A Soft Kiss in Winter

by Lily Graison

  “Damn it,” he muttered, stomping into the forest. “Stop thinking about her.” She was destroying his otherwise uneventful routines and he didn’t know what to do about it. He had to get her to Silver Falls, but what did he do with her in the meantime? “I’ll just keep ignoring her. Once the storm breaks, I’ll take her to Silver Falls and let her be someone else’s problem.”

  Satisfied, he slowed his steps, listening for the tiniest of sounds. This is where he was most comfortable. He was used to being outdoors, spent most of the daylight hours out on the trails trapping animals and spent his nights preparing the hides for sale. He could avoid her. He’d just stay out here until the storm forced him back inside, then he’d ignore her as if she wasn’t even there.

  When the gruff mountain man told her there was a hunting cabin out here in the wilderness, she’d expected something a little different than this. His cabin was nothing more than a small shack. There wasn’t even a window.

  Victoria turned and shut the door, closing off the chilly air wafting in and took in the small room. She crossed to the rock fireplace, counting her steps as she went. “…nine, ten, eleven, twelve.” That wasn’t many when you were closed in with a man you knew nothing about.

  Her gaze slid to the single bed against the wall on the right-hand side of the fireplace. It was so small she didn’t know how the man slept in it. Surely his feet would hang off the end. Maybe he slept on the floor.

  That single bed brought a ton of questions flooding into her mind. Did he expect payment for helping her by sharing his bed the first on her mind? And if he did, would he leave her out here in the middle of nowhere if she refused? Or would he take what he wanted whether she liked it or not?

  She sighed and pushed her hair back out of her face. She couldn’t think like that. If his intentions were dishonorable, he would have made them known when he killed the man who attacked her. Of course, bringing her along may have been a ruse to get her to trust him so he could take advantage of her later but for some reason, she didn’t think that was the case. Why would he bother? Besides, he seemed too irritated at having to help her. Him stomping across the stream to carry her across evidence of that.

  “Stop thinking so much, Victoria.” She shook her head to clear her mind and tugged off her cloak. The one advantage to the small one-room shack was, it heated quickly. The extra shirts she’d put on were tugged off and laid aside, as were the trousers she’d slipped on underneath her skirts. When she was down to her dress and undergarments, she felt better and was able to move more freely. Her hair had falling down over the course of the day. She lifted the loose strands, twisted them up, and tucked them back into the pins. A hard brush over the wrinkles in her skirts did nothing to smooth the material so she turned to stare at the empty room.

  Now what?

  She glanced at the walls. Nails were hammered into the planks, a few pots and cooking utensils hanging from them and other than a small table and two chairs, there was nothing else. Nothing that said this place was home to anyone. It was no more than a simple shelter.

  Reaching for one of the chairs, she pulled it away from the table, turned it to put the back against the wall and sat down, her gaze drawn to the flames flickering in the fireplace. The wind howled against the shack, the sound hypnotic. Her eyes grew heavy the longer she sat there. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment as thoughts of the last several weeks played inside her head. The disaster that was her life now whispered how foolish she was and as much as she wanted to deny it, she knew that voice was right. She had been so naive and foolish and now she was paying for those mistakes.

  The soft crackle of firewood burning and the warmth settling into her bones lulled her, drowsiness causing the noise to fade into nothing as her mind went blank. A loud thump brought her head up as the door opened. Her rescuer was back, his large form blocking the doorway before he came inside. As he turned to shut the door, she caught a small glimpse outside. It was nearly dark. She’d only closed her eyes for a moment—or had it been longer? Judging the shadows outside, it was longer than she’d thought.

  He paid her no attention as he walked toward the fireplace, propping his rifle beside the jutting stones that lined the hearth. He hung a leather string several rabbits were dangling from on a nail in the wall and tossed the hood attached to his coat off his head, shrugged out of the heavy fur and let it drop to the ground.

  He wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting.

  She’d thought him to be a huge man the first time she’d seen him but that wasn’t the case. He was larger than Thomas had been but the bulk of his coat had been deceiving. She let her gaze roam across his back. His shoulders were wide, his waist slightly tapered. His hair was a dark brown-black, worn long and curling around his collar and a full beard, clipped short covered his jaw. He grabbed the string of rabbits and spent the next ten minutes spitting them and putting them over the fire to cook, all the while acting as if she wasn’t even in the room. She shouldn’t care, but for some reason it made her feel invisible—as if she didn’t matter. But then again, why should she? She was no one to him.

  He busied himself around the room, hanging his coat from a nail to dry, then cleaning his rifle and the pistols he carried in a holster around his waist, that she just now noticed, before sharpening a large knife hanging from his belt. All the while, he ignored her until the rabbit was cooked. He plated it and sat it on the table between them and gave her half.

  They ate in silence, the wind whistling through the trees loud enough it sounded like painful moans and wails of some unknown creature lurking outside the shanty walls. She watched him warily as they ate. He didn’t seem any more inclined to talk than she did and that was fine by her. She had nothing to say to him anyway. He was taking her to a town, or she hoped he was, and talking wasn’t necessary.

  When there was nothing left of the rabbit but bones he stood, gathered both plates and tossed what was left into the fire, grabbed an empty pot and carried it outside and filled it with snow, melting it until there was enough to clean up with. Bathing would have been heaven but she settled for washing her hands and face and moved her discarded clothes off the bed when finished. She was tired and wanted nothing but to sleep until this entire ordeal was over.

  Carrying her things to the other side of the fireplace, she spread her cloak on the floor and folded the extra shirts she’d worn earlier into a makeshift pillow before sinking to her knees to lay it down.

  “Take the bed.”

  She looked up at his softly spoken words. He was unhooking the holster belt from his waist, his gaze still focused on the table.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said. He looked at her then, firelight shining in his eyes. She swallowed to moisten her throat and nodded before getting back to her feet, grabbing her things and turning to the bed.

  “I’m Gideon, by the way. Gideon Hart.”

  She locked eyes with him again and the tight, constricting knot that had been squeezing at her chest since the night Thomas took his last breath suddenly let go. Her worried thoughts vanished and the constant case of nervous jitters calmed the longer she stared at him. Something in the way he was looking at her—she couldn’t explain it—said it would be all right. That she needn’t worry. She knew nothing about this man but for the first time in months, she was able to breathe easier, the tension she’d felt coiled tight in every limb of her body eased, and she took a deep breath before licking her chapped lips. “Victoria Stanford.”

  He stared at her a few moments more, nodded, and turned away. She laid down on the bed, pulled her cloak over her body and watched him through slitted eyes as he fixed a pallet on the floor and laid down. For the first time in months, she drifted off to sleep feeling safe and protected.

  Victoria. The name suited her.

  Gideon turned to face the wall, putting his back to her and tried to go to sleep but thoughts of her kept intruding his mind. Walking back into the cabin and seeing
her without all those bulky layers on had halted his steps.

  He’d been expecting to see the bedraggled woman he thought hid behind all that fabric, but instead found a woman slight in build. She wasn’t wearing the same dress he’d found her in, the one those men had ripped. This dress, although wrinkled, was of fine material with silk covered buttons that ran up the front, not the homespun the few women he came into contact with wore. The dress fit snug enough to accentuate curves he wished she didn’t have and a glance at her boots showed the most impractical footwear anyone could have on out here in the wild. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t crossed the stream. Those boots weren’t made for slogging through water. Nor snow. Her feet were probably half frozen.

  He knew she didn’t belong here, especially when she spoke. It was only her name but he could still hear it whispering through his head. He’d barely heard her say it she spoke so softly, but the words felt like a soft caress, the tone of her voice almost musical.

  Victoria Stanford was an anomaly. She didn’t belong way out here in the middle of nowhere, Montana. Why had she been on that old mountain trail trying to bring a wagon up the narrow path? Where was she going? And why is she alone? He’d never know unless he asked but it was the last thing he’d do. He wasn’t getting involved in her life. He was taking her to Silver Falls and that was that. Who she is and what she’s doing up here wasn’t his concern. He didn’t want it to be, either. He wasn’t taking on the responsibility of another human life he’d just end up failing.

  You already have.

  The words whispered inside his head and he bit back a curse. He couldn’t be responsible for her. He refused to be. He may be leading her to Silver Falls but that didn’t mean he’d carry her all the way. She’d keep up, watch out for her own well-being, or he’d leave her behind. He wouldn’t spend a single second more codling her.

  Chapter 4

  Damn it all to hell.

  Gideon ground his teeth together and sloshed back across the stream, Victoria Stanford’s slight form nestled in his arms. He set her down on the other side and stepped away quickly. So much for not coddling her. He picked his pack up, shouldered it and started up the next ridge.

  The storm had been short-lived, thankfully. The snow was deeper than he’d like to slog through but he had little choice in the matter. It would slow them down considerably which meant instead of making it to the cabin in a day and a half, it would now take two, possibly three with the petite woman following slowly along behind him.

  They’d woken just after dawn, eaten a bit of dried meat and washed it down with water, then bundled up and headed out. The next several days would be a hard push. He just hoped she’d make it on her own.

  They walked and rested several times and stopped as the sun began to set and shadows darkened the forest enough it was getting hard to see. He found a resting spot to make camp next to a rock cliff that would protect them from the wind. When he started collecting kindling for the fire, he was surprised when she bent to retrieve the fallen branches by her feet. The fire was small but it would keep them warm enough they wouldn’t freeze. They ate more dried meat and after settling in, he dug through his pack for a few of the small furs he’d been hauling and grabbed the leather strings he kept in case he needed them. He stood and looked her way, noticing the dark circles under her eyes.

  “How are those boots holding up?” he asked.

  She glanced at him before shrugging. “They’re still in one piece.”

  “They won’t be for long.” He approached her and knelt down, pausing when she flinched away from him, her eyes wide as she regarded him. That’s the second time she’d done that. Surely she didn’t still think he’d hurt her.

  He held up the furs, waiting for the wary look in her eyes to ease. “A couple of these will help keep moisture out. At least these won’t fall apart on you.” He waited for her nod of approval before laying one of the skins on his knee and reaching for her foot.

  He wrapped her boots best he could, tying the leather around the top to keep it in place. Once finished, he took one of his shirts and packed a bit of snow inside the material, and handed it to her. “For the swelling on your face.” Her eye was still puffy and he knew her vision had to be impaired because of it. Her cheek was now black all the way down to her jaw and a few small bruises that looked like nothing more than dark smudges were sprinkled along the right side of her face and on both sides of her neck. Seeing her so beaten made him wish he’d not let those two who ran away go. He wasn’t the type of man who condoned murder but looking at Victoria’s battered face, knowing what those three had tried to do to her, made him wish he was.

  She took the snow-filled shirt and laid it against her battered face, her soft “thank you,” barely loud enough for him to hear. He gave her a small nod of his head and made his way back around the fire and fed more wood into the flames until he could feel its warmth. Several minutes of silence passed before he looked over at her. “Are you warm enough?”

  Her head was down, her gaze on the flickering flames of the fire. She never looked up but nodded her head in reply. So many questions were running through his mind but he didn’t dare ask them. She was so quiet that at times, he wondered if he was imagining her there with him. Had he been alone up here so long his subconscious mind finally snapped and he was seeing people that weren’t really there?

  He dismissed the thought. He wasn’t going crazy. He’d touched her, held her in his arms and if he thought hard enough, he could still feel her body pressed against his own. He handed her one of the blankets he kept for his bedroll and spread the other one out for himself. Imagination or not, he turned and looked at her. “Stay as close to the fire as you can get without getting burned. Sleeping on the ground in the snow is miserable and there’s not a thing I can do about it. We’ve got another two days before we make it to the cabin.”

  He pulled his hood up and laid down, hoping sleep claimed him quickly and thoughts of Victoria didn’t invade his dreams like they had the night before. Of all the things that had taken place over the last couple of days, one thing was certain. The sooner he could get her to Silver Falls, the better off he’d be.

  Victoria was laying on a lake of ice. An incessant noise buzzed in her ear and she was so lethargic it felt as if she were drowning. Pins and needles poked at her skin and the noise grew louder, a soft clanking sound that was annoying enough it brought her eyes open to half-slits.

  The noise was her teeth. She realized it the moment clarity returned and she woke enough to remember where she was. The lake of ice she’d been dreaming about was snow, a thick blanket of it underneath her left every inch of her body aching. The blanket Gideon had given her did little to keep the cold at bay. Her teeth were chattering, her hands and face numb, her body shaking. She was freezing. As cold as it’d been in the wagon, she’d never been this miserable. How long did it take before a body froze from exposure?

  She blinked and heard a muffled noise to her right. Something was moving near her but she couldn’t force her eyes open wide enough to see what it was. A moment later, a swift puff of air breezed by her face and ruffled her hair before something grabbed her, pulling her from her prone position and a thick weight fell on top of her. More movement and noise and her face was smashed against something solid—and warm.

  The scent of wood smoke and gunpowder filled her senses, followed by the light musk of sweat. She pried her eyes open and lifted her hand, trying to push away from whatever she was being crushed against. Pressure on the back of her head held her still, the warmth heating her face until she stopped fighting and burrowed deeper. She lifted her hands, bringing them up between her and whatever the solid object producing heat was. Her body slowly warmed, her chattering teeth stopped clanking and the pins and needle feeling pricking at her skin disappeared. She opened her eyes and pulled her head back.

  It was Gideon. She was crushed against his chest, her head pillowed on one strong arm, his other wrapped around her waist and ho
lding her close. Her heart started to race at his nearness but as she laid there, the feel of the heavy bearskin coat draped over them both and the scent of him filling her lungs, the warmth heating her body from head to toe chased the panic away. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t touching her in any inappropriate way. His hold on her was light enough to break if she wanted to get away but the heat slowly warming her body kept her in place.

  She lowered her head again, laying her cheek against his chest and inhaled long and deep. His arms tightened around her, the steady thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat under her ear lulling her back to sleep. Her last thought before drifting off was that for the second night in a row, she was completely safe and protected.

  It was snowing again. The soft kiss of snowflakes hitting his face pulled his eyes open.

  The first thing Gideon noticed was the fire had gone out. The second was the soft, solid form against his chest. Victoria’s warm breath heated the skin at the base of his throat and one dainty hand lay against his waist. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination. She was real, her slight form pressed tightly against him, and he’d never experienced anything so amazing as waking up with the scent of her so close, her body soft and warm.

  He’d listened to her teeth chatter so long the night before it nearly drove him insane. The internal debate he’d had with himself to warm her lasted longer than it should have and she was nearly frozen when he laid what was left of his bedroll beside hers and pulled her into his arms. Her limbs had been so cold, they’d shocked him to full wakefulness. She’d burrowed in against him, seeking warmth and he hated to admit he’d enjoyed the sensation just a little too much. She was still nestled against him, her head tucked under his chin.