Married by Christmas. Karen Kirst
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innocent of any wrongdoing,” she forced out. “The man almost died, Louis.”
“I know you’re innocent. But it’s the appearance of wrongdoing that will spur the leaders to action. I just want you to be prepared.” Navigating the snow-encrusted steps, he made his way to his waiting team. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”
“You’ll bring Doc, too, right?” She couldn’t be confident Caleb was on the mend until the doctor evaluated him. Hopefully Doc would deem him well enough to be moved. Whether he went to his folks’ or to Doc’s didn’t matter to her just as long as he left.
Lifting a hand in acknowledgment of her question, his wool cap bobbed, a spot of charcoal-gray against the blinding white landscape.
The sound of bells jingling in her ears, she reluctantly went inside and removed her scarf and coat. The bowl on the bedside table sat empty. When she neared his bed, the pleasant scent of clean and soapy male tickled her nose. Don’t be awake, she silently ordered, but his thick, black lashes fluttered upward and dark brown eyes focused on her.
“Harper leave already?” he asked with a grunt, shifting upward on the mound of pillows.
“Just a minute ago.” She twisted the folds of her skirt. “I’m hoping he’ll return with Doc.”
That beautiful mouth flattened. “I asked him to bring Shane.”
“And I asked him to bring Doc.”
Unsettled by the clarity in his shrewd gaze, Rebecca started to turn away. Dealing with him while he was ill was quite a different reality than when he was in complete possession of his senses. The dangerous edge was front and center once more, calling to her even as it repelled.
His fingers closed over her wrist, stalling her. “What’s wrong?”
Turning back, she cocked a you-can’t-be-serious brow, ordering herself to shake free of his hold. But she didn’t. The strong, masculine touch felt amazing. For a millisecond, she reveled in the prickly tingles fanning up her arm, the tug of want and need overruling the voice screaming at her to remember it was her enemy touching her.
“I meant, what’s wrong besides the fact that you’re stuck with me,” he amended.
Stuck with him. As in forever. Images of him and her and a preacher and a church full of disapproving townspeople accosted her.
He must’ve recognized the unease in her expression, because he quickly tacked on, “Temporarily, of course.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?”
Caleb had always managed to read her moods. The low, coaxing tone, combined with the imprint of his rougher fingertips against the sensitive skin of her inner wrist, reminded her of the time he’d happened upon her following a particularly upsetting fight with Adam. At the first sight of her tears, he’d grimly pulled her into his arms, fingers ever-so-lightly skimming her back as she poured out her frustration.
One thing she’d forgotten about him—he was a fantastic listener. A trait Adam didn’t share. Her heart beat out a dull tattoo.
Was it possible that, in her brokenness following the accident, she’d elevated her and Adam’s relationship to near-perfect status, blinding herself to his faults while doing the exact opposite with Caleb? One man couldn’t be all good, the other all bad.
Jerking from his grasp, she rubbed the spot where he’d held her in an effort to banish the tingling sensation. Loneliness and the scarceness of human touch was no excuse for weakness around this man.
“I’ll be fine just as soon as you’re gone,” she snapped. “I’m going out to the barn. Amy’s in the bedroom reading if you need a drink. Anything else, she can come and get me.”
Silence choked the cabin as she stalked away, throwing her cape about her shoulders once again when what she really longed to do was lounge before the fire with a mug of rich-bodied coffee and her latest rug-hooking project. Once safely on the porch, the winter air swirled around her, stealing up her skirts and in between her scarf and collar, cold enough to freeze eyelashes. It wasn’t enough to drive her back inside, however.
For the hundredth time, she begged God to end this torment. Her greatest hope lay with Doc Owens’s visit. Please let him deem Caleb fit for travel, Lord. At this point, she wasn’t worried about faceless outlaws. She was worried about Caleb’s lingering presence in her home and what that might mean to her future.
Caleb tried to focus on the meaning behind Amy’s words as she read to him from Charles Dickens’s Great Expectations, but fatigue made his brain sluggish. He would’ve slept already were it not for his awareness of Becca’s every movement in the small kitchen area as she cleaned the lunch dishes and began preparations for supper. She’d hid out in the barn for more than an hour before finally coming inside to heat up a huge pot of bean soup for lunch. The effects of a full stomach and clean clothing were lulling him into a relaxed state that not even his aching thigh could disrupt.
Amy paused, finger pressed to the page to hold her spot. “What’s for supper?”
“Venison stew.”
Speculation flared in the pixie face. “Did our secret benefactor deliver the meat?”
Twisting at the waist, Becca shot Amy a quelling look. When her gaze speared him, he stopped scratching at the itchy stubble on his chin and lowered his hand to his lap. Surely she didn’t suspect him?
“What’s all this about?” he questioned Amy. It would look suspicious if he didn’t ask.
Slipping a slim, hand-decorated bookmark between the pages, she closed the book and held it against her chest. Her blue eyes twinkled. “For months now, someone has been mysteriously leaving us packages of meat.”
“Is that so?”
When he switched his gaze to Becca, she turned back to the work space littered with spoons, spices and pots, presenting him with her stick-straight spine and tense shoulders. He’d reached out and touched her without thinking earlier and, like a fool, hadn’t immediately released her. Clearly a rash mistake. She’d been prickly ever since, the accusation You ruined my life squarely back in her eyes.
“You have no idea who it is?”
“None.” Amy’s twin braids swished as she shook her head. “Rebecca questioned Mr. Harper, but he denied having any part of it.”
“It’s likely someone from church,” Becca said, dropping a handful of carrots into the bubbling pot on the stove. The savory smells that were beginning to fill the room chased away his sleepiness. Although he’d eaten just over an hour ago, he found he could eat again. After days of nothing but broth and water, his appetite was kicking in with a vengeance.
“I think it’s a man who’s sweet on my sister but is too shy to tell her, so he’s leaving her secret gifts.”
Caleb coughed. Sweet on Becca? More like meeting a need he knew for a fact she wouldn’t accept face-to-face. His thoughts turned pensive. Was she involved with someone? Adam had been gone a long time, over a year. The men of this town couldn’t be blind to her attributes.
“Amy, really.” She pursed her lips.
Amy shrugged. “She doesn’t believe that theory,” she informed him, leaning closer. “Rebecca’s not a romantic like me.”
Rubbing his hand along his scruffy jaw, he swallowed a retort. That’s not the Becca I knew. The Becca he’d known had walked around with stars in her eyes, quoting Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and been convinced Adam was her storybook hero. Until Caleb brought reality crashing down on all of them.
“Amy, have you finished your history report?”