In Love's Territory: A Western Historical Romance

by Lucy Evanson

  “Plan for what?”

  “For everything,” he said. “I’m not always going to be a farm hand, Kate, and that was my plan to change my life. I worked on it for months, until my head was spinning, and in the end it was perfect. Turns out it just wasn’t perfect for me.”

  “What went wrong?”

  “Nothing went wrong,” he said. “Something finally went right when I met you. Even the first time I saw you, wrapped up in a sheet like an Egyptian mummy, I knew that my life had changed.”

  She slapped him on the arm. “I was trying to forget that,” she said. “I was hoping you would too.”

  “Not on your life. I’ll always remember that morning,” he said, his voice taking on a serious tone again, “because you always remember the moment when you realize that you belong to somebody else.”

  “You belong to me?”

  “I have since the first time we met,” he said. “I am hopelessly yours. Helplessly yours.”

  Helpless, she thought. That makes two of us. She again felt faint as Sam watched her. Her eyes closed, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. She had thought that her feelings for Edward had been the pinnacle of womanly emotion, but this was something different. There in Sam’s tiny cabin, with the gloomy dim light and the scent of musk and leather in the air, she realized that he had roused something else within her. He had woken something…more.

  “Hold me, Sam,” she whispered, and he took her into his arms, his body hard against hers, clutching her as if he were afraid that she could float away. He brushed the hair out of her eyes and began to place soft kisses across her face.

  “All this time I thought I was with the right man for me,” she said, “when it turns out the right man was in front of my eyes the whole time.”

  “You mean that?”

  She backed away slightly. His eyes were searching hers, as if to find some clue, some indication that she had truly spoken from her heart. It felt like she had been laid out bare before him, as if his gaze were a lantern that could light up every corner of her spirit until the truth had been revealed.

  She took his face in her hands and kissed him again. “Sam Hall, you are the man I want,” she said quietly. “You’re the man I always wanted. I just didn’t know it until now.”

  He held her to him as if she were a secret treasure that he was intent on keeping all to himself, searching for her mouth with his own. Kate felt a delicious tremor run through her body as their lips finally found each other. Now there was no hesitation, no doubt, nothing in his way, and he kissed her like a man who’d been holding back for a good long while.

  His mouth on hers was filling her with a great wave of excitement; like the pounding surf that wears away the stone, any hesitation that she might have felt was worn away as well. Soon he wasn’t only kissing her, but she was kissing him back too. When she had discovered how strongly Sam felt about her, it had been one thing. Realizing that she loved him in return was quite another. Kate felt like she had cast into the ocean, unable to do anything but float along on the rises and swells, moving only where the water would take her. She had feared becoming lost at sea, but instead she had found herself.

  His hands were warm and strong on her body, and Kate could feel the blood rushing hot within her as he held her tight, letting his hands roam over her face, her neck, her arms. She buried her fingers in his hair as she kissed him, letting her tongue play against his, and she felt him slide one hand up her arm and over her shoulder, dropping down to her chest. He drank from her mouth like a wanderer at an oasis; as she felt the weight of his hand against her, her fist tightened in his hair.

  Sam’s hand slid up to her neck, gliding over her skin and then slipping down inside her dress. Her breath caught in her throat and a shiver raced through her as he cupped her breast. Her flesh felt afire at his touch, arousing her senses in a way she had never known before.

  “Are you my girl?” he whispered.

  “Oh, Sam,” she murmured. “I’m yours. Entirely yours.”

  She could feel his entire body become tense as he pressed himself against her, and his breath was racing. Then, in a rush, he tore his hands away from her body and brought them to his sides. “Katie, wait,” he said, though he had to fight his own desires just to tear his mouth away from hers. “I’m sorry. We have to stop.”

  “Why? Is the pain too much? Does everything hurt?”

  He grunted. “No, not everything,” he said. “I guess that’s the bright side. But you’re still engaged to Carter.”

  She kissed him again. “Only technically,” she said. “That’s a problem I mean to address as soon as I can.”

  “When?”

  Another kiss.

  “Soon,” she said. She ran her hand over his forehead, gently tracing a small cut that Sam had over his eyebrow, and moving his hair out of the way. She kissed him softly on the forehead and let her mouth fly back to his, then took his hand and pressed it to her chest again.

  He kissed her deeply, but quickly, then gently pushed her back until they separated.

  “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to kiss me?”

  “Of course I want to,” he said. “Even beat up a little bit, I’ve got the same desires as any man. But I want to do things right. And if we keep going like this, it won’t be right. Especially when you’re still engaged to another man.”

  She sat up and took a deep breath. “No, you’re right,” she said. She tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said, hiding her eyes behind her hand. “You must think horribly of me right now.”

  He reached to take her hand, pulling it away from her face. “Look at me,” he said.

  Kate closed her eyes. “I can’t. I’m too embarrassed.”

  “Katie, look at me,” he repeated. “What do you see in my eyes?” he asked. “Do you see anything but love?”

  She slowly drew her eyes up to his. She couldn’t begin to count how many times she had seen Sam, but she had never seen him like this before.

  “No,” she said. “No, I don’t.”

  He reached for her hand and held it tight. “Believe me, I’ll be counting the days until I get you into bed with me again,” he said, unleashing a broad grin as she blushed. “But we’re going to do it proper.”

  “Do you mean that? I mean, are you sure?”

  “Katie Taylor, I intend to make you my wife,” he said. “If you’ll have me for your husband.”

  “I will.” The words leaped out of her throat almost before she knew it. I will marry Sam. She hadn’t paused to even think about it, and as she rolled the thought around in her mind, she wondered how she could have been so blind earlier. Of course I’ll marry Sam. She blinked and was surprised to find herself suddenly on the verge of tears.

  “What’s wrong?” Sam asked, his brow furrowed. “Kate, I’m sorry, I knew I should have gotten down on one knee,” he said, throwing back the blanket and pulling himself up with a grimace. “I’m just a little sore for that right now.”

  She laid her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back into bed. “That’s not it,” she said. “Everything’s perfect. It’s just a lot to take in,” she said as she wiped her eyes. “Sam, you have to excuse me. You must think I’m so silly.”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t think that at all,” he said. “This is a big thing, finding somebody to share your life with.”

  “It’s not just that. It’s like everything I’ve ever done has just been passing time until today. I feel like my life has finally begun.”

  “No,” Sam said. “Our life has begun.”

  “Our life,” she repeated.

  The sun was fading when Kate finally left the cabin, and it was as if the sky had been painted scarlet with a broad-tipped brush. That’s a good omen, she thought, remembering an old nautical saying. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.

  She sat on the porch for a long time, trying to impress into her memory the image of the fields, the grass, th
e wispy clouds racing away as they chased the dropping sun. A thin stream of smoke now rose from the chimney on Sam’s cabin, drifting up and dissolving into nothingness. Soon fireflies began to dot the air.

  Sam had said that you always remembered the day when you realized that you belonged to somebody else. Kate closed her eyes. Sure enough. She could still see every detail, clear as day.

  Chapter 14

  Sam loves me. Even in her sleep, the thought floated through her mind, refusing to stay put underneath her dreams and eventually bobbing to the surface like a cork upon the waves. She had hardly slept a wink, but she felt rested and excited, like a child on Christmas morning. She felt better than she had in a long, long time, in fact. It was like she could sense Sam even now, even at a distance. The pull that he exerted on her was a special gravity, like an impossibly strong magnet that wanted to bring her close.

  Kate rolled out of bed and went to the window. It was an overcast morning, cool and breezy, but it couldn’t have mattered less. In her heart it was warm and pleasant, sunny and bright. The wind rushed over the field before her, making the rows of corn sway as she watched, as if Sam’s cabin were a ship among green waves. Sleep, my love, she thought as she gazed up at his home, dark and quiet atop the hill. She was filled with a sense of joyous calm, knowing that he was safely resting in her sight, that he would soon be better, that she would help him get better. The image of Sam sitting at his window, watching over her the night he’d rescued her from the diggers, flew into her mind. Now it’s my turn to watch over you, she thought.

  After finally returning to the house the night before, she’d gotten undressed herself and tumbled into bed, physically exhausted but with her thoughts racing. I never expected to find a man like him out here, she thought as her mind flew back to the previous evening and she remembered herself wrapped in Sam’s arms. The morning chill disappeared as she remembered his lips upon her own, upon her cheek, upon her neck. Just goes to show you, you never know where you’ll find a treasure. Just like Edward said.

  Edward. I have to tell him immediately. That would be an unpleasant conversation, to say the least. The cool breeze reappeared, causing goose bumps to form over her arms and shoulders. She hugged herself against the chill. The thought of explaining things to Edward scared her, although she knew that it shouldn’t have. He’s a reasonable, intelligent person. He must understand that our relationship has already been fatally wounded. Still, the bitterness and anger that she had seen in his eyes when they’d last spoken had seared her heart like a red-hot brand. Surely I have nothing to fear, but I still wouldn’t want that fury directed toward me. I’d better take Mark and Jake with me when I talk to him. Kate shivered and rose from the window, quickly getting dressed in the dim light.

  As she descended the stairs, she could hear others in the dining room, and she found her father and brothers already seated and having breakfast. As always, the food was delicious, but she hardly noticed. It was difficult to think about eggs and toast when Sam was just up the hill, and every minute she spent at the table meant another minute stolen from him. She raced through her meal as quickly as Jake usually did, earning a surprised look from her father when she pushed her chair back.

  “I’m going to check on Sam,” she said. Thomas nodded and turned back to his conversation with the boys while Kate stepped out into the hall. She went to the foyer and quickly put on her shoes before stepping out onto the porch. The brisk air swept away any last remaining shreds of fatigue, and she was again filled with a joyful anticipation, as if yet-unknown wonderful things were about to come her way. She had to laugh as she stepped down from the porch and began to walk up to Sam’s cabin, lifting the hem of her dress to keep it from getting soaked in the dew. How amazing, the difference that one day can make in a life.

  His cabin was dark and quiet; she entered silently and turned the chair so that she could sit and watch him sleep. There was a sense of peace that flowed around her, but she almost immediately realized that it was more than that. It was more than a pleasant sense of calm, more than an enjoyable tranquility that watching Sam gave her. She had a feeling of belonging, as if she were truly at home there in the tiny cabin with its worn rug and rickety table.

  Sam coughed slightly in his sleep and turned over, revealing his face to her. The bruises still stained his skin, of course, but she didn’t notice them today. It was as if he were flawless in every way, and only her desire to let him rest kept her from rushing over to the bed and covering his face with her kisses.

  Another little cough. He might be thirsty, she thought. Kate turned and reached for the pitcher on the table, quietly stepping to the door and easing it open. She went to the well alongside the cabin and lowered the bucket, waiting for the splash as it hit the water and filled itself. When she’d filled the pitcher, she returned to her seat inside, poured a glass of water, and settled back to watch him again.

  So many things are going to change now, she thought. A smile grew across her lips as she imagined the things to come. A wedding. Babies. A home of their own. So many things. First, though, I have to tell Papa. In spite of what she’d told Becky about her father’s views on the social ladder, Kate was nervous about telling him about her feelings for Sam. You could never tell how a father was going to react when faced with the prospect of losing his only girl, even to a man as good as Sam. Would he permit it? Would he be happy? Would he truly respect Sam as a man, rather than just a farm boy?

  He’ll simply have to. Sam’s as good as any other man. Better, in fact. Her gaze had drifted down to the floor, but now she looked at Sam again and felt a fresh burst of warmth flood through her chest. He’ll be a wonderful husband and—hopefully—father some day. And he’ll always be the knight who rode to my rescue. Even if he’s not sure at first, Papa will grow to love him as well. Yes, first she would have to tell her father.

  Well, perhaps not first. Her stomach clenched again at the thought of telling Edward. He’ll be heartbroken. But at least it should be easy for him to find another person to join him in his life. Should be no problem at all. And it probably won’t even be a surprise at this point, given our argument the last time we talked. And he surely can’t imagine that I’d marry a man who might have been involved in that vicious attack on Sam.

  A frown clouded her face. Even in the low light, it was clear that Sam’s attackers had been ruthlessly efficient in their beating, and Sam would need a long while to recover before he was feeling like his old self again. No, there’s no way I could marry Edward now even if I felt nothing for Sam. But then, what if he were innocent? What if this was all a coincidence, and I judged Edward too harshly? Am I throwing away Edward’s true and sincere love? Oh, I hardly know what to do anymore.

  She reached for the glass, the outside slick with condensation, and took a long drink. How odd, she thought. Her mouth was filled with the taste of… something not quite right. The water, usually so fresh and clean, had tasted strange. Bitter, almost. She raised the glass to her nose and sniffed. Nothing. I must be imagining things. Or maybe the glass needs to be washed. That must be it. In that way he’s a typical man; would rather drink from a dirty glass than wash it once in a while. She took another cool sip, trying to ignore the bitterness.

  Sam’s blanket rose and fell with his breath, and she couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have him close to her in the night, to feel his body against her own as he slept. Or before he slept, she thought, and a smile appeared on her face as she remembered the barely restrained passion she had felt the day before. And that’s when he’s recuperating from a beating; when he’s well again, there’ll be no stopping him. She was tempted to crawl into bed with him even now, but decided not to disturb him.

  Instead, she turned her thoughts back to their future together, to the unexpected new life that was laid out before them. She snorted a bit thinking about the letter that she’d be sending to her friend back in Boston. Dear Laura. I’ve married an Indian, it would start. What she would
n’t give to see her reaction! Soon she would be able to trade married-woman stories, instead of getting lectured.

  Where will we live? The cabin certainly wouldn’t do, especially if they started to have babies. And she definitely wanted to have babies. The thought of her children confined in the tiny one-room cabin made her shudder. It would have to be the house, then. Of course, it would be a bit uncomfortable living as a married woman alongside her father and brothers, but it would also be temporary. A man like Sam won’t be content living off the largesse of his father-in-law, she thought. He’ll keep working on his five-year-plan and I expect he’ll be successful in much less than that. I’m sure we’ll have our own home fairly soon, in fact.

  She could already imagine their own cute house. Perhaps they would even build here on the hill so they’d be close to her family. It’ll certainly be different from the Boston brownstone I might have imagined a year ago, but there’s no place I’d rather be. The heat of the room seemed to be growing, and she took another sip of water.

  And then we’ll have our own family someday. Someday soon, I hope. She smiled at the thought of a chubby-cheeked toddler running around the farm, chasing after Sam in the yard, playing hide-and-seek among the cornstalks. I hope he has Sam’s hair and my eyes. He’ll be a beautiful boy. Or perhaps we’ll have a little girl and she’ll have braided hair, as dark as a moonless night. I’ll have Becky make some cute dresses for her and she’ll be just the prettiest thing ever.

  She looked around for something to fan herself with, and her eye alighted on the slim leather-bound journal that Sam had left on the table. His plan. She glanced over at him to make sure that he was still sleeping and gently pulled the book toward her. I shouldn’t, she thought, running her fingers over the cover. On the other hand, it’s not his diary, it’s a business plan.

  She opened the journal and began to flip through, finding page after page covered with Sam’s handwriting. His calculations had been detailed and extensive, and as she read she began to understand the thought and care that he had put into his planning. One page had all the meticulous details that would need to be considered if he were going to try his hand at wheat farming, only to come to the conclusion that the cost of renting the land and hiring help would leave him only a tiny profit. Another page was filled with line after line of figures regarding corn, and running up against the same problem. Sam’s notes to himself came back to the same theme again and again: if he was going to do everything all by himself, he was going to have a hell of a time.