Stolen Kiss
The moon had moved several degrees in its path across the sky while they’d been sitting there, and Hope knew she needed to get back. Something told her, once she got up, it would be weeks, maybe months again before she had the opportunity to speak to him, so she was reluctant to go. Knowing about his past didn’t change a thing about how she felt. In fact, in many ways, it made her care even more for him. While she could certainly understand why he’d said he’d never marry again, Hope couldn’t help but think there might be a glimmer of a chance he had feelings for her. After all, he’d shared his most intimate secrets with her. Cordia always said, “Where there’s a Will, there’s a way, and if you have Faith, you can always have Hope.” Not for the first time in her life did Hope think her mother had named her correctly.
“I should be heading back to the Howards’,” Hope said quietly, though she made no move to stand.
Judah jumped a little, rubbing his hands on his pants like he’d forgotten she was there. “Oh, yeah. I reckon you should. But it’s awful dark, Hope. You sure you don’t want me to give you a ride?”
“No, thank you,” she said, finally standing. She turned to face him, and he pulled himself up off the floor so that they were toe to toe. “If anyone sees... we’ll both have consequences.”
“I suppose yer right. The last thing I wanna do, Hope, is get you in any sort of trouble on my account. That’s why I’ve been avoiding doin’ any of this work in the day time, any time people might see it and start jumping to conclusions.”
“I wouldn’t care what anyone had to say, Judah, if it weren’t for my contract. I hope you know that. It isn’t you I don’t want to be seen with, it’s just that I can’t be seen with any man at all.” She thought he might bring up the Howards, but he didn’t.
“It’s for the best, Hope. Even if you didn’t have that contract, you shouldn’t be seen with me.”
“Judah, you haven’t done anything wrong.” She took a step forward, and her hand came up of its own accord, though she stopped short of touching him. Her hand hesitated for a moment before she dropped it back to her side.
He didn’t step back, but he didn’t move any closer either. “Hope, I meant what I said before. Now that you know the truth, you should understand that I could never even consider courtin’ anyone again—especially not someone like you. You deserve a man who can make you happy, someone who can keep you safe. Someone who can provide a good life for you, and I can’t do none of those things. So... I ain’t sayin’ I think you’re sweet on me or anythin’ like that, Miss Tucker, but if you ever start to have any of those notions in yer head, you just go ahead and send ‘em right on out, you hear? Because nothin’ good can come of it.”
A flare of anger boiled up inside of her, and Hope took a step backward. She wasn’t sure if she was mad that he was insinuating she might have feelings for him—which she obviously did—or if she was mad that he was denying her, even though she hadn’t even professed anything to him. “Judah, you sound utterly ridiculous,” she said, trying to keep the sharpness out of her voice. “First of all, I don’t need anyone to tell me how I should or shouldn’t feel, and secondly, the idea that you should never find a woman you love again because of the horrible tragedies that have afflicted you in the past is just... horse hockey.”
He bit back a chuckle and put his hands up between them. “Now, Miss Tucker, don’t you go usin’ unchristian language.”
“Do you think that’s funny? That anything I said was remotely humorous?”
“No, Miss Tucker, I don’t. I just... sometimes if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.”
She remembered a similar remark from back when she’d gone to the barn raising with Caroline, though she couldn’t quote it at the moment. “Listen, Judah, I’m not going to stand here and defend myself when I’ve nothing to defend.”
“Good.”
She growled at him, and he leaned back. Hope took a deep breath, trying to decide whether she should insult him and tell him not to flatter himself into thinking she had feelings for him or yell at him for being such an imbecile that he wasn’t even willing to give her a chance. Neither of those options were viable, however, since her contract wouldn’t allow her to pursue any sort of relationship with him should she be so inclined. And obviously, she was either sweet on him or she had a habit of kissing strangers in the woods; she wasn’t sure which one was worse.
So Hope said nothing, only turned around and headed for the Howards’ place, thinking maybe it was a good thing she wouldn’t see Judah again for weeks or months or maybe years if she was lucky. Maybe by then, she’d know what to do about the obnoxious fact that she was falling in love with him.
The idea had her stopping in her tracks. She’d only taken ten or fifteen steps. She swiveled back around to look at him and wasn’t surprised at all to see him watching her, his hands folded across his chiseled chest she shouldn’t be able to envision shirtless, though she could just the same, that playful, amused expression on his face. “You’re infuriating.”
“You’re intoxicating.”
She huffed again. “Now, why would you go and say something like that right after what you just told me?”
“What’s that now?”
Hope muttered a word under her breath she’d only heard her father say once when he’d accidentally hit his thumb with a hammer. She turned around again, and this time, she was certain she would not turn back to face him.
Judah caught her by the arm and spun her around, pulling her close to his chest. They were in the shadows, away from the lantern light, and the moon was almost completely obscured by clouds. Anger pressed her to struggle against him, but desire overcame her compulsion, and when he tipped his head and brought his mouth down to cover hers, Hope slipped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in. His lips were warm and tasted of salt and sweat, and the scent of cedar from the planks and his own perspiration filled her senses as his hands encircled her waist.
It was over too soon, and when he released her, it was harsh; a chasm of at least a foot was suddenly between them, leaving her cold and alone. “I’m sorry, Hope. I should not have done that.”
She didn’t know what to say. Of course, he should have—and he should continue to do so whenever he wanted for the rest of their lives. But she couldn’t say that. She couldn’t say anything at all. And as Judah slowly backed away, toward the house he was building for her, Hope watched for only a second and then turned to walk back to her room, the feel of Judah Lawless still on her lips and the idea that there was still a possibility she could have him in her heart.
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