He'd made a mistake. A terrible, horrible mistake. Jonah gazed down into dreamy blue eyes, as clear as dreams, and saw how wrong he'd been. He should have guessed that the woman who had tended Father with gentle hands and an angel's light was the same woman who instilled fear in the strongest men in this village with her sharp bold tongue.
Beneath the determined shell lived a tender heart. He had assumed a spinster who had seen as much of life and death as Tessa had would see his proposal as the practical arrangement he'd intended.
But how tremulous she looked, as if she could melt against his chest in disbelief.
Guilt speared him. Hero, they called him. Major, a leader of men. Hell, he gazed down at Tessa Bradford, saw a rare beauty brushing her face with the same luminous light as the pale sun, and turned coward. Full-fledged, yellow-bellied coward.
He knew he should tell her the truth. But how could he? She looked amazing, like the first blushing light of dawn. Crisp breezes ruffled her ebony curls and painted her cheeks pink. He could not take his gaze from the sight of her beauty so rare; he'd never seen the like before.
Then the light so blue in her eyes dimmed, the joy ebbed from her face until there was no light, no beauty. Only the plain face of duty and hardship. "I want to marry you, but I cannot. I am already promised. Money and livestock have changed hands and it can't be undone. Besides, there is no way Grandfather would ever let me-"
She held out the cloak to him, regret so dark on her face 'twas as if something precious inside her had died. "I'm sorry I got carried away. I just thought-I mean, I would have liked to marry you. Even if-"
"Even if you hate me?"
She blushed. And he saw the truth then. She didn't hate him. The taste of her kiss, heated velvet and passion, the feel of her slim woman's body held tight against him, the silken luxury of her curls, and the music of her voice came to him, memories that would haunt him this night and for many to come. She was an enchantress beneath her hard spinster image, one that she wore like a cloak to disguise the woman beneath.
He was no longer fooled. She was no child half his age, no whimpering female full of wiles and manipulations. Her hands, rough from harsh lye soap and chapped from the cold winter temperatures, testified she was a woman who knew how to work and did so willingly. And she loved his father.
He could think of no greater gift to the man he loved above all, the man he owed his life and his loyalty and all that he was.
"Keep the cloak, Tessa."
" 'Twould not be right. Others will say-"
"I don't give a damn what others say. All that matters is that it is cold outside and you have no serviceable cloak. It would make me happy knowing you wore it, someone who values my father so. Besides, he would want you to have it."
Were those more tears glimmering like rare diamonds in her eyes? " 'Tis too fine for me to wear. I will save it as a treasure."
She bowed her chin and simply walked away, her shadow slim and elongated from the low slant of the sun. Birds pecking for their sustenance upon the frosted ground scattered at her approach.
"Tessa."
She stopped, then turned. "What is it now?"
He stood squinting into the brightness, one hand at his brow to shield his eyes. Even simply dressed in black trousers and a dark tailored shirt, with the collar open to expose the strong column of his neck, he looked every bit the heroic major, a commander of men, brave and loyal.
He had proposed to her. To her, Tessa Bradford. His fine house towered behind him, two stories of well-constructed clapboard and a dozen diamond paned windows that winked and gleamed at the touch of the day's lemony light. It was hard to admit, but 'twas all too fine for her. If Grandfather knew, if Violet or her step-grandmother knew, how they would laugh at her.
"Let me take you home." He strode toward her, mighty and powerful. " 'Tis the least I can do for keeping you from your chores again."
" 'Tis a long walk," she conceded, daring to take a step toward him.
"What? Can it be that the feared spinster is being agreeable for once?" Humor glinted in his coffee dark eyes.
"I shall only be agreeable to you, and only this once." She took another step, and it was easier accepting his offer of help, of kindness. She had grown never to trust such gestures, for she had learned the hard way that she could never trust a man's motives. "Grandfather is likely to be angry that I'm so late."
"I will speak with him. Mayhap I can convince him out of his anger."
Gratefulness shone in her eyes. She had worked so hard tending his father, and the reason the frail old man now lived was in great part due to her quiet, tender, and knowledgeable care.
As Jonah led the way to the stable, he did not know what to say. Now that he'd made his mind up, he thought Tessa adequate for his wife. Nay, not just adequate, but the best choice he could make.
He hitched up the mare, a fine bay, one of Father's favorites, then offered his arm. But she climbed up onto the high seat herself, the cloak still folded around her shoulders, her chin down, her face unreadable.
"My brother Andy likes your berry tarts," he said, to break the silence as he took the reins. "He might eat like a horse, but he has a discerning palate."
She blushed with pleasure. "I noticed you did not sample my pastries."
"I had little appetite. If I had eaten anything, it would have been your tarts. 'Tis the frosting, I think, that makes them appealing."
"The frosting is a family secret from my mother's side." She almost smiled as the wagon rocked over the rutted patches in the road. "I believe I'm the only living soul who still knows the recipe."
The wind caressed loose dark tendrils across her alabaster brow, touching the satin softness of her face. Jonah well remembered the soft lustrous feel of her skin, and blood heated his veins, warming him despite the cool temperatures. "I didn't know my father went to dame school with your mother."
"Neither did I. Not until she was gravely ill and Grandfather refused to let us stay in his home any longer."
"What happened then?"
Shadows from a tall grove of trees blocked the light and cast her in shadow. "The colonel came and convinced my uncle to take us for a time. I shall never forget how he simply appeared at the door one day, even though neither my mother nor I summoned him. He made our lives better. His servant came with a cart to carry our few possessions and Mother, since she was not strong enough to walk."
"And he provided a doctor."
"A fine surgeon from Boston who stayed for three weeks, until he could do no more." Sadness swept across her face like the shadows of the trees, translucent and without color. " 'Tis why I must do all I can for your father. What he did for my mother- why, she was so good and kind, and very beautiful before she grew ill. I was her only child, and she loved me."
Jonah recalled a young girl, not quite a woman, always taking in laundry to earn enough money whilst other girls attended husking bees and socials and teas, did charity work, or were being courted by young men. He knew now her harshness was meant to drive away those who teased her for being so distant, although he could see now it was her circumstances that kept her from what others her age had enjoyed.
"I remember your mother."
"You do?" How she lit up, like sunlight peering through trees, like hope coming to dark places.
"Aye. My best recollection is when I was ten and Thomas and I were put in the stocks for mischief and she was in the crowd with you."
"You were put there for throwing rocks at a cow. I remember. You were a horrible little boy. If only you had been punished for pulling my braids in dame school, you might not have turned to more serious crime."
"Aye, right you are. I wonder what the penalty would be now if I gave your hair a tug?"
"Tug on my braids and you will likely find yourself bottom first in that mud puddle up ahead."
"Some things never change. I recall landing in many a puddle or snow patch when I was young. And all because of you."
"Well, you deserved it."
They laughed together, and how good it felt. But then the curving road twisted around a final corner, and she saw grandfather's stout wooden house. All the brief gaiety faded. She did not want to go home. Gray smoke crept from the stone chimney in a lazy curl, and she wondered if the morning meal was waiting for her, or, if not, a messy kitchen.
No matter that Jonah could make her laugh or had proposed marriage to her in the frosty air, this was her life. She did not like it, but she could not change it. A wedding promise was binding by law.
Nay, it was best to put her feet back on the ground and keep them there where they belonged. She could not be pining after a man she could not have. How her family would laugh if they knew she harbored a secret want for the heroic major. "Thank you for the cloak. I know it was your mother's, and I will cherish it."
She stepped down and hurried around the horses, not daring to raise her eyes to see if he was sad or relieved.
The front door snapped open and Grandfather's short rotund figure filled the frame. "Horace stopped by to retrieve his ironing. I told him you would be here at suppertime to take care of it. Hurry up, work is waiting."
Tessa felt shame creep across her face, shame because she knew Jonah watched and listened. She could feel his gaze heavy on her back. She did not want to know what he thought, what opinion he formed.
If Jonah Hunter harbored tender feelings for her, as he claimed, they surely would be changed now that he saw her life, saw what she was to become: Horace Walling's wife.
Tears burned in her throat and she raced around the back of the house before anyone could see them fall.
He watched her avoid him that evening when she returned, after tending to her chores at home, to sit by Father's side. She kept to herself, her chin down, shielded by the fall of dark curls across her face. She kept him and Andy running after more wood and fresh water and clean towels until the moon slid behind dark clouds and there was nothing but darkness.
Aye, he'd made a mistake proposing to her. No doubt about it.
"Let me guess, all did not go well with Mistress Tessa this afternoon." Thomas poured two cups of coffee at the hearth, a smirk shaping his usually serious mouth.
"Do not dare laugh at me. I have had a bad enough day as it is." Jonah snatched the sugar bowl from the shelf and set it on the table. There were so many cakes and baked goods it was hard to find room. "How many women visited today?"
"I would say nearly thirty. Some were already married and just being neighborly."
"Aye, but how many looking for a wedding ring?"
"Twenty, mayhap."
"And not one offered to look after Father."
"Ah, so now you see the flaw in your logic." Thomas shook his head as he carried the steaming cups from the hearth. "Tell me, Tessa Bradford didn't accept."
"Nay."
"She could not. Rumor has it she is to marry Horace Walling next Sunday."
"She is merely betrothed."
"Aye, but you have been gone from Baybrooke too long. You have forgotten how binding those agreements are. Which is why I'm extremely careful whom I propose to."
With a wry wink, Thomas set the cups on a free corner of the table and dropped into a chair. "What will you do about Father? He has not shown much improvement. The doctor came this afternoon whilst you were away. You know he holds little hope. It saddens me, but 'tis only a matter of time until Father passes."
"And little time for me to keep my vows." He did not need reminding. Jonah shoveled a few heaping spoonfuls of sugar into his cup and stirred, considering.
"How will you choose another woman?"
"I don't want another. I have to figure out how to keep the one I have."
"What?" Thomas spilled coffee down the front of his shirt. "Damn. I can't believe you had all evening to reconsider and you still want her."
"Then tell me what I should do?"
"Marry a more agreeable woman. Tessa does not know her place, as a proper woman should. She's been a spinster too long. I fear you've made a mistake, brother."
"A mistake? Why, you wagered Andy five pounds over my mistake."
Thomas groaned. "Do not remind me, brother. I'm not proud of myself. I only meant to jest. Why, Tessa is an honest enough woman, but there isn't one man in all of Connecticut Colony who wouldn't blame you for choosing another."
Troubled, Jonah faced the window, studying the night-black windowpanes and his own reflection within.
"Besides, she is too much like our stepmother, sharp-tongued and harsh. Can't you at least remember how our stepmother nearly destroyed our father? With one sharp-tongued demand after another. And her suffocating selfishness."
"Tessa is not selfish." Jonah spun from the window. "She is always compassionate and tender with Father. She would never harm another."
" 'Tis you that I'm worried about." Trouble darkened Thomas' brow. "How will you handle such a woman? She is not sweet and biddable."
"Nay, but she's the only woman I can see myself in bed with." Amazed at his frankness, Jonah paused.
Thomas stared open-mouthed. "So, I see. Been sampling the goods?"
Not as much as he would like to. Jonah felt heat creep across his face and desire pulse through his blood. Tessa's kisses had tasted as seductive as the night. He wanted her. All of her. Every night in his bed. She would give him the son he needed.
"She is an upstanding woman," Thomas agreed. "Above reproach morally. Why, there's no doubt she's an untried virgin. Between her mother's long illness and then slaving in Ely Bradford's home, she has had no spare time for dalliances of any kind."
"Trust me, Tessa is no untried virgin." Not a woman who kissed as she did.
"It cannot be so! Why, I know of no man who would-"
"Some man has. And I'm determined to be the next one to lift her skirts."
He watched his brother's face slacken and the regret creep into the creases at his eyes. The very air seemed to change. Thomas cleared his throat. "Good evening, Mistress Tessa."
She saw how Jonah turned around in his chair, dread clear on his face. He looked guilty and apologetic, but his words still rang in her ears. She had been wrong to let him kiss her, to let her own desire for such a man overshadow her better judgment "I have your father settled for the night. I'll be back to check on him after midnight. I have some business to attend to."
"Would you like a ride home?" Jonah stood abruptly, and his chair scraped against the wood floor. " Tis cold outside tonight."
"As it has been all winter. I will be fine. Stay with your father, who needs you." She grabbed her old cloak from the peg by the back door, the bloodstain prominent and the patches new. "Excuse me."
The cold wind felt good on her face. She hadn't wanted to come here this night. For once she wanted to stay and work in her grandfather's home because she wanted to avoid seeing Jonah. She never wanted to lay eyes on him again. No matter how hot his kisses or how he made her dream.
She broke into a run when she reached the road and kept on going.
"I think she overheard." Thomas set aside his cup.
"I know she did. She would have to be deaf not to hear." He rubbed his hands across his face. Lord, what had he done? How much had she heard?
"We can hire a couple of nurses." Thomas turned his attention to a plate of cornbread. "Father will have care, you can pick a better woman, and you will be free of this harebrained idea of yours. No one will offer to help with Father, Jonah."
"Tessa did."
"You said yourself she has a lover. And you plan to be next. That doesn't have to change."
"That's not what I meant." Jonah snatched his cup and carried it to the board counter and stacked it beside the other dirty dishes. "I have decided on Tessa. Accept my decision, Thomas."
" 'Tis your choice. You will have to live with her a long while. Just consider that."
"I have." He had done nothing but think of it all day. He'd watched her move around the house, slim and graceful and as proper as could be, but he knew different. He'd caught a glimpse of her passionate nature, had tasted her seasoned kisses, and knew the rest of her would be as sweet.
He pulled back the curtain to watch Tessa, but she was nowhere in sight. If she had been heading home, she would have cut across their backyard, taking the way through the woods. He headed toward the parlor, where only a single bayberry candle tossed a weak light across polished floors and furniture.
He tugged back the draperies and gazed out into the darkness. Fog misted the ground and obscured much of the road. Damn, where did she go? Then he saw a faint movement, nothing more than a shadow.
Wherever she was headed, it wasn't toward home. Jonah remembered how he'd come across her his first night in town, alone in the woods. No decent woman crept around in the dark like that. And never alone.
He grabbed his coat and headed out into the night. Cold crept through his clothes, but he kept walking. She moved quickly, and once again he lost sight of her. Soon, his eyes adjusted to the thick bleak darkness and he caught sight of her again, nearly running full out down the rutted lane.
The fool woman was going to twist an ankle in one of those ruts or slide on the ice. And worse, who was her lover that she ran so fast for the comfort of his arms? Jonah had no doubt the day had been difficult for her. She still believed she was bound by law and ethics to wed Horace Walling.
Jonah wasn't big on ethics and he didn't give a damn for the law. Whatever it cost him, that drunken wife-beater would not walk down the same road as Tessa Bradford, let alone call her wife. He had seen how she was treated at home by a grandfather more moved by greed than family bonds. This woman, who cared for Father with such tenderness and honor-bound devotion.
Only one question remained in his mind, and it had been troubling him since the morning. Who was her lover?
He followed her to a grove of maples where a path cut off the road. Her shoes left clear tracks in the snow. He kept back, so she would not know he followed her. She glanced over her shoulder several times but hadn't seen him. He made sure of it.
She stopped at the edge of the pond, frozen and dark. 'Twas as if she expected to meet someone. She dropped to her knees at the water's edge, now nothing but a dark sheen of thick ice, and put her face to her hands. The faintest sound of tears, of racking heart-deep sobs carried on the wind.
His heart cracked in two. Lord, she was crying. Hard and unrestrained, thinking she was alone. He could guess what troubled her. She'd barely spoken to him today, and then she would not meet his gaze.
She thought he cared for her, and she'd said it herself. She wanted to marry him. But she was already bound by oath and a paid dowry to another man. He hadn't considered how his proposal might hurt her feelings. Surely she could see the solution as easily as he did.
Her tears did not cease, her sobs did not fade. Every bit of his soul wanted to step out into the clearing and go to her. He wanted to hold her tight against his chest until her crying stopped. He wanted to tell her he would pay Horace Walling whatever he wanted, but the agreement between him and her grandfather would be broken.
Father had little time and besides, Jonah wanted no other. Tessa was the right choice. She would not make his life hell, not as their stepmother had done. He knew in his heart that Thomas was wrong. The notorious spinster of Baybrooke was little more than a tender mouse inside, and a woman capable of great passion.
Time passed, and he stood shivering, waiting. Finally her tears stopped. The moon peered out from between thick clouds to glow on the shadowed snow. She wiped her face and stood, then stepped out on the ice. She ran and slid and twirled with her hands out, gaining speed and momentum.
Jonah stepped out of the shelter of the grove, amazed at the sight. Her hair had come down and trailed behind her, sailing and shimmering as dark as the night, and she looked so free, so different from the dutiful woman who had hurried to her grandfather's stables or the angel of mercy who cared all night for his father.
She had been playing on the ice that night he'd come across her. Not meeting a lover. There was no sign of anyone in these peaceful woods, solemn and silent except for Tessa's joy as she slid and frolicked.
His heart cracked, and he hated interrupting her. He suspected her life was severe and held no joy, except for this one freedom, this way she sailed across the frozen pond.
"Tessa."
"Jonah." She lost her balance and hit the ice hard. She spun to a stop on her rump. "What are you doing here?"
"I followed you."
"Why? Oh, I know. You thought I might let you lift my skirts next after I entertained my first lover?" The words tasted so bitter.
"Nay." How sad he sounded. "I only wanted to see who you met with."
"Why, so you can ruin my life further?" She climbed up off the ice. "I heard what you said to your brother."
"Go ahead and get angry at me. Then give me a chance to apologize."
He actually looked contrite. Tessa would have laughed if it didn't hurt so much. She fisted her hands and sorely wished she believed in violence. She would give that man a good smack to the head for what he'd put her through today. Proposing to her! And now this. He almost had her believing-
"You're crying again." He sounded surprised.
"What do you think I would do, enjoy being made sport of? Just like in school when you teased me and pulled on my braids?"
"I did it because I thought you were pretty."
"Except, I'm not pretty. Don't start with the lies. I can take anything tonight but more lies." She stalked off the ice, skirting him intentionally. She didn't trust her self-control right now. Her fist might somehow accidentally connect with his jaw.
"You are bad tempered, but pretty. I have always thought so."
How sincere he sounded. "What do you think? That you can sweet talk me into pulling up my skirts for you? Is that why you're here? Is that why you proposed to me?"
"Tessa, you seem overset. Why don't you calm down-"
Overset! Before she could stop her hand, it was scooping up a fistful of snow. Anger blasted red before her eyes and she aimed and threw. "If you think I'm overset, you just wait."
He sidestepped, but the snowball hit him square in the forehead. "Damn it, why in blazes did you hit me?"
"Why? You have to ask why?" She sent another snowball sailing at his head. He managed to dodge this one, but her anger flared higher, hotter. "Maybe you don't understand, because a big brute of a man like you, who has everybody worshipping every step you take, probably doesn't have a single feeling in that big old swelled head of yours. But when something hurts me, I feel it."
"You're right." He held out his hand. "Please, no more snowballs."
"Maybe I should try using a stick on that head of yours."
He laughed, a deep gravelly sound. "Fine. I'm big and stupid. End of argument."
"Well, I'm far from done. The only reason I even stepped foot inside your house tonight is because of your father. He's a nice man, unlike his ungrateful son.
"True." He stalked after her, swift and as cunning as a wolf. He seemed more shadow than substance. "I am not arguing. You're right and I'm wrong."
"What's this? The great Jonah Hunter is being agreeable? I can't imagine why. Wait, I think I know. And let me tell you right now that I'm not going to let you lift my skirts-"
"If you are my wife, you will." A smile flirted along his mouth. "I made an offer to you today, and as far as I'm concerned it still stands."
Tightness filled her chest. "You offered to marry me. But you know full well why I can't."
"Why not? You said you wanted me."
Panic tore through her chest. "I said no such thing. I would never want a man like you."
"A man like me. You say that often." Something snapped in his eyes, intriguing and spellbinding enough to steal her breath away. "You seem to know much about men like me."
"Not as much as you think."
"Maybe you aren't as innocent as you seem." He halted before her, so big he was all she could see. "Mayhap I should find out for certain."
Tessa caught her breath as he laid a hand against her jaw. Heat pulsed across her skin and beat through her blood. This man wanted her? Loved her? She could not see it in his eyes, but it was there in his touch. So hot and possessive and tender all at once, it had to be love.
"Aw, Tessa." Desire for her flickered in his eyes. "You are a dangerous woman."
"Mayhap that is why all the bachelors in the village avoid me."
Laughter flirted along his mouth. "I will have to be very careful around you."
"Because I'm so dangerous?"
He puzzled her, filled her up, and left her dizzy. How could a man do that, affect her in such a way? Her entire body felt alive as it pulsed and tingled, and all for him. She didn't think she loved him, but she did want him, did feel something for him. And it tingled in her blood and buzzed on her lips.
"You're dangerous because you make me forget to think." His mouth captured hers.
The chunk of snow she still held slipped from her hand and clattered to the icy ground. The night seemed to silence as his kiss deepened and his hold on her tightened. He tasted like a cold winter night and something deeper, hotter, more thrilling. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, his hands cradled her neck. She tipped her head back, opening her mouth, accepting the intimate caress of his tongue.
How strangely wondrous. He was all velvet heat, warm and heady, and she surrendered to him completely. His hands smoothed down her back, sending tingling waves of pleasure through her spine. Then up the side of her ribs, dangerously close to her breasts.
Jonah backed her against a tree trunk and trapped her there with the breadth of his magnificent chest and the strength in his body. She didn't mind at all, not when he could make her feel like this. She feathered her fingers across the span of his shoulders. How could a man feel like heaven? He was hard muscle and strength and her fingers ached to touch more.
On a moan, Jonah wrapped his arms around her and hauled her hard against him. She felt every plane of him, every hardness. Her blood pulsed down low in her stomach, and lower still.
He tore away from the kiss, his breathing ragged. Want glazed his eyes, and even in the thick darkness broken only by a dusting of moonlight, she could see how he wanted her, how he desired only her.
She leaned back against the knobby tree trunk, struggling to catch her breath. It was impossible. Jonah just kept gazing down at her, then he reached out and his fingers caught the collar of her cloak. He tugged and buttons came free.
Before she could think to stop him, he smoothly loosened the wooden buttons on the front of her dress. Just four, and he slid his hand beneath the placket. The heat from his fingers seared through her wool underwear. He plundered those buttons too, never lifting his gaze from hers.
"Jonah, you mustn't do this." She breathed the words.
"I already am." His fingers brushed the soft inside curve of her left breast.
A sharp gasp drew her up. "But what about my betrothal?"
"By this time tomorrow, it will no longer exist. Trust me." His clever fingers molded the curve of her breast and began kneading.
On a sigh, she tipped back her head, exposing the long elegant column of her throat Cascades of black curls shimmered with Stardust, and he'd never seen anything so beautiful. She tossed her head to one side and then the other. With a moan, she arched her back and pressed the soft heat of her breasts into the palms of his hands. Soft light brushed her face, accenting the bow of her mouth, so relaxed with pleasure. He'd never seen such an enchantress.
She was a danger, this one. She could reach right in and grab hold of his heart. Blood liquefied in his veins, so hot and molten it thrummed in his groin, and his shaft pulsed hard and taut.
He tugged at more buttons, revealing her perfect flesh to the silvered moonlight. Sweet heaven, but she was a sight. Creamy white, her breasts, softly rounded, and pink tipped. She fit perfectly into his hands.
"Oh, Jonah," she breathed, her fingers curling around his upper arms, digging into his muscles.
Need punched through his body. His groin felt heavy and aching. She looked so ready, with her head tipped back and her eyes closed, making tiny moans as he slipped one hand down her abdomen to inch up her skirts.
Forgotten were the reasons he'd come. He adored the firmness of her breasts, so ripe he wanted to taste them. He bent down, intending to draw one generous nipple into his mouth.
But her hands caught his wrists, stopping him. "I hear something."
The words were whispers, spoken so raggedly he could hardly understand her. "Probably just my heart."
It was pounding like a war drum. All he could think of was finding his way beneath her skirts and burying his aching shaft deep within her willing body.
"Jonah-" The warning sharpened. She clutched her dress over her breasts, covering them.
Ely Bradford stood in the clearing, his gun in one hand. "I ought to shoot you where you stand, Hunter. My granddaughter has an agreement with my neighbor and good friend. She is not your property."
"Not yet." Jonah stood in front of Tessa while she fumbled with the buttons. Something wet struck his hand.
Her tears. With chin down, he couldn't read her face, but a warning went off in his head. Tessa Bradford was as tough as stone and twice as cold, or so many people said.
"You and I have much to discuss, Ely." Jonah turned his back on the man. He stared at Tessa's tears.
Her clothes straight, she lifted her chin. Heat stained her face. Shadows made her eyes black.
She was embarrassed. No, ashamed. Maybe Tessa wasn't as experienced as he thought.