Faithfully Yours by Jo Ann Ferguson

preferable to yet another afternoon of studying classical Greek poems.”
    â€œThat is not the same. You did not need to do the work to put food on your family’s table.”
    Picking up a brown leaf, he twirled it between his fingers. “For someone who avers again and again that she is not a rebel, you most certainly have a rebel’s disdain for anything British. I am not sure why, because it is clear that you are a snob of the first order.”
    â€œSnob? Me?”
    â€œYes. You think you are of a higher ilk because your father owns one farm that is worked by servants as well as his family. You look down your nose at my father, who owns more than one farm that is worked by servants as well as his family.”
    â€œYou are making no sense.”
    â€œNo?” He reached up and ran his fingertips along her nose. “Could it be that I am too fascinated by how you look down your nose? Your pretty eyes and pert nose and your beguiling smile make it difficult for me to concentrate on the course of this conversation.”
    â€œThen you need not linger.” Faith continued along the road.
    When Sebastian matched her steps, his jet-black cloak curved around her like an embrace. He did not touch her, but when she glanced at him, she saw the heat in his gaze had not diminished. He was giving her the choice to come back into his arms.
    Oh, how she wished she could! To be pressed against his unyielding chest now would be wondrous, because her fingers could slip beneath his loose shirt to satisfy her curiosity about whether his skin was as coarse as his hands.
    â€œWhere are you bound?” she asked, trying to escape from her tempting thoughts.
    â€œI will walk with you as far as the crossroads, because I am meeting someone there.”
    â€œI probably should not ask whom you are meeting.”
    â€œYou probably should not. I doubt if I am any more likely to answer that than you are to tell me why you are taking more gloves to the Mertz house.”
    â€œThis is not for the Mertz family. I am taking it to Reverend McEachern for some of the children at church.”
    He smiled, but she heard no humor in his voice. He cupped her chin in his hands as his voice lowered to a husky whisper. “You seem determined not to let anything as inconvenient as this war halt you from your good works.”
    â€œI promised to make gloves and socks. I do not break promises.”
    â€œI hope that is a promise you can keep … to yourself. A war has a strange way of changing people’s assumptions about themselves and others.”
    Sebastian’s words repeated through Faith’s head after she left him at the crossroads and continued to the decrepit byre nearly a mile past it. He had not meant the words as a threat … Or had he? She must not let her own guilt discolor the words and actions of everyone around her.
    The wind was growing colder as Faith slipped into the byre. Before she could even look about, she heard, “Where have you been?”
    â€œI came as quickly as I could.”
    â€œReally?” Tom Rooke emerged from the thickest shadows and scowled. “You did not look as if you were in a great rush when he pulled you into his arms.”
    â€œYou saw that? Are you spying on me?”
    He laughed sharply. “What are you doing that is worthy of being spied on? Letting a British major steal a kiss? That does not matter to me.” He raised his hand to halt her question. “I was watching to see if you might be meeting me today. Once I saw the basket you were carrying, I came here with all speed. I did not want to linger and watch you and that milord.”
    â€œYou should not have been so close to our farm. Father would not like it if—”
    â€œI am well aware of Cromwell’s sentiments. What worries me are yours. Have you let Kendrick seduce you into telling him the truth of why you are carrying that basket today?”
    Faith set the basket