Married by Christmas. Karen Kirst
myself. Since he’s not fit to travel, I’ll bring the sheriff to him.”
Their words were loud in the hushed stillness cloaking the cove, the thick blanket of snow sponging up sounds.
“Thank you for your help today.”
His expression altered into a reluctance to voice unpleasant things. Uh-oh.
“Rebecca...you realize what your tending to Caleb means for your future, don’t you? When the town leaders discover how much time you’ve spent together without a chaperone, they will no doubt expect you to marry.”
Restless with indignation, she stalked to the nearest post and wrapped her arm about it, careful to avoid the glistening icicle suspended from the roof.
“There was a time in my life when I would’ve caved to such expectations. Not anymore. I will not marry him.”
“If you were my own daughter, I’d insist on it.” Compassion marked his voice. “This situation has gone way beyond propriety.”
“We’re 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.
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