Adela's Prairie Suitor (The Annex Mail-Order Brides Book 1) by Elaine Manders Page B

She was crushed to Byron’s chest, could hear his heart racing, feel the strength of his arms. In spite of her fright, it felt good.
    All too soon, he let her down. He bent over, propping his hands on his knees and heaving like he couldn’t get enough breath. Her hammering heart left her breathless too, and not entirely due to fright.
    She shifted her gaze over his head to where the plow and mule stood in a field of corn stalks. He’d abandoned them and ran all the way to rescue her. Shame heated her cheeks. She’d so wanted to impress him with her farm knowledge. What a greenhorn he must think her. She’d proved herself a fool and a nuisance, pulling him away from his chores.
    When he could get his breath, he straightened and sent a piercing gray glance her way. “What were you doing in the pig pen, Adela?”
    “One of the pigs got stuck, and I…I foolishly thought I could get in and out before the sow noticed.”
    “Never go into the pig pen with a sow and her pigs.”
    “I know I shouldn’t have. I only wanted to look around.” A cold wind struck her legs, and her glance fell to the tattered remains of her skirt billowing. Her face flamed anew as she jerked back, her hands wildly groping to find enough fabric to cover herself.
    “Well, no harm done, this time, except to that pretty dress.”
    She forced herself to meet his amused gaze. His smile gave her strength to steady her voice. “It’s not important. I’d like to make myself a chore dress as soon as I can get to town to purchase the fabric. Could I go with you the next time you go?”
    “Sure thing. We’ll go this afternoon. Sewing might be a lot safer than pig wrestling.”
    A nervous chuckle escaped her lips. “I expect so, but I’d like to learn how to do some chores, and your mother doesn’t want me helping inside. Could I help you plow?”
    “Plow?” One brow cocked, and he looked like he was suddenly afraid of her. “We’re harvesting corn right now, so I don’t…wait… Yeah, there is something you can do. We have one more row of popcorn to pull. We grow enough to munch on throughout the winter. Wait here and I’ll get you a sack.”
    He rushed into the barn and came back out with a gunny sack. “Here, you put the ears in here and bring them back to the barn. After they’ve dried out, you can help shell them.”
    “Where is the row of popcorn?” She took the sack and her frayed skirt flapped.
    “Not far.” He cupped her elbow, and she skipped to keep up with him, a hard thing to do while trying to use the gunny sack to cover her exposed legs.
    He came to an abrupt stop and pointed. “Over there. See it?”
    Several rows of corn with burnish tassels marched along the clearing. “Should I pull all the ears?”
    “All that are good. They’ve done about all they’re going to. You can tell the stalks are turning.”
    She hated to sound ignorant, but better to sound ignorant than make a mistake. “How do I tell the good from the bad?”
    He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. “If they look full, they’re good. If you’re not sure, peel back the shucks a bit to see if the kernels are mature.” He looked at her with furrowed brow. She wouldn’t ask how to tell if the kernels were mature. He already thought her hopelessly ignorant.
    Settling his hat back in place, he smiled. “I better get back to the fields.” Still he didn’t move, and they stood staring at each other for long moments.
    It took real effort to pull her gaze from him, but she’d better get her mind off him and concentrate on doing a good job of harvesting the popcorn. She was going to learn how to do everything on this farm. He didn’t think her capable now—and she wasn’t capable—but she’d learn. She was determined to be a farmer’s wife.
    He finally turned on his heel and walked away.
    Only then, with his back to her, did she turn and run to the house, the cold air telling her more of her flesh was exposed than any man had a