Silver Heart (Historical Western Romance) (Longren Family series #1) by Amelia Rose Page A

covered the pie, put away the chicken, and looked back toward the table.
                  Matthew had put down the sketch pad and was staring moodily into the yard to the west.  I stood behind him, out of his sight, and from where I stood, I could see the page open in his sketch book.
                  The page was covered with studies of me.
     
                  I finished the kitchen quickly, keeping my eyes averted from Matthew and his sketches.  Once the dishes were clean and the food put away, I left him drawing and went upstairs to finish unpacking.  One of the novels I'd been reading before I left Boston tumbled onto the floor and picking it up to find my place, I sank down on the edge of the bed and lost half an hour to The Mystery of Marie Roget .  When I surfaced, as if waking from a dream, it was to abandon the book and hurry back down the hall.  I needed to go out into the garden and forage for supper, then probably cook again and do some washing while Hutch still had clean shirts.  Eventually, my days would fall into a routine but in the meantime, there was catching up to do.
                  Taking care as I left the hall and rounded the staircase, I managed not to run into anyone and hurried to the kitchen for shears and a basket, decided to forgo a hat and spun out the kitchen door into the garden.
                  Only to run directly into Matthew Longren again.
                  This time, there was no piano to keep him from falling into and no wall to steady him if he kept going.  He grabbed for my arms and I grabbed for him and we tumbled together down to the hard Nevada dirt.
                  My first concern was the healing wound on his leg.  Falling could have jarred it open, causing him to lose blood again.  My second was that he wasn't breathing.  I'd landed on him, I thought, and knocked the breath out of him.  Trying frantically to remember what to do, I started to force my arms under him, to raise up the small of his back and allow his lungs to relax.
                  But no sooner had I circled him than I realized he was laughing, so hard he couldn't even attempt to stand, and I pulled back, staring at the madman, a half smile on my own lips.
                  Which was quickly lost.  Because when he met my eyes, his laughter died away.  He looked longingly at me, as if memorizing my face before a journey, then he reached up with one hand, gentling the hair from my cheeks until his fingers wrapped behind my neck and pulled my face down to his.
                  His lips were sweet.  He'd been eating a peach; it had rolled away when we went flying. 
                  The kiss wasn't sweet.  It was hard, frightening, and full of our need.  It was a first and last kiss, there would never be another and I think we both knew it.  Something had happened, some connection had been made when we met, some spark kindled, and we were driving it out, sending it away before it could do damage.  We were making it possible to be friends, paving the way to my marriage to Hutch.
                  Just for that moment, we lingered.  Matthew on his back between the rows of corn, me still stretched across his chest, my hands on his shoulders, strong and more lean than his brother's shoulders.  His hands still cupped my face.
                  We had just pulled apart, staring at each other, each probably sure what the other was thinking – never again, I'm sorry, you'll be my friend, but he's the man I love/but he's my brother – when Hutch's shadow fell over us. 

Chapter 7
     
                  There was no point in it but I scrambled backward into the corn, freeing myself of Matthew's embrace, as if I could change what had happened.  Cursing my skirts, I swiveled to my knees, forced myself upright, even as Hutch leaned down and grabbed Matthew by