Rocky Mountain Man (Historical)

by Jillian Hart

  How could he do the right thing by her and turn her away?

  “You’re looking so much stronger.” She teased her fingertips across his chest. “You’re feeling better?”

  “Remarkably.”

  “Good. I brought another food basket, so I know you’re eating right. And your book. Thank you so much for lending it to me.”

  There was no stopping the sun and there was no stopping her. He shouldn’t let her in. He already knew how this would end. Not even Betsy, as wonderful as she was, would understand.

  No, it was a given. Her family would find out she’d been coming to him. All anyone would need to do was to gaze upon Betsy and know they’d been lovers.

  All hell would break lose. Her grandmother would make good on her promise. Betsy would learn the truth and despise him. She would hate that she’d ever trusted him with her heart.

  Tell her now. He knew it was the right thing to do. Stand firm, be honest. Let her know there could never be a future. There would be no proposal. No wedding ring or vows. No happily-ever-after spent in this house as man and wife.

  It was what she wanted. What she believed could be. He didn’t have to be able to feel her emotions to know. It was there on her face, the hope of someone who’d given up. Only to be given that final, perfect chance.

  “Oh, you fixed the window. It’s beautiful!” She turned in a circle in the middle of the room, cleaned and put to rights, the outside window and wall repaired.

  He hadn’t replaced the shades and weak sunlight streamed through the panes to caress her springing coils of thick hair and burnish gently the curve of her face. Her yellow wool skirt flared and swirled around her slim ankles and he caught her by the wrist, halting her before she could spin another circle. Framed by the sunlight and the silent forest through the large window.

  A perfect picture his heart would never forget.

  “Oh, I was hoping you’d want a little closeness.” A mischievous grin shaped her perfect mouth. Trouble lit in her eyes as blue as forever.

  Closeness? Hell, he wanted to get as close to her as he possibly could. He wanted to please and pleasure her until he couldn’t take any more. He wanted to make her love him enough so that nothing—not her family and not the truth of his past—could ever rip her away from him.

  What kind of love would be strong enough for that?

  Nothing could be, he realized with a sinking heart. She may have come back to him, but he had to be a strong enough man to let her go.

  “I’ve never seen this room in full light. The windows were always shuttered. You did all this?”

  He lifted one big shoulder in a casual shrug.

  She wasn’t fooled. She’d never seen anything so lovely in her life. From the scene carved into the massive mantel, the theme continued in the high-backed sofa and the matching chairs, the low tables and the coffee table, and again in the bedstead and the heavy wardrobe and bureau.

  From the shelves to the molding to the trim at the windows. Stunning work of hard and soft woods combined and carved to depict an entire forest scene. Of creek and meadow. Grazing deer and hunting wolf. Of mountain peaks and deep, still mountain lakes.

  “I like to work with wood,” he explained.

  He was an artist. Betsy could find no other word to describe what she saw. The furniture she’d bought was lovely, but this… “How can it be that someone of this amazing skill isn’t selling his furniture in one of the bigger cities? Why? You’re so gifted.”

  “No. It’s not a gift, it’s a hobby.” He turned away, wishing there were shadows in the room to retreat to, but the shade had been damaged by the tree and he’d had no time to order another from town.

  The sunlight faded as a cloud must have moved across the sun, but there was still the lovely day’s light that allowed no truths to remain hidden.

  “But you could sell your furniture…oh, I don’t know, to important people, and make a lot of money.”

  “I had that dream once, but it was not meant for me.” Sorrow filled him and he lifted the baskets, filled with the dishes of hers that he’d washed and the cloths he’d neatly folded. “Thank you. The meals came in handy.”

  “You seem to be moving better now, and better able to take care of yourself. I know you’ve probably cooked your own meals for a long time, but I couldn’t help fussing. And no, not because I want to impress you. But because I love you. If there’s any way I can make your life better, then that’s what I want to do.”

  Not even his hard-won cynicism could stand up to Betsy Hunter’s dazzling sincerity. Doubting her would be equal to doubting that the sun could shine. It shone, not for its own selfish reasons, but to give warmth and light to the world. How could he not love her so much? Every moment that passed, he loved her more.

  Why would fate be so cruel as to give him this chance for happiness, when it was not possible?

  “Forgive me.” She came to him like the snow to the mountain, inevitable and natural. As if there were no other choice than for her to step into his arms. “I didn’t mean to sound pushy. You’re not the kind of man who likes living in town. I seem to remember you saying something about that once.”

  “It’s true. Living in town brings with it…bad memories.”

  They had to be very bad. Betsy hurt for him as she held the door open for him. As she watched him hop down the steps with barely a trace of his limp and amble across the yard to set the baskets snugly in her buggy’s boot, she couldn’t help remembering all Mariah had told her about Duncan’s family.

  “I only meant to compliment your work,” she said when he returned. “I’ve never seen anything so amazing.”

  “It’s just wood. I whittle.”

  “Well, I love it. I didn’t realize you could see me coming.” She gestured to the wide window he’d repaired that offered a sweeping view of the forest sloping downward to the prairie that stretched forever and in the far, far distance, mountains she didn’t even know the name of. “That’s how you knew when to skedaddle.”

  “Guilty. I do find that view useful when I’m expecting a certain woman.”

  “Because you wanted to avoid me.”

  “Yes. Because what chance does a man like me have with a woman as lovely and as good as you?”

  Her heart tumbled, and if it were possible to fall in love with him again, she did. “Even when my family left you here alone? I don’t think I can ever forgive them, and yet you had no problem forgiving me.”

  “You would have stayed, I know. But they wouldn’t let you. And your grandmother was right.” It was now or never, and Duncan was a man who did not skirt, who did not crumble. “I have a past I’m not proud of.”

  “You’re such a good man. What possible bad thing could you have done?” She had no notion how her words were killing him, driving deep like tiny blades into his vital organs. “I promise that when my family comes to know you the way I do, they are going to see how horrible they’d behaved. It was plain wrong, leaving you out here. I can only imagine what they told you.”

  “Something about how beloved and precious you were to them. I didn’t understand it at the time, but since I’m starting to develop a slight fondness for you, I guess I see their meaning.”

  “You’re not angry with them? I surely am. Furious. I can’t trust myself to talk to them without losing my temper. Do you know they make a habit of this…this meddling, and they always will. You said you were in love with me, well, they are likely to be the test of it.”

  “I cannot blame them, because I have come to see their point.”

  “What point?”

  She didn’t know, he realized, that it was impossible not to love her. He’d wanted to hate that meddling grandmother of hers and that overbearing brother, but if the situation were reversed, he would do more than lie and issue threats to keep Betsy safe. Even before he realized he was in love with her, he’d been willing to die to protect her.

  “So if they come here and raise a fuss about all this,” she wen
t on, trying to heft a full basket from the buggy’s crammed boot. “Ignore them. Please. They mean well, which is their saving grace.”

  He reached around her, and it was intimate the way she turned toward him to brush her lips against his cheek. “Maybe they have a damn good reason for wanting me to keep my distance.”

  “They are like this with everyone they don’t think is good enough for me. Mama would prefer I married a wealthier man this time around. My grandmother thinks that is the best suggestion she’s ever heard. And Joshua… I hope he understands.”

  “He understands just fine. I’m not good enough for you.”

  “And why do you think that? Unless you’ve decided that you don’t want to see where this bond between us leads?” Please, don’t say it’s over. Betsy ached with the words, putting her entire heart into them.

  Her worst fears were confirmed as Duncan turned his back to her, his arm muscles bulging against his long-sleeved, insulated shirt as he hesitated, as if debating her words.

  Then he put the basket in the compartment where he’d gotten it and walked away. Leaving her standing alone by the buggy.

  Was it something a member of her family had said to him? Or was it that he was afraid, because she mentioned marriage, that she was angling for a proposal, just as he’d initially feared?

  She found him in the kitchen, the lovely room framing the stunning mountain and forest views. His back stayed to her as he opened a case of bullets and began counting them out onto the table.

  “I didn’t realize what I was saying.” She felt as helpless as she had the day the bear had charged from the forest’s shadows. Except the man before her exuded a cold emotion she didn’t understand, but whatever it was, she’d done this to him. She’d made him walk away.

  She had to fix this if she could. “I shouldn’t have mentioned getting married at all. The truth is, as much as I’ve come to love you, I would never want to marry anyone who doesn’t want me. Do you understand?”

  “Is that why your brother didn’t show up with a shotgun the morning after we…” He grabbed his Winchester, snapped it open and slid in the first cartridge. “They didn’t know you spent the night here.”

  “I didn’t think it was any of their concern. I’ve been married and widowed. I worked side-by-side with my husband to make a successful farm, and now I work hard at my own business. I love my family, but they don’t dictate my life. I’m wise enough to know a good man when I see him.”

  He couldn’t be beguiled by her words; at the same time he wanted to be. “You’re just saying that because you want another husband.”

  “Yes. I want you.” She pulled the rifle out of his grip and set it on the counter. Then pushed the bullet cartridges out of the way. She eased her fanny onto the table so that she had his complete attention. “Now I just have to convince you to want me.”

  “You don’t know who I am.”

  “You are the man I love.” She wrapped her arms around him and breathed him in. His integrity. His honor. “There is nothing that could ever make me stop loving you. Please, love me in return. Just love me.”

  “You seem so sure.”

  “I am.” She kissed the center of his chest. Like a promise meant to be kept, she kissed an inch lower. And then another inch. Tugging at his buttons to get at his bare flesh.

  His groin tightened. Desire thrummed through him as quick as a whip’s lash. Love so pure made him catch her mouth with his, lay her back on the table. I would give anything for you. He took her hand in his and kissed the backs of her knuckles. It was wrong to take this any further. But how did he tell her the truth?

  “You don’t know me at all.” He choked on the words.

  “I know what matters. If it’s real love, Duncan, then it can’t break. Then nothing will destroy it. Trust me.” She caught hold of his belt and worked the buckle loose.

  He was lost the instant she curled her hand around his arousal. He loved her with enough power that it made him trust that she meant what she said. That she meant it when she guided him into her tight heat and whispered in his ear. “I love you more than anything. No matter what. Is that how you love me, too?”

  “Yes.” His voice broke as he covered her mouth. He kissed her with all the gentleness in his soul.

  She loved him no matter what, she’d said. As they clung to each other, lost in their love, he found hope. Because if this wasn’t worth fighting for, then nothing was.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Betsy hurried down the hallway, her steps echoing in the emptiness. The meeting had started without her. Not that she minded being late, but everyone was going to watch her slip in late—there was no way around it. Mama would notice.

  What was her mother going to say? Betsy paused, cold with dread, outside the door to the church’s auxiliary room. Her hand remained in midair as she contemplated the wisdom of leaving her lover and speeding straight here without benefit of even a mirror.

  She could have sex hair, the curse of her long bouncing locks. They were untamed enough as it was, but add ecstasy and a couple of climaxes and not even her best bonnet—which she was wearing—could cover the disaster. I’d better take a trip to the necessary room, she thought. Some generous patron had donated a wall mirror.

  The instant she spied her reflection in the polished looking glass, she was very glad she’d thought to check her appearance before waltzing into the crowded room full of proper and prim church-going ladies.

  Heavens, I look like a well-loved woman, and I’m not a married woman. Her cheeks glowed a very bright pink, flushed from the three orgasms Duncan had generously given her. Her curls were a tangled mess from how his fingers had wound through her hair.

  Her soul sighed, remembering how he’d cradled her head while they’d made love. And he’d thrust his wonderful thickness into her, gazing into her eyes the whole while. She’d come, pulling him down into orgasm with her, and still, he had not looked away.

  I love that man. Her heart sang with the power of it. How was she going to walk into that room and pretend as if nothing extraordinary had happened? How was she going to act normal, speak sensibly, and give a whit about the upcoming funding when she wanted to be alone? She wanted to savor every image, every sensation, every word Duncan had said, and every loving act he’d committed this afternoon.

  Most of all, she wanted to cherish the sweet intimacy that lingered in her body and in her soul from being joined with him. Maybe she ought to go home and cry off the meeting entirely. She’d been out on deliveries, it was a legitimate excuse she could stretch into a little white lie so that she could keep Duncan all to herself for a little while longer.

  Mama was going to throw a conniption. Joshua was going to get his gun. The rest of her brothers would hunt down the preacher. And all she wanted was to enjoy every step of this lovely courtship. Because that’s what this was. Duncan was courting her. He’d promised to come by her house for supper.

  Duncan. In town. Eating in her house. He had to be seriously in love with her to agree to that.

  “Betsy?” came Rayna’s voice from outside the door. “Is that you in there?”

  “Guilty.” Betsy unlatched the narrow door. “How did you know? How are you?”

  “Needing in here. The bane of every expecting woman.” Not unhappy at all, Rayna stroked her tummy hidden beneath the full gathers of her skirt. “I couldn’t catch up with you in the hall. Are you all right? You look warm. You’re not feeling well. It’s the change of weather.”

  “No, not the weather.” Betsy knew she shouldn’t say one word. She loved her friends, but secrets didn’t stay secret for long, and… Oh, she couldn’t help it! She was bursting to tell. “I was seeing a certain gentleman and—”

  “What gentleman? Oh!” Rayna’s eyes went wide with shock. “You look like a well-pleasured woman. You haven’t been…”

  Betsy blushed rosily and nodded. “Please, don’t tell anyone.”

  “This is too good to keep to myself! Wait�
�I’ve got to go!” Rayna hurried into the water closet and closed the door behind her. “Are you going to tell me which gentleman?”

  “My family hates him.”

  “That doesn’t narrow it down much.” Even though she spoke quietly, Rayna’s voice echoed in the small room.

  Betsy splashed cool water onto her cheeks, but to no avail. Her face wasn’t quite so bright but her eyes glinted with the greatest of happiness. Looking at her swollen lips from hours of Duncan’s tender kissing, she realized there was no way to hide the fact that she was dangerously in love. With a man who loved her in return.

  What had she asked him? I love you more than anything. Is that how you love me, too?

  Yes, he’d said, his voice breaking, his hands sliding down her hips and beneath her skirt and—

  Her face flamed remembering how he loved her so thoroughly, she’d been changed. She would forever be a part of him.

  Betsy frowned in the mirror and splashed more cool water on her cheeks. If she kept remembering making love with him, then she’d never appear demure enough to join the Ladies’ Aid weekly meeting.

  The door opened and Rayna emerged to wash her hands and splash her face. “That feels good. I suppose it will help me more than you. After all, I haven’t just come from my lover’s bed. You are a shady type of woman, Betsy, and I’m afraid I can’t associate with you any longer.”

  “I know. I lost all self-respect. I guess that’s what happens when a widow goes too long without remarrying.”

  “It was bound to happen. Sad, but true. So are you going to tell me which gentleman you’ve chosen? Wait, it’s not that furniture store owner, is it? What’s his name? Hipps?”

  “Hopps. He’s on Mama’s list of desirable son-in-laws—”

  A knock rapped on the outer door and there was Mariah, shaking her head. “I could hear you two through the wall. You’d better not say you’re frolicking with Roy Hopps—”