Harlequin Historical November 2015, Box Set 2 of 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

challenged him like this. He found he didn’t like it.
    â€œNo,” he said again. “You have more guts than I do, Winifred. And while I take exception to your bluntness, I envy you your courage.”
    By the time Winifred had thought up a proper retort, she heard the door to her bedroom close behind him.
    * * *
    In the morning, Winifred found the skin of her face and arms stiff and so parched her cheeks and arms stung. And her nose... She could not bear to look at it in the mirror over the yellow-painted chest in the bedroom. Gingerly she drew on a soft paisley skirt and shirtwaist, braided her hair and descended the stairs. She’d overslept. And, oh, how she needed a cup of Sam’s coffee!
    But Sam was not in the kitchen. And the saucepan she’d used to heat the baby’s bottle still sat on the stove.
    The back door swung open and Zane tramped in, a load of firewood stacked along one arm. “Morning,” he said. “Sam’s not going to be with us for a few more hours.”
    â€œIt isn’t chicken pox, is it?”
    â€œHardly. Too much hard cider at Uncle Charlie’s last night.” He dumped the wood into the wood box and bent to stir up the coals in the stove. “I’ll make the coffee this morning.”
    The doorbell clanged.
    â€œDamn that thing.” Zane clunked a hefty piece of oak into the firebox and went to answer it.
    Voices drifted from the entrance hall, a man’s deep baritone and a child’s trilling chatter. Winifred laid out plates and silverware on the dining table and tried not to listen.
    â€œHow’d she get up into the tree, Colonel?” Zane’s voice.
    â€œHow does she get anywhere, Doc? She climbs or crawls. Some days I think she can fly.”
    She heard Zane’s chuckle, then, “All right, Miss Manette, let’s have a look at your arm.”
    â€œIt hurts,” the child said.
    â€œI bet it does. Nevertheless, let me feel along the bone and see if you can make a fist. Ah, good. What were you doing up in the apple tree, hmm?”
    â€œLooking for worms.”
    â€œWorms? Anyone ever tell you there’s plenty of worms in the ground?”
    â€œNot the right kind of worms,” the girl insisted.
    â€œColonel, did she hit her head when she fell?”
    â€œDon’t know. Knocked the wind out of her, though,” the man said.
    â€œMight have a concussion,” Zane said quietly. “Manette, does your head hurt?”
    Silence. Apparently she was shaking her head.
    â€œNow I want you to watch my finger.”
    More silence. Winifred set two cups down on the china saucers, taking care not to make any noise.
    â€œNow, you look right into my eyes, all right?” Zane again.
    â€œYour eyes are all shiny, Dr. Dee. And they’re gray, just like Maman’s.”
    â€œSo they are. My mama’s eyes were gray, too. Give me your wrist, now. That’s it. No, don’t jerk it away. I want to feel your pulse.”
    â€œWhat’s a pulse?”
    â€œA pulse is your heart beating. It goes tha-lump, tha-lump. Here, you can feel mine.”
    â€œYours is real loud!” Manette exclaimed.
    â€œAnd yours is as normal as apple pie,” Zane said.
    Winifred had to smile. Zane was wonderful with the child.
    â€œShe’s just fine, Colonel,” Zane said. “Try to keep her out of the orchard from now on.”
    â€œThanks, Zane. Jeanne will be in town tomorrow with a blackberry pie for you.”
    â€œShe doesn’t need to,” Zane protested.
    The man laughed. “Jeanne will never believe that.”
    The front door shut and Zane reappeared in the kitchen. “Spirited little tyke,” he said with a smile. “Likes bugs and worms and everything else that crawls. Drives her father wild.”
    â€œAnd her mother?”
    â€œJeanne’s used to it. Mothers get that way after a while. I know mine did.”
    â€œDid you like