Ruth froze.
Of course.
His first wife.
Mary Clay.
She had died two years earlier.
Ruth knew only fragments.
Illness.
A winter fever.
No children.
Jonah looked toward the window.
“I loved my wife.”
Ruth said quietly, “I know.”
“She was ill a long time.”
“I heard.”
“After she died, I didn’t think I wanted anything else.”
He looked back.
“Then I noticed you.”
Ruth’s heartbeat quickened.
Jonah added quickly, “I didn’t intend to do anything about it.”
“That is becoming obvious.”
He actually laughed.
She smiled.
Then the sadness returned.
“So you noticed me.”
“Yes.”
“And said nothing.”
“Yes.”
“Then the scandal happened.”
“Yes.”
“And suddenly you proposed.”
Jonah’s expression became complicated.
“That sounds worse when you say it.”
“It sounds suspicious.”
“It should.”
Ruth appreciated the honesty.
“Why then?”
“Because suddenly every coward in the valley thought your life had become public property.”
Her throat tightened.
Jonah’s voice hardened.
“I watched people who had eaten food you served for years cross streets to avoid you.”
Ruth looked down.
“Women who knew you since childhood acted like standing beside you might contaminate them.”
He tightened his grip on his hat.
“And Pierce let it happen.”
“Edwin?”
“Both.”
Ruth closed her eyes.
Jonah continued.
“I couldn’t fix what happened.”
“No.”
“But I had a name they respected.”
She opened her eyes.
“So you offered it.”
“Yes.”
“That still sounds like pity.”
He flinched.
Barely.
But she saw it.
“No.”
“Then what?”
Jonah looked directly at her.
“It was the only thing I had that could make them stop touching something I already cared about.”
Silence.
Ruth’s heart seemed to stop.
He looked almost angry now.
Not at her.
At himself.
As though the sentence had escaped before he could restrain it.
Ruth whispered, “Already cared about.”
Jonah turned toward the door again.
“I should go.”
“No.”
He stopped.
Ruth stepped closer.
She reached for the blanket over his shoulder.
Her fingers caught the wool.
Jonah went completely still.
“Don’t go to the barn.”
His breathing changed.
Ruth could see it.
The subtle rise of his chest.
“Ruth.”
“Not because you owe me a wedding night.”
He turned slowly.
She kept hold of the blanket.
“Not because a preacher said we belong in the same bed.”
His eyes were darker now.
“Then why?”
Ruth’s courage suddenly became less impressive.
She swallowed.
“Because I’m asking you to stay.”
Jonah looked at her for a long time.
“Be careful.”
The words were almost a whisper.
“With what?”
“With asking that.”
“Why?”
His eyes moved briefly toward her lips.
Then back.
“Because I’ve spent two weeks pretending this marriage is entirely practical.”
Ruth’s pulse accelerated.
“And it isn’t?”
“No.”
Something warm moved through her.
She stepped closer.
Jonah remained exactly where he was.
Ruth rested one trembling hand against his bare chest.