He broke bread; she watched his hands, the long fingers, the muscled forearms.

Then Many-Doves rose from the table to refill a bowl. Elizabeth looked up and saw her sleeve brush Nathaniel's shoulder as she set more beans in front of him; he murmured something and she laughed out loud. The look on Many-Doves ' face was familiar to Elizabeth; if she looked in a mirror, she thought she would see the same flushed smile. Stricken, she looked down at her plate.

"I have plans for the school to show you," Nathaniel said to Elizabeth after some time.

"Good," she said. "Splendid."

"There's no hurry," Hawkeye said. "You've got all evening."

Elizabeth looked up, surprised. "But my father will be expecting me—"

"You're not going down the mountainside in this storm," said Nathaniel. "We'll take you home tomorrow." The howling of the wind picked up as if to agree with him.

"You look grieved," said Otter. "You worried about your reputation?"

As wretched and agitated as Elizabeth was, this still startled her. "Why should I worry about my reputation? It's not as though—" She looked up at Nathaniel and broke off.

Falling—Day rarely spoke, but now she sent her son a withering look. "Impudent," she said. "She's worried that the judge will be feared for her."

"You're safe here with us," Nathaniel said. "The judge knows that."

"She can read to us!" Hannah cried out. "Like Granny used to. Would you?"

"Why, that's a fine idea," said Hawkeye, clearly pleased.

Elizabeth looked around the table. Falling—Day, Many-Doves , and Chingachgook wore the same placid expression. Elizabeth wasn't sure how to interpret it, although she thought it wasn't directly disapproving.

Otter was grinning.  "We'll make her sing for her supper yet."

She dared not seek out Nathaniel, and so Elizabeth began to gather the dishes together. "I'd be pleased to read."

"First there's apple grunt," said Falling—Day. "And then there's a moose to be hung. Then there's time for play." And she sent Elizabeth a rare smile.

When she could stand it no longer, Elizabeth lifted her head and found Nathaniel's calm gaze on her. She was relieved to see no pity there, but perhaps some sympathy, and a friendly openness that gave her great relief. Whatever his relationship to Many-Doves , there was some room for her here, she thought. If she could just stop dreaming of kisses that would never come.

"We'll sit down with those plans," he said. "After the apple grunt."

With a nod, Elizabeth busied herself with clearing the table. "Comfort me with apples," she muttered softly to herself.

"You are fond of quoting the bible," Nathaniel noted dryly, and Elizabeth jumped so that the wooden dish in her hands clattered to the floor. She had not realized he was so close. Her heart was beating so that she thought at first she'd misunderstood him. Then she knew that she had not.

Bending down to retrieve the dish, his hair falling forward to brush the floor, Nathaniel had finished the verse for her in a soft voice: "For I am sick of love."

Chapter 9

Nathaniel made it his business to see that Otter went with the older men to the barn to skin and clean the moose and hoist the carcass into a tree, where it would be safe from scavengers. He sent Hannah into the kitchen with Falling—Day and Many-Doves to wipe dishes. When they finally had the great room to themselves, he cleared the table and spread out a large sheet of paper, using small stones to hold it down at the corners.

Elizabeth stood off to the side, her fingers working in the fabric of her skirt, her head inclined, considering him. He had the advantage, he knew that: everything she felt made itself known on her face, in the tension of her shoulders. When he gestured to the bench, she sidled over as if he were a dog known to bite.

But the plans intrigued her; once she had settled over them, she lost some of the terrible drawn look that had come over her face when he spoke to Many-Doves . She had no cause to be jealous of his wife's sister, but he didn't tell her that straightaway. Nathaniel liked the idea of her being jealous; it gave him some hope.

Nathaniel began to explain his drawings to her, hoping to put her at ease.

"Two main rooms," he said. "In between, a storage room and a hall, for wraps and such."

"Two rooms?"

Nathaniel nodded. "Eventually there will be enough children for two. And in the meantime, if you want a place of your own, away from your father, you'll have one."

She reached out and touched the plans. "Heat?"

"A double hearth on the center wall, facing either way. There's no shortage of wood; you can have the schoolboys chop and stack for you.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.

"What's wrong?"

"In England, woodsmoke is rare, but you can't get away from it here."

"Is it unpleasant to you?"

She shook her head. "No. It's much better than coal."

"Just one more thing to get used to."

There was a way she had of raising one eyebrow when she was surprised. "Yes."

They talked for a good time about the schoolhouse; she asked about practical things: coat hooks, washstands, bookshelves, desks, blackboards. She told him about schools she had visited in England, what was wrong with them, and what right. How important she thought fresh air and light were, and how many window sashes she thought she needed. Nathaniel listened to her voice grow more confident, encouraging her now and then but mostly happy to let her talk.