She pulled her hand from his arm and stepped back. He was feeding her a bunch of lines after all, and she’d fallen for it. “I don’t believe you. If you’d cared, you’d have done something to help me or my children. No one did anything, except your sister.” Bitterness edged her voice.
James stared at his hat then slapped it against his thigh. “That’s not true. I did what I could.” He fought the memories of Birk’s maltreatment of Eirica and her children and his own helplessness to prevent it. Guilt still ate at him. He’d wanted to do something, but Birk had had the law on his side.
“I went to Wolf, along with Jordan and Lars. Wolf agreed to tell Birk to lay off you and the children.” James paused. “I’d have confronted him myself, but I was afraid if Birk knew how I felt about you, he’d take it out on you or maybe even leave the wagon train. At least with you there, I could watch over you as much as possible.”
He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I had to wait until Birk violated Wolf’s orders, hoping that if he were thrown out of the wagon train, you’d decide to leave him and stay—which you did. I was ready to step in and offer my protection and help.”
Eirica closed her eyes, hearing Birk’s boasts that no one could tell him what he could or couldn’t do with what belonged to him. “You thought it would be that easy? That he’d listen?” Her gaze trapped his. “It made no difference who gave the order. Birk did as he pleased. Wolf’s interference made him more determined to exert his dominance. He just made sure he left bruises—his marks of ownership, he always told me—where no one could see them.” Shame made her turn her head. More than a month later, she still had marks on her body that hadn’t fully healed.
James ran a hand through his hair. “Dammit, Eirica, I’m sorry I didn’t do more. No one blames me more than I blame myself. I even tried drugging—”
His voice faltered. Eirica shot him a startled glance. “You what?”
He stared at his boots, then met her gaze boldly. “At Fort Kearny I drugged Birk’s drink. I knew he’d get drunk and beat on you, so I added a few drops of laudanum to a flask of whiskey and had it delivered to him.” He winced, looked guilty.
“You did that for me?” She remembered how Birk had slept most of the day following that night and how relieved she’d been.
“Yeah, and I guess I should tell you, Jessie drugged him that night as well. Wolf found out and laid into both of us.”
Her eyes widened. “Both of you drugged him?”
“Neither of us knew the other had done so. But we each had the same idea—to protect you.” James twisted his hat in his hands, but he stood tall and proud, not the least bit repentant.
Searching his gaze, Eirica could no longer ignore the emotion she’d seen before and saw now. There was no doubting his feelings for her. A small bubble of happiness formed inside her and pushed past her misgivings.
James had cared enough to drug Birk, speak to Wolf on her behalf and watch over her. Knowing he’d at least tried to help left a warm, wonderful glow in her heart, like holding her newborn babes for the first time. She also admitted he was correct in believing that Birk would have taken his family and left the wagon train had he felt threatened by James or believed any man had designs on her. Shyly, she stepped close to him. “Thank you for caring, James. I’m sorry I doubted you.”
He opened his arms. He could so easily have pulled her into his embrace, but he didn’t. He waited, his gaze soft, inviting her to take that one small step that would bring them together.
She was tempted. She wanted him to hold her, needed to know what it felt like to be loved, cherished. She needed to know she wasn’t alone, that she could lean on James, but most of all, she yearned for the kiss that his eyes promised. Just this once, she told herself. This one time, she’d blame her weakness on the night, on the shimmering carpet of stars overhead and the soft cadence of insects lending their chirps to form a backdrop of soothing sound. Before the harsh light of the new day reminded her of all her reasons for guarding her heart, she had to know what it felt like to be held—and kissed—by James, the knight of her dreams, the one person who didn’t frighten her.
She took that one small step, lifted her hands to his shoulder and allowed him to draw her close, his arms encircling her. One hand slid up her spine and cupped the back of her neck. She held her breath, waiting for the return of the suffocating fear of being trapped by strong male arms. To her surprise and pleasure, she felt no panic with James. Instead, strange urges flowed through her, frightening her as much as those same feelings made her lean closer to the man holding her so tenderly.
His breath, warm against her cheek, teased her. “Fate brought us together, Eirica. We were meant to be,” he whispered, his lips moving closer.
His words wove ribbons of hope around her. She stared at his mouth, wanting so badly to feel his lips against hers again even as that scared part of her heart warned this was wrong. For her. For him. She couldn’t give him what he wanted.
But he can give you what you want, what you need, what you‘ve never had.
James lowered his head, his eyes holding hers, sucking her into their desire-laden depths. His mouth enticed hers, his lips soft, full, tender. Hers parted in response.
“You can say no, Eirica. I would never force you.”
Eirica’s heart pounded, blood raced through her and a strange heaviness settled between her legs, the blood collecting there, pulsing with each beat of her heart. She fought her panic—terror born of her fear of a man’s passion and superior strength. Underlying that same fear came another. Would James find her lacking?
Birk had never been one for much kissing, which she hadn’t minded. The few times he’d kissed her had been totally repulsive, a smashing of his mouth against hers, leaving her lips swollen, bruised and bleeding. She shuddered inwardly, fighting the memories of Birk’s sweating, grunting body on top of her as he entered her forcefully, uncaring of the pain he caused, eager only to find his own quick satisfaction.
She wasn’t sure she could ever let a man touch her again, yet the tenderness with which James had kissed her earlier, held her now, left her yearning to experience more. Realizing it was up to her, that all she had to do was say no gave her the courage to lift her head shyly to James. “I’m not sure I can do this.”
James’s lips twitched, his mouth lowering until he was but a mere breath from hers. “Sure you can, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms more firmly around her, still loosely enough so she wouldn’t feel trapped or held against her will. “Close your eyes. Don’t think, just feel.”
Taking that leap of faith, Eirica put her trust in James and waited with bated breath. It seemed like a long time before James touched his mouth to hers. Slowly. Softly. Tenderly. His lips claimed hers without pressure. Without pain. His lips moved over hers. Nibbling, tasting, showing her a side to lovemaking she’d never experienced, but had dreamed about. Warmth and incredible sensations rushed through her, leaving her weak-kneed and breathless.
The kiss went on, a sweet mating of mouths. She twisted her body around so she could lean into him, get closer than what her stomach would allow. He shifted as well, supporting her as they stood close. Eirica marveled how broad-chested he was, how hard against the softness of her swollen stomach. Her nipples tingled when he moved ever so slightly. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as his mouth continued to move over hers with gentle persuasion. At any time, she could have pulled back, but the sheer sweetness of his kiss enthralled her.
Her own lips parted and without even realizing it, she kissed him back, moved with him, tasted him as he did her. His fingers feathered across the sides of her face, stroking and touching. Her arms slid around his neck, holding him closer. She moaned—or was it him? She didn’t know, didn’t care.
Then, with one last stroke of his tongue, James lifted his head.
Eirica’s eyes fluttered open when his fingertips drifted over her lips, across her cheeks and slid into her hair. She stared at him, trembling w
ith need, lost in a sea of unfamiliar emotions. She’d never imagined a kiss could be this tender or that it could leave her feeling shaky, weak and in such need of another kiss that she felt as though she’d die without it. Here, wrapped securely in James’s arms, she felt alive and desirable.
James drew an unsteady breath. Though he smiled, Eirica could tell the kiss had shaken him as well. Her fingers continued to thread through the silky, wavy hair at his nape. She forgot about all the reasons why she shouldn’t be there as she rested her cheek against his chest, felt his every shuddering breath, heard the thudding of his heart. Sheltered in the secure circle of his arms, she didn’t even think about his size, how strong his arms were, how small and fragile she felt against him.
Nothing mattered except the urge building inside her to pull his head down so she could sample another of his incredibly tender kisses. He tilted her chin so he could gaze down into her eyes, and he stroked her hair. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
His words broke through the unfamiliar fog of desire. She backed away, stared at him, seeing a wonderful, tender, gentle man unafraid to bare his soul to her.
What had she done? She covered her mouth to stifle her cry of pain.
He was wrong, so very wrong. That kiss they’d shared had been a cruel joke, for she’d glimpsed heaven in his eyes, tasted ambrosia on his lips and felt the first burst of sweet desire pulse through her blood. Combined, they left her aching for more. But worse, her awakened heart yearned for the romance and love he offered even as her mind slammed the door shut to protect her heart from further heartbreak.
But it was too late. She feared she’d already lost a part of her heart to the man who’d renewed her dreams of love and happiness. Backing away, she picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she dared in the inky darkness toward the safety of her tent and the bleakness of her future.
Chapter Eight
James followed Eirica, saw that she made it safely to her tent, then returned to the bedroll beneath his wagon, his mind seeking the wisdom of his actions like a dog chasing its tail. Round and round he went. Had he moved too fast? Had he scared Eirica off for good now? Had he ruined his chance with her?
But he always came back to how right it’d felt. Earlier, he’d feared his timing was off, but not tonight. She’d come to him, willingly, and Lord almighty, she’d responded to his kisses and touch with a passion and need that pushed this own to the breaking point. It had taken everything he possessed not to do more than kiss her and touch her gently.
And it made it so hard to back off and let her return to her tent. They’d be so damn good together, but those same passions, feelings, frightened Eirica. Which began the round of endless worry anew. Was he back where he’d started? Would Eirica rebuild her barriers? Could he find a way to convince her that they were meant to be? He rubbed his face with both hands then combed his fingers through his hair, tired and disheartened at the thought.
Without undressing, he crawled between the worn quilts his mother had made before her untimely death and cradled his head in his hands. Though the quilts had seen better days, should be relegated to the scrap bin, he always felt comforted surrounded by her love. She’d have loved Eirica, he thought. She’d have approved of his choice for a wife.
Staring up at the bottom of the wagon, his gaze absently picked out the shadowy farming implements he’d loaded and tied there for a new start in Oregon, James tried to regain his focus. From his pocket, he pulled out a well-worn rock and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, drawing comfort from the soothing action and the stone’s polished surface between his fingers. His mind wandered.
He’d left behind all the material things he’d held dear: the farm, furniture crafted by his father, a house lovingly decorated by his mother, and memories. So many memories were scattered throughout that small house, so much love, joy and laughter.
The prospect of starting over, building his own home, creating new memories, scared him and took on new meaning now that he knew what his parents had felt when they’d come to Westport at a time when it was still considered the wilds of the west.
Like them, he was laying the foundation not only for himself and his family, but hopefully, generations of Joneses would draw their first breath in that new home, in a new land. He’d pulled up his roots, taken what he could of his parents’ belongings, hoarded his memories, and would soon start a new chapter to add to what his parents had written. New traditions, new joys and new struggles to overcome.
He thought of Eirica, his dream of standing on rich fertile soil, staking out their new home, deciding together where the kitchen would go, where they would sleep, where to put the children’s rooms. He wanted a big house, with lots of space. With Eirica at his side, he’d have a house full of little girls with red hair like their mother. They’d have sons, too, strong like his own brothers and just as adventurous and curious about life as little Ian.
Closing his eyes, he held the image to his heart. Someday, he comforted himself, refusing to believe otherwise. If Eirica couldn’t bring herself to love and trust him, his future stretched out bleak, empty and lonely. He rolled onto his side, clutching the warm stone in his palm. His thumb rubbed a worn groove down the center of one side.
While he understood Eirica’s need to be independent, her fear of men and of being controlled, he also knew just how tough life would be without a husband to take care of her and her children. She needed him, she just didn’t know how badly. Again, he damned Birk for treating her as he had. There wasn’t a person in this wagon party who hadn’t known what went on in that marriage. Hell, they’d all heard Birk forcing himself on her night after at night, staking his claim, proving she belonged to him.
James tensed, fighting the guilt and fury that came from knowing there hadn’t been a single damn thing he could do about it. He’d finally stopped coming into camp at night. But that hadn’t stopped him from laying awake, his imagination running wild. Nights had become his own personal hell, sleeping beneath the same stars at the same time that the woman he loved was being brutalized by her own husband. What Birk had done with Eirica wasn’t making love. Her bruises and the haunting shadows in her eyes had been proof of Birk’s violence and her own helplessness, which matched James’s own, ate at him.
It didn’t surprise James that Eirica vowed never to be involved with another man. But there had to be some way he could prove to her that he wasn’t like Birk. There had to be some way to win her trust. Restless, he flipped over onto his back again. He’d come close to gaining her trust tonight. There’d been longing in her eyes when he’d offered her a stroll in the starlight. She’d responded to his touch with shyness, but with a need that matched his.
He’d already decided to court her, woo her with gifts to prove his love was sincere and his intentions honorable, but he sensed those alone wouldn’t win her heart or her trust. Somehow, he had to show her what real love was like between a man and wife. Like kissing. It’d been obvious to him that kissing was something new to her. He’d sensed wonder and awe in her reaction, and he’d seen the stars in her eyes.
She’d enjoyed his kiss and his touch had filled her with a wonder she hadn’t been able to hide. It made sense. From what he knew of Birk, it was a good guess she’d never been shown the gentle, tender wonders of love and romance.
He snuggled down between his covers, holding close to his heart Eirica’s sugar-sweet response. She had no idea how it could be between them, didn’t understand that her body knew and yearned for what he could give her. But none of this dealt with her belief that she had to be independent, had to go it alone to maintain the control and security she sought.
Suddenly he realized that overcoming her fears of him, of his touch, wasn’t the problem. He had to prove that if she married him, she wasn’t giving up control or her independence. How could he convince her of that? She was right. The law would give him control, and right now, she didn’t trust him not to take advantage of it as Birk had done. He thought of
her accusation—one she’d made twice today—of how he barged into her affairs. But what was he supposed to do: let her struggle, fail?
He thought of Jessie, how when she’d been younger, he’d had to force himself to allow her to learn on her own, to make mistakes and to deal with the consequences. But that was different. It was in a controlled environment. Out here, a mistake—like today’s—could cost lives. Asking him to let her put herself or her children at risk was out of the question, which brought him back at the beginning. What to do?
Faced with a bigger problem than he’d suspected, he scooted over to one of the wagon wheels and leaned against it, his body scrunched down so he wouldn’t hit his head on the wagon bottom. Pulling his knees up, his boots resting on the spokes of the wheel across from him, he slid the stone he’d been caressing back into the pocket of his denim pants.
“Trust yourself. Believe in yourself.”
The words came from nowhere, a voice from his distant past that gave him courage and hope. Unable to sleep, knowing it would be a while before he could hope to find slumber, he grabbed the guitar resting against the side of the wagon and cradled it across his lap. He strummed a chord, then another, and another, tuning as he went until a low soothing melody drifted from beneath his wagon.
Unknown to him, several yards away, Eirica lay in her tent, listening. By the time the last note faded, she’d fallen asleep with a smile on her face, her fingers touching her lips.
Burning embers from another fire several miles away sent long, grotesque shadows dancing into the night, across the earth and over a bulky shadow creeping stealthily across the dark land. At any sound—the cough of a man, the soft whisper of a woman soothing a child—the figure dropped to the ground, silent and still.
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