After drying them, he applied the salve with tender fingers. His touch sent pleasure up my calves and straight to my heart.
His breath was steady and even, but when he had to move my foot and his hand slipped farther up my calf, I knew he was just as affected as I was. He paused, his breath coming faster as his thumb caressed my skin.
I began to tremble as I waited, but he continued to administer the salve, not looking at my face. When he was done, he stood and said, his voice a bit gruff, “I’ll wash your stockings and set them out to dry, and then I’ll start on our supper.”
“I can—”
“I want you to stay off your feet, Ally.” His voice was still gruff, but he finally looked at me and it softened. “You need to rest and keep them clean.”
“I can at least sit by the fire and stir the hasty pudding.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
I didn’t protest again as I leaned against the rock, watchinghim work. He was diligent and thorough and so handsome in the flickering light of the campfire.
Whenever he looked up and caught me watching him, I didn’t shy away or drop my gaze, and each time I was rewarded with his smile.
There were no stars to fill the sky with the low clouds hanging overhead, but the wind had died down and the evening sounds had taken its place. An owl hooted in the distance as small animals scampered through the forest nearby. The mules shuffled their feet, and the firelight danced on the boulders near our camp. I was constantly aware of the threats around us, but with Sam nearby, it was hard to worry about them.
He handed me a plate with hasty pudding and beans and then took a seat next to me, his back against the boulder, our legs brushing.
“Thank you,” I said, though I felt a little foolish for playing the invalid when my feet were the only problem.
“You’re welcome.”
We ate in silence for several minutes, but I didn’t mind. With Sam, I didn’t feel like I always needed to talk. So much was communicated without words between us.
Finally, he broke the silence and asked, “Do you miss teaching?”
“More than I thought I would.” I dipped my spoon into the hasty pudding. “I’m thankful Hazel and Johnnie enjoy learning. It has helped ease that transition in my life.”
“Do you like acting? In your other path?” His question was hesitant, as if he was afraid of my answer.
I loved that Sam knew about my time-crossing. It was so much a part of me that it was hard to imagine him not knowing. “I do enjoy it. But probably because I work with my family. If they weren’t involved, I don’t think I would like it as much.” I hesitated and then said, “I admire you, Sam.”
“Why?”
“You didn’t cave under the pressure to work for your father.”
“Is that what you’ve done?”
“No. If I wanted to leave it, I could. My sister Julia left acting. But I’m starting to see that I didn’t give myself any other options. It came so naturally to me, I didn’t question it.”
“Do you want to continue?”
“Honestly?” I let out a deep breath. “I don’t think I do.” I glanced at him. “You’re the first person I’ve told that to. I don’t want to disappoint my family there.”
He seemed to understand, so he said, “Tell me about them.”
I spent the next thirty minutes talking about Mama and Papa, Vicky, Julia, Grace, and all the other family members who filled my life and heart. He knew a little about them, but I dove deeper, telling him more about our time-crossing family connections.
The only person I didn’t tell him about was Spencer, but he wasn’t family. At least, that was the reason I gave myself for not telling him.
Sam had finished his meal and set aside his plate while I spoke. He lifted one of his legs and hooked his arm around his knee as he listened. Somehow, we were sitting closer than we’d been before, our shoulders pressed together.
“I like knowing about your family,” he said, his voice low. “I wish I could meet them.”
“I do, too.”
