Page 49 of The Heart’s Charge

Recalling her lack of love for horses, Jonah stepped away from the team in order to intercept her in neutral territory. Quirking a grin, he reached for the basket she’d so kindly packed for him, then frowned as she swung it over his outstretched palm and sidestepped him to place it in the wagon bed herself. Tracking her as she sailed past, it occurred to him that she looked different than she had at breakfast. No apron. And she’d donned a bonnet. Something flipped in his gut.

“I’m going with you.” She released the basket handle, then spun to face him, hands finding their way to her hips.

Schooling his features, he raised a brow. “Oh?”

His pulse kicked up a notch at the thought of her company. ’Course, she probably had a practical reason for wantin’ to make the trip. It wasn’t as if she suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from him. Though he had experienced a few twinges at the thought of not seeing her for a full day. Which was crazy. Women didn’t get under his skin. At least they hadn’t before now. What was it about this one that was so different?

He looked her up and down. The gentle curves softening her statuesque figure. The warm glow of her tawny skin. The fire of challenge sparking in her large dark eyes. The sass in her posture. The determination in her raised chin.

Everything. Everything about her was different.

A slow smile stretched across his face.

One of Eliza’s hands slid off her hip. She jerked it back into place. “I canceled school for the day. Rawley and his crew need time to settle in before lessons are enforced, and Friday is a terrible day to start a new routine. We’ll start fresh on Monday. Besides, we need supplies. We have twice as many mouths to feed now.”

Her rambling boosted Jonah’s confidence. Maybe he’d gotten under her skin as well. Only fair.

He stalked forward, his gaze locked on hers. “They got stores in Kingsland,” he said. “No need to travel all the way to Llano for supplies.”

“My wagon is going to Llano,” she volleyed, “so if I wish to have a conveyance to cart my supplies, it appears I’ll need to go to Llano with it.”

While she spoke, he closed in on her. She reached out to halt his advance. Four fingertips pressed against his chest, and lightning charged through him from each contact point. His pulse jumped. As if she felt it, she snatched her hand back and curled her fingers into a fist.

Spend the day with Eliza Southerland? Yeah, he could suffer through that torture.

Jonah gestured to the wagon seat. “Hop in, Teach. Daylight’s a wastin’.”

She nodded with a regal dip of her head, as if his compliance had never been in question. Let her believe herself the victor, he thought as he handed her up onto the seat. He didn’t mind a strategic surrender every now and again. Especially when the reward gained outranked the forfeiture. And seeing as how all he was forfeiting was eight hours of boring, solitary drive time with nothing to entertain him but God’s scenery, he figured he’d come out on top of this deal. The rolling hills, rivers, and trees of Llano County were fine, indeed, but they couldn’t compare to the handiwork evident in Eliza. The Lord had outdone himself there.

Too bad the Almighty hadn’t seen fit to give Jonah a bit more fine-tuning in the verbal exchange department. It was hard to impress a woman when a fella ran out of conversational ammunition within the first five minutes. His pride suffered a serious blow when, not thirty minutes into their drive, she fetched a book out of the basket she’d packed and started reading. So much for his theory that she’d used Harmony House’s dearth of supplies as an excuse to spend time with him. She’d probably been trying to escape the clamor of a dozen rambunctious children. Who wouldn’t want some peace and quiet after the day they’d had yesterday?

Oddly enough . . . he wouldn’t. Usually he preferred solitude. A man alone with his thoughts and his God. It kept him grounded. However, a man alone with a beautiful woman who was ignoring him . . . well, that just kept him frustrated. And lonely. And silently berating himself for not having anything of consequence to say.

Paper crinkled slightly as she turned a page. Her gaze shifted closer to him as she searched out words printed on the left side of the binding.

And if he was noticing that, he was in a sorrier state than he’d thought. Enough with the reconnaissance. Time to take action.

Jonah cleared his throat. “Whatcha readin’?”

She fit her finger between the pages to mark her place, then folded the cover over to show him the title. “Illustrated School History of the United States by G. P. Quackenbos.”

“Quackenbos?” Jonah choked on a partially stifled laugh.

Enough amusement escaped, however, to elicit one of those warning looks womenfolk were famous for. The raised brows, the tilted head, the slanted eyes designed to let a man know his behavior was edging toward unsuitable. Were they at a fancy dinner where using the wrong fork might shame him, he probably would have heeded that warning. But out in the middle of nowhere? Not a chance.

Jonah released a full-on chuckle. “I would’ve thought a teacher would know better than to read a book written by a quack.”

Eliza pulled her finger free from the book and jabbed it into his shoulder. “I’ll have you know that George Payn Quackenbos is a well-respected educator and the author of numerous texts not only in history, but in arithmetic, grammar, composition, and phil—why are you laughing?”

The affront in her tone only made Jonah laugh harder. “His middle name is Pain?” His eyes started to water. “Oh, that’s rich. I bet the kids love his lessons.”

He expected her hackles to bristle into weaponized porcupine quills, so the smile that blossomed across her face as she shook her head caught him off guard.

“I had never actually thought about it, but you’re right.” Her eyes sparkled. “There’s a lot of”—she interrupted herself with a giggle—“irony in that name.”

Laughter changed her face completely. Before his eyes, this strong, independent woman relaxed into a woman so approachable, he had to struggle to keep his hands on the reins. His fingers itched to cup her cheek, to caress the skin along her jaw, to tilt her lips up to his.

Easy, partner. Eyes on the road.