Page 39 of More Than Meets the Eye

Whether it was the coffee, the prayers, or the calming effect of a mysterious young woman sitting across the table, Seth’s breathing gradually eased. As did the tension clawing at everyone in the room.

All five of them sat in the silence for a handful of minutes, listening to Seth’s slow, even breaths as if they were the finely tuned notes of some fancy orchestra.

“Well,” Eva said, finally breaking the silence, her smile brave yet wobbling slightly, “I’ll see to getting dinner on the table.”

Seth’s face reddened as he pushed away from the table. “I’ll, uh, get a fresh shirt.” He glanced over at the girl, who rose from her chair as well. “Sorry about all the excitement. I hope the pot roast didn’t dry out.”

“Even if it did, it’ll still be better than the canned beans and jerky I thought I’d be eating today.” Logan chuckled, earning a small grin from Seth as he turned and stepped away from the table.

“Zach,” Eva called, “why don’t you and Logan empty the bathing tub while we womenfolk put the finishing touches on dinner?”

Logan’s gaze slammed into Hamilton’s. The other man looked as loath to agree as Logan felt.

“I can handle it,” Hamilton grumbled. “Logan here’s a guest. He should . . . take a load off in the parlor or something.”

Logan frowned. He wasn’t about to be painted as some kind of shirker in front of Eva. “I’m not really the parlor-sitting type,” he said, his jaw clenching in preparation for an argument. “Might as well put me to work while I’m here.”

Hamilton’s eyes narrowed. “I said I can handle it.”

Logan narrowed his right back. “I said I’d be glad to help.”

Hamilton advanced a step. Logan followed suit.

Until a dish towel flew into his face, jerking his head backward as he made a clumsy grab for the fluttering fabric. “What—?” He glanced toward the projectile’s source.

Eva stood at the stove, one hand on her hip, her eyes—both the brown and the blue—rolling in exasperation. She jabbed a thumb toward the interior doorway. “First room on the left, Logan. See if you two can manage to dispose of the tub without sloshing water all over the place. Might be a tall order with your egos constantly dueling, but I have faith in you.” She sweetened the scolding with a smile that promised favor to the knight who fulfilled her quest, and suddenly, obtaining her pleasure outweighed maintaining his pride.

Logan lobbed the towel back to her and grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

He eyed Hamilton warily as he strode over to the hooks on the far wall of the kitchen and hung up the hat he’d been too flustered to remove during the chaos of Seth’s attack.

Proving once again that he was soft where his sister was concerned, Hamilton let out a beleaguered sigh as he scooped up the porcelain washbasin Eva had brought out and marched toward her room. “Well, come on, then,” he groused, even though Logan was already on his heels.

But when they reached Eva’s doorway, Logan hesitated, memories assailing him with unexpected force.

His room. She was using his old room.

The furniture was different. His bed and small bureau had been packed up with the rest of their belongings when he and his mother left, but the walls stood in the same place, the window faced the same direction, and the floorboard. . . . Logan took a single step into the room and purposely pressed the toe of his boot against the third wooden plank. Yep. It still creaked. He’d always been careful to avoid that board when he’d snuck to the kitchen for a late night snack.

“I thought you said you wanted to help.” Hamilton’s aggravated tone snapped Logan’s attention back to the present. Hamilton dumped the leftover water from the basin into the half-filled tub, then dropped it onto the nearby washstand.

Logan gave a sharp nod. “I did.”

“Well, quit gawkin’ at my sister’s things and pick up your end of the tub.”

“Got it.” Logan bent and gripped the handle with his right hand.

He hadn’t really been paying much attention to Eva’s things, but now that Hamilton mentioned it, he couldn’t help noticing everything from the wrinkled coverlet on the bed to the open wardrobe with its colorful assortment of feminine garb to the dresser top with its brushes and ribbons and hairpins. She’d made it her own.

For the first time, the thought of taking it away from her seemed wrong.

“Whenever you’re ready, Your Majesty.” Hamilton glared up at Logan from his hunkered position gripping the tub’s other handle.

Logan returned the glare as he heaved upward and started backing out through the doorway behind him.

Taking away Eva’s home might feel wrong, but taking it away from Zacharias Hamilton still felt incredibly right.

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