Madeline was quiet for a long moment. “I was terribly unkind to her,” she said softly, voice thick with remorse.
Clark raised a brow and cast her a sidelong glance.
“I suppose I was jealous,” she admitted. He waited for her to elaborate but she didn’t. Finally, she looked at him. “Do you love her?”
Clark drew a long breath, wondering how best to handle this. “I do,” he said honestly. “She doesn’t know it yet, I’m not certain how she actually feels about me, but I do love her.”
“I yelled at her today,” Madeline confessed. “I blamed her for swooping into town and taking you away from me. But…” her voice trailed off for a second. “I never had a chance with you, did I?”
Clark raked his hands through his hair. “Madeline, I think if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit that your only real interest in me was because you perceived there would be some excitement if we married.”
“I wasn’t wrong.”
He actually chuckled. “I suppose not, but we wouldn’t be happy together. I have seen and done things in my life that I hope you never have to understand. It would have been a barrier between us.”
“And you think Zoe Blye can understand you? She lived in the Confederacy, and you fought for the Union.”
“I know it sounds strange, but, yes, I think she does understand. We lived it together. We’re both damaged and hurt by loss, and looking for a new start.”
Madeline stood. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Dr. West. Please let me know how Miss Blye does. I’ll pray for her.”
“Thank you.” Clark stood as well. “And Madeline?”
“Yes?”
“You will make an excellent nurse. I would be happy to write you a letter of recommendation for the school.”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “I appreciate that.”
Madeline took her leave and Clark crossed back to the table. He slid his arms under Zoe and gently lifted her. “Come on, love, I’ll carry you up to bed.”
She stirred slightly in his arms and her head nestled perfectly in the crook of his shoulder. She fit in his arms, like a piece of him that had been missing and suddenly locked back into place.
Please, Lord, don’t take her from me.
He nestled her against his chest, reassured by the weight of her petite frame and the shallow rise and fall of her chest. He carried her to the stairs where Mrs. Carter found him.
“How is she?” Mrs. Carter turned eyes puffy and red from tears up to him.
“Time will tell.”
She nodded. “I’ll help you get her settled.”
With Mrs. Carters help, he gently stripped the bloody gown from her body and slipped her into a clean nightdress. He carefully settled her on the mattress and covered her with a heavy quilt. Once again she stirred slightly but didn’t wake.
“I’ll stay with her,” he told Mrs. Carter. “If any patients come tell them I’m available for emergencies only.”
Mrs. Carter nodded. “I’ll prepare some light broth for when she rouses.”
“Good idea.”
“You should change clothes, Clark.”
He looked down. Zoe’s blood stained his shirt and trousers. The sight turned his stomach. “I will.” Suddenly he couldn’t get out of those clothes fast enough. The gravity of the situation, the fact he stood to lose her crashed down around him as he strode to his room and ripped away the bloody garments. He’d burn them tomorrow. Heart heavy, he returned to Zoe’s room and crossed to the bed. He knelt beside it and lifted her right hand, clutching it between both of his. “I’m so sorry, Zoe,” he choked out. “I shouldn’t have sent you alone. I should have stayed with you.” He’d done everything he could for her but at the moment it didn’t feel like enough. “I wish you’d wake up so I could tell you.” He kissed her fingers. “Tell you that I did want to take you to the festival tonight. I would have been too jealous to let you dance with any other men tonight. I need you, Zoe. Don’t leave me. I-I love you.”
Eight
Zoe’s left shoulder throbbed mercilessly. She drifted in and out of sleep, and voices swirled through her head. She couldn’t tell what was real or a dream. All she really knew was that if she succumbed to sleep her shoulder didn’t hurt.
But she needed to wake up.
At the moment her fogged brain couldn’t quite remember why… something to do with Clark… and Norman…
Norman!
The vision of her cousin confronting her with the gun flashed vividly into her mind. He shot me! And… “Clark?” she croaked, fighting the urge to sink back into the oblivion of sleep. She winced as a fresh shock of pain jolted through her arm and chest. She forced a slow deep breath into her lungs, and pried her eyes open.
“I’m here, Zoe. I’m right here.”
She struggled to focus on his face as her eyes adjusted to the light. “What happened?” she mumbled. “Where am I?”
“You’re home,” he replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Sore,” she croaked. “Thirsty.”
“Here. I have some water for you.” Clark slid an arm behind her back and gently raised her up. Her left shoulder screamed in protest, but Clark supported her weight, holding her upright.
He held a glass to her lips and she took a sip. The cool liquid poured over her tongue and down her throat. She lifted her good hand and shakily took the cup, taking a bigger drink. The water refreshed not only her dry mouth, but her mind. “Norman, he-he shot me,” she murmured the awful events rushing clearly through her head. “You were there. You tackled him.” She tilted her head back, gazing up at Clark’s haggard face.
Pure anguish swirled through his eyes. “I was too late, Zoe. I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry? Why would you be sorry? If not for you I would have had no chance at all. How did you know to come?”
He reached over and stroked her cheek with his free hand. “After you crossed the street I saw a man follow you. I thought it might be Norman and I followed. A string of wagons slowed me down, and he had you cornered by the time I caught up. This is my fault. I never should have suggested you go alone.”
She held his gaze, willing the pain from his eyes. “This is no one’s fault,” Zoe said softly. “Except perhaps my cousin.”
Clark exhaled heavily. “I’m trying to believe that.”
“Believe it, Clark.” She shifted and instantly regretted the motion. She moaned and glanced down at her left side. A heavy bandage encased her shoulder. “Tell me, how bad this is?”
“All in all, I’d say you got lucky. The bullet passed clean through your shoulder. You lost some blood, but with a little rest I think you’ll be just fine.”
Zoe sighed with relief. “You saved my life,” she said softly, fixing her eyes on his once again. “How long have I been asleep?”
“You slept all yesterday afternoon and last night.”
“I had the strangest dreams,” she said. “I seem to remember you talking about my shoulder, and I would swear Madeline Kent was here.”
Clark smiled. “She was. She assisted me with your surgery.”
Zoe’s eyes widened in astonishment. “You’re joking.”
“She did extremely well, I think she’ll make a fine nurse if she attends your school. She even apologized for treating you so poorly.”
Zoe scoffed. “Now I know you’re toying with me.”
He laughed and smoothed a hand over her hair. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Zoe handed him the near empty water glass and he set it down. She lay against his chest for a long moment, enjoying the steady rush of his breathing and the warm comfort of his embrace.
He released a long breath in her hair, and she’d swear he kissed the top of her head. “I should let you rest,” he murmured. “You’ve been through a great deal.”
“Actually, I’d like to go downstairs,” she said. “It’s cold in here and I could rest in the parlor by the hearth.”
<
br /> Clark raised a skeptical brow. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“Yes. I think I’ll feel better by the fire.”
Clark smiled. “I know better than to argue.” He helped her to sit at the edge of the bed. “Do you feel dizzy?”
“A little,” she replied honestly. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing the room to stop spinning.
“I want you to sit there for a minute while I put a sling on your arm.” He swiftly fashioned a length of cloth under her arm and then tied it around her neck. “How does that feel?”
“Better,” she said in genuine surprise. It was amazing, but having the arm supported provided an unexpected measure of relief.
“All right, Zoe, I’m going to support you, but I want you to stand very slowly. If you feel lightheaded, sit back down.”
She nodded and slid carefully to the edge of the bed with his help. She stood and he locked his arm around her waist. Her head swam and she leaned heavily against him.
“Do you need to sit back down?”
“I just need a moment.” She hated being weak. She’d never been weak a day in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now no matter how much blood she’d lost. She sucked in several steadying breathes. “Let’s go.”
With Clark’s help she made it down the stairs to the parlor. He situated her in her favorite chair with pillows to support her left arm, a heavy blanket, and an ottoman for her feet. He also threw three large logs on the fire to make the room extra toasty for her. She couldn’t help but smile. He’d be grumbling later about the house being too hot, but he was doing it for her anyway. Mrs. Carter was elated to see her up and around and kept up a constant supply of tea and light soup.
Over the next few days Zoe found her level of exhaustion frustrating. She could only tolerate being up for a few hours at a time before she had to rest, but by the end of the week she was starting to feel a bit more like herself. The sheriff brought news that Norman was being transferred to Billings where he’d be hanged. After years of fear and running it finally seemed she had her life back. She could go anywhere she wanted now, and yet… Fort Benton had become home. A steady stream of townsfolk brought by food and good wishes. Even Madeline Kent came to visit. Mrs. Carter treated her like the daughter she’d never had, and Clark… Clark was kind and attentive to a fault.
The fragile bud of feelings she’d harbored for him bloomed and multiplied into something undeniably beautiful. The time had come to test the waters, see if he felt the same. She left her permanent rehabilitation corner in the parlor and went in search of him. As expected, she found him in his study, and her heart burst with pure joy at the sight of him. He reclined leisurely in the worn chair behind his desk with one ankle cross over the opposite knee, and a book propped open on his leg. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and his thick dark hair was mussed—probably from his habit of running his fingers through it. As usual, he hadn’t shaved and a three, or four, day scruff of whiskers dusted his jaw. She loved his rugged, unassuming handsomeness.
She knocked on the open door as she passed through.
Clark quickly looked up. “Zoe, is everything all right?” He quickly shut the book and sat forward in his chair.
She smiled. “Perfectly fine.” She sashayed around the desk corner and ran her fingers over the smooth top. “There was something I wanted to ask you about?”
“Of course. Anything.”
She stalled at the edge of the desk, fixing her eyes on him. “The day I was shot, I told you that I was in and out and couldn’t tell what was real or a dream.”
He nodded.
“Well, there is one other thing I heard and I’d like to know if it was real.”
“Oh?”
She licked her lips, working up the courage to say it out loud. “I thought I heard you say you loved me.”
Clark froze, eyes wide with pure panic. “You heard that?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Did you say it?”
“Zoe, you were severely injured and—”
“Be honest with me, please.”
Clark swallowed, the panic in his eyes morphing to despair. “If I tell you the truth, you might leave. I… I don’t want to risk that.”
A little smile toyed with Zoe’s lips, confidence growing that he shared her feelings. He just needed a little encouragement to say it out loud. She sidled forward and slid onto his lap, she slipped her right arm around his neck and shoulders. “You’re stalling, Clark.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and a flicker of hope dimmed the panic in his eyes. He curled one arm around her waist and settled the other hand on her hip. “Is this really happening? Is it even possible?”
“It’s possible, Clark.”
He gazed at her with adoration and vulnerability shining in his warm dark eyes. “You heard correctly that night,” he finally admitted. “I love you, Zoe. You make me whole. You came to Fort Benton, and suddenly, I felt alive again.” He reached up and cupped her cheek with his palm. “I love everything about you. I love your intelligence, and the way you challenge me. I even love that you are always cold and keep the parlor too hot.”
“Oh, Clark,” tears of pure joy welled in her eyes as she embraced him. “As impossible as it seems, I love you too.”
Clark leaned back, pure wonder in his gaze. “I can hardly believe this,” he murmured. “What happens next?”
She lowered her gaze and fixed him with her most seductive come-hither gaze. “Next you kiss me.”
“I think I’m the one dreaming now,” he whispered. Their eyes locked, and pure passion jolted between them. “I love you, Zoe. You have seen me at my worst, and yet you love me anyway.” His eyes dropped to her lips, and he took them lips hungrily, with passion and ardor.
Tremors of pure joy shivered through her. Being in his arms, kissing him, touching him felt so right. This was where she belonged. The certainty solidified in her breast and her love for him deepened. Zoe tilted her head and leaned in, wanting more, demanding more. She slid her fingers into the thick hair at the base of his neck, and he let his hands wander over her curves. His essence surrounded her, left her feeling protected and loved. She melted into his embrace, never wanting to leave. She—.
“Well it’s about time.”
Clark and Zoe shocked apart.
“Hello, Mrs. Carter.” Clark’s jaw visibly tensed with annoyance. He kept his arms locked around Zoe’s waist, holding her in his lap.
Heat flamed in Zoe’s cheeks, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to feel guilty. She’d almost died last week. This was a time for living, not propriety.
“Shall I send for the preacher?” Mrs. Carter crossed her arms and grinned like a cat with cream.
Clark looked at Zoe and raised his brow in question. “What do you think? If she calls the preacher, you’ll be stuck with me and the Montana winters forever.”
Zoe grinned, love brimming from within her. “As long as I have you to warm me up at night, I’ll be just fine.”
He slapped a palm on the desk. “Fetch the preacher,” he ordered. “I intend to marry this girl before she comes to her senses.”
THE END
Sweet Romances By Melissa Lynne Blue
Bewitched
Winter’s Rose
Love Lies Traitors and Spies
The Christmas Ghost
Other Books by Melissa Lynne Blue
Forget Me Not
Light to Valhalla
Siren
Meet Me at Midnight
Langston Brothers Series:
Edge of Time
Cadence
11th Hour Rose
Fool’s Gold
The Soldier’s Christmas
Coming soon: True North
About the Author
Photo by Susan Gest
Melissa is an Advanced Practice Registered Nurse Practitioner and battles the stresses of life and illness by enjoying uplifting tales of love and romance. A firm believer in true
love united with an enduring fascination with history has prompted her pursuit of romance writing. She lives in beautiful Big Sky Country Montana with her husband and children.
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