“I’d be happy to show you around some other time.” He shifted on his walking sticks, trying to position himself between the men and that structure without being obvious about it. “But I’m afraid I’m not up for much walking today.”
“Oh, we don’t mind doing the looking ourselves.” Tom Holbrook was already moving around him. “Won’t take but a minute.”
Panic clawed at James’s throat. He couldn’t stop them—not without looking suspicious, not with his leg in this condition. All he could do was follow and pray Rose had found a good hiding place.
“The new timber work is mostly overhead.” He hobbled after them, his voice pitched loud enough to carry into the barn as a warning. “Hard to see the craftsmanship from down below.”
Tom paused at the barn entrance, glancing back with raised brows. “You sound a little hoarse, son. Hope you’re not catching something on top of that leg injury.”
He cleared his throat. “Just the cold air.”
The two men stepped into the barn, and James forced himself to follow despite every muscle in his body screaming at him to block their path.
The barn looked exactly as he’d left it—his tools scattered near the new shelves, the pile of leather Rose had been cleaning. But no sign of Rose herself.
His eyes swept the interior, trying not to be obvious about searching for her. She must be in one of the back stalls or the hay loft.
“Fine craftsmanship.” Rufus’s voice boomed in the enclosed space. “You boys did good work matching the old logs.”
James hobbled after them, scanning the shadows at the back of the barn, the stalls where Rose might be hiding. “Enoch did most of the planning. Always had an eye for building.”
Both men started to move deeper into the barn, but James stopped and straightened. “Can you come in the house a while? I’m sure Mrs. Wang has coffee on, and probably leftover pie too. Mandie will be thrilled to have visitors.”
Tom turned with a smile. “How is Lady Balfour? My wife wanted to come see her, but I thought the ride might be too much for her in the cold.”
Lady Balfour. A reminder that these two men had known them long enough to be aware of their aristocratic ties. And to remember Rose.
“She’s doing well.” His throat felt like he’d swallowed sand. “The baby’s due in a few weeks. She’ll be glad to see you both.”
He started back to the barn entrance, praying the men would follow. Each step on the walking sticks felt like an eternity, his ears straining for any sound that might give away Rose’s hiding place. A shifted board, a stifled breath, the rustle of fabric—any of it could destroy her.
“Coffee does sound good after that cold ride.” Rufus finally turned to follow James.
Relief flooded through him, but he forced himself to keep moving toward the house at the same measured pace his injury demanded. Behind him, the men’s boots crunched through the snow, their voices carrying on about the snow and the unpredictability of the mountain weather.
As they reached the porch steps, James’s mind raced. How long would they stay? What questions would they ask? And most importantly—what had brought them here in the first place?
Mandie appeared at the front door before they could knock, her face lighting up with genuine pleasure at the sight of visitors. “Mr. Holbrook. Mr. Clark. What a lovely surprise.”
James forced what he hoped looked like a natural smile as he climbed the steps. “They rode all this way to check on my leg.”
“How thoughtful.” She stepped aside to let them pass, her gracious manner reminding him so much of his mother’s natural hospitality. “Please, come in out of the cold. Mrs. Wang just put fresh coffee on.”
The great room felt stifling after the crisp air outside, or maybe that was just the weight of concern pressing on his chest.
Mrs. Wang appeared from the kitchen, her face wreathed in the polite smile she reserved for company. “Gentlemen, how nice. Come and sit. I’ll bring coffee and dried apple pie.”
Mandie led the way to the dining room, and they all settled in chairs around the table. James took a spot near Mandie, across from their guests.
Tom Holbrook settled into his chair with a satisfied sigh, brushing the last traces of snow from his coat sleeves. “This is much better. That wind cuts right through you.”
James nodded instead of growling. Every second these men lingered in his house was another second Rose remained trapped in that barn, probably huddled behind hay or crammed into one of the back stalls.
Mrs. Wang stepped from the kitchen with a tray laden with steaming coffee and thick slices of her dried apple pie, the familiar scents filling the room. Under normal circumstances, the sight would have made his mouth water. Today, his stomach churned too much.
“Mrs. Wang, you spoil us.” Tom accepted his plate with obvious relish. “My Sarah’s been trying to recreate this recipe for years, but it never comes out quite right.”
“Secret is in the spices.” Mrs. Wang smiled as she handed Tom a mug. “And good apples.”
