Anything for You

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “You should have.”

  “You could tell me to pack my turkey sack and leave. Glenmark wouldn’t force you to keep me in the cookhouse.”

  “I could,” she agreed quietly. “Perhaps I should.”

  “But you intend to make my life miserable.”

  Gypsy smiled coldly. “How perceptive of you, Adam! You’ve been slacking.”

  “Slacking? Woman, if you had any idea what—” He glowered at the oxen.

  “You’ve learned why my cookhouse has the best reputation in the north woods. It comes from hard work. I won’t have slackers and troublemakers in my kitchen.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone who works as hard as you do and makes it look so easy. The first time you were halfway across the kitchen and told someone to stir a pot because it was burning, I thought you were showing off.”

  “I was serious.”

  He smiled. “I’m simply in awe of your skills.”

  Sharply, she retorted, “Mr. Glenmark is in awe of exactly the same skills.”

  “All right,” he said as he held up his hands in surrender. “You’d just better be careful. Others could get the same idea I did and not be so easily talked out of it.”

  “If I wanted to have an affair with him, it’s no one’s business.”

  Adam watched the side of the road to be sure a log was not sliding toward the river. “I would hope I had a voice in the matter, but if you want Glenmark, you certainly wouldn’t be doing anything wrong. With his wife’s accident several months ago—”

  “Accident! What are you talking about?”

  He drew back on the reins and stopped the sled. “You and Glenmark seem to be good friends, so I thought you’d know.”

  She gripped his sleeve and gasped, “Tell me! What happened to Sylvia?”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed as she stared up at him, fear blanching her face. Her dismay proved what he had suspected. Colonel Glenmark and Gypsy were not just employer and employee. Until his inadvertent intrusion, there had been no gossip among the lumberjacks about any indiscretions between the kingbee cook and the owner of the company. With all the chatter about Farley and Rose, he knew the jacks would discuss Gypsy’s romance with Glenmark eagerly. It must be something else that linked them. All the answers were in front of him, but he could not put them together.

  Quietly he asked, “You know Sylvia Glenmark?”

  “I’ve been working for Mr. Glenmark for several years,” she answered in a tranquil voice he was sure was fake. “It’s been convenient for me to meet him in his office in Lansing before the camp opens. As his office is in his home, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting his wife then.”

  “I heard Sylvia Wilkins Glenmark was a remarkable woman.”

  “Was?” she gasped as she gripped his sleeve again. “Adam, what happened to her?”

  “A carriage accident. An axle broke, and the carriage tumbled into a stand of trees.”

  “How is she?”

  “She’s confined to bed, unable to walk.”

  “Oh, my!”

  “She’s lucky to be alive, Gypsy.” He plucked her hand off his sleeve and curled it between his. “I guess that’s good news.”

  Her brows lowered. “Trite phrases don’t ease the sorrow of friends.”

  “Friends? I wasn’t under the impression you were that friendly with the Glenmarks.”

  Gypsy reprimanded herself. She must never forget how important it was to guard every word. “If you prefer the term ‘acquaintance,’ I can use that.”

  “That’s not necessary.” He shifted on the hard seat. “I didn’t plan on starting an argument just because I commented on the fact Glenmark clearly appreciates your talents.”

  As he drove the sled along the road again, she said, “Mr. Glenmark knows good cooking keeps jacks in a camp.”

  “You can call him Daniel like you did when you thought no one else was listening.”

  “He’s my employer and deserves respect.”

  Slipping his arm around her, he brought her to face him. “Leave off, Gypsy! Who are you trying to fool?”

  “Adam, please don’t pry into things which are better left alone.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I asked you to. Isn’t that good enough?”

  He drew back on the reins to slow them in front of the stable just as snow began falling again. With a nod to the man by the door, he tossed the reins onto the uncomfortable seat. He jumped down and held his hands up to Gypsy.

  Wanting to refuse his help, she could not keep her fingers from reaching for his. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to be touched. Even so, as soon as her feet settled into the crunching snow, she pulled away, grabbed an empty food box, and walked toward the cook shack.

  Adam took her hand and placed it on his arm. He waited until they were out of earshot from the stable before he whispered, “Maybe being asked to leave well enough alone would be reasonable from other people, but not from the woman I love. How can I protect you when you won’t be honest with me?”

  “You love me?”

  The irony returned to his laugh. “Haven’t I told you in a hundred ways?”

  The cold wind swirling the snow around them disappeared as she was warmed by the fire glowing in his eyes. “You’ve told me with your kisses, but you’ve never spoken of love.”

  “I shouldn’t now.”

  His arms swept her against him as he captured her lips. The box fell into the snow, forgotten. Refusing to be denied any pleasure, he explored her mouth. Slowly, savoring each stroke of his lips, she let him prove how true his words were. So many nights had passed while she yearned for him to hold her exactly like this. As her fingers relearned his burly back, she shivered at the sensual dance of his tongue against hers.

  “When I saw Glenmark with you, Gypsy, I knew I couldn’t remain silent any longer.” His fingers brushed wisps of hair back from her face. “You’d be smart to get involved with Glenmark. The life he could give you would be luxurious.”

  “Are you trying to convince me to have an affair with a man I could never love as I love you?” With a soft laugh, she said, “I would love an elegant home with floors that are warm in the morning and servants bringing me breakfast long after sunrise. Yet I love the freshness of these forest dawns and the enthusiasm of the jacks.”

  “I can’t stay here forever.”

  Her happiness faded. Once she discovered he was working for Daniel, she had known when Adam got what he’d been sent to find he would leave. In a strangled voice, she whispered, “I understand.”

  “You could come with me.”

  “No.”

  “If you’d let me help you …”

  She smiled ruefully. “If I thought you could, I wouldn’t hesitate to ask, even if you are a pigheaded, jealous, lovesick fool.”

  “Thanks … I guess.” He stroked her shoulder as he put his arm around her. When she leaned her head against him, he mused, “It’s a step in the right direction. If you trust me, trust me to keep you safe.”

  “Safe? How?”

  “Leave with Glenmark. Don’t say anything to anyone else. Just go.”

  “But the jacks—”

  “Will have to get by with the flunkeys’ cooking.” He tilted her lips beneath his. “Trust me, honey. I’m going to do anything I must to keep you alive, even if it means I have to cart you out of the north woods over my shoulder.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  His eyes twinkled as he whispered, “Trust me, honey, I will.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The wind howled against the glass. Snow blew beneath the door in the dining room, gathering like small mounds of salt in the corners of the room. Cracking branches struck the logs, and the snow scratched to get inside.

  Gypsy stepped back as another gust shook the whole building. Spring should be here. Instead, the worst blizzard of the winter imprisoned her in her cookhouse. Only a few of the jacks had come for supper. The rest had not wanted to risk getting lost
in the storm.

  Picking up a sugar bowl that had been overlooked, she went into the kitchen. She gripped the door as the cook shack shuddered again.

  “Did you order this?” Adam asked from by the stove. He shoved another log into the fire.

  “I ordered spring.”

  He chuckled. “I thought you might have wanted to put off leaving for a few more days.”

  The long sleeves of her wrapper dropped back on her arms as she put the sugar bowl on the shelf next to the others. “Spring’s arriving would solve a lot of problems.”

  Going to her room, she added more wood to the smaller stove. She looked up anxiously as the wind screeched under the eaves. If this kept up, the whole roof might be stripped off.

  “The stove’s set for a few hours, Gypsy.”

  She turned to see Adam standing in the doorway. Her wrapper rustled behind her as she walked toward him. She laughed as she noticed his shirttails were hanging out of his denims and his bootlaces were slapping the floor. “I didn’t think you had the stove watch tonight.”

  “I didn’t.” He smiled. Shutting the door, he took her hands. “Per hinted it would be a good idea if we switched nights. The funny thing was I intended to suggest exactly the same thing to him.”

  Drawing his hands around her waist, she whispered, “He’s a dear friend. From the day I started working here, he’s been determined to make sure I’m all right.”

  “He’s given me that task for what should have been your last night here.” His gaze moved along her face in a gentle caress. “I think Per wants you to be happy again.”

  “He knows you make me happy.”

  “He knows I love you.” His fingers combed through her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders in a rust shadow.

  Closing her eyes to relish his touch, she swept her hands up his sturdy arms. He pulled her to him. Through her nightclothes, she sensed every hard angle of his body. His mouth found hers with the memory of the few nights of sweet love they had shared. She laughed when he lifted her into his arms as if she were as light as an empty barrel.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, laving her neck with fire.

  She loosened the buttons on his shirt. “It’s amazing that we can be arguing one minute and loving the next.”

  “And undoubtedly arguing the minute after that.” Placing her on the bed, he leaned over her as he kicked off his boots. He nuzzled her neck until she giggled. The bed squeaked softly when he rested next to her and slipped his arm under her shoulders. “In a few weeks, we’ll both be out of here. I think you and I should pay a call on the nicest hotel in Saratoga.”

  Chuckling, she stroked the strength of his chest. She fought to keep the teasing sound in her voice, because she could not let him know the truth. Once she left this camp, she must never see him again. That might be the only way to protect him from the curse surrounding her.

  “Saratoga?” she asked. “If I knew you’d choose the place I joked about, I would have said I summer in Paris.”

  “Paris is beyond this cookee’s budget, but how would you like to show some snooty folks how to have a good time? Saratoga or Newport or anywhere you’d like.” He tapped her nose. “Within reason. You and me and a private hotel room where we can sleep until noon and make love all afternoon.”

  “With our meals cooked by someone else? Or do you want me to cook your favorite beef stew?”

  He loosened her sash. As his fingers flowed along her nightgown, his eyes burned with yearning. “The only thing I want is you.”

  As he tasted the longing on her lips, her legs stroked his. She ran her fingers beneath his loosened shirt and explored his back. The open shirt gaped to tease her skin with the caress of his while he undid the buttons along her high collar.

  Breathless, she matched his fiery kisses. When he bent to place gentle nibbles along her neck, she circled his ear with the tip of her tongue. She smiled as his hands tightened on her while his breath scorched her with its swift fire. She pressed on his shoulders to lean him back into the pillows, but he shook his head and eased off the mattress.

  “The bed is too cramped, honey.” He held out his hand as he knelt on the rag rug. “Come here.”

  When she sat beside him, he leaned her across his lap. The keening of the storm vanished as his hand swept along her side, settling on her hip.

  Meeting him mouth to mouth, she sighed with a longing that refused to be silenced.

  As he sprinkled kisses across her face, she slid his shirt down his arms. The motion of his body against hers as he slipped off the sleeves sent fierce shivers of yearning to the very tips of her toes. Wanting to touch all of him, she pushed him back onto the rug. He grinned rakishly as he pulled her atop him.

  His fingers twisted through her hair to hold her lips over his. As his tongue probed deep into her mouth, he drew off her wrapper and tossed it on the bed. With a laugh, he twisted out from beneath her and rolled her onto her back.

  He bent to press his mouth against her breast. Gasping out his name in desperate need, she clenched her hands on his back as his tongue made a blistering exploration. Taunting and tempting, it fired a tempest within her. Even as he lured the tip of her breast into his mouth to surround her with rapture, he pushed her nightclothes aside. Her fingers inched to the waistband of his denims.

  Caught up in the turbulence of passion, she was lost in quivering heat. It pulsed with each breath, growing stronger as she pushed his trousers along his sturdy legs. His frayed breath seared her skin.

  When she leaned over him, she teased the rough skin along his neck. His moans swirled through her with the power of a twister. She enticed him to the very pinnacle of pleasure with the touch of her lips and her fingers’ light caress.

  Clamping his arms around her, he captured her lips, not letting her escape even when his breath burned swiftly into her mouth. Powerful passion erupted through her as their bodies merged into one. She was consumed by the sensations cascading from her through him and back to entwine them. Whirled out of herself, she fell into an eddy of ecstasy where the only sound was his gasp of rapture in the moment before she was lost in the very essence of their love.

  Gypsy woke to the grotesque shadows sprayed on the wall. The room was all wrong. When she heard rumbling snores next to her ear, she smiled and rose to look down into Adam’s face, which was smoothed with sleep. She rubbed her elbow. It was uncomfortable sleeping on the floor, although she had not noticed the discomfort of the pine boards while they were making love here.

  “I love you,” she whispered and kissed him softly.

  He murmured something in his sleep and shifted to reach for her. Smiling when she discovered that she remained in his dreams as he was a part of hers every night, she stood and pulled on her wrapper. As long as she was awake, she would stoke the firebox. Later he could wake and spend the time he would have used for that job to delight her again. She wanted to savor every moment, storing away each precious sensation for the time when she had only memories for company.

  The floor was frigid beneath her bare feet as she tiptoed across the room. She was cautious not to slide her feet, because she did not want to get a splinter. She ran her fingers along the kitchen wall to guide her to where the stove glowed.

  A man-sized shadow moved behind the stove. Was it real or a trick of the dim light? Someone was lurking there in the darkness. The intruder seemed to know his way about her kitchen. She hoped he would take whatever he wanted and leave right away.

  She edged backward. The silhouette exploded toward her. A hand clamped over her mouth. A flannel-covered arm pulled her against a wide body. The sound of his fear was loud in his rapid breathing. Something cold and sharp pressed against her throat. A knife! She moaned against his palm, which was covered with icy sweat.

  “No! Not you!”

  Her eyes widened in horror. This was not the same man who had attacked her in the woods. This man’s voice was deeper.

  The knife quaked.

  “Pl
ease let me go,” she whispered, although her words were muffled by his hand.

  He mumbled something. As the knife lowered from her throat, she dared to take a deeper breath.

  “Stay right here,” he whispered.

  She nodded. To save her life and Adam’s, she would do almost anything.

  “Don’t turn around.”

  “I won’t,” she murmured as he drew his hand away.

  “Count to twenty. Then go back to bed.”

  “I will.”

  “Slowly. Count slowly.” Fear quivered in his aged voice.

  “I understand. I—” She gasped when a sound came from the bedroom.

  No, Adam! Stay away! Please!

  Light spilled into the kitchen as her bedroom lantern was lit. A curse was spat in her ear, but the sound vanished as she shrieked in pain.

  She stared at the bloody incision across her left arm. The knife clattered to the floor. The door crashed against the wall, and the man fled.

  Her knees buckled as agony seared up her arm. Nothing had ever hurt like this. Her arm was on fire even as her fingers became numb beneath the black river of blood flowing over them. She heard a moan and an oath. Had she spoken? Or was it someone else? She could not guess.

  Arms appeared out of the darkness and caught her. She collapsed against Adam, leaning her face against his bare chest.

  “Gypsy, what is it?”

  Slowly she raised her left hand. Blood glistened on her lacerated arm and surged across her arched fingers. She wanted to tell him what had happened, but could not.

  His arm around her moved, flapping his unbuttoned shirt against her injured arm. Pain swept her at the inadvertent touch.

  “Sit, honey.”

  “Adam …”

  “Sit.”

  She folded up onto the hard plank, struggling not to faint. She moaned when he stepped away from her. She needed him. Without him …

  When he caught her face between his hands, she watched his mouth move and struggled to concentrate on what he was saying. Somehow she managed to understand, “Where are your medical supplies, Gypsy?”

  “I … I …”