Читать книгу A Season of the Heart - Dorothy Clark - Страница 3

“Hey, Musquash. When did you come back to town?”

“Daniel!”

Ellen Hall spun to face him, her blue eyes brilliant with azure sparks. His gut tensed. He always forgot, between her rare visits home to Pinewood, how beautiful she was. He held his place as she walked toward him, the fabric of her long skirts swishing, small bits of the clinging snow falling off her swaying cloak to dot the plank floor.

“I’ve told you not to call me that, Daniel.” Her eyes flashed, high spots of color crept into her cheeks. “We’re no longer children, lest you’ve forgotten.”

As if that were possible. He looked away from her. “I remember. Though why you’d prefer to be called Muskrat makes no sense to me.”

“Don’t be boorish!” She sniffed and slanted a look up at him from beneath the fur-trimmed brim of her bonnet. “Would it destroy you to call me Ellen?”

Likely so, the way his heart jolted at that look—phony as it was.