Her Reaper's Arms Charlotte Boyett-Compo (rainbow fish read aloud TXT) 📖

ready when they entered the black woman’s immaculately kept house.

Baked ham, corn on the cob, mixed greens with a tart vinegar and pepper sauce

sprinkled on them, sliced tomatoes and cornbread hit the spot and Bevyn consumed

two plates full of food before finally pushing back from the table, refusing a third glass

of cold milk.

“I’m stuffed,” he admitted, rubbing his flat belly.

“Won’t offer you none of my blueberry pie,” Cornelia said as she brought the

savory confection to the table and began cutting a piece for herself and Lea.

Bevyn licked his lips, for the aroma coming from the tart berries filled his nostrils

with sheer delight.

“No,” Lea said. She didn’t even glance his way.

“Most assuredly not,” Cornelia agreed as she handed Lea her slice of pie.

Bevyn sighed deeply like a man much put upon, but had to agree he didn’t need

any more sugar. He got up and left the women to their eating, though his mouth

watered to try just a forkful of the pie.

Lea found him on the back porch after she’d helped Cornelia clean the kitchen. His

hands were hooked around the support beam that ran the length of the construction

and he looked almost as though he were hanging there. He was staring intently at the

creek.

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Her Reaper’s Arms

“Is something wrong, milord?” she asked, sliding her arms around his waist and

laying her cheek on his broad back.

“Nothing I can put a name to,” he said. “Just a feeling, sweeting.”

“What kind of feeling?”

“That someone is keeping an eye on me,” he said. “I don’t care for the notion.”

He took his hands down and shifted so he could pull her into the safety of his arms,

putting his chin atop her head. The night air was a bit chill with just a hint of wind

wafting over the grass. They stood that way for a while until Lea yawned.

“Let’s go in,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”

The Reaper’s hawklike gaze was still scanning his surroundings. He felt acutely

uncomfortable but could find nothing out of the ordinary that would cause the

sensation. As he escorted his lady inside, he felt keenly the weight of unfriendly eyes on

him and shifted the muscles of his back again to rid himself of the notion someone had

a bead right between his shoulder blades.

Climbing the stairs, they were a bit surprised to find Cornelia on the landing, her

arms crossed over her large chest. She nudged her chin toward a door on her right.

“That is your room, Lea,” the black woman said. “The one on the other side of mine

is yours, milord.”

Bevyn blinked. “I beg your pardon?” he asked, his hand tensing around Lea’s.

Cornelia shook her head. “You two ain’t married and until you are, while you’re

under my roof, one of you won’t be living in sin.”

“But we’ve already…” he began, his voice sounding like a little boy’s who was

being denied his favorite toy.

“Won’t be no hanky-panky being done under my roof,” Cornelia said. She unfolded

her arms and shook a finger at Bevyn. “And I am a light sleeper, son, so don’t think

you’ll be sneaking into her room later on this evening. You hear?” She narrowed her

eyes. “Do you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, and caught himself before he could kick at the carpet

with the toe of his boot in a show of his irritation.

“That goes for you too, Lea,” Cornelia said. “No trying to tippy-toe into his

bedroom.”

“No, ma’am,” Lea agreed. “I won’t.”

“So kiss her good night, son.”

It was a chaste kiss with a minimum amount of pressure applied, but the looks the

two exchanged could have set kindling afire. Bevyn watched his lady go into her room

and close the door before he let out a long, heartfelt sigh.

“This just isn’t right, Miss Cornelia,” he complained.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“You’d best marry her if you want to sleep with her under my roof.” Cornelia

sniffed and went into her own room, trusting he’d do as he vowed and not go into Lea’s

room. She—like every one else—knew Reaper vows were always kept.

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Her Reaper’s Arms

Chapter Five

Lea wasn’t the least surprised to find Bevyn had been up long before sunrise and

had already eaten a hearty breakfast before she’d even turned over to find the sunshine

streaking through the window curtains.

“Reckon he went to gather up a work crew to start that house,” Cornelia laughed.

Sure enough, Lea found out her Reaper and the sheriff had ridden to the sawmill in

Clewiston with two buckboards to bring back lumber to begin the foundation.

“They can have the shell up in two weeks if the weather holds,” Cornelia told her.

“I’m thinking the weather darn well better hold for that boy!” She’d slapped a meaty

hand on her thigh, laughing.

After a small morning meal, the women had gone out on the back porch to shell

peas for lunch. Sitting on the swing, Lea could see men clearing the lot where the house

would be built. Trenches were being dug for the waterlines that would run from the

central water tower.

“That boy means business when he does something,” Cornelia observed. “A gal

could do worse to have a husband like that.”

Lea bit her lip as she looked at the black woman.

“Uh-oh,” Cornelia said, her plump hands lowering to the pan of peas. “I don’t like

that look. What kind of look is that supposed to be, child?”

Lea said nothing for a moment as she gathered her thoughts, wanting to say the

right words, needing the older woman to understand. At last, she lowered her head,

unable to look at Cornelia as she spoke.

“I don’t want to marry him, Miss Cornelia,” she said quietly.

Cornelia’s thin eyebrows shot up. “Why not?” she asked. “You know darn well he’s

a good man and even a blind fool can see the boy loves you.”

“It’s not that,” Lea said. She lifted her head, giving Cornelia a steady look. “I love

him with all my heart, Miss Cornelia. I fell in love with him that first night but I’m not

going to marry him.” She looked down at the peas in the porcelain pan. “I can’t marry.”

“Why not?” Cornelia demanded. She waited impatiently for the younger woman to

reply.

Lea cocked one shoulder. “You