Page 74 of Eleanor’s Earrings

“Good.”

Eleanor looked toward the camp. “I stayed at the fire line.”

“You did.”

“Lydia was running away from me, and I stayed.”

“I was closer to a horse.”

“What if you had not reached her?”

“I did.”

“What if—”

“Eleanor.” Nathaniel took her hands. “You made the right decision.”

“It did not feel right.”

“The worst decisions rarely do.”

Her fingers tightened around his. “I thought the fire would take her.”

“I know.”

“I thought it would take all of them. The wagons. Father's plan. Everything.”

“But it did not.”

“Because you brought Lydia back.”

“And because you saved the rear wagons.”

They were very close. Nathaniel could see the tiny flecks of gold in her gray eyes. One garnet earring was smudged with soot.

“You trusted me,” she whispered.

“I do trust you.”

Something in Eleanor's face broke open.

Nathaniel leaned forward slowly enough to give her time to move away.

She did not.

His mouth touched hers.

The kiss was gentle at first. Eleanor's lips were warm and uncertain. Then she lifted one hand to his shoulder and kissed him back.

Nathaniel had not kissed a woman since Abigail died. Not a real kiss. He had forgotten the softness of it. The startling closeness. The way a single touch could make years of loneliness suddenly visible.

He drew Eleanor nearer.

She made a quiet sound and pulled away.

For a moment, they stared at one another.

“I should check the inventory,” Eleanor said.