So Pure a Heart (Daughters of His Kingdom 4)

Dear heaven, what had she been thinking?

Joseph’s frame disappeared as he ducked for snow, and she hurried for shelter behind the horse. She could hardly see over the top of the animal’s back, and there Joseph would have the advantage. He could find her out more easily than she could him.

Bursting with a joy she hadn’t felt in years, Hannah looked over the horse’s back one last time, and not seeing Joseph, darted to the other side of the wagon. What had possessed her to do such a thing? Smiling, she nearly laughed aloud. He’d looked so surprised, but she couldn’t seem to help it—the action almost springing from her without her knowing. Things were becoming easier between them…more as it had been.

This was how she’d wanted things. Easy, natural. Husband and wife.

Her neck and ears burned at the memory of Mr. Plains’s mention of them as such. Oh, why did her heart have to cling to such a thing?

A cold lump smacked her in the shoulder from behind, spraying bits of icy wetness onto her neck a

nd ears. She squealed, laughing. Joseph lunged from his place behind the back of the wagon, four more crude balls in his large hands. His face beamed with that perfect white smile that made her knees turn to pudding. Crouching, she grasped for more snow, when another ball hit her on the knee.

She hurled a hurried handful from her position at the ground, but it missed him, and he strode toward her with long, determined strides.

Hannah jumped to her feet and raced to the trees, her limbs weak from laughter. She reached the edge of the wood where the snow was untouched, when an ironlike arm grabbed around her middle.

Joseph’s rumbling chuckle vibrated against her ear as he held her firm. “You wanted a fight, hmm?”

“You were so serious.” She spoke between spurts of sprite laughter.

“I was serious?” His grip loosened slightly, and she took the chance, wringing free from his arm, but he caught her back again.

Struggling against his solid frame, Hannah lost her balance and tumbled into the snow with a yelp, he following after.

Cold snow on her face, she rolled to her back, blissful laughs bouncing through her. He moved his body from hers, though his arm was still beside her right shoulder, his face directly above hers.

Slowly, their laughter dispelled, his nearness consuming every nerve already alive with the joy of him. Dear Lord, how am I to endure this? The lines around his eyes softened, their rich blue deepening to match the color of his navy-blue coat.

His gaze brushed over her lips, and her mouth parched. Would he?

With a grunt he moved back and pushed to his haunches, snapping like a dry reed the moment she’d used to lean her hopes against.

“Come.” Offering his hand, he helped her to her feet and brushed a bit of snow from her shoulder. “We best be back before Stockton begins to wear a path in front of the fire.”

She nodded but couldn’t help the slant of her head or the words that matched. “Is that all? Or are you simply afraid I shall overtake you?”

“Overtake me?” With a half smile, he stepped back. “I believe, dear Hannah, you have done that already.”

Chapter Twenty

The yard was empty when Philo rode in, weary and chilled from the twenty-mile ride. He slid from his mount and swept his gaze over the land that should be, nay, would be his. Eaton Hill hadn’t changed, as somehow he’d expected, knowing the British had taken it. ’Twas as wild and lovely as it had always been. The land still vast and blanketed with trees, the view still…mournful. From where he’d stopped in the middle of the yard, he could easily detect the new mound on the hill. He squinted. Or was it two? Raw, like a grave freshly dug, a pit began in his stomach. He shook his head. Nay. It couldn’t be. His vision played tricks upon him, surely.

He secured his horse near the front door, when the clanging from inside the foundry across the yard met his ears. Must be Ensign at work. Or the British, but likely they’d commandeered him for their purposes.

A smile tickled his cheek. Ironic that Ensign was for the Patriots and yet would be made to work for the enemy. Had he sold to Philo as he should have, perhaps Providence would have looked more kindly upon him.

Philo strode to the door, tugging at his jacket before he knocked, struggling to ignore the swirling in his chest. Any moment Hannah would open the door. He hadn’t seen her in years. Would she look even more like her mother? The thought made his throat tighten. What would he say? What would she say?

He prepared to knock again, when the door immediately opened. His heart lifted and sank in the same moment when his daughter did not greet him.

“May I help you, sir?”

The ruddy cheeks of the soldier who looked not much older than nineteen were lifted in a smile that seemed far too friendly for one in the service of the king.

“I uh…” He hadn’t expected this? And why not? Imbecile. “I am here to see my brother, Ensign Young.”

A truth, aye. But his mission was twofold, and if his plot were to be completed, he must find the man in charge. Certainly that was no longer Ensign.