Heart of Stone Read Online Free Page B

the bully when Laura suddenly stepped in. His fear for her was as great as his admiration for her courage. To hear her admit she had acted without thought for her own safety only underscored her selflessness.
    As he continued to admire her demure loveliness from his vantage point, he compared the sophisticated, polished woman she appeared to be with the brave, albeit somewhat foolhardy, champion of an ill-treated child. There was obviously far more to Laura Foster than met the eye.
    Brand selected a few items that he knew his sister, Charity, needed—a scoop of beans and a few eggs. He carried them over to the counter, aware of Laura as she moved around the store, stalling as he waited for her to finish shopping.
    “How are the children, Reverend?” Harrison had left Laura to her shopping and was behind the counter again, writing out a receipt.
    Brand knew full well that he spared the rod too often since his wife, Jane’s, passing. Charity did her best with Sam and Janie, but she wasn’t the strongest of disciplinarians—a reaction, no doubt, to their own strict upbringing. He’d tried to reconcile his own memories of their father, but time had not done anything to help.
    “Reverend?” Harrison drew him out of his dark thoughts.
    “Oh, I’m sorry. I was just thinking—”
    “How are the children?” Harrison asked again.
    “Scamps. Incorrigible. Healthy as ever.” Brand paid for the beans and eggs and noticed Laura’s basket waiting for her on the counter. He watched as Harrison went to the small mail cubicles along the wall. He pulled a letter out of Laura’s box and placed it in the basket.
    Brand lingered, chatting with Harrison until Laura finally joined them. He waited while she paid for her items and picked up her basket.
    “I’m walking you home,” he told her.
    “Pardon me?” She seemed astonished.
    “I’m walking you home.” It wasn’t a request.
    “I can take care of myself, I assure you.”
    She might be lovely—ethereally so—yet in that moment the strength of will and determination in her eyes assured him she believed she could indeed take care of herself if need be.
    “So it seems,” he admitted, “but after what just happened, I’d feel better seeing you to your door.”
    “Really, Reverend,” Laura lowered her voice. “I’m perfectly fine.”
    She laid her hand on his sleeve for the briefest moment, as if trying to communicate through a gentle touch that all was well. The innocent touch did more than calm him. He became even more determined to escort her home—not only to offer protection, but to enjoy her company awhile longer.
    “Mrs. Foster, I insist.”
    For a moment he thought she would continue to refuse. Then she glanced out the front window and frowned. An instant later, she gave him a slight smile and shrugged.
    “Then you may walk me home, if you insist.”
    “I do.”
    A s they left the store together, Reverend McCormick offered his arm.
    Slipping her hand into the crook of Brand’s arm was a perfectly innocent gesture—or so she thought until she felt his warmth through the fabric of his coat sleeve and caught her breath at her unexpected reaction. She hadn’t thought to be moved by the slight connection. She never, ever sought out intimacy. Too many emotions, too much sensitivity had been stripped from her as a child.
    She walked beside Brand and stared straight ahead, hoping to hide her embarrassment behind the lace-trimmed edge of her bonnet. But it was impossible to forget who she was and that she was strolling down Main Street on a preacher’s arm.
    Who would have thought?
    Truth be told, Brand McCormick was
handsome
personified. Tall, with thick light hair and green eyes, he exuded quiet confidence and charm. Surprising, since she’d always imagined a preacher to be much more reserved. But from what she’d seen of him, he always appeared cheerful, eternally optimistic, and compassionate.
    She glanced over at him, found him studying her intently,