by Lily Graison
“Finish eating and go lay back down. There’s no reason for you to be up.” She glanced out the window. The sun was nearly set. “It will be full dark soon. Go get some sleep.”
He looked at the dirty dishes.
“I’ll get these,” she said. “Go rest.”
Reluctantly, he nodded and pushed his bowl away. He hadn’t eaten enough. If she had to guess, she’d say he’d only eaten what he did to satisfy her. He stood and made his way back to the pallet by the fire. He sat and removed his boots, then laid back with a sigh. She watched him for long minutes while finishing her meal. When she got up to clean the mess she’d made, she marveled at how different her life was now.
She’d been pampered and spoiled growing up and hadn’t learned skills most women knew but here she was, cooking for a man she couldn’t stop thinking about and cleaning a home that wasn’t her own, but it felt good. Being needed warmed her in ways she’d never imagined it would. She glanced over to Gideon. It was nice to feel safe, too. As bad as he felt, she had no doubt in her mind that he’d stand up in an instant and come to her aid if she needed it. Something in the way he looked at her told her he’d defend her without question. As much as Thomas claimed to love her, she wasn’t sure he would have done the same. His treatment of her said more than his hateful words ever did.
By the time the kitchen was back in order and all the dishes were clean and on the shelf, the sun had disappeared, dark shadows crawling over the mountain. After checking on Gideon one last time, she went to the bedroom, stripped down to her chemise and crawled into bed.
Chapter 9
Morning sunlight shined in her eyes. Victoria blinked and turned her head into the pillow to block the glare.
The sun is shining?
She sat up, wide-eyed, then jumped from the bed and walked to the window to look out. It was the first time in over a week she’d actually seen bright rays of sunlight filter down through the trees. It shined off the stream and the snow-covered ground and was blinding in its intensity. She smiled. Getting off this mountain didn’t seem like such a daunting task now.
Turning her head to the fireplace, she only saw cold coals filling the space between the two rooms. Seeing Gideon laying on the other side surprised her. She thought he would have been up chopping that wood he said they needed or packing for the trek down the mountain, but seeing him still there let her know how much rest he really needed.
If they were going to be heading down the mountain today, he’d need all the rest he could get. The travel would be easier without the snow slowing them down. But leaving meant she would have to go home. The fear her parents wouldn’t help her was a worrying thought in the back of her mind. What would she do if they refused? She couldn’t stay in a town where she knew no one.
You know Gideon.
The words whispered through her head and warmth filled her chest. Of course, knowing him didn’t mean she could stay. How would she survive? She had no skills other than needlework and she didn’t see many people in the mountains of Montana needing embroidery edged frippery. She sighed and mumbled, “You can cross that bridge when you get to it, Victoria.”
Grabbing her dress, she stood by the door to slip it back on. Not that hiding made a difference now. She was just in plain view of the fireplace while standing in nothing but her thin chemise. If Gideon were going to see her, he would have by now. Thoughts of him doing so should have left her scandalized but she wasn’t. If truth be told, she wouldn’t mind at all. She scolded herself for having the thought. She had to stop this. Why was she so preoccupied with him? It made no sense. Maybe it was because they were alone up here on the mountain. Or the fact he had taken care of her since the moment he’d found her. Or maybe she liked him more than she should.
Her dress still held wrinkles and she gave it a hard shake, finished dressing, and entered the main room. Gideon didn’t stir. She drew fresh water for coffee and set the pot on the stove, filled the bottom with wood, and lit it. She was still craving eggs and fried bacon. Both would have been a dream come true, but there were no chickens for eggs and she’d not seen any signs of bacon in the cellar. “I guess it’s warm beans for breakfast.” She made a face at the thought and slipped on her boots and cloak and quietly went outside. The air was brisk and clean and the walk around the cabin to the outhouse was made easily. By the time she made it back inside, the beans and the coffee were both warm enough to enjoy.
She dished up a bit of the beans and ate standing up while watching Gideon. He hadn’t moved a muscle since she’d walked into the room. He must be a heavy sleeper. She smiled remembering her father had been, too. Waking him had always been hard and she’d spent many mornings jumping on his bed in an effort to wake him.
Thinking of her father made her heart ache. What must he think of her now? She’d disobeyed him, ran away from home with a boy he forbid her to see and ended up poor and alone just as he’d predicted she would. She pushed the thought away. There was time to contemplate her mistakes later, for now, she finished her beans and spooned up another bowl, grabbed a spoon and crossed the room to kneel by Gideon’s side. Perspiration dotted his flesh, which seemed odd. The fire was out. The room wasn’t cold but there was a slight chill, but nowhere near warm enough to be sweating.
“Gideon?” It took several attempts of saying his name to get him to stir and that was only to move his head. Worry caused her pulse to race as she repeated his name. He didn’t so much as twitch. Saying it three more times did nothing to stir him, either.
Sitting the bowl aside, she reached out to grabbed his shoulder to shake him awake and gasped when she laid her hand on him. Even through the material of his shirt, she could feel how feverish his flesh was. She shook him as hard as she dared. “Gideon, can you hear me?”
Her palm against his forehead made her groan. He had a fever. She closed her eyes and lowered her head. Every ounce of fear she’d lived through when Thomas took ill flooded her mind until her stomach cramped and the food she’d eaten soured and threatened to come back up.
She ran her hands across his cheeks and down both sides of his neck to settle on his shoulder. “Gideon, wake up.” She shook him, grabbing his shoulders with both hands and jostled him hard enough to rattle his teeth. “Gideon!” He moaned, a sob escaping as tears burned her eyes. She grabbed his face with both hands. “Gideon, look at me.” It took several minutes of prodding before he blinked his eyes open. He stared up at her but she could tell he didn’t really see her. “Gideon?” She kept one hand on his cheek and slicked his hair back from his forehead with the other. “Gideon, can you hear me?”
He licked his lips and blinked again. “Hot.”
The sob stuck in her throat. “I know. I’m going to fix that, all right?”
She grabbed the bowl of beans, jumped to her feet, and ran to the kitchen. After filling the bowl from yesterday with clean water, she searched for another clean cloth to bathe his skin. When she had what she needed, her worried gaze never left his face as she walked back across the room and knelt at his side, looking at his prone form from head to toe. She’d have to undress him again.
She bit her lip and stared at his face. He probably wouldn’t even be aware of it if she did. She inhaled a deep breath and unbuttoned his shirt with trembling fingers. When she unhooked the last one she realized she’d never be able to lift him. “Gideon, can you sit up?” He blinked his eyes open and stared at her before nodding. She wrapped an arm under his shoulders and helped him sit up, her heart rate increasing when he went limp and fell against her. He was burning up. She slipped his shirt off, then helped him to lie back down.
As much as she hated undressing him again, his trousers needed to come off. She gave him an apologetic look but his eyes were closed. She grabbed the sheet and pulled it close, unbuttoned his pants, and averted her eyes as she grabbed the sheet and laid it over his waist and groin before moving to his feet. She pulled his socks off and grabbed the trousers at both legs and tugged them down his body and crawled back to
kneel at his side.
The bandages were wet with blood and sweat. She ran back to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, cutting away the bloodied strips so she could see where he was bleeding the most. The small area around the stitches on his stomach that had been red and puffy the day before looked worse now. The flesh looked angry, blood oozed from around the stitches and worry started to creep in and steal her breath.
She tried not to panic as she dipped the cloth into the water and ran it over his face. He sighed and turned his head to the coolness of the towel, his mouth opening as she brushed it across his lips. She sucked down the fear clawing at her throat and rewet the cloth, gently patting the area the wound was swollen and red. Was it infected? Another sob crawled up her throat. She wasn’t a doctor. She couldn’t fix this!
“I don’t know what to do, Gideon.” She gave herself a few minutes to panic and grabbed his hand, pulling it to her chest as she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer, inhaling a deep breath, and pushing the fear aside. She didn’t have time for hysterics and neither did Gideon. She either fixed this or he’d die the same way Thomas had.
She grabbed more towels and washed the wounds, paying close attention to the area that was swollen. The alcohol she’d found under the bed would clean the wounds—she hoped—and splashed a bit on the reddened flesh, knowing he was out of it when he didn’t even flinch.
The sheet she’d covered him with was snatched away—modesty be damned—and there wasn’t an inch of him she didn’t bathe in cool water. She spent the next half hour running back and forth to the kitchen, getting clean water, wiping down his skin and repeating the whole process over and over until some of the heat had disappeared and her heart had stopped racing.
When she was satisfied she’d done enough, for now, she pulled the sheet back over him and ran her hand over his cheek. She should let him rest but she couldn’t make herself leave or stop touching him. What if his fever spiked again? What if she wasn’t there to notice and…
She choked back a sob. “You are not allowed to die, Gideon. I won’t have it.”
The ticking of the clock on the mantel was the only sound to be heard as she sat there by his side. As the bright sunlight she’d woken to that morning began to sink below the trees, Victoria bathed Gideon’s skin in cold water and willed him better. He thrashed in his sleep, his head moving back and forth as pained expressions distorted his face and he mumbled words she couldn’t understand. The fever was still raging when the room grew so dark she could barely see. She lit the fire and the lamps and one touch of Gideon’s skin brought the fear back. His skin was once again hot to the touch.
She snatched the sheet from the floor and soaked the entire thing in the sink, dripping water all the way across the room in order to drape it over his body, patting his skin down until the fabric was nearly dry, then she’d rewet it and do it all over again.
He couldn’t leave her. She wouldn’t let him. She’d barely survived when Thomas did. She’d be as good as dead if Gideon didn’t make it. The only reason she was alive now was because he’d saved her. She had to break his fever. It was her turn to save him.
He was burning. His flesh felt lit from within, his eyes dry and itching. Nora was screaming, the terrified expression on her face etched into his memory forever and her accusing words of his failure to protect her dug into his heart and lodged there tight.
Her screams grew louder as they burned, her agony his own as her accusing eyes locked on his. Each scream ripped from her throat scraped the skin from his bones until one moment of cool relief washed the pain away before the flames returned, Nora once again screaming at him and he was helpless to do anything but watch her die.
Gideon’s screams were causing Victoria’s already fragile nerves to come close to shattering. His body flailed, his arms reaching for things that weren’t there and the name, Nora, fell from his lips on repeat.
The wet sheet was the only thing that calmed him down. She’d stripped the bed of her own sheets and kept them soaked in water, switching them out when one was no longer keeping him cool. As the fever spiked, his eyes losing focus, she’d slung the water away and carried the bowl outside, scooping up snow and bringing it back in to pack around his body.
She hadn’t slept, barely ate and as the night gave way to dawn, the fear Gideon may die lingered in her mind. Her own fate was never far behind those thoughts.
The constant worry left her weak and exhausted. Victoria laid more wood on the fire, checked on Gideon, then grabbed her cloak and went out to grab what little there was left of the firewood before coming back to sit by his side. Nothing else mattered except bathing his fevered skin with cool water and snow when he grew too hot and listening to him mumble words she couldn’t make out—none of them but one. The word, beautiful. In one rare moment when his eyes were open, he’d looked up at her, a tiny smile turning the corners of his lips. He’d touched her face and said, beautiful. He’d looked so sincere when he said it her heart had fluttered like a caged bird.
Until he grew restless and whispered the name, “Nora.” Who was she? And what was she to Gideon?
She wiped his brow again, lost in thought. Was he married? He’d never mentioned he was but she’d never asked, either. He said he lived up here on the mountain and it didn’t look as if a female lived here so, she assumed he wasn’t. Then who was this mysterious Nora?
Fatigue caused her body to ache but even running to the outhouse or gathering wood for the fire—what was left of it—caused the fear to return. She was afraid. Terrified to leave his side for any length of time in fear of…
She shook the thought away, rewet the sheet and draped it across his body again. The pillows and blankets from the bed were laid on the floor beside him, the pallet not as comfortable as the bed but if Gideon had to lay on the floor, sick as he was, so could she. She settled beside him and laid one hand on his chest so she’d know when the fever spiked again and for the first time in two days, closed her eyes and slept.
Chapter 10
The blessed relief of cool air washed over his body. Gideon turned his head, the cool sweep of soft fingers brushing against his flesh. He opened his eyes and blinked, the room hazy and unfocused. A soft voice whispered words he couldn’t make out and the soft touch he felt against his skin caused a chill to race up his spine.
A dark shadow hovered above him and it took a few minutes of focusing to see her. Victoria. She looked like an angel as she stared down at him. He lifted his hand, his finger stroking her cheek. “So beautiful.”
She grabbed his hand, her lips curling into a smile. She said something, her voice a soft whisper he couldn’t make out. Her hand was on his face again. The cool touch he’d felt earlier trailing over his cheek and neck, then down to his chest and arms. He sighed and closed his eyes and let the cool sweep of her hands take away the fire.
A soft caress on his cheek drew his eyes back open. She was leaning over him again, her lips parted as she spoke, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. His gaze lingered there, the pink tint of her lips drawing his attention. Her hair was down, golden-brown curls trailing across his skin. He reached up and plunged his fingers into the length of it like he’d wanted to do since the first time he saw it down and watched as the strands slid over his hand.
She was talking, his gaze drawn to her mouth again. He touched her bottom lip, his thumb sliding across the length of it. “Victoria.” She stilled, her hand still brushing his hair back from his face. He’d never seen anyone, “so beautiful.”
He wasn’t making much sense but Victoria didn’t move away. Gideon was focused on her. For the first time in three days, he was alert enough to keep his eyes open for longer than a few seconds. His fingers were in her hair, then caressing the skin on her cheek, his thumb lightly brushing across her bottom lip. She smiled and pushed his hair away from his face. He was looking at her, but his eyes were a bit unfocused as if he saw her, but some version of her that wasn’t there. “Do you feel better
today, Gideon? Do you need anything?”
“So Beautiful…”
She smiled as butterflies danced in her stomach. “What is beautiful?”
“Victoria…”
His hand slid into her hair again and moved to the back of her head. He tugged her closer, pulling her down to him before he raised his head and kissed her. Her shocked gasp gave him entrance into her mouth, his tongue slipping between her parted lips, and for a few brief moments, she leaned in and kissed him back, let herself get swept away at the feel of his lips against her own, then pulled away.
She grabbed his hand and pulled it from her hair, her heart racing in her chest. “You must be feeling better if you’re trying to steal kisses.”
He blinked sleepily at her, his gaze still locked on her face.
“Go back to sleep,” she said, arranging her pillow before stretching out beside him. He turned his head to look at her, a sleepy look in his eyes. She brushed her fingers across his jaw, still amazed at how soft his beard was.
Sleep finally claimed him and she lay awake just watching him breathe, her mind playing back the brief kiss over and over again until she smiled. Fever-induced or not, it had been the first time in months she’d felt wanted. In that one tiny moment, nothing else existed but the two of them, as if she’d belonged to him—and he belonged to her.
Chapter 11
His mouth felt as if it were filled with cotton. Gideon couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thirsty. He opened his eyes, blinking to clear his vision. The room was cast in dim, pale grey light. He’d slept on the floor of the cabin enough to know that washed out color leeching across the ceiling meant the sun was coming up.
He turned his head to the window, startled when he saw Victoria. She was laying beside him, one hand tucked underneath the pillow beneath her head, the other laying against his chest. He ran his fingers over the back of her hand. Her skin was soft as silk. He lifted it, ran his thumb over her knuckles, then lowered it back to his chest.