like you’re fit to stand.” He opened the door to the adjoining bathing room and went inside. “When did you eat last?” he called out to her.
Jane was afraid he would know a lie, and what would it serve except to add to his mistrust? “Yesterday evening.” She heard water running and then his voice above it.
“I sent money for your ticket and meals.”
“I wasn’t hungry. There’s money left. Do you want it back?”
Morgan reappeared. He came abreast of the bed and held out a glass of water. “No. I don’t want it back.”
“Did I offend you?” asked Jane. “You sounded…I don’t know…aggrieved, I suppose.”
“I have thicker skin than that. It’s not a generous gesture anyway. Depending on how long you stay, you might still need it.” He looked around the room. The furnishings were spare, every piece practical. Besides the bed, there was a side table, a wardrobe, a straight-backed chair at the window and a wing chair angled toward the stove. A chest for extra linens and blankets rested at the foot of the bed. His eyes moved from the valise sitting on the seat of the straight-backed chair to the valise sitting on top of the small brassbound trunk. “You haven’t unpacked.”
“I am not sure there is any purpose to it until I know where I’ll be living.”
Morgan released a long breath, nodded.
Jane drank half the water in her glass before she set it on the table beside her. “Will you sit down?” she asked. While he seemed to be debating the merits of accepting her invitation, Jane removed the empty plate from her lap and dabbed at her lips with the napkin. When she was done, she neatly folded the napkin and dropped it on the plate. Morgan Longstreet was still standing.
“Are you uncomfortable sitting?” she asked. “Because I am uncomfortable looking up at you. If we are at an impasse over this, I cannot imagine that we will settle well into marriage.”
“Did you think we would?” he asked. “Settle well, that is.”
“I did, yes. Didn’t you? You must have, else why make the proposal?”
“I have my reasons.”
A faint smile changed the shape of Jane’s mouth. It touched her eyes. “Have a care, Mr. Longstreet, else I might believe you are a romantic.”
“I suppose you can insult me. Practical, Miss Middlebourne, not romantic. Practicality is at the root of my proposal. Does that make you want to rethink your answer?”
“No.”
“You sound certain.”
“I am. Given the opportunity and the proper circumstances, someday I’ll tell you why.”
“Tell me now.”
Jane shook her head. “You won’t believe me.”
Morgan waited, but when she remained silent, he shrugged. He removed the valise from the chair and dragged it closer to the bed. He sat down, tipped the chair on its rear legs, and set his feet on the bedrail. Holding up the apple, he asked, “Do you still want it?”
“Yes.”
He removed a knife from the scabbard attached to his belt and scored the apple skin into eight parts before he cut it through. “Hold out your hand.” Jane did, and he dropped the slender wedges into her palm one at a time until she said she had enough. He ate the last three slices, tossed the core on top of the plate, and used the napkin to clean his knife before he replaced it.
“Can I show you something?” he asked when his hands were empty.
“If you like.” She finished her second apple slice, dropped the other three beside the discarded core, and brushed off her hands.
This time Morgan did not search a pocket. What he wanted came from the inside leg of his left boot. He had to set the chair on all fours to get it, but when he was done, he tipped it again.
Jane could tell by the stock paper that it was a photograph. Not the one she had sent, she realized, because there was no writing on the back. He stared at it for what seemed a long time, so long that she thought he had decided against sharing it. That was not the case. He pinched one corner of the photograph between his second and third fingers and held it out to her.
Jane received it upside down. She turned it over, angled it toward the lamplight for a better view, and then she blinked. And blinked again. Her eyes swiveled from the picture to Morgan Longstreet.
“Where did you get this?”
