“Because I promised myself you would never wonder whether shelter had a price.”
Something inside Ruth went quiet.
Jonah continued.
“I knew what people were saying.”
“That you married me from pity?”
“Yes.”
“That you could have any woman?”
“I don’t want any woman.”
“That I should be grateful?”
His face became hard.
“I heard that one.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“Broke a fence post.”
Ruth blinked.
“What?”
“It was nearby.”
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
Jonah smiled slightly.
Then became serious again.
“I was not going to bring you here and climb into that bed like acceptance of my proposal meant acceptance of everything else.”
Ruth looked toward the bed.
“Is that why you were going to the barn?”
“Yes.”
“Not because you’re disappointed?”
He stepped toward her.
Slowly.
One pace.
Then stopped.
“No.”
She looked down.
“You stared at me today.”
“I know.”
“During the ceremony.”
“I know.”
“At supper.”
“I know.”
“When I came upstairs.”
Jonah’s mouth almost smiled.
“I was attempting subtlety.”
“You failed.”
“Badly.”
Ruth looked at his chest.
Then hated herself for looking.
Jonah noticed.
Neither spoke.
The air between them changed.
The letter still rested in Ruth’s hand.
Her father’s warning.
Do not marry her from debt.
Perhaps Jonah had.
Partly.
Maybe she had married him from fear.
Partly.
Most beginnings were less pure than people liked to pretend.
That did not necessarily determine what came afterward.
Ruth reached toward his face.
Stopped before touching him.
Jonah remained absolutely still.
“May I?”
His eyes softened.
“Yes.”
Her fingers brushed his beard.
Rough.
Warm.
She touched the line of his jaw.
Jonah exhaled.
Ruth whispered:
“You look less frightening up close.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“No.”
Her thumb moved once.
“Not really.”
Jonah’s hand rose.
Stopped near her waist.
He waited.
Ruth noticed.
She nodded.
His palm settled against the side of her gown.
Large enough to cover more of her than most men’s hands would.
The touch was gentle.
That nearly undid her.
For years, men had treated her body as either comedy or curiosity.
The banker’s son had wanted her privately and denied her publicly.
Jonah touched her as though the difference between private and public did not exist.
Ruth’s eyes filled again.
Jonah noticed.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
His expression said he did not believe her.
But he did not demand an answer.
Ruth leaned forward.
Then stopped.
Jonah’s gaze dropped to her mouth.
“Ruth.”
“What?”
“If you kiss me because you’re frightened I’ll leave, I’m still sleeping in the barn.”
She almost slapped him.
Instead she whispered:
“You are insufferably honorable at the worst possible moments.”
“That sounds like a complaint.”