"Good afternoon, Miss Shallcross." Reg's smile was warm and inviting and if she didn't know how he had come between Sarah and David, perhaps she wouldn't feel her skin crawling beneath her woolen jacket.
"I've come to sit with my family," she said, wishing she hadn't come at all. For initially her motives for this visit were far from pristine. Didn't she want David to find out? Didn't she want him so angry that he actually fought over her this time?
"Well, you're more than welcome. You know that."
"Thank you." She turned her head, glancing toward the barn, the feeling of dread that coated her at her first visit returning with a vengeance. Maybe visiting them here when they weren't truly here was foolish. For really, it was just the shells that remained. Nothing left of the spark that made them who they were. But still her conscience twinged at the notion of leaving them unattended. Her need to make sure they were being well cared far stronger than her dislike of Reg.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and fought the surge of tears that blinded her. Damn this place for stealing them away and damn it again for making their proper burials wait until spring.
"I was just heading down to the trading post for some supplies. The weather is fine today and travel won't be so horrible." He set his hand back on the doorknob. "I'd rather have some tea with you, though. Why don't you come inside and warm yourself. I have some port if you prefer a glass of wine."
"No, thank you," she said, wishing she had Alfred with her. He was a smarmy fellow and she lamented her decision. Lamented putting herself in such a precarious postion.
Pa's advice rattled through her mind. "If it feels wrong, don't do it, and if your conscience is clear with the decision you've made, then it was the right thing for you. Live your life so you don't regret the things you've done or things you've left undone."
"I'm not comfortable leaving you on your own. I can't fathom why Henderson allowed you to trek here alone. Not safe. Wild animals, the occasional marauder, not to mention the weather as changeable as it is."
She opened her mouth to confess that he thought her at home but stopped. It wouldn't do to share too much with a man who would take any word she said and turn it against David. "I'll be fine," she said, hoping her voice sounded firm. "I'll just stick my head in the barn and then I'll be on my way."
"At least allow me to see you back home." He walked toward her, purpose in his stride. She took a step back, not liking the determined set of his jaw, or the lusty sparkle in his eye. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pistol.
Terror clawed at her throat. What was he doing? Was he going to kill her?
"Do not move," he said in a low tone.
She held her hands out, stumbling back a step. “Reg, please, don’t—”
"There's a wolf just behind you."
Before she could understand his words, he pulled the trigger. The blast rang out, startling a flock of crows. With her heart thundering in her chest, she spun around, searching for the beast. A flash of gray met her gaze as the scraggly wolf darted into the thicket.
Her hands trembled and she fought for air, almost certain she would faint. Her ears rang from the sound of the blast and her legs threatened to give way. She let out a low, agonized moan and sank down in the snow.
Reg rushed to her and scooped her up into his arms. She allowed him the advantage, allowed him to cradle her. Oh, how she longed for Illinois, and the simple life she led there.
"I'm sorry, Roberta. He may very well have meant to leave you alone but I couldn't risk it."
She rested her head on his shoulder. "Please, as much I loathe the idea, have David bring you next time." He set his lips to her cheek and pressed a small kiss to her chilled flesh. "Or better still, stay with me, Roberta. Stay and be mine."
"No. I cannot." She pushed at him, his request even more frightening than a wolf attack.
"Why can't you?" he asked and instead of freeing her, he held her tighter. "I can give you things he can't. I can love you for who you are."
"Please, put me down!" she shouted. "I appreciate your feelings but I love him. I love David. He is who I want. Who I need."
Reg's jaw tightened and his gaze grew narrow. "Sarah loved him and yet she came to my bed time and time again. Do you know that his distance drove them apart? Do you know she was lonely and sad and came to me for comfort?"
She continued to struggle, pushing and shoving at him until her arms grew tired. "I don't care why Sarah betrayed him. I won't do it to him, too. Now, put me down!"
Finally, he set her feet back to earth. "You break my heart, Roberta Shallcross. I thought perhaps you were smarter than that."
She gasped for air and took a step back only to have him grab her upper arms and pull her forward. Colliding against his hard frame, her breath was knocked from her trembling body. Dear God, what was he doing? "I want to go home, please Reg. Please let me go."
He stared into her face, no softness, no admiration, only loathing and lust. She vainly attempted to wrench free but he continued to hold her in place. With a precision that shocked her and had her mind reeling, he swooped in and pressed his lips to hers. His mouth was firm, the kiss cold and demanding.
She clenched her teeth, refusing his tongue entrance to her mouth. Grunting in protest she stilled. Perhaps if she stopped fighting he would let his guard down enough for her to escape.
At her surrender, he slipped his tongue into her mouth and moaned, a satisfied sound of victory and pleasure. God help her but she wanted to vomit, still, she leaned into him hoping against hope he would relax enough for her to slip her hand into his pocket and retrieve his pistol. Yes. That would protect her from both two- and four-legged beasts.
He withdrew his mouth and she threw her head back as she had with David, only this time it was a chore and not a pleasure. He nibbled his way down to the base of her throat and finally relaxed his hold. She groaned, the sound of pleasure a lie that had the bile rising in her throat.
Ceasing his seduction, he pulled back, staring at her through predatory eyes. "You see, Roberta? We can be good together. Stay with me, be my wife."
She lifted a brow. "Reg, do you want me that badly?" She hated the way her voice sounded…soft and sweet. When all she wanted to do was let out an ear shattering scream.
"Yes, I do." He yanked her to him, his hands running up and down her back.
The scent of him enveloped her in a cloying embrace, his touch sending ripples of revulsion through her body. Her instincts, Alfred's instincts, David's insistence that Reg was evil all proved right.
With her arms now freed she slid her hands around his waist. "Why?" She hoped the question would buy her some time, for the truth was, being so close, feeling his hard cock pressing against her had her heart racing and the need for escape almost too much for her to resist.
"Why?" he asked and she inched her hands toward his pocket…it was his right pocket, wasn't it?
"Yes. You barely know me."
"I know enough." He placed a kiss on the top of her head. "You've lost so much and yet your generous heart allows you to take care of a drunken wastrel."
Her ire flared, yet she said nothing, just continued to inch ever closer to his pocket.
"You know, he saved my life."
"I know." His voice dripped with insincere sincerity. "And how I wish it was my door to which you came."
He pushed her back and stared down into her eyes. Was it genuine feeling that flickered in the depths of his bright blue eyes? If she didn't believe he was driven by his hated for David, she may have considered it. She almost pitied him…almost.
She wet her lips and met his gaze, trying to keep his attention focused on her face, hoping that he didn't feel her hand slipping into the folds of his pocket. "Why do you stay in this miserable place?"
A melancholy smile touched his lips. "Believe it or not, I feel safer here than anywhere else."
Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed him and he responded with a fierce shudder that had him
moaning. He once again pressed his tongue into her mouth and wrapping her hand around the pistol, she whipped it from his pocket and pushed free.
"Maybe you shouldn't feel so safe," she shouted triumphantly and with her hands trembling she pointed the weapon at him. "Now, leave me alone. I'm going home."
The expression on his face quickly shifted from passionate lust to passionate loathing. "Damn you Roberta."
"No. Damn you!" Her legs felt leaden as she cautiously backed away. "You need to find someone who loves only you. Stop settling for David Henderson's scraps."
He lurched forward and she cocked the trigger. Did he think her a babe in the wood? Did he think that just because she wore a dress that she didn't know how to shoot? She could shoot a tin can at ten paces, she could shoot a man in a peacock blue scarf! But the idea of killing him…well that didn't sit too well. Aiming just to his left, she pulled the trigger, the sound so loud that it seemed to echo for a decade before finally silencing.
Reg dove to the ground, covering his head with his hands. "Are you crazy? Are you trying to kill me?"
"No!" she shouted over the ringing in her ears. "I’m warning you. Let me be. Leave me alone."
Slowly, he stood, the chill in his gaze unnerving. "You will be sorry for crossing me."
His tone was too calm, his expression unreadable as he stared into her face.
"I'm not crossing you. It is you who have crossed the line. You take advantage despite my protests." Her hands steadied and she continued to hold the gun on him.
"You're a foolish woman and when something happens that causes you more misery, you have only yourself to blame."
She didn't like the threat, didn't like his complete lack of emotion. He had grown colder than the snow that clung to the hem of her skirts.
"All I want from you is peace. Do you understand?"
He chuckled, but there was no humor in it, only a deeper threat. With his face now crimson from pent up emotion, he folded his arms across his chest. "Be off with you, Roberta Shallcross."
She swallowed hard as she backed away. Her heart shattering as she glanced at the barn. Dear God in heaven, what would become of her family now?
***
The wind bit at David's clean shaven chin and damnation but it itched. His skin so accustomed to the protection of his whiskers that he almost lamented their removal. Oh, but to see Bobbie's face when she laid eyes on him. Would she be pleased or chagrined?
With his spirits soaring, he offered Ned his heel and the animal grudgingly upped his pace. Finally, the cabin came into view. Smoke curled from the chimney and he smiled. She was there. Waiting for him.
Ned blew out an impatient breath as he pulled the heavy sledge up the steep incline. "C'mon boy," he complained. "You're dragging your hooves!"
He gave the horse a good-natured pat on the neck, knowing why the animal was distracted. For at his side pranced a sturdy buckskin mare, her dark mane sparkling in the late afternoon sun.
"She is a pretty thing, isn't she?" he said, perusing her with the eye of a trained horseman. "Do you suppose Bobbie will like her birthday gift?" he asked. Ned's reply was a flick of his ears.
His nerves bunched up in the pit of his stomach. The bigger question was would she accept the ring that burned in his pocket? Would she be his wife? Would she bear his children? Would she make him the happiest man in the world? God, he hoped so. He was beyond ready to move forward.
Finally, reaching the cabin, he slid from the saddle, his heavy boots sinking in the snow. After tying Ned and the mare to the hitching pose, he slogged his way up the stairs.
Trying the handle, he found the door locked. Good. She needed to be more careful.
"Bobbie, it's David, won't you let me in?"
He waited, his hands dropping to his side as he strained to hear movement from within the cabin. Nothing met his ears, just the creaking of the logs against the bluster that continually battered the house.
Drawing his lower lip between his teeth, he rolled on his toes impatiently. What was going on? Why did she not answer? Questions quickly gave way to concern and this time when he raised his hand he pounded against the door, the force loud enough that the mare whinnied in protest.
"Roberta, open this door!" he shouted, readying his boot to splinter the portal in to a million pieces. Finally, he heard movement and his worries ebbed. Drawing in a calming breath, he waited for her to open the door.
She did, but her head was cast downward as light from the open door fell across her form. With the plaid blanket from the bed draped over her shoulders, she appeared so small and helpless.
Dread twisted a knot in his stomach and when she didn't look at him, he feared the worst. Something horrible had happened…but what?
Taking a step inside, he watched her as she backed further and further into the shadows. What the hell was going on?
"Bobbie, honey…"
"David." She dropped the blanket and rushed to him. "I did something very foolish. And I don't know what to do to fix it."
His heart and mind raced. Was she regretful for allowing him to make love to her? Damnation, that couldn't be it…but what else could have happened. Darkness settled over him like a woolen cloak and he said nothing, simply watched as she paced back and forth before the fireplace, her face blanched, her eyes red from tears.
"Can you help me?" she asked, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his in his chest.
He swallowed hard, staring down at her. Damnation, this wasn't at all how he planned to spend his evening. But her need was raw and her tears real. Guilt surged. Had he done this to her? What could have happened the in hours since his departure?
Embracing her, he ran his hands up and down her back. "You know I'll do whatever you need me to."
"David, I-I need my family to be brought here for their own safety." She pulled away, his body aching for her return.
Relief that he was not the cause of her upset surged through him and was quickly replaced by a sense of despair. For if her fear was over the safety of her family, it only made sense that it, too, had everything to do with Reg Crocker. "Why?" he asked, suspicion thick in his throat.
Memories of Sarah in the scoundrel's arms filled his mind as if the incident had happened only moments ago. His hatred threatened to blind him and angry heat flooded his cheeks.
With her head bent low and her arms folded over her body, she resumed her pacing. "This is going to make you angry," she said, her voice trembling. "But I went to see them today."
"You shouldn't have gone on your own," he said barely able to contain the ire from his voice.
"I know, but you left me so quickly and without words I thought you regretted…" She lifted her gaze toward him as tears poured from her sullen blue eyes. "I was angry and..."
"Instead of waiting for me and confronting me you go for my throat. I never thought you a conniving she wolf." He balled up his fists and flexed his jaw. Disappointment, his gut burned with it.
Raising her chin, she stared into his face, her misery of moments ago replaced by a fury he'd never before witnessed in his sweet, pliable Bobbie. "I am none of those things. But you must remember just what you've put me through. The things you've said to me, the things you've done!"
"Done? What have I done besides change every aspect of myself to satisfy you?"
"Did you kill Sarah?"
The words stung and shocked. What the devil was she talking about? "No, and where would you get such a ridiculous notion?" It was his turn to pace, to burn off the adrenaline that coursed through every inch of his body.
She stepped out of his way. "You threatened her…"
"What? How? How can I threaten a dead woman?"
She started to sob, and crawling onto the bed, she pulled a pillow over her lap. "When you were-were stopping the drink…you…"
He came to her and lowered himself on the bed next to her. Despite his anger, his compassion, his love for her came to the forefront. "What did I do?"
>
"You slammed me into the wall and threatened to choke me." She kept her eyes averted and her tone somber. Her fingers burrowed anxiously into the fabric of the pillowcase, her knuckles growing white from the pressure. "You thought I was Sarah and you accused me of carrying another man's child. You said you could kill her."
"Oh, God," he moaned and reaching out touched her hand, the flesh icy and chapped from the cold. "I had just learned that she had been unfaithful to me and that there was a chance the baby wasn't mine." Saying the words out loud brought back the sickening feelings he had for so long tried to suppress by drink. Feelings he wasn't sure he could even cope with now. His heart ached from the confrontation but it burned with Bobbie's distrust.
"But did you kill her?"
He jerked his hand away, her touch stinging. "You let a man you think capable of murder take you into his bed? You hate yourself so much and regard me so little?"
He sprang to his feet and wished he had stocked the sledge full of liquor.
"I want to trust…"
"And when I don't do what you want you go to the man my wife was unfaithful with for support?"
Damnation, she was infuriating, but her total lack of trust in him made him glad he hadn't had the opportunity to ask her to marry him. No, he'd not wed another woman who thought jealousy was a tool with which to control him. "Did you make love to him, too?"
Her skin grew pale, and her eyes widened. "No! God no! How can you ask me that?"
He clenched his jaw, choosing to believe her for he couldn't bear the idea of her offering the monster the pleasure she had offered him.
"Why did you do it, Bobbie? Why did you go?"
"I was hurt…hurt that you would leave without even asking me if I was all right!" Gone was any hint of sorrow or fear. No. Her face had grown crimson with her own anger. "You left as if it meant nothing, when it meant everything to me."
He ran his fingers through his hair, the unusually short curls odd to the touch. "It meant everything to me too and yet you squander our chances. Why not wait? Why Reg?"
Harris Channing Page 17