Turner's Woman

by Jenna Kernan

  Her eyes went wide at this and she swallowed hard. Good, let her feel uncertain for a change.

  “After tonight, if you come to my bed, it will not be for sleep. Understand?”

  She stepped away and nodded vigorously. He busied himself with skinning and dressing the groundhog. She did not speak, trying unsuccessfully to become invisible again. He’d seen her do this before. Whenever he grew angry, she backed down and disappeared, staying small and silent. He’d never seen anybody do that. He remembered what she’d said about her father’s bullying and grew regretful. She’d been cold last night. Tonight would likely be cold again. It wasn’t really her fault she didn’t have the proper gear for a trip she never expected to make. He rubbed his beard and considered her, sitting with her eyes downcast, her mouth grim as she worked silently upon her sketch by firelight.

  He checked the meat and found it cooked.

  “Emma, what do you do when your father hollers at you?”

  Her chin trembled and she fixed her gaze on him. He stayed relaxed and still as she regained control of herself.

  “Usually I try to escape to my bedroom or the stables and stay clear of him until his temper cools.”

  “But that’s not possible here.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Did you ever stand up to him?”

  Her gaze fell to the fire and he knew the answer before she spoke. “I’ve wanted to. I’ve imagined it, but I never found the courage. He’s so intimidating.”

  Jake thought back and decided her father did have a certain menacing bearing and critical expression. “Any of his men ever face him down?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “What about your mom?”

  She hesitated and he noted the catch in her voice. “Once. He turned his temper on me. She stepped in. He hit her across the face and told her never to interfere again.”

  Jake’s insides tightened with anger he had no means of dispersing. “What happened then?”

  “He turned on me and she stepped in again. He slapped her so hard her ear bled. After that she stopped speaking for a while.”

  “Your father should be horsewhipped.” Her look of hopelessness nearly undid him. It took all his strength not to gather this woman in his arms. The urge to protect her blazed to life like nothing he’d ever experienced. He was lost in the power of his hatred and that worried him.

  He forced his attention to the groundhog, slicing away the meat with his knife. They ate in silence as sparks lifted into the night sky, winking out like fireflies. After the meal, there was nothing to do but go to bed. He told her to go first as he had some mathematical equations to complete. The truth was that he could not stand this tension between them and hoped if she fell asleep first, it might be easier for him to find his own rest.

  He opened his journal and concentrated on calculating the longitude as her skirts rustled on the grass. She left the circle of fire, fading into the night. He listened carefully until she returned cast in the orange light of the flames. Their gazes met and his insides tensed. Her glance fell away and she sank to the ground, slipping beneath his buffalo robe.

  Never had he shared a bed with a woman and not made love to her. Having Emma beside him and denying himself the bliss he knew they would surely share made his body stiffen in preparation for what could not be. Considering the pleasure he could bring her drove him into the night. He walked back to the ridge. Darkness now marked the valley below and above him the stars winked. Somewhere to the left an owl screeched. He lay on the granite and located the constellations. Polaris marked the Big Dipper, pointing the way to the Little Dipper. There was Orion’s belt and the Great Bear. When his body grew cold as the rock beneath him, he surrendered. Surely she must be asleep by now. He stalked silently to camp and found the logs he’d stacked on the fire had collapsed upon themselves. He added more and then climbed beneath the robe.

  He hesitated wondering what was wrong. He listened and realized immediately. Emma was not asleep. Oh, she lay quiet and still, her breathing coming in even strokes, but it was not the same as when she slept. He was as familiar with the light sigh she made while dreaming as he was with his own face. Damn her, he’d given her plenty of time.

  Should he speak to her? Ask her what troubled her mind to keep her awake? Then he considered that it might be the same thing that nagged at him. That thought brought his teeth clamping together like the steel of a sprung trap. He’d not ask her a thing. Not when the answer might make him do something he’d regret tomorrow and likely for the rest of his life. This was the last time, damn her, that she’d share his bed.

  He settled in, resting his head on the water skin. Above him pine boughs waved in the light breeze making the stars appear to blink on and off. If she could stand it, he could. How long he lay rigid, beside her he did not know. At last her breathing slowed to sleep. He let go a huge sigh and tumbled after her.

  He woke feeling more exhausted than when he crossed the desert. He needed sleep. Something had to change. What were the chances of finding a buffalo today, he wondered as he rolled the skins. No matter, he’d give her this robe. Better to freeze than lay warm next to a woman his body hungered for more strongly than food.

  The strain between them continued to dog him as he broke camp and headed out. The day went badly. Rain fell hard all morning. Two of the trails he chose were impassable and they had to backtrack. He began to wonder if there was any way into the valley, when a deer path on the southern rim appeared promising. By midafternoon the rain stopped and shortly afterward they reached the river.

  In the valley lay a large open meadow with a narrow snaking river threading through the center. Wildflowers bloomed in orange and yellow beside the pines that ringed the clearing. The falls seen from the rim now overwhelmed them. Water cascaded down the gray cliffs to join the river sending rainbow mist into the air. Looming over all was the great granite half dome, standing guard like the captain of the valley.

  “I’ve never seen such a perfect place. If I were a man, I’d build a cabin here and never leave this valley.”

  He stared at her in stunned silence. If she were a man? What rubbish was this? He lifted the water skin, preparing to drink.

  “But you are not. So what will you do?”

  She stared up at the waterfall. “Take a bath.”

  He choked on the water. She smiled as he sputtered.

  “Stay here,” she said.

  “No. I haven’t scouted this valley yet.”

  “All we’ve seen so far is deer and elk.”

  “You follow me. If it is safe, you’ll have your bath.”

  She rested a hand on her hip and scowled. “With you watching?”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  Her face reddened. “Most certainly not!”

  He thought her objection was too fast and too final. He stared at her and her ears pinkened. The little miss was considering it.

  “First we scout the valley.”

  The size of the area made the job impossible, so he only traveled up the hollow to her waterfall. The way was rocky, but passable. There was no sign of Indians or grizzly. Once satisfied, he pulled up beside an eddy large enough for bathing. “You can use this one and I’ll move upstream and do the same.”

  “How do I know you won’t spy on me?”

  He laughed. “Since I am a spy, I guess you don’t.”

  He did not wait for her answer, but pressed his heel to Duchess’s ribs and continued along with the packhorse and mule.

  The sound of her scream brought him up short. He spun in his saddle and stared back, his rifle already drawn. Emma stood in the pool, her skirts up to her knees. His gaze latched on to a slim white calf before she dropped her skirts. He shook his head and sheathed his rifle.

  She shrugged apologetically. “The water is like ice.”

  “Where do you think it comes from?” he asked, letting her work out the equation.

  Understanding dawned. “The ice i
n the mountains above us.”

  “Right.” He turned to go. He needed to be close enough to hear her scream, but far enough to not hear her splashing. Up ahead he found the place and slid from the saddle. He laid his buckskin carefully on the rocks, deciding he needed to find some clay with which to clean them. He turned his attention next to his beard, trimming it with his knife and then retrieving his shaving soap and razor. The blade took some time to sharpen, but he brought it around. He used the same soap to wash his torso and privates. Damn, but she was right about the water. Just like bathing in a glacier.

  A soft bit of buckskin drew the cold water from his skin, as he shivered. Once dry he stretched out naked on a rock to sun himself like a snake, knowing how long women took with their ablutions. He closed his eyes enjoying the warmth of the stone beneath him and the sunshine dancing on his closed eyelids.

  Chapter Eleven

  Emma kept her eye on Jake until he disappeared beyond the large boulders littering the stream. Last night he had confirmed her suspicion. He felt the same attraction she battled daily, struggling against the urge to touch and be touched. It made no sense. He was every bit as overbearing as her father. Why in the world should she be attracted to such a man?

  The mule moved behind the rocks following his master and she deemed it safe to remove her damp clothing. She paused to sit on a rock and soaked her toes in the ice water finding the frigid temperatures refreshing on her aching feet. Lingering like this would be heaven, but there was no telling when he would return. So she stripped out of her clothing, hanging her damp skirt on a bush to dry and dropping the rest in a heap on the rock. How she longed to wash them, but then she would have nothing to wear, although she could wash her drawers and two petticoats. They would not be noticed. Well, of course they would, drying on a rock. Would he think that improper, as well?

  Last night, cold and fatigue had driven her to set only one bed. But when he had told her there was a limit to his patience she’d understood that deep within her, in a place she did not understand, she craved him more than warmth. If she was completely honest with herself, she would admit that she wanted to lay wrapped in his arms, warmed by his embrace. She even wanted him to kiss her again. Despite the certainty that she did not want to marry, he stirred places she could not seem to contain.

  If she succumbed again to such weakness, he’d told her what to expect. The prospect terrified and intrigued. What would it be like to be loved by such a man? Her shoulders shivered and she tried to blame the frigid water. Then shook her head in defeat. How long could she resist him?

  Think of something else. She decided to wash her shirt, and drawers and in short order they lay out on the warm rocks and draped over bushes to dry. She did not have enough resolve to plunge into the water and instead sat on the flat rock, while she wetted, soaped and rinsed her body in sections leaving her hair for last. One invigorating dunk and she scrubbed the soap into her hair. Three more and the soap rinsed away. By the time she was finished she shivered all over.

  She drew on her damp shirt and one petticoat. Her hair, now in a tangle, took a good deal of time to comb. When she finished, her arms ached. Finally, she slipped into her skirt and nearly dry shirt, feeling slightly odd without her drawers.

  Satisfied at last, she glanced up the trail and saw no sign of Jake. She allowed herself a moment to sit in the sunshine of a warm afternoon. The light breeze made short work of drying her thin chemise and bloomers. She donned the clean wardrobe with a sigh of pleasure. Then she replaced the shirt. Her hair took longer to dry, so she left it unbound.

  Still Jake had not returned. The roar of the falls drowned out all other sound, so she could not hear him. She called his name and waited. She packed up her dry clothing. Niggling concern at last pointed her feet up the path beside the stream, leading Scout around rocks and beneath pine boughs.

  Emma found his horse and mule first and left Scout with them. She called again and then broke cover to step out onto the bank of the stream. Before her the water rushed and bubbled. A flash of panic flooded through her as she considered that Jake might have been swept away, but he would have landed in her pool, surely.

  Then she saw a flash of white and found him lying naked as a newborn on a rock in the sunshine. She gasped. Had he fainted or was he injured? She rushed to him, marking only vaguely the long, lean legs and flat stomach. Her gaze raked him, searching for some injury and instead fixed on his sex, which lay nestled in dark curly hair.

  She skidded to a halt and he came awake, rolling to his feet and gripping his pistol. The barrel pointed at her abdomen. She gaped at him as recognition dawned in his eyes. He lowered the gun and turned away, snatching up his breeches. A muffled curse reached her as he dragged on the buckskin.

  Then he rounded on her. “What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me?”

  “I—I thought you were injured.”

  “Do I look injured?” He extended his hands to the side presenting his wide chest for her inspection.

  Her mouth went dry and no words emerged. She shook her head. Finally she croaked, “You were laying down.”

  “Well, that’s how I sleep. Lord knows I didn’t get much last night. First you steal half my bed and now you creep up on me while I’m resting.

  “I’m sorry.” Her cheeks burned.

  “Next time toss a pebble at me. I could have shot you.”

  She stood mired in mortification, wishing only for the rock beneath her feet to split open and admit her into some deep fissure. How could she have charged down here and then gaped at him? As long as she lived, she would never rid herself of the image of him upon that rock.

  Then she noticed something. He looked different, more handsome if possible. The beard!

  “You shaved!”

  He stroked his strong jaw, sending a flock of butterflies fluttering through her belly. “We’re in Mexican territory now. Mexicans don’t wear beards.”

  “I see.” But she didn’t. She could not get past the dazzling beauty of him and realized that her job only grew more difficult. If not for his overbearing ways, she could almost fall in love with him. He was handsome, strong, smart and very resourceful. Also, she admired him greatly for making such a journey for his country. Well, it didn’t matter, in any case. He wanted no part of her.

  But that was not entirely true. He’d admitted he wanted to bed her. Another lightning bolt of awareness sped up her spine as he stepped closer. He wanted her, but not to marry. And she did not want him for a husband.

  A flickering of an idea danced across her mind. An affair. She’d heard of women taking lovers. But they were married. A single woman risked a baby she could not explain. Of that much she was certain.

  “Your hair looks pretty down.” He stepped closer, reaching out.

  Here was her chance to kiss him or move away. Indecision pinned her to the spot. He leaned forward lifting a strand of hair and bringing it to his lips. He inhaled.

  “Lavender?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He did not remove his hand, instead, threading his fingers through her hair until her head tipped in a position to accept his kiss.

  Fear of beginning what she could not finish tipped the balance in her mind toward escape. He leaned forward, the green of his eyes seeming more brilliant than sunshine through leaves. She drew a breath.

  “Please release me.” Her words were the merest whisper. She was not certain she heard them herself. But his hand slid away and he stepped back. His expression was etched with confusion.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice came a little stronger now. “I don’t—that is, I think this would be a mistake.”

  His gaze pierced her. His expression reminded her of an eagle’s and suddenly she felt like a fleeing rabbit. She stumbled away.

  “You’re right,” he said. “Seeing you with your hair like that, it just did something to my insides. I had no right.”

  He turned to gather his shirt and tugged on his moccasins. She left him a
nd waited by the horses, taking the opportunity to braid her hair in a tight cord. He arrived a moment later and they returned to the valley. A silent tension pulled at her throughout the early evening, as he found a snug hollow, against a rock face beside a stream to camp. Nearby, a grove of pines provided cover. It was from this spot that Emma shot an antelope. Jake seemed pleased with her again.

  “A head shot. That means we can use the entire skin. We’ll need several hides for clothing. But this will do for supper.”

  She scraped the hide, while he readied their meal. After they ate, he showed her how to prepare a mixture of brains and ash to preserve and soften the hair. He spread the concoction over the hide and rolled it up inside like the filling of a sponge cake. The process was thoroughly disgusting, but she bore it because the work took her mind off the embarrassment of their earlier encounter. She wanted his kiss, but she did not want the obligation of being his woman. Here in the wilderness, she had only just tasted freedom and she liked it. She did not know what she might do upon their return, or even if they would return. She only knew that coming and going, doing as she pleased was a cherished gift, not to be squandered by falling prey to some baser need that she did not fully understand. She recognized this lusting as the threat it was. At all costs, she would maintain her autonomy.

  “Takes about three days to work. Tomorrow, we’ll scout the valley and hunt.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” She determined to find and kill a buffalo and by so doing, seize her independence.

  That night she curled as close to the fire as she dared, dressed in her lion skin and wrapped in her blanket. Jake gave her a buckskin, as well, which she used as ground cover, to keep the moisture from seeping into her clothing. If she was cold, she considered it a small price to pay.

  As she stared at the fire, she wondered if Jake expected her to come to him? The question bit at her as she burrowed beneath the lion skin. He’d have a long wait. Once she killed a buffalo, they would see who had the warmer bed.