Faithfully Yours (The Forever Time Travel Romance Series, Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

sense.  Why would I ever want to anger anyone?"  Faith's hand went protectively to her collarbone.  "Besides, my husband needs little encouragement to lose his temper.  I don't know how you know the name of the man in my dream and honestly, I don't care.  What I do want to know is, how did I awaken with physical marks on my body?  Will you at least tell me that much?"
    The woman stopped at the open door and turned slightly to her right.  Faith could almost see the clouds billow around her, forming a black tempest.  "If you hurry," the old voice scratched out.  "You can tell your man that you were delayed due to raccoons in your garden.  He will believe that.  You think on what we've discussed and come visit me another time.  I have my own chores to tend to."  Without uttering another word, the woman entered the house, refusing to offer further explanation. 
    Faith stepped forward to follow, and the solid door closed in front of her.  A metallic click sounded from inside the house.  More confused now than when she had first arrived, Faith turned from the entrance.  Mentally numb, she stumbled toward the woods.  She would have to hurry if she intended to keep Hank from being suspicious.  At least Hope's wicked woman hadn't vanished in a puff of smoke.

 
     
     
    Chapter 4
     
     
    It had been two hours after her descent from the ridge.  Faith pushed the hair back away from her face and stretched her back. Hanging tobacco from the rafters was as difficult as planting it.  Hank had insisted that their farm produce a cash crop.  She peered out of the hayloft and looked to the small garden behind the house.  It was too bad he didn't see the benefit of stocking a root cellar.  She would much rather have fields filled with vegetables that could see them through the winter than acres of tobacco that might possibly sell at a profit. 
    Holding her hands to her side, loose, dirty cloths flapped in the breeze.  She raised her arms and inspected the ragged strips.  The soiled, narrow strips she had wrapped her hands with cut deep into the folds of her skin.  She uncurled her grip and pressed her fingers against the tender flesh.  Wincing, she knew her household chores, which were still in need of completing, would only add to her discomfort.
    Sweat trickled down her neck and between her breasts.  She lifted her chin and welcomed the feeble breeze that flowed through the barn.  A water bucket sat in the corner of the loft.  She scooped a dipper full of water and drank deeply.  Hank might insist she dress completely covered, but she would be more productive if she could cool herself.  He would be in the fields until noon.  There was no reason she couldn't ease her discomfort, at least in a small amount. 
    Unfastening the buttons of her blouse, she pulled the bodice open and tucked the hemmed edges beneath the rest of the fabric.  He could work in the blazing heat if he wanted, but she refused to be cooked alive.  She fanned the blouse and blew across her scorched skin.  Dark purple and red blotches smeared the flushed area.  At least Hank hadn't seen the marks on her breasts.  It would be hard to explain how they had gotten there when she wasn't even certain herself.  She was positive Hank was not responsible for the bites.  He never lingered during their time together, choosing to complete the act with a minimal amount of intimacy. 
    Faith dragged a soiled cloth over her face and mopped the sweat from her brow.  The bruises had not surprised the old woman on the ridge.  Her face had actually brightened at the sight of the marks.  Faith was certain she had not mentioned Aidan's name, but the old woman had known it.  Climbing down the ladder from the loft to the main floor of the barn, she would give it more thought while she prepared their meal.  Hank would be angry enough that she had a quarter of a wagonload of tobacco yet to hang.  There was no need to keep him hungry, too.
     She stepped