Cherished (Cutter's Creek Book 9)

by Vivi Holt

  Camilla watched him leave – in an awful hurry, she thought – then turned to pick her way carefully across the snow. She reached the base of the hill, where a group of children were working hard to build a snowman. As she approached, she could hear they were quarreling over which item would make a better nose. “No, that stick looks like a duck’s bill - ya can’t use that,” a girl with red mittens and a matching cap insisted. She stamped her booted foot in the snow. “Everyone’ll think it a snow-duck, not a snow-man.”

  “It does not – it’ll be just fine,” replied a boy, who looked to be her brother and was a foot taller than she.

  “Does too!”

  “Does not.”

  Camilla studied the ground and reached down to select a fine, pointed stick. “Can I help?” she interjected, right as the girl raised her foot to stomp her brother’s boot.

  The girl turned, the frown on her little face disappearing rapidly at the sight of Camilla’s smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How about this – would it work for a nose, do you think?” Camilla held out the stick.

  The girl studied it, a wrinkle of concentration between her blue eyes. “I believe so,” she grinned at Camilla.

  “Wonderful – here you are, then.” A shout behind Camilla made her spin around, just as a trio of children flew by on a sled, stopping when its nose dug into a drift close by.

  She smiled, shifted her gaze back to the top of the hill and saw Clifford climbing onto a sled. He adjusted his seat, then with both hands grabbed the rope hooked around the front of the toboggan . Two boys pushed him with a yell, and he took off down the hill at an alarming pace. He shouted as he went, leaning forward to increase his speed. As he hit the bottom a great cloud of powder filled the air around him, and he flew headfirst into the snowdrift.

  Camilla picked up her skirts and ran to him. He couldn’t have been hurt – the snow was too thick and soft - but as he lay there her heart dropped. Just as she reached him, though, she heard him laughing. His whole body shook, he rolled over to look up at the sky and his eyes caught hers with a twinkle. She couldn’t help joining him in laughter, and reached out a hand. “I suppose it’s my turn to rescue you,” she said as she helped him to his feet.

  “And I’m eternally grateful to you.” He grinned and picked up his hat, still embedded in the drift at his feet. He stood close to her, and she trembled at the spark between them. Her whole body felt as though it was on fire. Her eyes remained fixed on his, and she saw his crinkle at the edges as he watched her.

  She should say something, break the unbearable silence – if only because she was afraid what she might do if one of them didn’t speak soon. She was already resisting the urge to throw her arms around his neck. He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort, his eyes narrowed and his smile widened, but still he didn’t talk.

  Finally she dropped her gaze and linked her hands behind her back. “I’ve barely seen you since … well, since I woke up. I wanted to make sure to thank you for saving me that night. I would have died if you hadn’t found me.”

  He dusted the snow from his hat. “You’re welcome. I’m just glad I found you when I did. Much later and I don’t know …” His voice drifted off and the smile left his face. A muscle in his jaw clenched and he moved closer to her. She stepped back, but he took another step toward her, closing the gap. She looked up into his face again, and her eyes widened. His eyes were intense, he his expression tortured.

  He reached a hand toward her, then dropped it back to his side with a sigh. “Cammie, I …”

  She waited, hoping.

  “I … I’m glad you’re all right.” The muscle in his jaw flexed again, and he nodded at her before turning to leave.

  She watched him stalk away, sighed and rubbed her face with her hands. What had he been trying to tell her? Did he have feelings for her after all? If he did, why didn’t he just say so? What was holding him back? It was almost as though he was fighting within himself over something.

  Sheriff Brentwood was turning out to be an enigma – so many different, contradictory facets, such depth – so much more to him than first impressions would suggest. She shivered, imagining his touch on her skin, his lips on hers. She was falling in love with him, she knew that now. And the knowledge helped her finally make a decision she should have made long ago.

  Winston Frank was a good man, and would likely make someone a good husband. But she didn’t love him, and she couldn’t marry him. Not when Clifford was all she could think about.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When Camilla approached Winston to tell him of her decision, he’d hurriedly explained that he had to leave and would see her later. She’d only been able to say they needed to talk – he promised to return to town that afternoon to speak with her, but there was something urgent he had to attend to back at his ranch.

  She’d nodded and watched him leave, relief in her heart. She wasn’t looking forward to their conversation and postponing it, even for a few hours, felt like a reprieve. She regretted letting their relationship continue as long as she had, but how could she have known she didn’t love him? She’d never been in love before. It wasn’t until her feelings for Clifford had grown that she’d realized how love felt, and that she didn’t feel that for Winston.

  Besides, it didn’t look like she was Winston’s top priority either.

  She helped Mary and Charlotte pack their things in the wagon to leave. They couldn’t stay longer, since Lady Cheryl and Lord Edward had stayed home, and Charlotte didn’t want to leave them alone too long. Her mother’s health was deteriorating rapidly – it was only a matter of time until she passed. The thought made Camilla’s throat ache with grief, and she pressed her fingers to her eyes.

  “Is everything alright?”

  It was Clifford. He walked over to where she stood by the wagon. They were hidden from the group by sleighs and wagons, and he stepped close to her and brushed his hand against her cheek. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, and her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment.

  “Cammie, I wanted to tell you something earlier. I’m sorry I held back – it’s just that I lost someone a long time ago, and I’ve tried to guard my heart ever since.”

  She gazed at his face, her eyes traveling over his bare head, the bold blue of his eyes, the angular cheeks and full lips.

  He cleared his throat and laid his hat on the wagon seat beside her. “I love you.”

  Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open in surprise. She’d been expecting him to say he wanted to court her or get to know her better, perhaps that he cared for her. But to say that he loved her – that was unforeseen. “Oh!” was all she could think to say.

  He arched an eyebrow, watching her closely, then stepped closer and lifted both hands to cup her face. “Oh?” he said with a smile. “Anything else you’d like to add?”

  She smirked and narrowed her eyes. “It’s about time.”

  He threw his head back and laughed out loud before tilting her face to meet his. “Yes, it is,” he whispered against her lips. Then he kissed her.

  She closed her eyes and melted into the moment, the bliss of his hands tenderly caressing her face, the warmth of his lips as they explored hers. A spasm of pleasure rushed through her body, making her legs tremble as he deepened the kiss.

  She hadn’t spoken to Winston yet, and a sudden pang of guilt swept through her. She couldn’t start a new relationship until she’d ended her current one, could she? It was only fair to Winston that she release him before she moved on. She pulled away with great reluctance, running her fingertips over his lips and chewing on her own bottom lip.

  “What is it?” he asked, his cheeks flushed and his eyes swimming with desire.

  “I have to speak with Winston first. I’m sorry.”

  He smiled and linked his arms around her waist, pulling her close with a look of mischief on his face. “So you’re going to end things with him?”

  “Yes,” she laughed as he aimed for
another kiss. She skillfully dodged it and looked up at him from under half-lidded eyes. “Clifford!”

  He chuckled and released her with a bow. “Please hurry, so I can kiss you without interruption.”

  “Well, I’m not sure that’d be entirely proper …” Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she couldn’t think clearly, not with him still standing so close to her. His muscular arms hung by his sides now, and she wished they were around her waist again, his firm body pressed against hers.

  “Proper or not, I look forward to doing that again,” he whispered, leaning in close to look deep into her eyes. She trembled, feeling as though her legs might give way beneath her if she didn’t leave now.

  “Cammie, are you ready to go?” Charlotte’s voice broke through their reverie, and they stepped apart quickly. Charlotte was holding Anna beneath some blankets at her chest. Only the cherub’s face showed, her eyes firmly shut as she slept in the warmth of her mother’s embrace.

  “Yes, I’m ready. Thank you, Sheriff – good to see you again.” She dipped her head.

  He grabbed his hat from the wagon seat and put it onto his head with a grin and a nod to Charlotte. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you soon.” He shot her a knowing glance and strode back down to rejoin the sledding party.

  Charlotte watched him leave and turned to face Cammie, one eyebrow cocked. “What was that?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t ‘what’ me. The two of you were standing awfully close together when I arrived just now.” She grinned and tugged playfully at Cammie’s woolen shawl. “Come now, sister, you must tell – are you in love with the good sheriff? I must say, he’s very manly. I told you long ago when we sat on the porch together that manliness was a good quality to find in a beau, didn’t I?”

  Camilla felt herself blush under Charlotte’s gaze and smiled despite herself. “Yes, you did.”

  “And he rescued you. That’s very romantic, and a most attractive quality in a man.”

  Camilla nodded.

  “So? I’m an old matron now – you have to let me live vicariously through you. Tell me everything!”

  “He’s wonderful. And warm and kind and very attractive, obviously. But he’s also thoughtful, and intelligent … oh, just about everything I could want. But I can’t think clearly when I’m around him – I turn into a mute fool half the time, and tingle from head to toe.”

  Charlotte sighed and patted Camilla’s arm. “Yes, that sounds about right. You’re in love. I’m so happy for you, my dear.”

  “In love? Do you think so?”

  “It sounds very much like it. So what are you going to do about Winston? I’m assuming you don’t feel the same way about him – for if you do, then you’re in real trouble.”

  “No, I don’t feel that way about Winston, and I don’t know that I ever did. He’s good as well, and would make a fine husband and father. I can’t criticize anything about him, other than perhaps his temper – he did leave me alone in the woods at dusk. I’m going to talk to him when he comes callin’ this afternoon. I meant to speak to him here, but he had to rush home.”

  “Well, it will be difficult, but it’s all for the best. Let’s get home so you can prepare yourself. Mother will love to hear all about it as well.”

  “Must we tell people?” asked Camilla, feeling a little embarrassed to share such new and personal feelings so quickly.

  Charlotte’s face fell. “I don’t know how much more time she has. Any little piece of news cheers her so, and I do want to share any joy I can with her.”

  Camilla wrapped her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. “Oh, Charlotte, I’m so sorry. Of course we can tell her. Let’s go, shall we?” They climbed into the wagon, soon joined by Harry, Mary and Johnny, and set off for home. Camilla’s mind was full of Winston and how he might react, Clifford’s face and the heated kiss they’d shared, and the excitement of a future unknown but now full of possibility.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Winston, wait! Please stop – just listen to me! Come back!” Camilla ran after him as he stormed from the house, the door closing with a thud behind him. She opened it and followed him out into the yard.

  Winston was already mounting his black gelding. “Out of my way, woman!” he cried, charging forward.

  She stood her ground. “Calm down, please. Where are you goin’ in such a hurry? Let’s talk about this.”

  “What is there to say?” His eyes bored holes in her, and his face was flaming.

  “Let’s talk –”

  “ I have nothing I wish to discuss with you. And there‘s someone else I need to see.” He wheeled the horse around her and galloped down the hill toward town.

  Camilla sighed and ran her hands through her hair. That couldn’t have gone much worse. She’d been nervous to speak with him, and apparently with good reason. They’d sat together on the loveseat in the living room and he’d taken her hands, a look of affection on his face. But as soon as he’d heard that she didn’t intend to marry him, he’d dropped her hands and jumped to his feet with a cry: “It’s him, isn’t it? I knew it! You’re in love with the dadblasted sheriff!”

  Taken by surprise, she wasn’t sure how to react or what to say. “Winston, I’m sorry, truly I am. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I only recently learned what was in my own heart. I don’t know why it took me so long. I wasn’t being dishonest, I assure you.”

  “Is that so? Well, I’m sure you had help coming to that conclusion!”

  Camilla hurried inside the house to find Charlotte. She had to tell her what had happened. She hoped he wouldn’t do anything foolish. Why did he have such a temper? What if he intended to harm Clifford? Well, she imagined Clifford could take care of himself after years of hunting down and capturing criminals, but she hoped Winston didn’t get in trouble over her.

  ***

  Clifford stroked Tilly’s neck and fed her another turnip. “How’s it going, girl? Want to take a ride?” She crunched the turnip between her teeth and sniffed his pockets in search of another. He chuckled. “No more for now, my dear.” Her gray coat shone where he’d brushed it, and he ran his hand over her back before arranging the saddle rug there. He lifted the saddle onto it and tightened the girth with a grunt.

  Once again, his mind returned to Camilla and the kiss they’d shared beside the wagon earlier that day, the feel of her slender form pressed against his, her supple lips as they responded to him, the sparkle in her eyes … he shook his head. What a wonder, that she returned his feelings. He couldn’t have imagined that she felt the same way he did. He’d been so certain she’d be engaged to Winston when he returned from Bozeman.

  Then, the night he’d found her beside the road, half frozen and near death, he’d made a decision to keep his distance. After all, he’d seen the look on Winston’s face when he brought her back to the house. Winston was in love, any fool could see it. He could only assume she felt the same way. There would be no room for him in her heart – it belonged to another.

  But when she’d helped him from the pile of snow this morning, the look in her eyes had given her away, and his heart had jumped in his chest at her touch, her smile, her flirtations. He smiled, remembering their exchange. He’d tried to tell her how he felt right then, but couldn’t find the words. She was so beautiful, it took his breath away. When he looked at her, his mind became vacant. Instead, he’d walked away, cursing himself for his cowardice.

  Later, he’d seen her walking to the wagons alone and jumped at the second chance to finally bare his heart. He knew that in all likelihood she’d turn him away. But he had to take the chance. Nothing in his life had changed since Marlene’s death – it was still a dangerous world to bring a family into. But he knew now that he couldn’t continue to live alone and afraid. He had to open his heart to someone, or he’d go mad with loneliness. The thrill of hunting down outlaws was no longer enough for him. He wanted a family and a home of his own. And he wanted it all with Camilla.

 
When she’d returned his kiss, it sent his heart soaring. And when she admitted she wanted to speak with Winston before they continued, he finally knew she cared for him. She would end things with Winston, and they could be together. He could hardly wait. He led Tilly from the stable into the yard and gathered up the reins to mount her.

  The clattering of hooves on the road caught his ear, and he looked up to see who would be galloping through town at such a headlong pace. Winston Frank’s black gelding jolted to a stop in front of the sheriff’s office.

  Uh-oh. Clifford flicked Tilly’s reins around a hitching post, and walked toward him. “Everything okay there, Winston?” he asked, one eyebrow arched.

  Winston leaped from the horse’s back without a word, strode over and punched him in the jaw, taking him by surprise. A second punch connected with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He stepped backward and lifted his arms to block the next. “Whoa, whoa – what’s going on?” he cried as he attempted to fill his lungs with air. Though he could probably guess. He caught the next jab with one hand and twisted Winston’s arm around behind his back.

  That elicited a shout of pain from the man. “Stop!”

  “I didn’t start it.” Clifford reached for Winston’s other hand, yanked it behind his back as well, and slipped his handcuffs around the other man’s wrists, pushing him toward his office. Once they were inside, he pushed a chair toward Winston. “Take a seat.”

  Winston’s face was red and his eyes dark. He sat down with a huff, and lowered his head to stare at the ground in front of him.

  “Now, tell me what’s going on?” asked Clifford, his voice solemn. “Unless you’d rather I just arrest you for assaulting an officer of the law.”

  “You! It’s all your fault. She says she won’t marry me, and it’s all because of you, I know it is!”

  Clifford felt his heart leap with joy in his chest. She’d said she would end things with Winston, but he hadn’t been certain she would. If he was honest, he thought that perhaps she’d see Winston and change her mind. He was, after all, a better match for her on paper: a rancher that everyone around town said would make a fortune someday, a handsome man, a regular at Bible study, well-liked by all of Cutter’s Creek. He wasn’t a loner who barely spoke unless spoken to. He didn’t chase down outlaws for a living. He suited her. But she’d chosen Clifford.