At the base of the stairs, he watched her descend. She wore a warm rust-colored gown with delicate silver lace banding below her bosom. The color brought out the jewel tones of her warm honeyed skin and enhanced his appreciation of her fine figure.
This was his Ruth. Bold, vibrant colors.
He almost stopped breathing.
That wasn’t difficult given the damage to his throat. Everything awakened inside when she took his hand.
No giving up. Never.
No way he could live without her in his life.
“Christopher is in the garden,” she said. “I could get him. I hope I don’t have to clean him up to present him to you. It’s muddy outside.” She poked at the basket lid. “Are we going somewhere?”
Could eyes frown? Ruth’s had. Spending time with Wycliff should not be a drudgery.
He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “I thought we’d go into the lovely gown…garden again.”
Behind her spectacles, a mischievous glint sparked in her gaze. “What did you have in mind?”
“Many things, but we’ll start with sitting outside in the sun, close to the house.”
He led her to the doors to the garden and swept her through them before anything changed her mind.
He helped her sit at the small table on the short stone patio. “See, we can feel the warm sun, watch your son, and still be close to the house.”
Her tentative smile turned into a conclusive one. “What’s in the basket?”
“Wickedness.”
“Wickedness. You would be a Wicked Wycliff? That’s an insult to someone who keeps surprising me.”
“All depends upon how you say it, my dear. Could be an invitation.”
She smiled, and it eased his spirits.
He slid the basket to her. Ruth had always liked surprises. “Open, says me.”
“Quick with a quip, Lord Wycliff?”
“Sometimes.” He inched the basket closer. “Open it, Ruth.”
She flicked open the woven lid and giggled.
Her hands sank into the rectangular-shaped box and pulled out a crisp baguette and her favorite Cheshire cheese and dates. Sugared and pitted dates. Ruth loved those treats.
“Adam told you everything, didn’t he? Tangy, creamy, beigey cheese?”
“Maybe. But some things I shall have to discover for myself.” He put his hand upon hers. “Some things I’ll enjoy learning and relearning.”
“You sound like a suitor, not long-lost family.”
“Ruth, I have thought of nothing but our kiss. There’s more to say, but you aren’t ready for that truth.”
She broke a sliver of the bread, the crusty end, her favorite, and popped it into her generous mouth. “No, I think it might be too much. Thank you for taking care of me yesterday.”
“I’ll always take care of you.”
A little boy hopped in front of their table. He had a barrel hoop in his hand, rolling it and running. Ruth’s sister, Mrs. Bexeley, had a bundle wrapped in a dark-blue blanket. She was all smiles, chasing behind the small boy.
