The Sins of a Few by Sarah Ballance

left while Faith was at the sewing circle.
    She and Nathanial were alone.
    She turned toward the closed door with the intention of securing the latch, but just that moment it was thrown open. Nathanial stood in the threshold for a beat, his body impossibly tall and broad. His dark blond hair was tousled, and his eyes snapped blue sparks. The unseasonably warm day coupled with his aggression left a sheen of moisture over his bronzed skin, under which muscles bunched and coiled. She would be wise to be frightened, but she was angry. Furious .
    “How dare you imply I have been passed around!”
    “He was willing to take a hit for his words.” Nathanial’s own words were bereft of emotion.
    Inside, she did not match his calm, however forced. Did he imply Jeremiah’s stupidity was an indication he spoke truth ? She could not remember being so angry, and this from a man who wanted her as a wife? “As far as I am concerned,” she said through her teeth, “he can take another one. He is the proprietor of those rumors, and only because I would not allow him to have his way.”
    Nathanial turned and drummed his fingers against the wall, his tempo unbearable. His voice found her without the benefit of a glance. “He has not touched you?”
    A rush of hard memories flooded her. Jeremiah pushing at her, making drunken demands. It was her fortune he had been so weakened by his foolishness she had quite easily disentangled from his advances. “He tried. I fought him off.”
    The words had scarcely left her mouth before Nathanial turned through the open doorway.
    “Where are you going?”
    “To supply him with another hit.”
    “No.”
    She spoke the word so quietly she could not believe he had heard her, but they drew him to a stop. He turned to face her. “Why? Why do you defend him?”
    “Why do you fight so hard?” she implored of him. “What have you to gain? Has the village not been through enough?”
    “I make no discount of what happened here, but I will not let that man dishonor you.”
    “He will no more dishonor me with his lies than you will with your fist.”
    Nathanial blew a frustrated breath, but he came back inside and shut the door behind him, his jaw as firm as steel. “If you have not consorted with him,” he said evenly, “then with whom?”
    “Who…what?”
    “If we are to marry, I have the right to know.”
    “Then worry not, for we are certainly not to marry.”
    She expected to rile him, but he remained calm. Deadly calm.
    “You are one damnable woman.”
    “Yet enough of a lady to refrain from telling you what you are.”
    He backed her against the wall. Caged her in with both arms. “Go ahead,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Tell me what I am.”
    “I will not play your games.”
    “I find that convenient, for this is not a game. Please, speak freely. Tell me what I am.” He waited, his gaze pouring into hers. The intensity was such that she could not bear it, yet she did not want it to end. She had no voice, no words to express the muddle of emotions clogging her throat.
    Her lack of response must have been answer enough.
    “Dammit, Faith.” He closed his mouth on hers, instantly consuming her.
    Her body’s response was an act of treason. Every validation she had for refusing him fled, and in her dizzied state she realized how feral he was—how big and raw. His arms were thick and powerful, his chest wide. She truly had no defense against such a man, but with his lips on hers and his tongue taking cautious exploration of her mouth, he was not the brute he had shown himself to be. He was gentle. Questioning. Seeking permission.
    Permission she was desperate to give.
    He knew the moment she stopped fighting, for he tilted his head and slanted the kiss so he could fully explore her. She opened willingly, her tongue tentative, then hungry with the thrill of seeking his warmth. His exploration didn’t end there. He traced with one hand the curve of her waist and chased