He sat there until he couldn’t bear the oppressive weight of silence any longer. He needed fresh air, maybe an ax and logs to chop. Something to work out this turmoil inside him.
But he didn’t dare leave Mandie. She could call for him at any moment. And he wouldn’t desert her when she needed him.
Not enough time had passed when he heard the click of her bed chamber door open. His scrambled mind strained to make sense of why she would be up.
The soft padding of her slippers finally pulled him to his senses, and he spun, striding to meet her.
She stood at the end of the hallway, one hand braced against the wall, the other pressed to her belly. She’d refastened her hair, but her face was still pale. “I thought I would start food for the evening meal.”
He reached her in two more strides and stopped where he could block her path to the kitchen. “Absolutely not. You need to be resting.”
She raised a brow at him. “I feel much better. And you’ve been so busy worrying over me, I’m sure you haven’t eaten.”
His jaw clenched. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m concerned about. I’ll make food for you.” He searched her face for any sign of lingering pain or distress. “Please, Mandie. Go back to bed. For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”
Her expression softened. “I’m all right, Enoch. Truly. I just… I couldn’t lie there any longer.” She took a step to go around him.
He shifted to block her again, frustration welling in his throat. “Please, Mandie. I can’t have you up doing more damage. What if…?” He couldn’t bring himself to speak the thought aloud.
She reached out and touched his arm, and the contact made him pause. He forced in a breath. Willed his insides to settle enough to meet her gaze.
Those dark eyes were gentle as they searched his face. “How about if I rest on the sofa out here? That way I won’t be locked away in the bed chamber.”
He might have to live with that compromise. With a sigh, he nodded.
She smiled at him, a tired but genuine softening of her eyes. “Thank you.”
He took her elbow and guided her to the sofa. She sank onto the cushions, arranging her skirts around her.
He stood awkwardly for a moment, like an empty-headed ox. “I’ll get you a blanket.” He needed something to occupy his hands, his mind. He strode to the chest by the fireplace and pulled out a soft woolen throw, carrying it back to tuck around her legs.
As he leaned over her, she caught his hand. “Enoch. I’m fine, truly. You don’t need to fuss.”
The warmth of her fingers seeped into his skin, and he had to resist the urge to turn his palm, to lace their fingers together.
He pulled away and straightened. “I’ll make tea. And buttered cornbread, if you think you could eat.”
She nodded. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
He escaped to the kitchen. At least he could do something. The familiar motions of filling the kettle, slicing cornbread, gave him something to focus on besides the fear still churning in his gut.
By the time the tea had steeped and the bread was buttered, he’d managed to compose himself. He carried the tray out to her, setting it on the low table by the sofa.
She smiled up at him as she reached for the mug, her fingers brushing his. “Thank you, Enoch. This is perfect.”
He nodded, unable to form words past the constriction in his throat. He sank into the armchair across from her, watching as she sipped the tea and nibbled at the cornbread.
The silence stretched between them, too thick.
Finally, Mandie set down her cup and met his gaze. “I felt the baby move. While I was resting.”
His heart stuttered. “You did?”
She nodded, her hand drifting to her middle. “Just a flutter, but it was there. I think...I think everything is all right.”
Relief crashed over him like a wave, so strong it left him lightheaded. He closed his eyes for a moment.Thank You, God.
When he opened them again, Mandie was watching him, her expression gentle.
