“Good.” Several moments of silence passed. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.
“All right, then.”
She snuck a glance at him through her lashes.
“Why don’t we discuss how many times you’ve refilled that bottle?”
NINE
Three more letters. Three! Was Cain writing every day?
Judas tossed the unopened envelopes onto a corner of his desk and sifted through the rest of his correspondence.
He didn’t have time for this nonsense. He needed to focus on his plans. On Miss Whitney Powell. Not on a pathetic little preacher from Portland.
But the more mail he opened, the more his gaze was drawn to the three letters.
With a huff, he slit each one open with his silver letter opener, then set it back down in its velvet holder. He had an obligation to at least read the sender’s words. It didn’t mean he would do anything about them, or even reply. But he would read them.
He lifted the heavy crystal decanter off his desk and refilled his glass. He’d need it to get through the garbage that was certainly inside these missives.
Perhaps the letters would give him the laughter he needed today. Nothing had gone as planned with the blizzard upon them. And he was stuck inside.
Judas,
One day you will stand to face your judge. You will face the consequences of your actions over all these years. If not on earth, then you will most definitely face your eternal Judge.
You have put the love of money above all things. You might think of yourself as a success, but we both know the truth. You should be storing up treasures in heaven. Not here where they are worthless.
We know you were hurt by Olivia years ago, but that was no reason to turn your back on God. It’s been too long. My chest is heavy with the weight of this—the outcome of your soul. It’s not too late. But I’m afraid that soon it will be. Please don’t wait any longer.
Repent, Judas. Turn from the life of sin you are living and grab hold of God. You know the truth. You know it.
In Christ’s love,
Cain
The next letter held more of the same, with plenty of Scripture and declarations that it was all born out of love. By the time Judas read the third letter, he wanted to set a match to every single one of them.
He shook his head and laughed. Who did Cain think he was? He barely had enough to feed his family. The man was a preacher—and not a very good one. He lived in poverty, surrounded himself with the poor and needy, to do what? Make himselffeelbetter?
A man of Judas’s position didn’t need to worry about someone like Cain, no matter what history they shared. Helifted his brows and glanced at the letter again. The man was destitute. Let him waste his money writing. It wouldn’t do any good. Because Judas didn’t need God.
Not now.
Not ever.
He’d crossed the line now. Whitney wouldn’t speak to him ever again.
But after a long silence, she opened her eyes and stared at the sled. “It’s my own fault. I should have never taken him out to demonstrate the dogs without an escort. I barely knew the man.”
As much as Peter prided himself on holding his temper, he was mad. “Don’t youdareblame yourself, Whitney.”
She held up a hand. “Here I am doing it again, too. I tookyouout with no one to accompany us. But I figured you knew better than to make trouble with me. I always have more than one gun on me. And my dogs will attack on command.”
The sad little smile she sent him made his heart ache. “This is no laughing matter.”
“Oh, come on, Peter. Can’t you take a joke?”
