Sarah's Sin (12 page)

“It is no concern of mine,” Sarah said primly.

“I'd like to think it is. Come on, Sarah,” he said in his soft, cajoling tone. “Look at me. Please.”

The please did her in. He sounded so sincere. She was being silly anyway, wasting what time they had together on pointless jealousy.
She gave him a weak version of her crooked smile.

“That's better,” he said, tracing his thumb over the line of her mouth. A chuckle worked its way up out of his chest. “My little pacifist. You looked ready to tear Julia s hair out by the roots when she kissed me!”

“Make jokes,” Sarah said, trying to look stern. “You bring out the dickens in me, Matt Thome. You should be ashamed.”

“Should I?” he asked softly. Suddenly the fresh fall air was charged with energy humming tight around them. Matt brought his hands up to frame her face, his thumbs brushing under the loose ties of her
kapp.
“I think I make you feel alive. I know that's how you make me feel. I think I bring that fire you keep buried inside you a little closer to the surface.”

“Matt …” She breathed his name like a sigh, invoked it like a prayer. She tilted her chin up, offering her mouth to him, and her whole body jolted as he kissed her, as if he'd infused her with a sudden burst of electricity. Alive. That was exactly what he made her feel, beautifully, achingly alive.

When he lifted his head, he had that look of wonder in his eyes again and he smiled. “I never would have believed love could happen so fast,” he murmured.

He slid his hands back from her face, tugging her
kapp
off and loosing the moorings of
her bun all in one motion. Hairpins scattered, and her long chestnut tresses tumbled free, the wind catching at strands and fluttering them like ribbons. It felt wonderful and free—like her spirit.

She made a face at him. “Now, look what you've done. I'll have to put it all back up again. You're worse than a little boy tugging braids.”

Matt laughed, unrepentant. He felt, if not like a little boy, certainly younger than he had in a long time. “Oh, yeah?” he said, rising to the bait. “In that case, I belt you can't get this away from me.” He extended his arm above his head with Sarah's fine white
kapp
perched on the ends of his fingers.

Sarah made a jump for it. Matt snatched it back and twisted away from her. They played a laughing game of keep-away, eyes dancing, bodies dodging and feinting, leaves crunching beneath their feet. Matt was able to move at only about half speed. To compensate, Sarah didn't try as hard as she might have to win. The object wasn't in getting her
kapp
back, but in prolonging the game. They laughed and chased each other, touching and tickling. And as always, they became so absorbed in each other, the rest of the world faded into the far background. They scarcely noticed the sun that warmed them or the breeze or the dog
that came to bark at their foolishness or the Amish farm wagon that rumbled past.

Matt tired first and gave up, sinking down into the pile of orange leaves, breathing heavily and grinning hugely. Sarah followed him without hesitation, her plain skirt billowing around her in a puddle of blue as she settled beside him. They sat facing each other, hip-to-hip. Sarah reached up and brushed at errant strands of black hair that had tumbled across Matt's forehead. He lifted a dried leaf and tickled the end of her nose with it. They both leaned toward each other simultaneously for a kiss, and Sarah thought her heart would burst with happiness. She was in love, and all was right with the world … at least for a little while.

“Thank you, Mrs. Parker,' Sarah said, tucking the credit card slip into a desk drawer. “I hope you enjoyed your stay with us.”

“It was just lovely, honey,' Lisbeth Parker gushed. She tossed the end of her fox stole over her shoulder and glanced around for any sign of Blossom. “We had the nicest time, and you were just a doll! I sure wish we had some Amish people back home.”

Matt rubbed his jaw, fighting the urge to say something nasty. Sarah just smiled her little Mona Lisa smile, unaffected by the comment. She knew people generally meant no harm when they said things like that, and taking remarks in stride was simply part of being Amish.

“You don't want to forget this,” Matt said, holding out Mrs. Parkers pearl-handled pistol and ammunition.

“Oh, heavens no! I couldn't leave Li'l Ab-ner!” She smiled at the gun as if it were a favorite pet and tucked it into the depths of her handbag. “Tim gave him to me our first Christmas together.”

Matt stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Isn't that sweet.”

Lisbeth waved a hand and gave them a coy look. “He's like that, the big ol' darlin'. I'd best get on out to the car now before he loses his patience and starts in on that horn. It plays the Texas Aggie fight song. Drives me right out of my mind.”

“Really?” Matt said, eyes alight. He winced as Sarah gave his arm a sharp pinch.

Lisbeth bid them farewell again as she turned and pranced out the front door, fox tails swinging. Matt rubbed his palms together and started after her. “Come on. Well finally get to see if there really is a Tim.”

Sarah grabbed his arm and held him back. “No! It's more fun not knowing.”

Matt was incredulous. “Are you kidding? That woman and her invisible man have been driving me crazy all weekend!”

Laughing, Sarah tugged him into the parlor doorway so he wouldn't be tempted to peek out the window in the front door. She held onto his hand as she leaned back against the wide frame. “The mystery is more fun than the knowing would be.”

“You think so?” Matt let the Parkers slip from his mind as he snuggled closer to Sarah, flanking her legs with his. He settled his hands
on her waist, rubbing his thumbs lightly in a circular motion against her. “I don't know. You were a mystery to me, but getting to know you has been a hell of a lot more enjoyable than just wondering.”

Sarah blushed prettily. They had spent a second night together in Matt's bed, but she still felt shy with him. “Such language,' she teased. “My father would wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Would he?” He slid his hands upward, just brushing the heavy underswell of her breasts. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. “What would he do to me for taking liberties with his daughter?”

She didn't answer. With her eyes still squeezed shut, she threw her arms around his neck, raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed him with a hunger that bordered on desperation. Matt didn't argue. He couldn't get enough of the taste of her or the feel of her against him. He wrapped his arms around her and returned her kiss, making love to her with his mouth.

“Let's go back to bed,” he whispered, licking her earlobe.

“It's the middle of the afternoon,” Sarah said, but it was more an observation than a protest. Her knees had gone weak at his suggestion.

“It's night somewhere,” Matt muttered, planting kisses along her jaw, working his way back to her mouth. 'I think it's night in England. Well pretend we're in England.”

'I've always wanted to go there,” Sarah whispered, letting her mind clutch at dreams and desires, pushing reality aside.

There was a sudden bang in the front hall and a voice called out cheerily, “I'm ba-ack!”

Matt and Sarah bolted apart, Sarah ducking into the parlor to check her appearance in a mirror. Matt brushed the back of a hand across his mouth then stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers in an effort to hide the fact that he was half-turned-on. Another minute and he might have taken Sarah where they stood. Wouldn't that have been a nifty way to welcome his sister back.

Ingrid dropped her enormous suitcase at the foot of the stairs and gave him a shrewd look. “I see you're up and around.”

Heat crept into his cheeks, but he managed to maintain a poker face. “Yes, I'm feeling much better. Good to see you home, sis.” He bent and dutifully kissed the cheek she presented him. “Is everything all right up in Stillwater now? We weren't expecting you back for another day or two.”

“Dorothy's husband was doing much better than they had first thought he would,” she said, pushing up the sleeves of her oversize red
sweater. She stuck a hand into the pocket of her snug black stirrup pants, dug out a note, checked it, nodded, folded it, and put it back all without breaking stride in the conversation. “They sent him home today. We didn't have any guests booked until Thursday, and Dorothy figured by then she would be more than ready to get back to work. So, here I am.”

Ingrid heaved a sigh up into her fashionable tumble of black bangs and planted her hands on her slim hips. Three years older than Matt, she still thought of herself as Big Sister, despite the differences in their size. She was a tiny woman with a pixie's face and big dark eyes, but what she lacked in stature she made up for in energy and determination. Matt had long thought she had enough electricity in her to light up half of St. Paul.

She looked at him now with the critical eye of an art expert, her dark eyes taking in every aspect of his face, then moving down over his blue shirt and tan chinos, all the way to the tips of his sneakers and back up again. When she got back to his face she wore an expression of mingled anxiety and relief.

'It is so good to see you on your feet,” she said, her voice suspiciously thick. “You don't know how afraid I was of losing you.”

“Hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a brotherly hug. “You can't get rid of me that easily.”

“Hello, Ingrid. Welcome back,' Sarah said, emerging from the parlor, cheeks still rosy with a blush, hands fussing with the folds of her black apron. She cast a quick, shy glance at Matt.

“Sarah” Ingrid disengaged from Matt's embrace and immediately hugged her friend and employee. “How did everything go? Lets go into the kitchen and have some tea and you two can tell me all about your adventures. Did anything exciting happen?”

She was already moving toward the kitchen with her brisk efficient stride, snatching up a stack of mail from the desk along the way.

“Just the usual,” Matt said. “A little gunplay, a small fire. Nothing to brag about.”

“Yeah, right,” Ingrid said on a laugh as she shuffled through her mail and pushed the kitchen door open with her hip.

Sarah gave Matt a look. He just shrugged.

Over cookies and tea they told the tale of the Mortons and Lisbeth Parker. Matt offered to pay for the sofa as well as what Ingrid had lost when the Mortons had checked out, but she wouldn't hear of it. She said her insurance would cover the damage to the sofa and as for the Mortons, she could do without the money of people who insulted her friends.

Matt went on to relate all of Blossom s sins. Ingrid listened, smiling benignly, like a mother
who was too blind to realize her much-adored child was a monster.

“And to top it off,” Matt said, lifting an accusatory finger, “one of my favorite Loafers is missing. In fact, a number of shoes have disappeared.”

“Really?” Ingrid said, the light of excitement in her eyes. “I wonder if she's making a nest somewhere. She's due to have puppies in a week or so.”

Thunderstruck, Matt stared at his sister. “You mean you're going to have
more
of them?”

“Of course!” Ingrid leaned down and hefted the unwieldly dog onto her lap. Blossom settled herself, breaking into a big doggy grin Matt thought looked suspiciously smug. Ingrid rubbed the dog's ears and spoke to her in the childish way some adults used with babies. “We just
love our
Blossom, don't we?”

Blossom let out a little woof.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Jeez, Ingrid, get a life.”

Ingrid ignored him, turning her attention to Sarah. “Sarah, I know it's not a church Sunday, but if you want to go visit your family, please feel free. I can handle the big guy here.”

Matt scowled. Sarah sent him a little smile. She knew she should take Ingrid's suggestion and go to see her parents and siblings, but the truth was she didn't want to spend any time away from Matt. He was staying only for a
short while; her family would always be there. “Actually, I thought I would just stick around here today, but I should go out and see to my chores,'

She started for the back door and Matt rose as well. “Ill go out with you.”

“No, Matt,” Ingrid said, her voice pleasant enough, but there was a glint of steel in her gaze that made him frown. “Stay with me. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

He settied back into his chair and watched as Ingrid put Blossom down and casually went to the window to look out at Sarah crossing the yard.

“I had a chat with your local doctor—I use the term loosely,” he said. “I can't believe people actually line up to put their lives in his hands.”

“They don't have a choice,” Ingrid said, returning to her chair. “The next nearest doctor is thirty miles away.”

“That's frightening.”

“You don't know the half of it. Matt, good doctors don't want to locate in rural areas like this and you can well imagine why. The money isn't great, the hours stink, there's no prestige, no fancy country club to join, nothing to aspire to.”

“Who wants to be a general practitioner when he can specialize and pull down twice the bucks.”

“You said it, not me. Consequently, towns like Jesse end up with doctors like Coswell.”

“I wouldn't send Blossom to that guy.”

“Neither would I. Thankfully, since this is prime farm country, our veterinarians are excellent.”

Matt shook his head at the shame of it—a town where the people would have been better off being treated by the horse doctor. He nibbled thoughtfully on a chocolate chip cookie.

“I think you know what I want to talk to you about,” Ingrid said quietly, her manner instantly changing the tone of the conversation. Her fingers toyed with a small envelope, turning it around and around in her hands, but her attention was solely on her brother.

Matt could feel her gaze on him, but he didn't look up. He loved his sister, but he didn't much care for being made to feel like he was twelve all over again. He put his cookie down and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “What?”

“Sarah.”

“What about her?”

“I'm not blind, Matt. She looks at you like you can walk on water.”

He turned toward her then, his gaze calm and clear. “This is none of your business, Ingrid.” His tone was soft and level, but the warning was unmistakable.

“Isn't it?” Ingrid put the envelope down and
leaned forward over the table. “Sarah is my friend as well as my employee. I care about what happens to her. I don't want to see her get hurt, Matt.”

“What makes you think I intend to hurt her?”

“I don't think you
intend
to hurt her, but that's what's going to happen. I know you, Matt. Your head is easily turned. You've been cooped up in this house with only Sarah for company. She's a bright, sweet, pretty girl—”

“She's a woman, Ingrid, not some kid in pigtails,” he interrupted, resenting the implication that he would take advantage of an innocent child, even though innocent was a word he had used himself to describe Sarah.

“Be that as it may,” Ingrid said, not backing down in the least. “She's not the kind of woman you're used to. She's not someone you can just play with, Matt.”

Matt gave a harsh, humorless laugh. “Boy, you certainly have a high opinion of me all of a sudden!”

Ingrid closed her eyes briefly, sighed, then tried again. “I'm not being critical. I know your career comes first with you and that's fine. The women you've been involved with know it too. I just don't think Sarah will understand those kinds of rules.”

“Well maybe I'm not just playing with her. Has that thought occurred to you, Ingrid?” he
said in a voice low and rough with emotion. He stared his sister in the eye and made what was probably the biggest confession of his life. “Maybe I'm in love with her.”

Ingrid looked at him long and hard, trying to judge just how serious his “maybe” was. Her look softened, and she reached for his hand. He snatched it away from her and pushed himself out of his chair, going to stare out the back window.

“You've known each other only a matter of days,” she said gently.

“Excuse me. Did I say this made sense?” he asked sardonically, his brows lifting in exaggerated question. “I don't recall saying that, but as long as we're on the subject,
how
long did you know John before you were certain you wanted to marry him?”

Ingrid sighed, planting her elbows on the table and rubbing two fingers to each temple. Everyone who knew her knew the story of how she and John had met on a casual double date while paired up with other people. She swore up and down she had known by the time they left the restaurant John Wood was the man she wanted to marry. “Point taken,” she said wearily.