Free The Vow by Lindsay Chase Page A

leather-bound edition of Ivanhoe that they both had given her. But she nervously watched Reiver open her gift to him.
    When he looked at the framed engraving, a peculiar expression flitted across his features and was gone in an instant, leading Hannah to believe she had imagined it.
    He held up the portrait for all to see. “Look what my brother has done for me…a lovely portrait of my wife.” He bowed his head. “She has already given me the grandest gift a man can hope for.”
    Then Reiver handed Hannah a package and kissed her lightly on the top of her head. “This cannot compare with the gift you’ve given me, but I hope you’ll like it.”
    When Hannah tore the paper off, she found a serviceable gray wool shawl.
    “It’s just what I need to ward off a chill on these cold days,” she said, slipping it around her shoulders.

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    Lindsay Chase
    Later Reiver followed Samuel out to the barn. At first the darkness blinded him, but as his eyes became used to the dimness redolent of fresh hay and horseflesh, he saw his brother in the back, saddling his horse. The horse threw up his head and whickered softly, warning Samuel of someone’s approach.
    Reiver stood before the stall, feet slightly apart, head lowered like a charging bull. “What in damnation did you think you were doing?”
    Samuel fitted the saddle on his mount’s back. “What am I supposed to have done now?”
    “Don’t play the innocent with me!” Reiver scoffed, the barn’s cold air turning his furious breath into clouds. “That portrait you did of Hannah…it doesn’t look anything like her.”
    Samuel stopped and turned. “It’s quite an insult to tell an artist he can’t capture a subject’s likeness.”
    “Well, you didn’t. You made her look too—too—”
    “Sensuous?” Samuel tightened the saddle cinch. “I draw what I see in a person. I can’t help it if we don’t see the same qualities in Hannah.”
    “Don’t mock me, Sam.”
    His brother stared at him coldly. “You’re making something out of nothing in your usual thickheaded way. I offered to do Hannah’s portrait as a Christmas gift to you, and I captured what I saw. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.” He took his horse’s reins and led him out of the stall. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going visiting.”
    Reiver watched his brother mount his horse in the barnyard and ride off, graceful and erect in the saddle.
    Women swooned over Samuel’s looks and his attentiveness. Could he be trying to woo Hannah?
    “He’s my brother,” Reiver said, dismissing that thought at once.
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    The Vow
    He turned and walked back to the house.

    Spring came early the following year, and Hannah felt in harmony with the season of rebirth, always so welcome after a harsh New England winter. Just as the maple and ash trees sprouted tight green buds, Hannah blossomed with her unborn child.
    Round and cumbersome now, she spent her days napping and dreaming of a little boy sledding down Mulberry Hill, or she sat by the window and watched the world turn greener as April slid into May. It wouldn’t be long now the midwife had assured her.
    The day came sooner than she expected.
    A nagging backache had plagued Hannah all afternoon, and by early evening the dull pains had crawled around to gnaw at her belly like a starving beast.
    She heaved herself out of her wing chair and lumbered across the parlor to where Reiver sat, his brow furrowed and head bowed over the account books.
    She placed a trembling hand on his shoulder. “You had better send for the midwife.”
    He took one look at Hannah’s face and turned gray. “Dear God, are you sure?” When she nodded, he jumped to his feet, almost sending his chair toppling in his haste to assist her.
    If another pain hadn’t gripped her, Hannah would have found Reiver’s concern touching. But all she could think about was her upcoming labor and the primitive female fear that