utter ridiculousness of the topic he chose sent us both into laughter.
“Do you honestly desire to know about the bovine?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but his own laughter silenced him, and he shook his head. “My apologies, Miss—Emmalynn, I am afraid I am at a loss for words at the moment.”
“A dilemma which seems to hath affected us both, so no apology needed, I assure you.”
He nodded and glanced down at his hands for a moment before returning my gaze. “How long since thy husband—” He cleared his throat. “Since thy husband passed away?”
“Nearly a year.” I adjusted my weight in the chair, unsure if I desired to divulge details. “Fever took him, just as with my father a couple of years ago.”
“My apologies for thy loss. How long were thou married?”
“Only a month.”
Please, no more questions about my husband. Please . I did not wish to speak of the dead. A pointless topic when thought about.
He nodded again and sat in silence for a moment. “A month is not long.”
“No, ‘tis not, but the fever takes who it desires, when it desires.”
“And, you never remarried?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Do you wish to remarry?”
I bit the side of my lip. His eyes held not except friendly curiosity, however, the impropriety of the conversation left hesitation in my answer.
By law, widows could remarry if they desired. Marriage was a civil union, not a religious one, joining two people, who, while they are in love, benefited from the union outside of that love in property, offspring, and money. However, should either half of the whole find love, and themselves, in the arms of another or in a grave, then the one left behind would be granted a divorce and could remarry—a subject broached by a courted couple, not two people who were conversing in sin at this moment.
“I hath never considered my feelings toward another marriage.”
“Surely, another man has beseeched thee for thy affections.”
I shook my head and his smile faded.
“I suppose my mother’s reputation precedes me. Not to mention, the clout of the Pruett family has left me rather disliked.” I shrugged my shoulders and bit my tongue to halt the honest words of the abhorrence I shared.
James laughed a little to himself. “My apologies, Emmalynn, I did not mean to pry. You are just such a mystery to me, and quite intriguing.”
My elbow rested on the table. His innocent tone satiated with an honesty that knocked the breath from my lungs. My fingers brushed against my neck, tracing along my jaw as his words repeated in my head: a mysterious, intriguing woman . The thought was almost too laughable to entertain. Two words never once uttered in a sentence about me, and I cradled my cheek in my palm as I slightly curved my face toward him and met his gaze.
Nothing more than the town outcast, how could I possibly intrigue someone?
“No one finds me intriguing, Mr. De—James.” I laughed, waving off his words.
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because, I think you are beautiful, you hath a humor to you that you barely let anyone see, and I am quite fond of you.”
My elbow slid off the side of the table and my chin nearly hit the wood.
“Are thou speechless by what I say?” With an amused smirk, he studied my shock.
Hesitantly, I nodded.
“Why?” He paused for a second waiting for an answer I could not bestow. “Thy husband was quite fond of you, was he not? He thought you were beautiful and interesting, otherwise, he would not hath married you. So, why would you be speechless that another man could carry a similar fondness?”
I tucked a few curls of my hair behind both of my ears as I stared at the table, unable to look away from the wood and nails.
Surely, James’s words held logic.
Nonetheless, I did not wish to admit they did. Why, I did not know. Perhaps, because such would mean he spoke the truth about visiting because he desired too—knowledge I did not know if I could face in this moment.
“I
“Do you honestly desire to know about the bovine?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but his own laughter silenced him, and he shook his head. “My apologies, Miss—Emmalynn, I am afraid I am at a loss for words at the moment.”
“A dilemma which seems to hath affected us both, so no apology needed, I assure you.”
He nodded and glanced down at his hands for a moment before returning my gaze. “How long since thy husband—” He cleared his throat. “Since thy husband passed away?”
“Nearly a year.” I adjusted my weight in the chair, unsure if I desired to divulge details. “Fever took him, just as with my father a couple of years ago.”
“My apologies for thy loss. How long were thou married?”
“Only a month.”
Please, no more questions about my husband. Please . I did not wish to speak of the dead. A pointless topic when thought about.
He nodded again and sat in silence for a moment. “A month is not long.”
“No, ‘tis not, but the fever takes who it desires, when it desires.”
“And, you never remarried?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Do you wish to remarry?”
I bit the side of my lip. His eyes held not except friendly curiosity, however, the impropriety of the conversation left hesitation in my answer.
By law, widows could remarry if they desired. Marriage was a civil union, not a religious one, joining two people, who, while they are in love, benefited from the union outside of that love in property, offspring, and money. However, should either half of the whole find love, and themselves, in the arms of another or in a grave, then the one left behind would be granted a divorce and could remarry—a subject broached by a courted couple, not two people who were conversing in sin at this moment.
“I hath never considered my feelings toward another marriage.”
“Surely, another man has beseeched thee for thy affections.”
I shook my head and his smile faded.
“I suppose my mother’s reputation precedes me. Not to mention, the clout of the Pruett family has left me rather disliked.” I shrugged my shoulders and bit my tongue to halt the honest words of the abhorrence I shared.
James laughed a little to himself. “My apologies, Emmalynn, I did not mean to pry. You are just such a mystery to me, and quite intriguing.”
My elbow rested on the table. His innocent tone satiated with an honesty that knocked the breath from my lungs. My fingers brushed against my neck, tracing along my jaw as his words repeated in my head: a mysterious, intriguing woman . The thought was almost too laughable to entertain. Two words never once uttered in a sentence about me, and I cradled my cheek in my palm as I slightly curved my face toward him and met his gaze.
Nothing more than the town outcast, how could I possibly intrigue someone?
“No one finds me intriguing, Mr. De—James.” I laughed, waving off his words.
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because, I think you are beautiful, you hath a humor to you that you barely let anyone see, and I am quite fond of you.”
My elbow slid off the side of the table and my chin nearly hit the wood.
“Are thou speechless by what I say?” With an amused smirk, he studied my shock.
Hesitantly, I nodded.
“Why?” He paused for a second waiting for an answer I could not bestow. “Thy husband was quite fond of you, was he not? He thought you were beautiful and interesting, otherwise, he would not hath married you. So, why would you be speechless that another man could carry a similar fondness?”
I tucked a few curls of my hair behind both of my ears as I stared at the table, unable to look away from the wood and nails.
Surely, James’s words held logic.
Nonetheless, I did not wish to admit they did. Why, I did not know. Perhaps, because such would mean he spoke the truth about visiting because he desired too—knowledge I did not know if I could face in this moment.
“I
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