Lessons of the Heart

by HELEN HARDT

Mary Alice’s face whitened even further. Moisture pooled in her pretty eyes. “Ma’am?”

  “Sweetheart, I have to find some people to help your pa. You’ll be fine. I promise. Can you be brave for me? I know what a brave girl you are. You’ve been through so much. I need you to find your courage right now, Mary Alice. I will be back for you soon. I promise you that.” She hugged the girl to her breast.

  Mary Alice nodded. “Yes. I will be brave.”

  Ruth kissed the top of her blond head. “I know you will. As soon as I know your pa has the help he needs, I’ll be back.”

  She hurried out the hotel and over to the mercantile to rouse Manny Stiles. Then she’d head to Hattie’s and interrupt those having Sunday supper in town. After that, she’d knock on private doors. Sunday supper be damned.

  Garth Mackenzie, I swear to you. You are not in this alone.

  Chapter Seven

  Garth’s eyes stung from the smoke. Rivers of sweat trickled over his face and neck. He lowered another armful of burlap sacks into the little creek, saturated them, and headed back toward the fire ring he was building. With a lot of luck, the fire ring would chase the fire toward the creek. Hell, he needed more than luck. He needed a goddamned miracle.

  “Mackenzie!”

  Garth turned. A man ran toward him. Manny Stiles, the storekeeper. Hooves thundered in the background. More were coming.

  “You headin’ it off?” Manny said.

  “Tryin’”

  “I brought sacks,” Manny said. “Bill Rossi’s right behind me. The Dooley brothers too. Miss Blackburn ousted them right out of Hattie’s Restaurant. Last I saw, she was runnin’ around town like a madwoman knockin’ on doors. You’ll have all the help you need to stop that durned fire.”

  Ruth. She’d said she’d send help. Bless her sweet selfless heart.

  “By the time I rode outta town, I could smell the smoke, just faintly. It’s gettin’ closer.”

  “Closer all the time,” Garth said. “We need to stop talkin’ now.”

  Manny nodded. “Here comes Bill now.”

  Garth, Manny, Bill, and half a dozen others worked for the next hour, soaking sacks and adding to the fire ring. The flames blazed closer, the smoke made their eyes water, but still they worked. As the evening air turned slightly cooler, the fire died down, but only slightly.

  “Good Lord,” Garth said under his breath as he humped back and forth to the creek for water and sacks. “Please. Something’s gotta give. I can’t lose this farm. Please.”

  * * *

  Ruth lay awake. Beside her in the large hotel bed, Mary Alice slept soundly. The child had eaten dinner, though Ruth had forced her. But at least she’d eaten, and for that Ruth was grateful. She’d taken a long bath and then fallen asleep in tears, worried for her father.

  At least she slept. She needed it, and her soft snores were a comfort to Ruth.

  But only a slight comfort.

  She’d sent a town boy to put a notice on the schoolhouse door that classes were canceled for the next day, and then out to her family’s farm to let them know where she was. Perhaps Pa had gone to help Garth. As the preacher of the town, he’d no doubt do what he could. Lead slammed into her belly. Sometimes, when all hope faded, the only thing her father could do was pray.

  Sleep did not come. Horrible images of Garth’s farm burned to the ground plagued her mind. Worse, Garth himself, like a tintype only in color, his face and body scorched and scarred from the fire. Ruth clasped her hands together and prayed for his safety. Silly repetitions of words already said. But what else could she do?

  A soft rapping at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Ruth jerked upward and nearly tumbled out of bed. Gaining her footing, she walked quickly across the wooden floor. What time must it be? She had no idea. Please, please don’t let it be bad news.

  “Yes?” she said through the door.

  “It’s me, Ruthie.”

  Garth! Without thinking, she ripped the door open and launched herself against his hard body, nearly toppling him over.

  “Gracious, I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away. “You must be exhausted.”

  He held her fast, didn’t let her go.

  “The farm?” she said against his chest.

  “Everything’s all right.” His voice was hoarse, no doubt from inhaling the smoke. “Just when it looked like all was lost, a wind came up and blew the fire past the property and into the creek.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Ruth inhaled a sharp breath of smoke and prairie.

  “Mary Alice?”

  “She’s fine. Asleep. She ate dinner and had a bath. She’s terribly worried about you, though. Perhaps we should wake her.”

  “No. Let the child sleep. She needs it. Just bring her home in the mornin’. I paid for your room. I’ll go back home.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. What time is it anyway?”

  “Around midnight.”

  “You’re completely tuckered. Come in here. There’s a basin of water. We can at least clean you up a little. Then you take the room adjoining this one. It’s empty.”

  “I already woke Fred up to get in here. I can’t wake him again to get a room.”

  “Pshaw. It’s his job. You had to let us know you were all right.”

  “My animals—”

  “Will be fine until morning.”

  “They breathed in a lot of smoke.”

  “As did you. And they’ll recover just like you will. Land sakes, you’re about the most stubborn man this side of the Mississippi.” She urged him into the room and onto a chair. Mary Alice still snored softly on the bed. “Just sit tight for a moment. I’ll go down and get the key to the room for you.”

  “Not dressed like that, you won’t.” Garth stood. “I’ll get it.”

  “Oh!” Ruth clamped her fingers to her lips. She had taken off her dress to go to bed and wore only her chemise and petticoats. She’d been so eager for news she hadn’t given a thought to her state of dishabille. “What you must think of me, letting you in when I’m—”

  He smiled. Garth Mackenzie smiled at her. His shiny white teeth contrasted starkly with his soot-covered face. Pale moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating him.

  “You look like an angel from heaven. But I won’t let you go downstairs like that.”

  “I assure you I’ll be dressed appropriately when you get back, Mr. Mackenzie.”

  He winked at her. Winked.

  “I’d rather you weren’t.” He walked out the door and closed it softly behind him.

  Ruth’s heart hammered and her nipples poked through the gauzy fabric of her chemise. How scandalous to be dressed this way when he returned. His bronze gaze would rake over her body and heat her skin. Perhaps he’d pull her into his arms and kiss her again. Maybe cup her breast as he had earlier. Suck on her hard nipple. The sensation had been something out of heaven itself. Every nerve in her body had responded. Tingles had shot through her and landed between her legs, in the private place that was throbbing now at the mere thought.

  She shook her head rapidly, trying to shake away the images and feelings. She grabbed her dress that was draped over the foot of the bed. She stepped into it, when another soft knocking jarred her. Tiptoeing to the door, she said, “Yes?”

  Behind her, the soft click of a door. She turned to see Garth standing in the doorway between the two rooms.

  “I hurried,” he whispered, “so you wouldn’t have time to change.”

  The heat of a blush seared Ruth’s cheeks and neck, and she clenched the fabric of her dress tightly.

  Garth walked to her slowly, took her hands and unclenched them. The calico dress pooled at her feet.

  “I wish I could kiss you.”

  “I—”

  “But I won’t. I’m filthy as a pig right now.”

  “I suppose it’s too late to have a bath sent up for you,” Ruth said, her voice shaking. She hoped Garth didn’t notice.

  “Afraid so.”


  “No matter. Go into your room so we don’t wake Mary Alice. I’ll bring the basin of water.” She gripped the porcelain basin and lifted it, but Garth took it from her, his fingers brushing hers. A tremble surged through her. Had he not taken the basin, she would have dropped it.

  Though she knew it a bad idea, she followed Garth into his room. She closed the door, but only so they wouldn’t wake Mary Alice.

  Garth set the basin on the bureau and lit a table lamp, and soon the room was aglow in soft light.

  He turned to Ruth and walked toward her. Standing in front of her, he fingered a lock of her hair.

  “You look pretty like this, with your hair down, falling over your shoulders and down your back.”

  Ruth looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “Mr. Mackenzie—”

  “Garth. Please.

  “I can’t—”

  “You did this afternoon. You used my first name.”

  “It was inappropriate.” Ruth concentrated on a knot in the wood floor under her bare foot. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “Are you in love with the doctor, Ruthie?”

  “In love?” She looked up.

  His bronze eyes burned. “Did he give you that fancy writin’ paper?”

  Ruth furrowed her brow. “You’re talking nonsense. What writing paper?”

  “That you used at the schoolhouse. To write down the books for Mary Alice.”

  “Oh.” Her linen stationery. “That was a Christmas gift from the children. They all pitched in a few pennies.”

  He closed his eyes. Was that relief on his face?

  “So you’re not in love with Doc?”

  “Gracious, I’ve never been in love. The doctor and I are friends, nothing more.” Discomfort prickled at her. Doc Potter wanted more, she knew. But she didn’t feel that way for him. Her heart didn’t flutter like a bird’s wing. Her skin didn’t feel hot and cold at the same time. No, not for Doc Potter. Only for the man whose gaze seared hers at this moment.

  “Why were you riding with him this afternoon?”

  Ruth didn’t reply. She turned to the bureau and wet a cloth in the water from the basin. “Enough of this now. Sit down, and let’s get you cleaned up as best we can.”

  She wrung the cloth and turned to Garth, who had sat down in a wooden chair. Her nipples poked through her chemise and she warmed, but didn’t turn away. He saw them, she knew.

  She liked that he saw them. God help her, she wanted him to see them. Wanted him to kiss them, nibble them.

  She inhaled sharply and touched the wet cloth to Garth’s chiseled cheek. The heat of his skin burned her fingers through the cool cloth. So overheated from fighting the fire all night. She dragged the cloth down his cheek, across his jaw line. Smudges of gray covered the cloth from just one swipe. She rinsed it in the basin and began again.

  “I’m sorry the water’s not warmer.”

  “Cool is fine. I’ve had all the heat I can stand for a while.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. What I meant was, warmer water would cleanse you better. As would a touch of soap. Let me just get a little from the other room. There’s some left from Mary Alice’s bath earlier.”

  Ruth turned toward the doorway, but Garth’s soiled hand gripped her forearm. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Please. Just stay here. With me.”

  “Mr. Mackenzie, I’m just going to get the soap—”

  “I don’t need any damned soap.” His voice was soft, but stern. “I need you. Here. With me. Please.” Gently he slid his hand to hers, which still held the cloth, and returned both to his stubbled cheek.

  Ruth’s hand shook as she slowly trailed the wet cloth over the angles of his face, wiping away the dirt and grime. Twice she rinsed the cloth and returned. She moistened the gilded strands at his hairline and pushed them out of his eyes. When his golden skin was buffed to a shine, she rinsed the cloth again and took his hands into hers.

  “Gracious, you’re a sight,” she said.

  “So are you. A lovely sight.”

  Her cheeks warmed. Did he truly think her lovely? She rubbed the soot from Garth’s strong hands. His fingers were long and thick, with perfect square nails and tiny golden hairs growing from the knuckles. Good, capable hands. Hands that worked from sunup to sundown. Hands that had cupped her cheek, her nape, her breast. Hands that knew how to please a woman.

  Ruth’s nipples surged against her chemise, and she let out a shallow breath. “There, that’s better.” She set the cloth next to the basin. In the soft glow of the lamplight, Garth’s male beauty gleamed. Except for one smudge on his chin marring his perfection. “Goodness, I missed a spot.” She grabbed the cloth again and wiped the smear away. He touched his hand to hers, moving with her as she continued to wipe around his jaw line. He pushed her hand downward, and she followed his lead, cleansing his neck and then the upper plane of his chest. Golden hair peeked out where two buttons of his shirt were open.

  “Ah, Ruthie”—his hoarse whisper caressed her cheek—“I wish I could bathe proper.”

  “I know. You must be very uncomfortable. But this will have to do for tonight.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Of course I do. Being covered in soot can’t be much fun.”

  “Hell, dirt don’t bother me,” Garth said. “I’m used to it. But I’m too filthy to hold you.”

  “Oh, my.” Her heart fluttered so hard against her breast she thought for certain Garth could see it through her chemise.

  “I think I’d give my right arm to make love to you right now, honey. But I’m so darn weary I’d probably fall straight to sleep, and that wouldn’t be any good for you.”

  Ruth jerked away. The cloth dropped into Garth’s lap as she backed toward the door that joined the two rooms. Heat consumed her body. Her nipples felt like hard glass marbles, and something burst low in her stomach. Fire rippled between her legs.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but no words formed.

  Garth stood and edged toward her very slowly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “Such bold words, Mr. Mackenzie—”

  “Garth, honey. Please.”

  “I don’t know what to say to you. We hardly know one another. I-I’m doing you and Mary Alice a favor. Nothing more.”

  “I won’t touch you, Ruth,” he said, his bronze eyes burning, “unless you want me to.”

  “Mary Alice—”

  “Is asleep. You’ve taken good care of her. I’m grateful.”

  Ruth gasped. He was grateful? “Did you just say…”

  “Thank you. I said thank you.”

  “She’s a lovely child. I’m happy to help.”

  “Is it only Mary Alice you want to help?”

  “I’m a preacher’s daughter. I’ve been raised to help where I’m needed.”

  “I thought maybe…”

  “Maybe what?”

  “That is, I was hoping that you might be helping Mary Alice because you…cared a tiny bit for”—he cleared his throat—“me.”

  “I hardly know you—”

  “Confound it, would you stop saying that, woman?” He lunged toward her, gripped her shoulders, and kissed her hard.

  Tendrils of heated passion coiled between Ruth’s legs. Garth’s powerful bulge pushed into her lower belly and she gasped, yet couldn’t stop herself from rubbing into the hardness. Her mind whirled with uncertainty, but her body knew what to do. Knew just how to grind into his masculine potency so that the pulse between her thighs intensified, blazed, and a rush of desire clawed at her from somewhere within.

  His mouth ravaged hers. No gentle kiss this time. This was deep. Raw. Possessive.

  Ruth went limp against his strength. His clothes would soil her chemise and petticoats, but she didn’t care. All that mattered in this moment was kissing Garth. Bringing her body closer to his.

  Sweet Lord, the temptation. Such a beautiful strong man, and he wanted her. Plain Ruth Blackburn. Spinster schoo
lteacher.

  Garth ripped his mouth from hers, sucked in a breath, and sprinkled wet kisses across both her cheeks. “My God, I’d do just about anything to have you right now. I’ll marry you if that’s what you want. I swear it, Ruthie. I swear it.”

  Her knees buckled under her, but he held her steady. Had she heard correctly? He wanted to marry her?

  “Garth, I—”

  He plunged his tongue into her mouth again as he thrust his arousal against her. Oh, the sweet sensation. His fingers crept down her arm, leaving a trail of pleasant chills in their path. He grasped her derriere and squeezed, and then crept under the waistband of her petticoats. His bare fingers against the flesh of her buttocks inflamed her to new heights. Improper though it was, she wanted his touch. Craved it.

  “Oh!”

  His warm hand slid to the front and entwined in her brown curls. He cupped her, and then slid a finger into her private heat.

  “Wet, Ruthie.” His hoarse voice hummed against her trembling lips. “God, so wet.”

  Icy fear speared her gut. This was wrong. So wrong. So why did she want it so much?

  Fear won out over need, and Ruth pulled away, her breath heaving in rapid pants.

  “Damn, honey, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s…it’s…” Her mind jumbled, unable to form what she wanted to say. Needed to say.

  Her heart thumped. Her whole body quivered. The wet place between her legs felt hot, swollen.

  Empty. Sweet Lord, so empty and aching. A void only Garth could fill.

  Yes, he wanted to fill her. Wanted to lie with her. He’d said so, through both words and actions. Even said he’d marry her to have her.

  Images of naked bodies swirled through her head. She wanted him. That she could never deny. Her body would betray her lies anyway.

  Still, a problem existed. One she couldn’t overlook.

  He hadn’t said anything about love.

  Chapter Eight

  He’d gone too far. Ruth’s pretty face paled with fear. She backed against the adjoining door, her hands flat against the panel, her knuckles white with tension, as though she wanted to melt into the wood. Her tousled mahogany waves fell around her shoulders in disarray. Her chemise was crumpled and her petticoats twisted from his maneuverings. Criminy, he hadn’t meant to scare her. Hadn’t meant to do anything, truth be told. He was filthy and bone weary. Though his cock thought otherwise, he was in no shape to make love to a woman.