Joseph limped toward Sophie and sank to his knees in front of her. He swiped at her tears with his thumbs. His palms lingered against her cheeks. Her skin was as cold as fresh snow in winter. A strong urge to kiss her again seared his insides. Joseph refused to contemplate his reaction to her. He had to stop this nonsense thinking. She was as soft and delicate as a spring flower, and not suited for a life in his mountains. After she’d get a taste of winter in the Tetons, she would hightail it back to Boston as soon as the passes cleared next spring. He’d told himself repeatedly that he wouldn’t care for another woman who would only trample all over his heart when she returned to her former existence.
“Princess, you need to get out of these wet clothes,” he said slowly, his eyes on her. What sort of a reaction would his comment receive? “You’ll be a frozen icycle otherwise.” He held out his dry shirt. “You can put this on while your things dry out.”
She stared blankly at him for a moment, then nodded in compliance. Barely above a whisper, she said, “I’ll need help with the buttons at the back of my dress, and . . . and to loosen my corset.”
“Yeah. Of course,” he replied, and cleared his throat. Under different circumstances her request would have been far more enticing. With the memory of her kiss fresh on his mind, Joseph ground his teeth.
Dammit! Stop thinking about that.
He scooted around her, grimacing at the pain in his side, and lifted his hands to her back. Her shivers continued while he worked the many buttons down the back of her dress. Her bronze skin contrasted sharply with her white undergarments when he parted the bodice.
Joseph had never seen a corset on a woman before, much less tried to remove one. He’d heard of the things and seen them displayed at the St. Louis dry goods stores, and always thought of them as an oddity.
“How do I . . . ah . . . remove this?” he asked, tentatively touching the stiff material.
“Just loosen the laces around the eyelets. I’ll be able to remove it myself once it’s not so tight,” Sophie answered listlessly.
Joseph quickly worked the lacings loose, searching for the right words to help her cope with her grief. He couldn’t think of anything to say at the moment that would ease her pain. In time, the loss would become more bearable.
When he was done, he quickly moved away from her. She’d have to do the rest of the undressing herself. His heart beat furiously in his chest, and despite the chill in the air seeping through his damp shirt, sweat beaded his forehead. Joseph cursed silently. The more he denied his attraction to her, the more his mind and body fought against him.
“You’ll find a private spot behind those shrubs over there,” he said, pointing to where Caleb had come from. He stood above her and held out his arm. Sophie glanced up at him, then placed her hand in his, and he pulled her up off the ground.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and offered a soft smile. Joseph swallowed, and nodded. Lowering her head, she clutched her hands to her chest to hold her dress up, and scurried behind the bushes.
Joseph followed her hasty retreat with hungry eyes. When she disappeared from view, he turned and ran a hand through his hair. He had anticipated an argument that she’d refuse to undress. Her willingness to cooperate was most surprising and it sure as hell didn’t help curb his attraction to her.
Thankfully, Caleb returned with an armful of twigs and branches at that moment, which he dropped at his feet.
“Can you pile up some kindling? Then we can get this fire started,” Joseph said, glad for the diversion the boy provided. Showing Caleb how to strike his flint against the sharp edge of his hunting knife, Joseph instructed him in how to start a campfire. When a sizeable blaze roared to life, he unbuckled his belt from around his waist.
“Are you a mountain man?” Caleb asked, staring wide-eyed at the tomahawk and small pouches dangling from the belt Joseph set down next to him.
“Some people would call me that,” he said. He pulled his shirt up and over his head, grimacing at the pain to his injured side. Glancing down, the area above his hip looked red and angry, and blood still trickled from a deep gash in the center. He spread his wet shirt in the grass close to the fire. He’d take a closer look at the wound later.
“Keep the fire going, Caleb. I’m gonna go see if I can find us something to eat.”
The boy stared at the injury, alarm registering on his face, but he didn’t say anything.
“Maybe you should get out of your wet shirt, too, before you catch cold,” Joseph suggested, reaching for his knife and tomahawk.
“I’m all right,” Caleb said quickly.
“Suit yourself.” Joseph shrugged, searching the boy’s face. Sooner or later, he was going to find out what the boy was hiding. He looked up, scanning the area to see where he might scare up a bird or some other small animal, when movement across the river caught his eye. A rider sat on a big dun horse, staring intently upriver. Debris from the steamboat accident continued to flow past. Joseph wondered how many people had survived and managed to reach dry land. He and Sophie had been swept quite a ways downriver. The man stared across the water directly at him, then yanked his horse’s head around and disappeared from view.
****
Sophia huddled behind a screen of green shrubs and vines, and listened to Joseph’s deep voice as he instructed Caleb on how to build a fire. She clutched Joseph’s shirt tightly in her hands. Holding it up to her face, she inhaled deeply of the scent she recognized on him. A combination of leather and wood smoke, more masculine than any cologne the fine gentlemen of Boston doused themselves in.
“I’m so sorry, Lucy,” she whispered as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. How could she think about Joseph at a time like this? She had just lost one of the two people in her life who loved her unconditionally; who didn’t judge her based on the color of her skin.
A slight breeze rustled the leaves in the shrubs behind her, and her shivering intensified. Sophia hung the shirt from a branch, and wriggled her arms out of the sleeves of her dress. The feeling of Joseph’s hands on her back lingered, just as her lips tingled from the memory of his kiss.
What on earth had possessed her to kiss him? Why had she thrown herself at him? She’d never done anything so brazen before in her entire life. The grief and shock over losing Lucy had left her dazed. Struggling to stay alive, to keep from drowning, had been terrifying. Joseph had been her life preserver. He’d put himself at risk in that river to save her, just as he’d defended her honor first in front of Andrew and then his father. At that moment when she flung her arms around him, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to have him hold and protect her, and forget about her grief and fear.
Joseph’s kiss had been nothing like Andrew’s. When Joseph wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, her entire body had come alive in a rush of sensations she didn’t know existed. Strong and intense, yet gentle and undemanding at the same time, his kiss left her wanting more rather than feeling repulsed and frightened. For a moment, she’d felt cherished, even loved.
Just because you are infatuated with him doesn’t mean he returns your feelings. You know nothing about him. But, then why did he kiss you the way he did?
A completely different chill shook her that had nothing to do with the cold. Sophia sniffled, then wiped her nose on the sleeve of her dress. It was ruined already anyway. She struggled to pull the wet garment up and over her head. Why couldn’t she have worn a dress that had a separate skirt and bodice? This blue evening dress had always been one of her favorites. It complemented her dark hair and skin, and she had worn it specifically with the intent to see Joseph. A cold blast of air hit the bare skin on her arms when she finally managed to wrestle free of the dress. She hastily stepped out of the crinoline, and removed her corset. Once she shed the four layers of petticoats, she stood shivering in only her pantalets and chemise.
She eyed the shirt hanging on the tree branch. Joseph surely hadn’t meant for her to remove all of her clothes. The lig
ht cotton of her unmentionables would dry quick enough, even if she wore them. She was not going to strip down all the way to her birthday suit. With a shaky hand, she reached for Joseph’s shirt and pulled it on over her head. The material reached well past her hips and thighs, and she had to roll up the sleeves to free her hands. Still cold, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms and glanced at the yards and yards of material strewn on the ground around her. It reminded her of a caterpillar shedding its cocoon to begin a new life as a butterfly.
The thought startled her. Wasn’t that what she was doing? Starting a new life? Sophia tentatively reached a hand to her head. Without a mirror, she could only guess at her appearance. Her hair certainly wasn’t perfectly coiffed and styled as it had been a few hours ago. Working her fingers through her hair, she pulled out one pin after the other, until her wet locks tumbled freely down her back. Starting today, she would be the butterfly. No more confining clothes and pins that poked her scalp. She was truly in the wilderness now.
Sophia worked her fingers through the snarls in her hair. Was there a way to make Joseph Walker see her in a different light, and not as the white woman he accused her of being? A woman he could possibly fall in love with? Something told her that he wouldn’t want some weak-minded girl who couldn’t take care of herself. What would have happened had her parents lived? No doubt she would have been raised in the wilderness, and known nothing of the life of luxury and extravagance in which she was brought up. Would she have known Joseph all her life? Would they have been friends? Perhaps more?
Sophia laughed softly despite the crippling pain of loss in her heart. In Boston, people judged her because of her Indian bloodlines. Joseph seemed to favor Indians, the way he spoke of them. He disliked her for her white blood. Would she ever fit in somewhere, where her skin and mixed parentage wouldn’t matter?
She wrapped her arms around her middle. It had been her decision to come west. Lucy had been adamant that Sophia would return to Boston. She peered through the branches at the man squatting by the fire. It couldn’t have been mere coincidence that Joseph showed up on her father’s doorstep on the eve of her engagement. Boston was not where her future lie, she was convinced of that.
Sophia savored the feel of the dry shirt, even though her chemise underneath was still damp. She continued to stare through the shrubs. Joseph had gone off into the woods a short while ago and returned minutes later. Now he was talking to the little boy, making him feel like an equal.
Joseph Walker was a beautiful man. The chorded muscles along his arms, and the chiseled outlines along his back made her heart race faster. His dark hair fell well past his shoulders down his back. Although white, his skin tone was much darker than the gentlemen in Boston. He obviously spent much time in the sun without a shirt. She raked her teeth over her bottom lip. Her fingers tingled. She wanted to touch him, and feel his hands on her. Never before had she felt this deep need and desire to be held by a man.
She lingered behind the bushes for many more minutes, nervous about her state of undress. Eating breakfast in her father’s dining room, dressed only in a morning gown in the presence of company seemed almost laughable now. She felt naked, exposed, and she shivered, but until her clothes dried, she couldn’t hide behind that bush all night.
The soft earth and grasses tickled her bare feet. It was an odd yet liberating feeling. All her life, she’d strained against the confines Boston society imposed on her, the desire to rebel never far away. Out of respect and love for her father, and a burning need to be accepted, she became a demure and quiet woman in the public eye. Lucy was the only person to whom she voiced her opinions, and even then only behind the closed doors of her bedchamber. She had listened like an indulgent mother to Sophia’s rants, but made sure to remind her daily not to embarrass her father in public. Lucy would have been appalled at her current state of undress, even if it meant freezing to death in her wet clothes.
Sophia’s stomach grumbled in response to the smells of the meat roasting over the fire. Lucy’s voice echoed in her ear, reminding her how a proper lady should behave. She could see her beloved maid’s steely eyes of disapproval glaring at her.
“I’m sorry, Lucy,” Sophia mumbled. She inhaled a deep breath for courage, and stepped out from behind the bush. She glanced back at her clothes on the ground. It was time to set the butterfly free.
Chapter Ten
The moment she stepped into view, Joseph’s head turned in her direction. Sophia’s heart leapt to her throat after it seemed to have stopped beating for a split-second. The smoldering look in his eyes nearly sent her scurrying back behind the bushes. Nearly, but not quite.
Sophia raised her chin and shook some hair out of her face. Joseph’s open appraisal of her sent a rush of heat through her like no warm fire ever could. His eyes roamed over her, slowly, from top to bottom. The undeniable look of admiration gave her courage, and she stepped toward the makeshift camp. She followed his example, and allowed her eyes to linger on his chest. If he could openly stare, then so could she.
“Miss Sophie, come and see what Joseph caught.” Caleb sprung from his place next to Joseph, and ran toward her. “Joseph’s a real mountain man. He killed two birds quicker than anyone could spit.”
Sophia forced her attention to the child, and smiled at his exuberance. “Is that right?” she asked.
“You have to come sit by the fire to get warmed up, Miss Sophie. Joseph said you’d catch cold otherwise.” The little boy slipped his small hand in hers, and tears pooled in her eyes in response to the gesture. Just as she had done with Joseph earlier, this poor child was reaching out to someone, needing to feel close to another person. How much had he lost in his short life?
Eagerly, he pulled her toward the flames. Sophia hastily swiped her hand across her face, and sniffled.
“A warm fire sounds real nice,” she said quietly. She longed for a hot bath, but the fire would have to do. She allowed Caleb to pull her to the ground in front of the flames, and he knelt between her and Joseph.
“Hold your hands closer over the fire. They’ll warm up quicker.” Caleb held out his hands to the dancing orange flames and leaned forward, showing her what to do. Sophia obediently followed his example. Had Joseph shown the boy what to do earlier, or did this child inherently know? With the warmth, her fingers began to tingle, and she rubbed her hands together. It would feel good to be warm again.
Caleb glanced sideways at her, his forehead scrunched in contemplation. “You look like an Injun,” he finally said.
Sophia’s heart lurched, and she shot him a nervous glance before her eyes darted involuntarily to Joseph. His attention had shifted from her to the meat over the flames. If he heard the comment, which he no doubt had, he didn’t react to it. He stoked at the fire with a stick, and turned the meat over the wooden skewer.
Sophia cleared her throat. “That’s because I am,” she said, looking at Caleb. “My mother was Indian.”
The boy scrutinized her for a moment. “I ain’t never heard of no rich Injun lady before, but either way, you sure are pretty.” His focus returned to the flames as if his comment was of no importance. He watched the meat with a longing expression.
“Caleb, go fetch my canteen from my saddle and fill it with fresh water.” Joseph spoke with a quiet authority while he continued to rotate the meat on the spit. The boy jumped to do his bidding.
“You didn’t have to send him away.” Sophia turned toward him. She wrapped her hands over her chest and around her arms, a slight shiver passing through her even though she definitely felt warmer already.
“We need water,” Joseph said matter-of-factly. He finally turned his head to look at her. “You warming up?” His eyes searched her face.
“I’ll be fine,” she answered. “But what about you?” She stared at his nude profile.
“My other shirt’ll be dry before dark. Don’t worry, Princess. My brother Lucas and I used to run buck naked through the woods in the dead of winter. I’m used
to cold.” He grinned.
Sophia’s mouth fell open, and heat crept up her cheeks at the images his words created in her mind. She envied Joseph, and the freedom he must have had growing up. She’d known nothing but the confines of Boston society. If he was trying to shock her with his words, he had . . . succeeded, but she wasn’t about to show it.
“Is that right?” she asked haughtily, lifting her chin. “It seems to be a rather risky thing to do, considering a man takes such pride in his . . . anatomy.” The words were out before she had a chance to take them back. Her face flamed even more. He most certainly would have understood the implication of what she said. Had she really just made reference to his private parts? Lucy would have fainted from shock at hearing her say something as outrageous as what had just come out of her mouth.
Joseph’s eyebrows rose and disappeared beneath the hair that fell forward over his forehead. Then his lips widened in the most devilish smile she had ever seen, and her mouth went dry.
“My anatomy didn’t suffer any damage from those jaunts, Princess,” he whispered in a sultry tone, emphasizing her chosen word. He leaned toward her, his breath tickling her cheek. “It works just fine.”
“I’m sure it does.” She coughed, trying to clear the hitch in her voice. Breathing became an effort all of a sudden. Heat raced through her at his sensuous deep voice, and the suggestion of his teasing words. His eyes locked onto hers.
“Here’s the water, Joseph.” Caleb appeared out of nowhere, and Sophia scrambled several inches backwards. She breathed a sigh of relief, and at the same time wished there hadn’t been an interruption to their game. The boy proudly held the canteen out for Joseph.
“Ladies first, Caleb.” Joseph nodded toward her, that wicked grin still on his face. “I think the fire’s warming her up. She looks like she needs a cool drink right now.”
Sophia glared at him, and she clamped her mouth shut. She waved the canteen away that Caleb shoved at her face. “I’m not thirsty,” she managed to say.
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