by Stacey Kayne
Knowing the answer, his lips twisted down. "Honey, you're in no condition to ride."
The embarrassment was back. Tucker was finding those pink cheeks quite becoming.
"Don't call me honey, and stop being so damn nice to me."
"Come on now," he said as he started down the hall. "You're wearing a dress. It's time to start behaving like a lady. I believe that entails graciously accepting the help of a gentleman, and no swearing."
"I've never met a gentleman," she said staring him straight in the eyes, "and you can go straight to hell."
Tucker laughed and carried her toward the foyer. Her medication was wearing off all right. His angel was back to behaving like a hellcat, hissing and spitting. Spotting Doc Perkins and his wife near the front door, he pressed his lips to Skylar's ear, whispering, "At least pretend to like me in front of the doc. I doubt he's heard many wives wishing their husbands to hell."
"Oh, I'll bet he has," she mumbled under her breath, but she behaved herself all the same while Tucker carried her out to the wagon he'd rented from the livery. As he gently deposited her on the seat her eyes widened and he knew she saw the pile of packages in the back.
"Tucker?"
"We'll talk about it in a minute, honey." He turned to the doctor and his wife, who had stayed on his heels since they'd entered the foyer.
"Thank you again for taking care of Skylar. I'm eternally indebted to you for saving her like you did."
"Happy to help, young man. Mrs. Morgan, you get plenty of rest and keep that wound dry for a good week or so."
Fifteen minutes later, as they rode toward camp, Skylar hadn't said a single word to him. She sat with her arms crossed, keeping her gaze on the stretch of rolling hills on her side of the wagon.
"Are you going to talk to me?" he finally asked.
"No."
"We're enemies again, is that it?"
"No need to be harsh. I prefer to think we've agreed to simply tolerate one another until we reach Wyoming."
"I sort of liked being friendly, Skylar."
"The only reason we were friendly last night is because Mrs. Perkins gave me that elixir."
Tucker grinned to himself. She didn't know it, but she'd been given another dose of that elixir. Knowing she'd refuse to take something for her pain and damn certain her shoulder was hurting more than she'd ever admit, he'd asked Mrs. Perkins to slip something into her tea to take the edge off her pain for the ride back to camp. The older woman had been only too happy to comply. Already weak from blood loss, he figured Skylar would be sound asleep within the next fifteen minutes.
As they veered off the main road into rougher terrain, Tucker kept a close watch on her. Her eyelids began to droop as she fought her drowsiness. When her chin finally dipped toward her chest, he slipped his arm around her waist and eased her against his side. As he slid her across the wagon seat, she jerked awake and pulled back.
"Don't fight me, honey," he said, holding fast to her waist. "You were half-asleep and about to fall over the side of the wagon "
"I'm awake now," she said, pushing against him.
"Damn it, Sky, you can barely hold your eyes open! I'm not taking the chance of you toppling off this seat, so relax."
She stayed stiff against his side.
"You had a rough night. For criminy sake, you had a bullet dug out of your shoulder!"
She relinquished her struggle, but he could feel the tension in her body. He glanced beside him and saw her blinking sleepily, trying to focus her eyes.
"She must have put something in that tea," she muttered.
Tucker decided it would be best not to comment on that and silently guided his horse through a thick patch of pines. As the wagon jostled along, he felt Skylar slowly relax. Ten minutes later, she was sound asleep with her head resting on his shoulder.
By the time he approached their campsite, over an hour later, she was snuggled against him, her arm strapped around his middle. Tucker reined his horse to a stop and eased back in the seat, reluctant to wake her, enjoying the feel of her body relaxed against him and the fresh scent of her clean hair. He pulled in a deep breath, bathing his senses in the floral scent of her. She smelled sweet as a rosebud. And the second she woke, she'd expose her thorns.
Stubborn ramrod of a woman, he thought with a smile. He had news for her. He could be just as stubborn.
Tucker brushed a few strands of hair away from her peaceful expression. Those soft pretty features were going to stone over the moment she realized the doc's orders meant no working with the horses until well after her sutures came out.
She can kick and cuss all she wants. She wouldn't get the better of his patience again. She damn sure wouldn't be lifting a rope, whip or saddle until her shoulder had healed. He'd make sure of it.
"Rise and shine, angel girl," he said a few moments later.
Skylar jerked up as if he'd slapped her. She glanced up at him then blinked her wide eyes before she looked out at their surroundings. "We're here?"
"Yep." Tucker hopped down then turned to assist Skylar. "Com'ere, I'll help you down."
She stared at his outstretched arms. Tentatively, she turned her head toward the other side of the wagon.
"You try to jump out the other side, and I swear—"
"Oh, all right." She released a huff and put her hands on his shoulders as his hands circled her waist.
The second he set her feet on the ground, Garret came barreling from the trees at a full run. Spotting his sister, he skidded to a hard stop.
His wide eyes moved over her, taking in the drastic change of attire. "Wow, Sky! You look...pretty."
Tucker smiled, watching Skylar's cheeks flush. Garret walked up and leaned toward her, sniffing loudly. "You smell good, too."
"Thanks," she muttered, her expression heavy with discomfort and exhaustion.
"Are you feeling better? Did you see a doctor?"
"She did," Tucker answered for her. "He patched up her shoulder."
"So, you're better?" asked Garret, his eyes narrowed with concern.
Tucker knew her pale complexion and heavy eyelids had the kid worried.
"I'm fine, Garret," she said with a slight smile.
"The doc says she's to take it easy for a week or so," said Tucker. "We're staying put for today. Skylar had a rough night and should catch up on her lost sleep."
"I don't need sleep," she protested.
"Garret," he said, staring into Skylar's guarded blue eyes, "the doc said she's to stay off her feet the rest of the day. I'm counting on you to make sure that happens."
"Yes, sir!"
"You," he said, wagging a finger at Skylar, "go plant your butt on a bedroll and stay there."
"You can lie down on mine." Garret took her by the arm.
She glared at Tucker, her lips flattened in a tight line as she turned away. Garret trotted along right beside her, asking questions a mile a minute, giving her the attention she didn't have the sense to know she needed. The woman surely hadn't been doted on nearly enough in her lifetime. "Where's Chance?" asked Tucker. "With the horses," the kid called back. Confident Skylar would be under excellent supervision, Tucker started toward the cart, wanting to unload the other packages before Chance came into camp. The fact that he'd bought Skylar a dress was sure to raise Chance's eyebrows. If Chance found out how much of a spending spree he'd gone on, his brother would have a fit and hound him with questions Tucker wasn't ready to answer, or even certain he could. Gathering up the pile of paper-wrapped parcels, he carried them toward their packs and quickly stuffed them into various canvas sacks.
Chapter 11
In the last five days, Skylar couldn't sneeze without Tucker's palm sliding across her forehead and him wanting to investigate her sutures. She'd never been touched and prodded so much in all her life, or felt so utterly useless. After being deposited in camp by her brawny nursemaid and ordered to rest, she decided she would busy herself by making supper as she enjoyed the absence of a man who was ste
adily driving her insane.
Five days of feeling useless had been enough. Holding the bowl with her left arm, she whipped the cornmeal batter as a skillet warmed over the fire. She'd planned her mutiny the night before, filling a sack of beans with water while Tucker was on night watch. A smile tugged at her lips as she glanced up at the pot of simmering beans.
Tucker was all too content to work circles around her while she sat about like a useless lump. At least while they were traveling, she could ride a horse without assistance. During the past few days she and Tucker continually fought, him insisting they should slow their pace, while she refused to cost them more time. This morning she'd finally convinced him she didn't need his help to mount and dismount her blasted horse, his hands on her waist being far more distressful than any pain in her shoulder.And what had she done when they stopped to make camp? Collapsed like a rag doll. In the space of a heartbeat, Tucker had been towering over her, hauling her to her feet and looking down her shirt.
Granted, he'd been checking her shoulder, but that hadn't made the experience any less humiliating or jarring to her senses.
Biting out a curse, she crouched near the fire and poured some of her cornmeal mixture into the skillet she'd placed on some stones over the campfire. She wasn't the only one adjusting to the change in altitude!
But she'd been the only one who fell to the ground the moment she stepped down from her saddle. He'd been gone for nearly two hours, riding with Chance and Garret farther into the tall pines to take the horses to the river, and still Skylar's jaw was clenched with tension.
He was going to be furious when he discovered she'd set up camp in his absence and started the two fires.
Tucker was going to rant, but Garret would be delighted. Garret was the only one she was concerned about. In a few more days, they would be in Wyoming territory and she could start scouting for Randal. If she'd chosen the right passes, they should cross trails at some point.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing!"
Skylar looked up at the green-eyed tyrant marching from the trees. "Don't start with me, Morgan," she warned, pointing her fork at him.
"Damn it, Skylar, you were supposed to be resting."
"I hardly do anything as it is," she said, turning her attention back to the corn cakes cooking in the skillet.
"You collapsed just two hours ago," he said, his booted feet stomping up right beside her.
She dragged her narrowed eyes up his long, muscular body. "From the altitude! We've all been short of breath since we rode up into this high country. I'm fine so stop behaving like my nursemaid."
"Somebody's got to! You've been pushing yourself too hard the last few days. If you don't..." His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the skillet in her hand. His blond eyebrows shot up. "Is that corn bread?"
"Yes. Haven't you ever made corn cakes over a fire?"
"No. We, uh...damn that looks good," he said, crouching beside her.
"Chance bought the cornmeal," she said, amused by Tucker's fascination as he peered into the skillet.
"Hell, he probably didn't know what it was. Either it looked like cooking supplies or the merchant suggested he might need it." His gaze shifted to the pot hanging from a tripod she'd arranged over a small fire beside the larger campfire. "Are you cooking beans in that pot?" he asked, sniffing loudly.
Before she could answer, his long arm reached toward the neighboring fire and lifted the lid from the pot.
She saw the question in his crooked grin as he glanced over at her. "Go ahead. There's a spoon in that sack right beside you."
Tucker didn't waste any time, quickly digging out a spoon and dipping it into the beans while Skylar started another batch of corn bread. Hearing the sound of him blowing, she glanced beside her and grinned at the sight of his puckered lips as he cooled the heap of steaming beans on the large spoon.
His soft lips stretched wide as he guided the spoon into his mouth, setting the metal utensil upon his tongue before his lips closed around the narrow handle. When he slipped the spoon from between his lips, Skylar realized she was licking her own lips as she stared at his mouth, remembering. She lifted her gaze.
"Too spicy?" she asked, concerned by his deep look of surprise as he chewed in slow motion.
Tucker set the spoon aside and replaced the lid. "You've been eating our pathetic attempt at cooking these last few weeks when you can cook like this? Your stubbornness must run bone deep."
His teasing grin nettled under her skin. Skylar fought a
smile as she dropped her gaze and tried to focus on the corn bread she was about to burn.
"No wonder you had to keep Garret quiet with those harsh glares. The boy knew what he was missing. What did you put in those beans?"
Skylar shrugged. "Salt, some dried peppers—"
"Stuff from our supplies?"
"Yes," she said, trying to swallow the short laugh that escaped her throat.
"You ought to do that more often."
"Since you won't let me near the horses, I might as well make myself useful by taking over the cooking duties."
"I was referring to that little laugh, not chores. You have the prettiest smile."
In the midst of turning the corn cakes, Skylar nearly flipped one of the flat, round breads into the fire. She gaped up at Tucker. His eyes were focused on her shoulder.
"Have you changed that bandage since we left the doc's place?"
"Not yet," she said in a clipped tone, wondering if he'd meant to shock her. How could he say such a thing to her and then act as though he'd said nothing?
"Didn't he give you fresh supplies and say to change it every few days or so? If you need help—"
"I don't. And I don't need your pity."
"Pity? I can hardly have pity for someone who's so damn mean and snippy. Do you intend to stab me with that fork?"
Skylar dropped her gaze to the fork she was holding like a dagger. The thought had promise. Having meaningless compliments slung at her felt much like being jabbed with a fork. Realizing she was burning the corn bread, she returned her attention to her task at hand. "Go away, Morgan."
"Why does everything have to be a fight between us?" he asked, staying crouched right beside her. "You're not nearly so short with Chance and Garret."
"They don't hover over me, making me feel helpless and weak." Skylar regretted the words the moment they left her lips, hardly able to believe she'd admitted to feeling weak and helpless. Tucker seemed just as surprised. His wide eyes searched hers.
"Is that how I make you feel, Skylar?"
"No. But that's how you're trying to make me feel."
"The hell I am!"
She gave a huff of disbelief. "Why else would you be treating me like a child?"
"I haven't either! I don't know what type of half-blind men you're used to riding with, but I'm very much aware that you are pure female. I've been treating you like what you are, a woman!"
"I want you to stop."
"Well I'm not going to. Not as long as we're married and you're my responsibility."
"Wrong. I am my own responsibility."
"According to your mind maybe, but not the law."
"Whose law, Tucker?" She looked away, carefully lifting the corn cakes onto a plate. "I don't see any sheriff out here forcing you to hover over me. As far as I'm concerned, that marriage document holds no validity between us." She set the skillet aside as her gaze snapped up to his. Tucker wasn't glaring at her as he should have been. His face inches from hers, his green eyes stared at her mouth.
Skylar recognized the heat in his gaze. Knowing it had nothing to do with anger, Skylar's own mouth suddenly felt dry as a desert floor as butterflies erupted in her stomach. Her breath stilled in her lungs as he leaned toward her.
Oh no.
His breath dusted her hps, sending a wave of fiery sensations crashing through her body. He breathed her name and her eyelids drooped, her thoughts scattering in a rush of anticipation.
/> "Boy, does something smell good," Garret called out from the pines in the distance.
Freed from the spell of Tucker's luminous eyes, Skylar jerked away from him and shifted her gaze back to the fire. Tucker pulled in a deep, ragged breath before he stood.
"You cooked!" Garret exclaimed, running across the small clearing. He skidded to a stop across the fire. For a moment, Skylar thought he was about to burst into tears. "Praise Almighty God," he said, dropping to his knees. "Is it ready? Can we eat now?"
Skylar smiled, loving his eagerness, thankful for the distraction. She could feel Tucker's eyes watching her from a few feet away. "As soon as Chance gets here, we'll eat."
Chance strode into camp a few moments later.
As they all sat around the fire eating their supper, Skylar couldn't look up. Her cheeks blazed every time she glanced at their smiling faces. Smiles that beamed even as they chewed.
No one had ever expressed such appreciation for her cooking. Even Chance had complimented her a good five or six times. Despite her discomfort, Skylar noticed the lack of tension in the atmosphere as they devoured her food.
Finished eating, she stood and carried her plate toward the fire where a kettle of water was being warmed to wash the dishes.
"I'll scrub up the dishes," Garret said, jumping to his feet.
"You don't have to, Garret," Skylar countered, certain Tucker had assigned the chore. "I'm feeling better."
"I want to." Garret dropped his plate into the kettle then banded his long arms around her. "I sure love you, sis," he whispered near her ear.
Stunned by his unexpected burst of affection, it took Skylar a moment to return his embrace. As Garret stepped back, she felt a light nudge in her back and she glanced over her shoulder.
Chance flashed one of his rare grins. "If I give you a hug, will you keep cooking for me, too?"
Skylar laughed out loud, clearly seeing the fear in Chance's expression, that she might require such payment. "Don't worry, Chance, no hugs required. I don't mind cooking with all of you doing the work with the horses."