“Well, Eirica?” James prompted, his voice gentling, reminding her she hadn’t answered him. His emphasis on her given name reminded her that she’d agreed to drop the formality between them last night.
Eirica took a deep breath. “Thank you for your assistance, James, but I can manage on my own now,” she said, eager to have him gone. His close presence unsettled her. Though they weren’t touching, she felt him as though they were. Walking side by side, she felt his warmth shoulder to thigh. With each step she took, the skirts of her dress fluttered, grazing his denim-clad leg as if luring him closer.
James lifted a brow, gently mocking her. “I saw how well you were managing. If you’d gotten yourself tangled in those reins or fallen, you’d have been dragged beneath their feet.” He closed his eyes as if in pain.
His obvious concern touched her and made her feel ungrateful. After all, it wasn’t his fault she was inadequate for the task at hand. But she could learn. Had to learn. She forced a smile. “Don’t think me ungrateful. I’m very indebted to you for all you’ve done.”
He tore off his hat, bit back a curse then raked his fingers through his hair. “We’ll deal with gratitude in a minute. Right now, I want to know why you sent Gunner back. You’ve got young’uns who need watching, and in your condition—”
Uncomfortable with his once again bringing attention to her expectant status, she moved a few inches away, pretending to give the oxen her attention, and spoke primly. “Mr. Jones! It is not proper for a gentleman to discuss a woman’s delicate condition. I appreciate all you and your family have done for me and my children, but I can’t accept any more charity. It’s time I took care of me and mine.”
James stopped in shocked disbelief, then caught up with her in one long stride. “Charity? What nonsense is this?” Disbelief mingled with anger and a hint of hurt. “I thought we were friends, Eirica. Friends help each other.”
Eirica’s fingers fisted over the reins. “Friends respect each other’s wishes and don’t barge in without asking.”
“What are you talking about?” James shoved his hands into his pockets and scuffed the tip of his boots in the hard, packed dirt.
“You didn’t ask if I wanted help.” She spoke the words bravely, her voice dipping to a whisper. She chanced a look at him.
“I didn’t need to ask. It was obvious that you—”
“And yesterday, I said I’d take care of my tent.” Afraid she’d lose her courage, she took a deep breath and plunged forward. “You ignored me yesterday and did as you pleased.”
Wearing a look of incredulous shock, James jammed his hat back onto his head. “Are you telling me you don’t want my help any longer?”
The fight left her. Weariness laced her words. “It’s nice to be asked, to have my wishes considered and not be run roughshod over.”
A long silence fell between them. James poked his hands into his pockets. “Am I really that bad? So bad I’ve driven you to taking risks?”
“Oh, James.” Frustration lent a sharpness to her voice. “You mean well. I admit that, but please try to understand. I need to stand on my own two feet. When we reach Oregon, I won’t have you and the others to rely on. It’s been a month since Birk drowned, and well past time for me to stop relying on everyone else to do what I should be doing myself.”
James looked stunned. “But you’ll have… I mean, you don’t need—” He broke off, as if realizing he was saying more than he meant to.
There it was again, that unspoken, unnamed something between them. Eirica met his embarrassed gaze. “James, this has nothing to do with you or anyone else or even what the future holds. For my own peace of mind, I have to prove I can make it on my own because I will never—”
“How will endangering your health help you or your children?” he cut in, stopping her from saying she would never remarry. If she didn’t say those words, he still would have a chance. All he needed was time to win her trust. “If something happens to you, what will become of them?”
Before Eirica could think of a reply, Ian poked his head out the front of the wagon.
“Mama. Out!” He leaned out over the wagon tongue.
Eirica turned and gasped. “Ian, get back inside.” She pulled on the reins to stop the oxen, but as before they ignored her.
Ian started crying, leaning out farther, his arms begging for her to come get him.
To Eirica’s horror, one of the wagon wheels hit a large stone in the path and the wagon jerked.
Ian toppled over the front edge of the wooden slats.
Chapter Six
Eirica dropped the reins, her eyes wide with horror. Around her, everything spun out of control as she helplessly watched Ian fall. Seconds passed with excruciating slowness like some horrible nightmare in which she couldn’t move or even scream. A loud buzzing in her ears garbled James’s shout.
Beside her, James dove toward her son, reached out and snagged the falling toddler by one hand, then hit the side of the wagon hard with the force of his forward momentum. Unbelievably, when he straightened, he held Ian clutched to him.
He tucked the screaming boy securely under one arm and staggered toward her, his features twisted with pain and pale with the fright her son had given them both. He passed her without a word, grabbed the trailing reins and in a harsh voice, halted the oxen.
Eirica shook with lingering fear and heart-thumping relief. The sight of Ian’s body falling into the path of the wagon wheel, creaking and groaning beneath close to two-thousand-plus pounds, would forever haunt her. If her son had hit the ground, the wheel would have rolled over him, crushing his head. Bile rose and burned the back of her throat. “James—”
Her voice faltered when James came toward her, his chest heaving, hot emotion shimmering in eyes gone dark as a forest on a stormy day.
“Want—to tell me again—you don’t—need—help?” The words came out clipped, stark and harsh, as if he’d just run a mile at full tilt.
Around them, wagons, animals and people filed past, eyes averted, none stopping to see if they needed help. A vein near his temple beat in time to the clenching of his jaw. His quiet anger engulfed her. She tried to speak but her heart thudded painfully in her chest, leaving her short of breath. Long familiarity with angry men made her take an involuntary step away from this man who’d saved her son’s life. Moments ago she’d felt safe with James, but the raw emotion swirling between them was too much for her.
Long seconds passed as they stared at each other. Harsh gasps of air mingled with Ian’s continued cries. Her gaze slid to James’s hands, measuring his state of mind. No fists. No clenching and unclenching, no bulging of muscles in his arm and his face hadn’t turned red and ugly, all signs that with Birk warned of some sort of physical attack, either with hands or feet—or both, depending on the extent of his rage.
Eirica remained still, afraid to move or speak. But beneath her frozen fear, warmth and a sense of renewed amazement curled from her toes to her heart. Though James was angry, he was in complete control of himself. His hands, still holding her son gently yet firmly, didn’t seem quite so frightening anymore. As earlier, his anger didn’t terrify her or make her duck for cover. There was no urge to brace herself for a blow or turn and run.
For the first time in her life, Eirica felt no fear and could even acknowledge that James had every right to be upset, angry even. Her own foolish pride had nearly cost her son his life. She owed much to this man whose quick actions had saved her baby.
James had saved her son’s life.
Ian was alive. Safe.
A deep shudder tore through her and she forced from her mind the memory of Ian’s near death. She desperately needed to feel her son’s soft body cradled close to hers. “Thank you, James,” she whispered, holding out her arms for Ian.
James ignored her and set the crying two-year-old down on the ground, keeping him from running to Eirica. Kneeling on one knee, he forced Ian to look at him. “Ian.” The deep, no-nonsense tone silenced the boy. With wide
eyes, Ian stared at James, his lower lip trembling.
Eirica stepped forward, ready to protect her child. “James, he’s just a—”
“Don’t hit him.” From the back of the wagon, Alison’s shrill voice drew the attention of both adults. “He’s just little.” Alison and Lara watched the adults with trepidation.
The combination of fear and agitation in her daughter’s voice brought tears to Eirica’s eyes. Her Ali had tried so hard to protect her younger siblings from their father’s wrath, sometimes by hiding them when he was in one of his drunken moods. Once she’d even suffered a beating in their stead until Eirica arrived to stop Birk.
Alison’s frightened plea seemed to affect James as well. He glanced from the girls to Ian, then to Eirica. Four pairs of blue eyes framed by various shades of red hair watched him warily. His gaze lingered on Eirica. “No one will ever hit any of you again.” His voice deepened with emotion and there was no doubting him.
While not much else might be clear to her, she trusted James and took a step toward him. When James shook his head, she hesitated. It was easy to acknowledge trust, much harder to prove it.
With gentle fingers, James forced her son to look at him again. “You scared your ma and me something fierce, Ian. Leaning out of a moving wagon is very foolish and dangerous. You must never, ever do that again.”
Rather than leave his rebuke at that, James pointed to the wagon wheels and went on to explain to Ian—and the two little girls watching and listening—what had nearly happened. When he finished, after making sure all three of her children understood the dangers, he stood, lifting Ian into the cradle of his strong arms.
Ian’s bright blue eyes were wide, but not with fear as Eirica expected. In fact, her son stared at James with what looked to be awe on his face. Straddling the wagon tongue, James deposited Ian back inside with his sisters, then removed his hat and dropped it onto the little boy’s head. Ian giggled and pushed up the wide brim as the hat completely covered his eyes, nose and most of his mouth. Still grinning, Ian played peekaboo with Lara. Alison stood to one side, watching James intently.
James wiped his forehead with his arm then reached out to draw her to him. The child threw her arms around his neck. Watching the two, Eirica felt her eyes tear up. Her daughter and this gentle giant of a man shared a deep bond, forged when Alison had been kidnapped and James had helped rescue her and his sister.
He put Alison down and stroked her curls. “Ali, you’re the eldest. Your ma needs you to help her by watching Lara and Ian when she’s busy. Will you do this for me?”
The little girl’s mouth dropped open, then she nodded solemnly. “I’ll help Ma, James, and I promise to be good. Maybe Lara and I can play with the beads Jessie got us at Fort Ke’rny.”
James ran a hand down her pale cheek. “That’s a great idea, Alison.” He stepped away from the wagon.
With her children settled, seemingly none the worse for the scare, Eirica was torn between gratitude for James’s quick reflexes and the lingering thread of resentment at his interference. But it was hard to be angry at a man whose very interference had saved her son’s life. On top of that, his handling of her children had been right. She’d have coddled Ian, too relieved to have him safe after his near brush with death to scold him. But not James. With no sugarcoating or anger, he’d made his point without lifting a hand against her children or causing them to obey out of fear. Her resentment died.
She peered into the wagon, needing to reassure herself they were indeed all right. They were sitting quietly, watchful but not afraid. She walked around to the back of the wagon where James had unhitched his horse. Though he seemed calm, the tightness etched around his mouth and the lines around his narrowed eyes conveyed the anger residing within. Her knees shook. He had every right to lash out at her. Her hand fluttered to her throat. “I’m very grateful—”
Her heart stopped when he lifted his hands. She couldn’t stop the automatic flinch from a blow that she knew wouldn’t come. A long pause fell between them, then James reached out slowly to grasp her shoulders. There was no force or pain in his grip. Only the gentle massaging of her tense muscles. The look in his eyes let her know he’d seen her instinctive reaction, but he didn’t acknowledge it verbally. Instead, he pulled her to him, held her tightly, his voice, taut with emotion, fanned her ear.
“That was too damn close,” he whispered.
Eirica felt some of her shakiness fade beneath the soothing warmth of his embrace. For a moment she allowed herself the luxury of accepting the comfort he offered.
She needed his touch, his secure embrace and the brief moment to lean on someone. What would she have done had her son been injured or worse, killed? A stab of pain went through her heart. She couldn’t bear to think of what might have happened. James tightened his hold and for a long moment, they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms. Then he put her from him, keeping hold of her shoulders, his fingers firm but not hurtful.
“Look at me, Eirica.”
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his, saw the sadness he couldn’t hide.
“I don’t want your gratitude. I want your friendship, your trust.” He threw his head back as if in pain. “Hell, I want more than that and you know it, even if you won’t admit it.” His fingers slid up the sides of her neck until they tenderly cradled her jaw. His hands were large, his fingers spread from her chin to her temple. He tipped his head down and searched her face with eyes that mirrored his soul, revealing all that he felt.
Seeing the naked love exposed in his darkened eyes, Eirica opened her mouth to deny what he felt toward her, then shut it. What could she say? For to respond verbally to the anguish etched in lines on each side of his mouth, in the tautness of his jaw and staring at her from his sad, haunted gaze, meant opening the door to feelings he’d only hinted at but not put into words—words she didn’t want spoken aloud. The very thought of him loving her frightened her. She shook her head slightly, denying what she knew to be true.
“Yes,” James whispered, using his thumbs to caress the lines of her jaw. “But I won’t say the words, not yet, not until you’re ready to hear them.”
Eirica’s heart raced with excitement and fear. He couldn’t—she wouldn’t—“James—”
With a groan, he closed the space between them and lowered his head to brush a tender kiss over her lips, the contact no more than a feather-soft caress, yet time seemed to come to a halt. Her lips parted, his lingered. Their breath mingled. Then he stepped back, released her and jammed his hands into his pockets.
Wide-eyed, she stared at him, forgetting all the reasons why she had to deny herself a second chance at love. Was it so wrong to want what she’d dreamed of as a young girl? To have a love as strong and lasting as the Svenssons’? To have a home filled with love and laughter? And family?
James drew in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he fought for his own control. Agitated, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Don’t ask me to apologize for that. If Ian had fallen beneath those wheels, you’d have buried your son today.”
Reminded of what her own foolish actions had nearly caused brought Eirica back to reality—and her senses. A sob rose and stuck in the back of her throat. “You don’t need to remind me how close I came to losing him, James.” She turned her back to him.
James gently spun her to face him. “There’s no room out here for misplaced pride, sweetheart. Your family’s survival depends on you knowing and accepting your limitations. When you need help, dammit, ask for it. Don’t sacrifice your health, or the safety of your children, for pride’s sake.” He fell silent, his gaze holding hers.
Eirica tried to speak but was so overcome that she could only stare at him, her face hot with humiliation, shame—and the emotions kindled by his kiss. Deep inside, a curl of hope swirled in a buried recess of her heart. She locked it away to take out and examine later, when she was alone. Right now, the enormity of what had nearly happened left her paralyzed.
What wo
uld she have done had James not been there? In her condition, she’d never have reached Ian in time to prevent a tragedy. Staring at the distant eastern horizon, she thought of the many graves of children she’d duly recorded in her daily journal entries. So many lives lost so young. It made her ill just to think how easily Ian could have become another woman’s journal entry.
James mistook her silence as refusal and, as if afraid of saying or doing more than he should, he released her and mounted. Eirica felt lost and alone. Wiping the tears from her cheeks with her apron, she tried to pull herself together. There would be plenty of time to think about the tragedy her actions had nearly caused.
She placed a hand on her belly, ready to admit she just wasn’t able to handle the oxen in her condition. James was right.
But where did that leave her? If she couldn’t manage out here, how would she manage alone in Oregon? Worry wound through her mind, leaving her feeling panicky. Taking a deep breath, she shoved it aside. Right now, her first priority was catching up to the others and to do that, she needed James. Lifting her head, she stilled her nervous jitters and placed a hand on his knee, then jerked away at the warm hard feel of him. Embarrassed, she put her hands behind her back. “Don’t go.”
His smile warmed her. Shyly, she lowered her eyes. She didn’t deserve such thoughtfulness and consideration. He dismounted, moved close and lifted her chin once more. Her heart lurched. Was he going to kiss her again? Lord help her, she wanted him to, but he didn’t.
“Thank you, Eirica.” He stared into her eyes for a long moment then released her, handing her the horse’s reins as he strode to the front of the wagon. First he lifted out Lara and Alison, settling them both on the back of the horse. Next, he swung Ian onto his broad shoulders. Eirica listened to the sweet giggles of her girls and her son’s delighted laughter and felt lighter of heart than she had in a long time.
James really was a nice man—too nice, she thought, resisting the urge to touch her fingers to her mouth to feel where his lips had brushed hers. Eirica fell into step beside him, leading the horse. She snuck a glance at the silent man walking next to her. He chose that moment to look her way. Their gazes meshed, hers shy, uncertain, his filled with longing and desire.
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