Page 41 of Beneath the Harvest Moon

“He deserves the truth.”

This had been a waste of time. She should have known she would not be allowed to let the past rest. What else had you expected? She cleared her throat and said, “Thank you for speaking with me, but I am afraid I cannot meet your conditions.”

Blythe fled. She should never have returned. How naïve and foolish she had been to believe she could make a life here after all that had happened. If she did not tell Gabriel the truth, his mother would not train her. If she told him the truth, she would hurt them all beyond redemption.

CHAPTER 15

Gabriel tugged on Samson’s reins and dismounted. He led the bay gelding around the stone wall that enclosed the Silverdale farmyard and tied him to the fence post. Samson nibbled on the clover.

The setting sun dipping below the horizon spread its orange glow across the fields earlier with each passing day.

Guilt and anticipation warred in his stomach. He should not have rushed through his patients, but the urge to see Blythe had been too strong to resist.

This was madness. He was opening himself up to hurt, and no one had the potential to wound him more than Blythe. But he could not help himself. Just like before, he longed to be in her presence every waking moment.

He leapt over the fence of the empty pasture. If Daisy and Prue were already in the cowshed, Blythe would be too.

He hugged the wall of the barn, his ears alert for any sound. Thank goodness the geese had been put out in the stubbled fields to fatten up for Michaelmas. What are you doing? He was a grown man—a physician—sneaking around to see the girl he had loved since they were children. Blythe may have betrayed his trust, but his foolish heart still longed for no one else.

Others may think him a fool for forgiving her, but he did not care. They belonged together, and now was his chance to make her his, if she would have him.

No one lingered; most were making their way home from the fields, so he slipped inside the cowshed. Several chickens pecked at the hay-strewn floor.

In the soft glow of a lantern, Blythe sat on her stool, her back arched and her head resting on the cow’s stomach. Whispered words floated over the rhythmic splash of liquid into the pail.

He slouched against the wooden slats of the cowshed and crossed his arms when she began to sing. The soft lilt of her voice eased his aching limbs. He could watch her for eternity, be she milking cows, digging up vegetables or caring for a dying boy. Several curls peeked from beneath her lace-trimmed cap. His fingers itched to tug on one of those locks and watch it bounce back into place.

Her song ended. “Are you not going to say anything?”

He chuckled inwardly. “How did you know it was me?”

“Only you are foolish enough to sneak into the cowshed at this time of night.”

The rhythmic splash of liquid ceased. Blythe picked up the pail between the cow’s legs and set it next to another brimming with creamy liquid.

She wiped her hands on her wrinkled apron. “My mama will box your ears if she finds you in here.”

“That threat did not discourage me when I was a lad, either.”

Finally, she turned, and her brow puckered. “You look tired.”

He could say the same of her, judging by her pallid complexion and red-rimmed eyes. “What is wrong?”

Blythe picked up the milking stool and set it aside. “How are your patients in Alderton?”

“Decidedly healthy, I am pleased to say. A few cases of broken bones, cuts, stings and aching limbs, but the harvest is almost complete.” He pushed away from the wall. Her questions would not deter him. “How has your day fared?” This is what it should have been like these past fifteen years: coming home to each other, sharing their day, enjoying a warm meal together and then a bed. His cock stirred at the prospect. They could still have that. Everything inside him ached to share the rest of his life with her. If she would have him.

“I sent Elijah back to school this morning, then I paid your mother a visit.” Blythe inspected her palms.

He had thought she would need more convincing, but his heart lightened. If Blythe wanted something, she reached out and took it. That was what had made her fickle behaviour so difficult to understand.

“You spoke to her about me, did you not?” She chewed on her lower lip.

The succulent pink flesh tempted him beyond reason. Oh, to kiss that mouth again. He lowered his gaze to the dirt floor and did not speak.

“Why?”

“You know why.” He nudged a clump of hay with his toe.