Free Whiskey Dreams by Ranae Rose Page A

conversation had been butted out of the group, which had formed a tight little circle next to the buffet in order to allow more room for those who were still dancing. His face was contorted in what could only be described as a grimace, and as he stood on the outside of the small gathering, he caught Brom’s eye and gave him a bitter look. “Katrina,” Brom continued, careful to keep his expression neutral, “this is John Crane, our new schoolmaster.”
    John and Katrina exchanged greetings and pleasantries, then began to discuss books – something they were both clearly passionate about – which caused the stranger’s face to turn an unflattering shade of puce. Brom nodded when appropriate and drank deeply from a cup of punch, trying not to glance at the stranger too often, or to feel guilty when he thought of how he’d brushed his lips across John’s in the barn and how close they’d come to being caught. If the man had entered a moment sooner, or – Christ, it was harrowing to consider – if he’d waited outside the half-open door and seen or heard anything… But no, surely not. Surely he was only eyeing Brom and John that way because he was jealous of their conversation with Katrina. Wasn’t he?
    “Katrina, my dear.” Mr. Van Tassel materialized at his daughter’s elbow, managing to wedge himself into the circle as Belinda scooted aside in deference, her smile widening as the position forced her to rub elbows with John. “People are demanding to know which of the pies on the table were made by you.” He cast a glance over his shoulder, as if he feared being pursued by a discerning dessert-craving mob.
    She laughed. “Well, since Mr. Van Brunt has had his share, I suppose it’s all right for them to know. The apple with the little dough leaves around the edge is mine, as is the second pumpkin to the right.”
    Brom exchanged a few polite words with Mr. Van Tassel, speaking briefly of horses, which were often the theme of their conversations. Some other young women came and spirited Katrina and Belinda away in a chattering queue, remarking upon Katrina’s gown. Katrina flashed a last smile over her shoulder at Brom, then disappeared into the crowd with them. Belinda gazed longer at John, but finally went along, leaving the men to themselves. John slipped away too soon after, leaving Brom and Mr. Van Tassel to their horse-talk. A little while later, Brom was left quite alone when Mr. Van Tassel excused himself. That was for the best, for Brom estimated that an hour had passed.
    Casting his gaze around the room, he was glad to find that the crowd was largely relaxed, with many people clutching cups, laughing and talking more loudly than usual. He didn’t see John anywhere, which was a relief; deep down, he’d been worried that John would change his mind. Apparently – hopefully – he’d already left the house. Brom did the same, slipping out the door as inconspicuously as such a large man possibly could.
    Night had truly fallen, leaving Brom to make his way through the field that sprawled across from the house and to the wood at its edge by moonlight. It was amazing how quickly the coolness and darkness snuffed out the flame of mirth inside him, erasing the happy state of revelry he’d slipped into while dancing. His heart beat a little more quickly with each step, and he fought to remain calm. If he failed John this time, he would not be given another chance.
    Brom listened and watched with a hunter’s instincts as he approached the tree line. If John was indeed there already, he’d know it soon.
    A voice caught his attention, though it wasn’t John’s. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he sensed the unfamiliar tone, and when he made out what the stranger was saying, his entire body heated with fury.
    “It wouldn’t do for the citizens of Sleepy Hollow to discover that their new schoolmaster – the man they intend to trust with the education of their children – is a