Page 8 of The Love Knot

She drew to a halt in front of the open barn doors and mumbled a quiet explanation. “Mr. Porter, a friend from Harper’s Station, gave me a ride to town this morning, but since he had deliveries to make for his freight business, he made arrangements with his brother for me to borrow a horse and cart from his livery for the drive home. I should probably be checkin’ on it and seein’ about returnin’ to Harper’s Station. That way ye can get on with the rest of yer business.”

“You are my business, Claire.”

She jerked her head up, questions racing through her brain. Questions that must have shown on her face, for Pieter smiled. That small, private half-smile of his that never failed to turn her insides to mush.

“Delivering Liam wasn’t my only reason for coming.” He ran a finger along the edge of her face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin tingled at his touch. Then he moved on to the babe, gently cupping the lad’s downy head and rubbing back and forth.

The contact soothed the boy, but it had the opposite effect on Claire. For as Pieter stroked the child, the back of his knuckles also brushed the underside of her chin, leaving not only her heart in a puddle from his tender, fatherly treatment of Liam, but the rest of her longing for another caress meant just for her.

Once the baby ceased his fretting, Pieter withdrew his hand. “When Polly finally admitted to me that your mail-order marriage never took place, I began making plans.” He met her gaze, his eyes clear and intent. “Plans to win you back, Claire. To prove myself worthy of you.” He retreated a step and shifted his weight, but his eyes never left hers. “When Polly approached me about Liam, I already had a train ticket to Texas in my possession. I would have come for you with or without the little man as an excuse.”

He’d been coming for her all along? Even after the way she’d sliced him from her life? Her heart gave a leap, yet her head argued caution. He’d hurt her before. He could hurt her again.

“I’m not asking you to forget all that’s happened between us. I’m simply asking you to give me a chance to explain and own up to my failures. After you’ve heard what I have to say, if you still want no part of me, I’ll respect your wishes and leave you to your life in Harper’s Station with no more than monthly visits to remain connected with Liam.”

Claire’s forehead scrunched. Monthly visits? From New York?

“I have no doubt that you’ll be a wonderful mother to him,” Pieter hurried to reassure her, as if he feared he’d insulted her with his comment. “But Liam is a van Duren. His father might have abandoned him, but I will not. He’s my blood. I intend to see that he receives the love and support such a connection deserves.”

This was the man she had fallen in love with, a man of deep honor and commitment, a man she had always been able to depend on. Had she painted him a full-fledged villain when perhaps he’d simply been a good man who’d temporarily stumbled? No one could be perfect all the time. Yet that was what she had expected of him. To never let her down. Ever.

“I would be glad to have ye involved in Liam’s life.” She swallowed another chunk of pride. It scratched as it went down, but it lightened her soul a little. “He’ll need a . . .”—she nearly said father, but that would be inviting too many pictures of domesticity that she wasn’t yet ready to contemplate—“a strong man in his life to look up to as an example. But I don’t understand how ye think to visit every month. The time away from work plus the train fare would make visiting once a year barely feasible.”

Pieter grinned and rocked back on his heels. “It won’t be so bad. I thought to visit over a Sunday, get a local lad to milk the cows for me while I’m gone. And if the cheese and butter business goes as well as anticipated, I’ll have extra ready cash for the train fare.”

“Extra cash? Have ye gone daft, Pieter? I had to pay Mr. Fischer seventy-five dollars to reimburse him for the ticket he purchased to bring me out here. And ’twas only one way!”

Something lit Pieter’s eyes. A sparkle—dare she believe it was a touch of mischief? “Don’t worry. The fare will be manageable. The trip’s only a couple hours.”

“Whisht! Now I know ye’re daft.”

He chuckled. “No. Not daft. Only calculating distance from a different starting point.” His face grew serious. “I bought a piece of land, Claire. And I’ve money to start a small dairy herd.”

His own land? Heaven be praised. He’d worked so hard for so long. She knew how much that meant to him. To his family—to be the first to own land in the New World. To escape the tenements and make a life for himself. No matter what trouble had come between them, she was truly proud of his accomplishment.

“Oh, Pieter, I’m so happy for ye. I know ’twas yer dream.”

“Part of my dream,” he corrected, and a little shiver danced along Claire’s nape at the implication. “I didn’t just bring Liam with me on that train. I brought all my worldly goods. The land I bought is in Texas, Claire.”

Texas? Who ever heard of a Texas dairy? Dairies belonged in places like New York and Wisconsin. Why in the world would he choose Texas?

But as her heart thumped in her chest, she recognized the answer. He’d come for her. To prove himself. Hadn’t he said as much? Yet to go so far as to purchase something as permanent as land with no guarantee that she’d change her mind. ’Twas like throwing the deed to the farm into a poker pot when the final cards had yet to be dealt. Unaccountably foolhardy.

Yet incredibly romantic.

The blighter was cheating. Trying to manipulate her.

Or maybe he was sacrificing everything he had for love. Not only for her, but for the nephew they shared.

How could she possibly be expected to remain unaffected by such a grand gesture?

Claire stared into the tender brown eyes of the man she’d loved for half her life and felt the stone of her heart start to soften and yield. Remaining unaffected was obviously not an option. But keeping her wits about her was. She would listen to his explanations. Perhaps even offer forgiveness. Heaven knew her soul could benefit from the release of that burden. But it would be her head, not her heart, that would decide how they moved forward. Her heart had led her astray once. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Chapter

5

An hour later, Claire had decided that Bart and Addie Porter were ministering angels sent by God to ease her way through the cyclone of change whirling through her life. Not only did Bart have the horse and cart ready for her, but while the men were off collecting the luggage from the depot and tracking down a goat she could purchase, Addie gave Liam what Claire could not—mother’s milk. While her own six-month-old daughter rolled about on the bedroom floor, exploring table legs and sucking on blanket corners, Addie nursed Liam and freed Claire to cut the diaper cloth she had purchased into ready-to-use squares. She even had time to hem them on Addie’s Singer sewing machine.