Page 28 of A Second Chance for Love

Naturally, Juss glanced up and caught her, his mouth curving into a grin. Oona dropped the curtain, and immediately felt foolish. He’d seen her in her dressing gown last night, why was she behaving like a schoolroom miss?

You spent the night in bed with him and you are disappointed he made no move to touch you.

Oona growled at her stupidity and found her watch: it was a little after seven.

After washing with the still warm basin of water Juss must have brought, Oona headed down to the kitchen, feeling more than a little foolish in her second travelling costume, which was even fancier than the first. But it was all she had that was clean.

The first person she saw upon entering the cozy, delicious smelling kitchen was Mrs. Cantrell.

“Good morning dear.” She squinted at Oona. “My, that’s a lovely outfit.”

Oona flushed. “I’m afraid all my other clothing is in the other carriage.”

“Aye, your husband told us.”

Oona glanced at the bubbling pots on the stove and Mrs. Cantrell’s floury hands. “What smells so delicious?”

“Steak and kidney pie, a few loaves of bread, and some tarts. But you don’t need to stand in the kitchen, Mrs. Taylor. Mr. Cantrell has warmed up the parlor and I can bring you tea and breakfast.”

“Please call me Oona. And I’d prefer to eat in the kitchen, if you don’t mind having me.”

“Oona—that’s a beautiful name. Well, you can call me Mary. Would you like ham and eggs, dear?”

“Just tea and some toast, I think.”

“You’re like me,” Mary said, putting the kettle on the stove. “I can’t eat a heavy meal in the morning or I’ll sleep all day.”

Oona gestured to the big bucket of potatoes. “I can peel those for you.”

“Oh no, you’ll get your pretty clothing dirty.”

“I see a second apron over there—is that your daughter’s?”

“Aye.” She looked doubtful, her cloudy eyes sweeping over Oona’s person.

“Please? I’d like to help.”

It took a bit more cajoling, but Oona was rolling out pastry when Juss came in from the cold an hour later.

“Well, look who’s up,” Juss teased, so vital and masculine and gorgeous with his rosy cheeks it was almost painful to look at him.

“I’ve been up and laboring for hours, I’ll have you know.”

“Have you now?” Juss stripped off his gloves and tossed them into his hat, his startling blue eyes on her the entire time. “Where is Mrs. Cantrell?”

“I persuaded her to take a nap—after fifteen minutes of arguing—convincing her I had things well in hand.”

“What are you making there?”

“Pastry for more pies.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.” He unwound his scarf and then removed his coat, which was glistening with rapidly melting snow. “Well,” he said, once he was down to his clawhammer and buckskins and looking better than a man had a right to do. “I’m afraid the men who were supposed to help Jonathan with the animals didn’t show up, but the three of us were able to get them all fed.”

“Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

“Shall I make some for Mr. Cantrell, is he coming along soon?”