Western Christmas Brides: A Bride and Baby for Christmas / Miss Christina's Christmas Wish / A Kiss from the Cowboy. Lauri Robinson

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      He set his cup on the counter, and holding up that hand, too, he asked, “May I?”

      She nodded, and rested her hand atop the other one he placed against her stomach. The sensation was so remarkable, so unexplainable, she closed her eyes to fully cherish the moment.

      The baby moved again and Teddy chuckled. “That’s incredible.”

      “Yes, it is.” Completely at ease, she opened her eyes to add, “Except for when a foot or knee gets caught beneath one of my ribs.”

      His expressions were easy to read. Sympathy was there now.

      “It hurts then?”

      “No,” she answered, smiling. “It’s just a bit uncomfortable.”

      They stood there for several minutes, softly laughing as the baby continued to move. She shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as she was. It was surely scandalous, but exactly what she wanted. Someone to share these precious, wonderful moments with her.

      “He or she must have fallen asleep,” Teddy whispered after a time of no movement.

      “Or just finally got comfortable,” she said. The stillness also caused a wave of embarrassment to wash over her and she removed her hands from atop his.

      He dropped his hands and took a step back. “I—uh—”

      She shook her head, not wanting him to apologize. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She had. If his sister learned of what had just happened, Abigail would have more reason to shed scorn. Since the first time they’d met, Abigail’s contempt-filled glares had showered Hannah with more shame than her father’s hateful shouts had back home.

      “I have your money here somewhere,” Teddy said, digging in his coat and pants pockets with both hands. “Ah, yes, I put it in this pocket so I’d find it easy.” Handing her an envelope, he said, “There’s also a note from Abigail as to what she’d like for next month. There are some special ads local merchants would like created, as well. She explains them in her note, but they won’t be due for a couple of weeks.”

      A tinge of remorse washed over Hannah. In spite of all her instincts, she had to be thankful for Abigail White. If not for the opportunity to create the etchings, she’d be even more indebted to Brett and Fiona. The money she received from the Gazette allowed her to contribute to the household and to purchase the things she needed. Four months ago she’d arrived with little more than a satchel holding one extra dress and underthings.

      “Thank you, Mr. White,” she said. “I’ll begin working on them right away.”

      “The thanks goes to you. Before you, the newspaper was rather dull. Though we tried, neither Abigail nor I have the drawing skills that you have. I’d wager no one in Kansas has the skills you have.”

      “I find that very doubtful,” Hannah answered. “It’s hardly a skill. Just something I like to do.”

      He gathered the stack of papers and etchings closer to his side of the table. “Do you need more supplies? Wood or paper?”

      “No. I have plenty of paper and Brett has cut up a rather endless supply of wood blocks. He also sharpens the burins regularly, and Rhett and Wyatt enjoy sanding the blocks smooth for me,” she added, referring to Fiona’s two young sons.

      “It’s good you have so much help,” Teddy said. “I’ll bid you good day, then. If you hurry, you might still be able to join the quilting club. I’d be happy to walk you to Martha’s dress shop.”

      She’d forgone the quilting club session today in order to complete the etchings, and had no desire to venture out in the cold. “Thank you, but no, I’ll remain home today.”

      He nodded as he replaced his hat. “It’s a good day to stay inside.” After picking up the stacks, he added, “By tomorrow it could be warm enough to go without a coat. This is Kansas. The weather changes hourly.”

      “I’ve noticed how unpredictable the weather can be here. Other than the wind.”

      “Aw, yes, the wind. Now, that is something you can count on.”

      It was rather amazing how casually they conversed. She was thankful for how he’d made her forget that she’d been embarrassed a short time ago. Which she should have been. Allowing a man to touch her like that. Eric had been the only man to touch her and... Her thoughts paused momentarily as she looked at Teddy. That was the other unique thing about him. He made her forget how badly she missed Eric. How severely she’d mourned his death.

      Their gazes locked and held in such a way her heart skipped several beats before he looked away.

      “Good day, Mrs. Olsen,” he said, moving to the door.

      A sudden desire to stop him from leaving had her stepping forward. Unsure why she didn’t want him to leave, she instantly concluded it had to do with not wanting Abigail to discover what had just happened. “Why isn’t your sister joining us for Thanksgiving dinner?”

      “She’s joining the mayor and reverend at Rollie Austin’s place that day.”

      “And you weren’t invited?” That seemed terribly rude, even for Abigail.

      “Yes, I was invited, but I eat at the hotel almost every day. Brett’s invitation sounded more enjoyable.”

      His smile enticed her to offer one in return. “Then I hope you won’t be disappointed.”

      “That would be impossible.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Good day, Mrs. Olsen.”

      “Good day, Mr. White.” Upon closing the door behind him, she drew a deep breath and leaned her forehead against the solid wood for a moment. Why? Why couldn’t any of the other men on her list make her heart thud? Teddy was as opposite from Eric as a man could be. Eric had been loud and impulsive—two things Teddy certainly wasn’t.

      However, he did have one thing in common with Eric. His family hated her. She had lived with hatred her entire life, and was determined her child would never experience it.

       Chapter Two

      Teddy willed himself not to turn around for a final look. Hannah had already closed the door, so he wouldn’t see her. Other than in his mind. A place where her image was etched as perfectly as the pictures she flawlessly carved into the blocks of wood. He’d been printing newspapers for as long as he could remember and producing multiple copies of pictures was not an easy task. Leastwise it never used to be. His and Abigail’s engravings always collected ink and left globs that bled into the print. That hadn’t happened once with Hannah’s creations.

      Her etchings were as flawless as her beauty. He’d been alongside Brett the day Hannah had stepped off the train, and had tried to keep his distance from that moment on. He’d fallen for a forlorn young woman once before and promised himself it would never happen again.

      Keeping his distance had been easy at first. Brett’s mother had sent Hannah to Oak Grove and Brett and Fiona had taken her into their home and protected her as strongly as a mother bear would a cub in spring. The entire town discovered СКАЧАТЬ