From This Day Forward (6 page)

He pivoted toward her, wiping his expression blank. “Are you ready?”

With a last glance at Faith sleeping on the bed, Rachel stepped into the main room. “The real question is, are
you
ready?”

He chuckled. “I thought I would teach you to bake bread first. How is Faith? I heard her earlier.”

“As did probably everyone else for miles around. She has a nice set of lungs. She is sleeping for the time being.”

He crossed the main room to the kitchen area. “The brick oven should be hot enough by the time we have the first batch of dough ready to bake. I will also show you how to make a cake. We will have it tonight in celebration.”

“Celebration?”

“Yes. Faith’s birth and your first day of lessons. I fancy sweets, so it does not take much for me to celebrate.”

The expression on his face earlier made her doubt that last sentence. At one time perhaps it was true, but the man she saw by the fire was troubled. Grieving for his father? His mother, thousands of miles away? Or the lost relationship with his grandfather? She really knew very little about him. More questions tumbled through her mind. Had he been married before? Did he lose a friend in the war? Why was he all alone out here? Why was he not practicing medicine in Charleston?

When Dr. Stuart cleared his throat, her face flushed at the directions her thoughts had taken her.

“Are you confessing to a weakness?” she asked, desperate to quiet the barrage of queries concerning him.
Too dangerous to know
.

“Only to a sweet tooth.”

“We could make the cake first then the bread.”

He shook his head. “Work first, pleasure second.”

The somber look that entered his eyes reinforced the sense she had that he’d had little fun in his life of late. “You are indeed a hard taskmaster. What do I have to do first?” She grinned, wanting to bring an answering smile to his mouth.

“You will need to gather the ingredients.” He gave her an apron. “Here, put this on to protect your gown.”

“Are you saying I will be a messy cook?”

He smiled, a twinkle sparkling his eyes like light captured in a blue sapphire. “Prove me wrong.”

“That is a challenge I shall take up.”

She slipped the apron over her head and started to tie it behind her when Nathan brushed her fingers away and secured the garment for her. Her pulse reacted to his nearness, inches from her back. A constriction in her chest prevented her from taking deep breaths.

She quickly stepped away, inhaling. “Where is your apron?”

“This is not my first time. Besides, I borrowed only one from my sister’s cook.”

“Your sister? Is that where you went earlier? Back to Charleston?”

“No, this cabin is near their plantation, Liberty Hall. Sarah and her husband also have a house in Charleston. They travel back and forth between the two homes. Your farm is on the other side of their land, along the river. I didn’t see my sister this morning. She’s still in Charleston.”

Rachel had more questions, but Nathan pointed to a sack and said, “You will need flour.”

By the time the bread was made, Rachel understood the need for an apron—at least for herself. She was not sure if more flour was on her or in the bowl. With Nathan dogging her every step, often correcting her, she did manage to put together some dough for baking bread.

Rachel inspected what she had mixed together. “This does not look very big for several loaves of bread. Perhaps one, but not two. Are you sure you told me everything?”

“The dough has to rise first then we bake it.” He moved to stand next to her at the table. “Here, let me show you how to knead it. Then we will place it by the fire to rise.”

Nathan put his large hands into the dough and began to press and fold it. Looking at his fingers working the mixture, she could imagine them doing the same to her taut shoulder muscles, easing the stress and ache from them. Also the knot at her nape where her spine throbbed with tension. Her eyes slid closed.

“Rachel, is everything all right?”

His deep gravelly voice intruded on her daydream and yanked her back to the present. She swallowed and tried to smile, wishing for once her cheeks did not flame with her embarrassment. Her mother had always told her it was easy to read her feelings on her face. She hoped Nathan—she had given up calling him Dr. Stuart halfway through her baking lesson—could not.

He veiled his expression. “ ’Tis your turn.” He stepped to the side to allow her to stand in front of the bowl.

“This is a lot of work for two loaves of bread,” she mumbled and touched the dough with the tips of her fingers. She pressed down, and her hands sank into the gooey mixture. The strange sticky substance clung to her skin. She wrinkled her nose and brought her hands up, globs hanging from them.

“Do it again and again.”

She followed his instruction, submerging her fingers back into the dough. This time she tried putting more strength behind the effort.

After a few minutes of observing Rachel, Nathan chuckled and moved behind her. “At this rate, we will starve.” His arms came around her, his hands covering hers in the bowl. “Here, let me show you what I mean by kneading.”

With him guiding her, she smashed and squeezed the dough over and over. Caged by his embrace, Rachel tried to calm her heartbeat, but it had a mind of its own. Surrounded by Nathan—or so it seemed—she hardly knew what she was doing. His scent of the outdoors toyed with her senses, shoving away the aromas coming from the bread mixture and focusing her awareness on the man inches behind her. The feel of his body as it bumped against hers lured her. She wanted to lean back against him—an impulse that had nothing to do with being tired.

Abruptly he stopped, whisked the bowl off the table, and took it to the fire. “That should do it.”

All she saw were the strong, tall lines of his back. Her legs went weak, as though her energy had drained from her instantly. Oh my! Resisting the urge to fan herself, she wiped her hands clean on a cloth then sat on the stool lest she collapse. She gripped the edge of the table to steady herself and leaned into it for support.

He turned from the fire, his expression unreadable. “Now for the cake.”

“What do I do?” she managed to ask in a whisper—a weak one at that.

“Nothing. You are going to sit and watch this time.”

She struggled to her feet and prayed she did not sink to the floor. Determined not to let this man get to her, she stood straight even though her hands locked about the table’s edge. “Chicken. Afraid of what I shall do?”

When Faith’s cries pierced the air with her urgency, he said, “You had better see what your daughter wants.”

We both know what that is
. Rachel shuffled toward the bedchamber, barely able to pick up her feet. “This does not mean you don’t have to answer my question. Don’t do anything until I come back.”

“Yes ma’am,” she heard him mimic Maddy. A tinge of laughter followed his statement.

After changing Faith’s nappy, Rachel scooped up her child and returned to the main room. “I know this is surprising, but she is hungry. I shall be back in a while,” she said over the cries of her daughter, “to make that cake. I need to learn to cook. Not watch you.” Especially that. It sent her thoughts in a direction they did not need to go.

“You can sit in here by the fire. I have a few chores I can do before
we
make the cake.”

He pulled a chair in front of the fireplace then snatched up a bucket and headed for the door. Rachel patted Faith on the back and whispered soothing words that she doubted her daughter could hear over her renewed wails. The moment she was alone, Rachel sank down onto the seat and unbuttoned the front of her gown. Faith quieted immediately when she started nursing.

Rachel leaned back and relaxed, a sigh escaping her lips.
Cooking is hard work
. Now that she had stopped she could acknowledge that kneading, stirring, and beating were exhausting. No doubt that was why Nathan wanted to bake the cake. She was discovering that Nathan was very perceptive, something Tom had never been.

For a short time she forgot about her circumstances and relished the peace of the moment. The aroma of burning wood laced the air and mingled with the scent of the different ingredients she had used. The warmth of the fire chased away any chill in the cabin. The emotional satisfaction of holding her baby in her arms fulfilled her as nothing before had. The knowledge that she, Faith, and Maddy were safe for the time being left a contented glow deep inside. The Lord had sent her a protector, Nathan, when it seemed all had been lost. Her plight could have ended differently if he had not come along.

But as much as I owe him, gratitude is all I can give him
.

“Nathan.” The door opened, and a beautiful woman with a bonnet that did not hide her blond curls sailed into the cabin, coming to a halt when she spied Rachel by the fire. The young woman’s jaw dropped for a brief moment before she snapped her mouth closed then asked, “Who are you?”

Rachel’s surprise matched the lady’s. She quickly turned away and adjusted her dress, thankful that Faith was all but through nursing. Pushing to her feet, Rachel faced the woman, who was dressed in a rose muslin morning gown with a brown spencer. The lady’s mouth pinched with puzzlement. Tension seized Rachel, the momentary peace she had experienced shattered. “Who are you?” she countered.

The tall lady came farther into the main room. “I’m Nathan’s sister, Sarah McNeal. And you?” One eyebrow rose, reminding Rachel of Nathan.

She could just imagine what was going through the woman’s mind. Rachel hugged her daughter to her. “I am Rachel Gordon. I had an accident with my cart two days ago, and your brother rescued my maid and me then helped deliver my baby.”

“He did?” Sarah clapped her hands, a smile appearing, along with two dimples in her cheeks. “That is wonderful. If he delivered your baby, that means he has reconsidered his decision.”

What decision
?

Sarah crossed the room to peek at Faith. “She’s beautiful. Are you from around here?”

Rachel relaxed the taut set of her shoulders. “No…yes.” She laughed. “I mean, I have newly arrived in Charleston and was heading to my plantation.” Her face heated. “My farm, when I had the accident.”

“So that cart in the ditch is yours?”

“Yes.”

“Where is your husband?”

Rachel met Sarah’s direct gaze. “Dead.”

“When? How?” Sarah’s eyes brightened when they latched onto Faith. “May I hold your daughter? I hope I have a little girl.”

Rachel nodded while she tried to decide how much to tell this woman. She placed Faith in Sarah’s arms. “He died on the ship from England. I have only been here a few days.”

“Aha, I thought you were English. That is awful, being left stranded here. Do you have any family in Charleston?”

“What are you doing here, Sarah?”

Gasping, Sarah whirled around with Faith cradled against her. “May a sister visit her brother?”

Rachel glanced toward the open doorway. She had not heard Nathan come in either. Her pulse kicked up a notch.

“Yes, but since we saw each other a few days ago, there must be a reason for this visit. Did you come from Liberty Hall? I was there this morning and you were not.”

“You were? Why?”

“To borrow a few items to help Rachel. So you came from Charleston. I am surprised you came here before going to Liberty Hall. Where’s John?”

“In Charleston. He was at the docks when I left.” Sarah fussed with the blanket around Faith then handed the baby back to Rachel. “Patrick wants to see you.”

“He knows where to find me.”

“At Pinecrest.”

“No.”

“Grandfather is sick.”

“Then Patrick should have a physician see him.”

“He will.
You
.”

Nathan strode toward a cabinet and withdrew another large bowl, placed it on the table, and then poured sugar into it, along with other ingredients. After he added the flour, he began stirring the cake mixture, his features set in granite.

Sarah stamped her foot. “Nathan Stuart, don’t you ignore me.”

“If you two will excuse me…” Remembering squabbles she’d had with her siblings, Rachel sidestepped toward the door of the bedchamber.

Nathan trapped her with an intense gaze, burning with suppressed anger. “Stay. I promised I would show you how to make a cake.”

“But—” The protest died in Rachel’s throat. From across the room, Nathan’s distress beckoned to her. She wouldn’t leave if he wanted her to stay. She owed him that much.

Nathan swung toward his sister. “Sarah, you are welcome to stay and enjoy a piece of cake when ’tis ready, but if you do, not another word about Grandfather.”

“You are as bad as he is. We are a family, whether you two want to acknowledge that or not. You used to follow him everywhere and hang on his every word. How can you turn your back on him?”

His jaw clamped shut, a muscle in his cheek twitching. “I didn’t throw him off my land nor threaten him at gunpoint. When I returned from the war, I wanted to mend the rift between us, but obviously he didn’t.”

“Please go see him. He can be stubborn but—”

“It will not do any good.” Nathan picked up some patty pans and buttered them.

His sister threw her hands up. “Men and their pride.” She turned toward Rachel. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into him. I give up.”

“I have found it is hard for some men to admit they may be wrong. Pride is a convenient excuse for them.” Rachel shifted her sleeping baby in her arms. “I need to put Faith down.”

Sarah removed her hat. “I will come with you.”