Page 60 of More than Words Can Say

“Pray about it too.”

He blinked, then realized she hadn’t been talking about her declaration of love but about the subject that had prompted it.

“I will,” he promised, his voice gruff, raw.

He might not be able to give her the words she deserved to hear, but he could give her this. No matter how pointless he found the exercise, he’d do it. He owed her that much.

Abigail finally met his gaze, some of the red fading from her cheeks. “Thank you.”

He swallowed and managed a nod.

A dimple peeked out just a bit before she turned away from him. “I guess our abduction is good and ruined, isn’t it?”

Not if he could help it. He hopped to his feet and whistled to Jack. Abby startled at the shrill sound, and when she caught sight of his horse trotting straight for them, she dodged behind his back.

Zach stood a fraction taller as her hands took hold of his waist. All the secrets they’d shared hadn’t destroyed her trust in him. She still looked to him for protection and security.

She’d stayed. Even when he had uncovered the putrid gash in his soul. There was no drawing back in horror and disgust. No forfeiture of hope, declaring him a lost cause. Not his Abby. She’d rolled up her sleeves and set to doctoring the nasty thing, scouring and prodding in places no one in their right mind would venture. It might have hurt like the very devil and left him with fresh bruises that still throbbed, but he could see the heart behind it. The love behind it.

“The sun hasn’t set yet,” he said as he reached for Jack’s reins. He patted the horse’s neck, then bent to retrieve his coat from the ground. “I say we give it another try.” He shook the dust and grass off his coat, then stuffed his arms in the sleeves and grinned at his wife, hoping it would cover his nervousness.

Don’t give up on us, he silently begged her. Not today or any day hereafter.

He checked the saddle, made sure everything was still secure, then turned and held a hand out to Abigail. “What do you say? I’ll let you do the abducting this time. Give you the reins and let you take Jack wherever you want to go.”

Even if it’s back to the bakery. But please don’t go back to the bakery. Not yet.

Her eyebrows lifted in matching arches. “Anywhere?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m your captive. Completely at your mercy.”

Both dimples appeared, full and deep and adorable as her lips split in a flirtatious smile. Zach’s pulse stuttered, then pounded into a full-out sprint.

“All right, then.” She slipped her hand into his. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER

30

“So . . .” Rosalind’s singsong voice tickled Abigail’s ears as her sister swept through the connecting door from the shop to the kitchen. The last of the breakfast crowd must have cleared out. “Are we moving you out of my room today?”

“Rosie!” Abigail, face aflame, yanked off a piece of yeast dough and threw it at her sister’s chest. It splatted with satisfying force but proved an ineffectual deterrent, for her sister simply peeled it off and threw it straight back. The dough ball smacked Abigail on the left cheekbone and stuck there like some kind of unnatural growth, which set Rosie to giggling.

Abigail only managed to hold her disapproving big-sister scowl for a moment before cracking a smile herself as she wiped her face clean.

“Come on, sis. Spill the details,” Rosalind urged as she came around the worktable, grabbed Abigail’s hand, and dragged her to the table where Abby and Zach shared breakfast in the mornings. She held out a chair for Abigail. “I want to know everything,” she said as she waited for her sister to sit. “The two of you were out awfully late last night.”

Abigail ducked her head, knowing the teasing joy dancing in her sister’s eyes would dim when she learned the truth. “The marriage is still unconsummated.”

“What? What happened?” Rosalind moved to the vacant seat and flopped into it with an unladylike thud. “I thought for sure . . .”

“So did I,” Abigail admitted. Yet she couldn’t be disappointed. Not really. Their evening might not have gone according to plan, but something important happened nonetheless. Something that might do more to bond them as a couple than the physical intimacy she had anticipated. For what good was physical closeness without emotional and spiritual connection? Better to take the time to lay the proper foundation than to rush to build on shaky ground.

Rosalind’s face turned mulish. “Tell me.”

Abigail sighed. “He took me to the old oak.”

Rosalind drew back, her jaw loosening. “Not the—”