Gabriel's Lady. Ana Seymour
so that their eyes were nearly level. “Oh, but I was greatly entertained this afternoon, Miss Prescott, and you weren’t even trying. I can’t imagine what it would be like if you truly made an effort.”
“Nor will you find out,” she said, then spun on her heel and started down toward the stream. Gabe watched her go. Her wet dress clung to her back and hips and molded itself around her tantalizing little bottom. He gave himself a shake. It had been a long time since he’d resorted to paying for something that usually fell into his hands with very little effort. But perhaps he should give Mattie’s girls another look. He sure was feeling the itch these days.
Amelia marched up to the edge of the stream, paused, then continued walking right into it, clothes and all. Gabe called to her in surprise, “You’re supposed to go in without your clothes.”
She didn’t turn around. “Not likely with you standing there, mister. Anyway, the dress needs bathing, too.”
She was up to midthigh when her heavy, wet clothes started dragging her along with the current. Gabe ran to the stream and plunged in after her, grabbing her hand and pulling her back toward shore.
“Lord almighty, woman. You don’t need a teacher, you need a keeper.”
Amelia pulled her hand out of his grasp, wincing. “You didn’t have to grab me like that. I was fine.”
“It was either grab you or go collect you in a heap five hundred yards downstream,” he said angrily.
Amelia was rubbing her reddened palm.
“Your hand is burned, isn’t it?”
“It hurts a little,” she admitted.
They were standing in about a foot of water at the edge of the stream. Gabe gave an exasperated sigh, then grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. Before Amelia could stop him, he unbuttoned her lace collar, took it off and flung it up on the bank. “Now the dress,” he said, reaching for the top button.
Amelia took a step back into the stream. “Don’t you dare!”
“I will if you don’t do it yourself. Dress and petticoats, too. I’m sure you’re wearing some kind of dudedup Eastern underclothes that will serve just fine to protect your modesty. Then you can go in, but stay on this side—don’t go into the middle where the current’s too swift.”
Amelia looked around helplessly. “I can’t…I have to…” Finally she concluded weakly, “Parker and Morgan will be coming home wanting their supper.”
Gabe lifted his finger in the air. “I forgot. In all the fuss, I didn’t mention that I brought supper—a tenpound slab of salt pork.”
“Salt pork,” she said, looking uncomfortable. “Ah…thank you.”
Gabe cocked his head and tried to get her to meet his eyes. “What’s your favorite way to cook it?” he asked.
“Cook what?”
“Salt pork.”
She looked up at him. “Fried?” she ventured
He grinned. “Excellent. That’s my favorite, too.”
She looked relieved.
“But you’ve had quite a day,” he said. “And your hands are burned. So how about if I go ahead and fix it while you’re taking your bath?”
“You’d fix the supper?” Her chin dropped.
“It wouldn’t be the first time. I rather like cooking, to tell you the truth.”
Amelia felt a little dazed, and her feet were beginning to get numb from the cold water. The day had certainly not gone as she had planned. But she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and if Gabe was willing to put some food on her table, she’d let him do it. She didn’t care if it was rattlesnake. “I’d be very grateful, Mr. Hatch,” she said after a moment.
He tipped up her chin to force her to look at him once again. “There’s a price for my services,” he said softly.
Something bad changed in his voice, and it made the rest of her go as numb as her feet. “What do you mean?” she asked, her throat sticking on the words.
“You have to start calling me Gabe.”
Amelia cleared her throat. “Back East it wouldn’t be proper for—”
“You’re not back East anymore, tenderfoot,” he said with the same husky tone. Then he touched his finger to the tip of her nose and turned to leave. As he slogged out of the water in his wet boots he turned back to her and said. “Supper’s on in half an hour.”
Parker and Morgan didn’t seem the least surprised to find Gabe hunched over a big iron spider on the fire grate when they came in from their day’s work. Amelia had been sitting in the rocker watching him, but she jumped up guiltily when her brother came through the door.
“I see you finished the washing, sis,” he said. “Good job.”
Amelia glanced down at Gabe, who gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Some of the things are a little yellowed,” she said.
Parker laughed. “Yellow passes for white out here. Those kinds of things aren’t as important as they were back home. Can you imagine what Mother would say to a batch of yellow clothes?”
Amelia giggled. “She practically has a case of the vapors when the laundrymaid puts a little scorch mark on one of Father’s collars.”
They all laughed together, then Morgan said, “Something smells mighty good.”
Amelia’s smile died. “Mr. Hatch…Gabe… brought us some salt pork and insisted on cooking it himself.” She looked over at her brother, expecting to be reproved or at least teased for putting a guest to work, but Parker looked unaffected.
“Morgan’s right. It smells wonderful. I could eat a polecat,” he said.
Amelia let out a long breath. Gabe stood up holding the handle of the frying pan with a towel. “She’s ready and waiting,” he said.
Amelia had already set the table. She held out Parker’s tin plates as Gabe served up the food. She had found it fascinating to watch him as he had efficiently and expertly prepared the food. He’d cut the pork into slabs, which he’d first parboiled, then rolled in flour and fried. In the grease that was left he’d fried onions, which he then poured over the cold potatoes Amelia had left from breakfast. To Amelia it looked and smelled more delicious than anything she’d ever tried in the elegant tearooms of New York City. They all sat down at the table and, with little conversation, dug in. She ate until she thought her sides would burst, and then, to the amusement of the three men, she ate a few bites more.
When they had finished, she insisted that she would do the washing up, and she literally pushed Gabe down into the rocker as Parker took out his bag of tobacco and passed it around. It was a new habit of his that Amelia found repulsive, but she refrained from commenting and went to wash the dishes. When she had finished, she stood silently for a few minutes, watching the men enjoying each other’s company. Though she was utterly exhausted, she was reluctant to interrupt their camaraderie by insisting on having her bedroom to herself.
At the first lull in the conversation, Gabe looked over and saw her standing idly by the fire. “It’s time for bed, gentlemen,” he said, getting up. “Thank you for the fine evening.”
“Thank you for the supper,” Parker replied, also getting to his feet. He waited for their visitor to head for the door, but Gabe hesitated.
“I have a last little item of business with Miss Prescott,” he said.
Parker