Free Mail Order Annie - A Historical Mail Order Bride Romance Novel (Mail Order Romance - Book 1 - Benjamin and Annie) by Kate Whitsby Page B

chores. She snuck out to watch him a few times in the afternoon, and brought him in to his supper in the evening in the same way. Moran did not mention this change, and he hesitated to talk to her for fear of treading on her familiarity too much, but she reassured him by keeping their intercourse going from her own end, and each time they parted and met again, he smiled with twinkling eyes and clasped her hand to his arm warmly.
                  That evening, they chatted merrily before the fire, and Anne induced him to relate some of the details of the business he would transact when he took his stock to market in the coming weeks. This subject loosened Moran’s jaws considerably, and he enthusiastically described the process of driving his cattle down to the stock yards in the town, meeting buyers and discussing the best price, and the thrill of the auction when the buyers bid on the stock and eventually took them away, leaving Moran with a pocket full of money. Anne stopped short of asking what he usually spent the money on, but she returned his glowing expressions, laughed at his jokes, and kept him talking with continual questions and responses. They talked late into the night, long after both stopped pretending to work and simply gazed into each other’s faces, appreciating the meeting of two souls in mutual interest and consideration.
                  Moran finally set aside his pocket knife and the piece of wood with which he worked and let the flow of words slow to a trickle. He replaced his chair at the table and moved in the direction of his boots to take his leave.
                  “I hope that you sleep well tonight,” he commented, as he hung his rifle on its hook above the door. “You let me know if there is anything I can do to make you more comfortable here.”
                  “Thank you very much, Mr. Moran,” she returned. “I am quite comfortable here.”
                  “Please, call me Benjamin,” he indicated.
                  She flushed and cast her eyes down to the floor. “Alright,” she murmured breathlessly, “Benjamin.”
                  He beamed at her approvingly. “That sounds well, coming from you,” he exclaimed.
                  She laughed nervously. “It does sound a bit strange, coming out of my mouth,” she admitted. “I never thought I could come to say it like that.”
                  “And now you have,” he declared. “I’m glad.”
                  “Me, too,” flushed scarlet.
                  He slipped on his boots and swung the door open. She followed him to the threshold, where the light of the stars lit up the valley outside. He took another step off the door sill onto the grass, and she stooped under the lintel to follow him to the doorstep. He stopped there, and turned back to face her, but instead of looking at him, her eyes lifted upward to the sea of stars illuminating the sky overhead. As she watched, a shower of iridescent sparks cascaded through the inky blanket of firmament, raining down their heavenly glow on the valley and the two people below them.
                  Anne caught her breath. “What is that?” she whispered in awe.
                  Moran gazed upward with her. “That’s what I call Angelfire,” he whispered back, as if loathed to break the spell cast by the shower of light.
                  “I can believe it,” she breathed, taking another step to stand next to him on the grass. The burning blaze of stars falling through the pitch black continued in waves of glorious brightness, and Anne dared not speak aloud in case the sound of human voice should frighten them away. “They look like angels falling to earth, bringing blessings and glad tidings to mortal men. It must be a blessing. Nothing else could be so beautiful.”
                  Moran lowered