Page 43 of In Honor’s Defense

Nate looked at it, then slowly straightened in his chair before reaching his arm out to clasp Luke’s hand.

Something wrapped around Luke’s chest as they shook. Something that felt an awful lot like purpose. As if everything he’d gone through in his life had prepared him for this moment.

The realization terrified as much as it energized.

He met Nate’s gaze and dipped his chin in an unspoken promise to have the boy’s back, come what may.

Nate nodded in return. The pact was made.

No other words seemed necessary as they each finished off their beans and corn bread. Nate finished first. He carried his bowl to the dry sink, then stopped to eye the chair he’d broken.

“I’ll fetch my pa’s toolbox.”

Luke nodded as Nate pushed open the back door. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

The door swung closed, and Luke’s thoughts turned heavenward.

I don’t know how much time you’re plannin’ on givin’ me with these folks, God, but whatever time I got, help me make a difference in that boy’s life.

For that boy had already made a difference in his.

CHAPTER

TWENTY

Damaris ran so many mental circles on the drive home from town that she was exhausted by the time she rolled into the yard. She set the brake and just sat for a moment on the wagon bench, eyes closed, praying for the Lord to grant her enough energy to climb down without toppling face-first into the dirt. Hopefully, once her feet planted themselves on solid ground, she’d find the strength to unhitch the horses and tote the supplies into the house.

“Glad to see you made it back.”

Surprisingly, the low, husky voice didn’t startle her. It melted into her instead, like butter into toast. Soothing the charred, dry crevices inside and softening muscles that had hardened from hours of chasing elusive answers and battling growing suspicions.

Odd how the simple reminder that she wasn’t alone eased the weight of her burden.

She dipped her head, slightly embarrassed to be caught sitting in a wagon with her eyes closed. Yet opening them to find Luke Davenport gazing up at her with genuine solicitude in his more-green-than-blue hazel eyes diluted the chagrin.

“I’d offer to help you down, but I’m probably more liability than asset at the moment.” True regret tinged his voice as his attention drifted down to her waist and lingered.

Good heavens. Was he actually imagining where his hands would fit? Damaris warmed at the thought, and her pulse thrummed at a slightly higher velocity.

Men had helped her from wagons before. It was an act of practicality and chivalry, an innocent maneuver designed to speed a lady’s descent. If a gentleman offered assistance, she accepted. Otherwise, she scrambled down on her own. Nothing to contemplate or ponder. Yet here she sat doing both. Pondering the possibility that a man like Luke Davenport might actually find something about her attractive enough that he would seek an excuse to touch her. And contemplating the keen sense of disappointment spearing through her at the realization that she wouldn’t be feeling his hands close around her waist. Nor would she have an excuse to place her own palms atop his exceptionally broad shoulders. Or hover above the earth for a wisp of a moment with nothing touching her but him.

“Damaris?” Luke stepped closer to the wagon and braced his hand on the footboard near her shoe. “Are you all right?”

She blinked in an effort to focus on reality. “I’m fine.” Or she would be as soon as she emptied her brain of the romantic twaddle swimming around her cerebellum like pickling liquid. A dangerous concoction that demanded immediate remedy. One couldn’t unpickle a cucumber, after all. Once the damage was done, there was no going back to one’s original, sensible state.

Don’t lose your head over a man who’s going to leave.

Damaris pushed to her feet and plastered a quick smile on her face. “Things took longer than I anticipated in town, and I fear I’m a little tired.”

Not to mention that she hadn’t eaten more than a few bites today. After her confrontation with Nathaniel, she’d had no appetite and no desire to delay further when she could be setting matters right. Was it any wonder she was falling prey to fanciful notions? After a hot cup of tea and some sustenance, she’d be back to her old self.

Unless Luke kept looking at her as he was now. Concern etched his features as he peered up at her, his gaze searching her face as if she were a painting and he a collector determined to examine every brushstroke for insight and meaning.

Rather unsettling to a lady used to drawing no more notice than a passing glance from gentlemen. Completely ill-equipped to handle such attention, much less make an accurate assessment of what it might mean, Damaris took refuge in practicality. Turning her back on the man threatening her equilibrium, she concentrated on handholds and foot placement as she climbed down. It didn’t help her already throbbing pulse when Luke made no effort to back away and allow her a comfortable cushion of space in which to descend. He stayed right where he was, mere inches from the wagon seat. And when he placed his hand lightly upon her back as she dismounted, her shoe nearly slipped from the wheel spoke.

Thankfully, she made it to the ground without incident, though she found it amazingly difficult to face him again. Not because of any particular shyness on her part, but because it would mean removing her back from the touch of his hand.

With a stern mental reminder to act her age and leave the schoolgirl swooning to those still young enough to be in school, Damaris turned to face him. Before she could think of anything halfway intelligent to say, however, he relieved her of the need.