I love you, Rosalind Kemp. You. The woman who is kind to lonely old ladies and ornery boys.

Running wouldn't make her free. It would only further entangle her. True freedom could only be gained by trusting God and standing fast in his strength. Like David facing Goliath. Or Esther Standing uninvited before the king.

God will give us strength. You'll see. If we stand fast in him, we can overcome anything.

His chest tightened. This was what he wanted. The chance to make her happy, to see her eyes light up, to share little moments like this with her for the rest of their days.

He kept his hands to himself and made a show of watching the horses, but all of his attention focused on Rosalind.

He wanted to touch her, to clasp her hand or stroke her cheek, but he settled for holding her gaze, not wanting to jeopardize the fragile closeness blooming between them.

Helping a woman make biscuits should not make a fellow this happy. But when the woman was the fellow's wife, and she smiled at him as if he were the noblest hero of her acquaintance--well, it couldn't be helped.

Evangeline mashed the potatoes with excessive force. She could work out her frustration over Logan's obstinance and produce silky smooth potatoes at the same time. Benefits all around.

A chuckle escaped Meredith's lips as Cassie swung from sleepy little girl to sympathetic confidante to vengeful angel all in the course of a single minute.