Faithfully Yours by Jo Ann Ferguson Read Free Book Online Page B

unbleached yarn.
    â€œYou make quick work of that,” he said.
    â€œI have had much practice.”
    He looked around the room. “With the many feet in this family alone, you would be kept busy even if you did not knit for others. I suspect your younger brothers and sisters outgrow their socks with amazing speed.”
    â€œEspecially Ezekial. He has passed down two pair of boots this year alone to Emery.
    â€œBut Emery is the older, right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAre you always going to be so taciturn when I try to initiate a conversation with you?”
    â€œYou should not confuse being taciturn with having nothing to say.” Faith knew she would have been wise to leave the room with Mother and the twins instead of remaining here to finish a stripe.
    Standing, Major Kendrick leaned forward and rested his arm on the high back of the settle. As his shadow came between her and the light from the fire as if he were once again wearing his black cloak, it cut her off from the rest of the room. Abruptly, it was as if they were alone—far from anyone else.
    She raised her gaze to his. Knowing she should look away, she could not. She was snared in a trap, drawn ever more deeply into his eyes.
    â€œI suspect,” he said in a near whisper, “that you have much to say, but you do not trust yourself to say it.”
    â€œYou speak with great authority about me when you have known me barely a day.”
    â€œThere are many ways of getting to know someone. You may not say much about yourself, but others do.” His fingers edged over the back of the settle to toy with the wisps of her hair that refused to stay in her bun. “Molly—or was it Nancy?—told me that you are very fond of hot biscuits out of the oven. Emery mentioned that you have ignored your father’s request more than once and jumped your mount over fences. Even your other brother, who seems as close-mouthed as you, said something about how you love to dance.”
    â€œIf you collect as much information about the rebels as quickly, Major Kendrick, I suspect your job will be completed soon.”
    â€œIt might help if you called me Sebastian instead of Major Kendrick.”
    â€œRather than my lord?”
    He grinned. “That is for those fancy drawing rooms in England. Here, Sebastian will do just fine.” He leaned closer. “Unless, of course, you have a reason why you should continue to address me otherwise.”
    â€œSebastian will do.” She bent over her knitting. Every word he spoke suggested it was a threat. He might suspect that she was smuggling supplies to the rebels. She guessed he had his doubts about everyone here—even Father, who was the most vocal loyalist in Goshen.
    â€œIt will do very nicely.” He sat next to her on the settle.
    â€œPlease move.”
    â€œAm I disturbing your work by sitting here?”
    She wanted to shout yes, but said only, “You are sitting on my yarn. I cannot continue my work if I cannot pull more yarn from the ball.”
    Bending, he picked up the ball. He shifted and drew the yarn from beneath him. Setting it on his lap, he smiled at her. Was that a dare she saw in his smile? If he thought she was going to snatch it and run away, she must show him that she had no reason to be fearful of him. Betraying herself would be ridiculous.
    He ran his finger along the strand of wool, tracing where it twisted through her fingers. He did not touch her, but the heat of his skin threatened to sear her.
    â€œThis wool is quite rough,” he said.
    â€œI am accustomed to it.”
    Taking the unfinished glove that was dangling from her knitting needles, he lifted first one finger, then the next. Again he drew the yarn through his fingers—to where it wrapped around hers. “This is a garish red, Faith.”
    â€œI told you before that I like bright colors.”
    â€œIt is nearly as red as your face was today when Osborne came