“I don’t have a choice.” She gestured at the sun. “The days are too short.”
“What are you doing?”
“Altering my skirts.”
“Why?”
Becca cut her eyes sideways, and a blush crept up her cheeks. “They don’t fit anymore.”
“Oh. I hadn’t noticed.”
The hell he hadn’t. Rounded curves and lush, full breasts. He should be the one complaining. He could barely keep his mind off her. Much less, his hands.
She mumbled something about her ankle and poked at her waist. “This is what I get for lying around, doing nothing for two whole weeks.”
That and he’d purposely fed her well.
He glanced her way again, trying not to look at anything that might get him in trouble—with her or his wayward thoughts. “You look fine, Rebecca.”
“I know you’re just saying that to be nice, but thank you.”
He wasn’t, but... “You want the truth?” He met her gaze and the fragile uncertainty in her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with gaining a few pounds. That’s something you ladies dreamed up. Men prefer women with meat on their bones.”
Seth ignored her gaping mouth and turned his attention back to the trail.
“Ouch.”
She’d stuck herself again, but he doubted it had anything to do with the roughness of the ride.
Becca kept sewing until they made camp, but her thoughts were of Seth. For a quiet man, he could be awfully bold.
That she was attracted to someone who lived like a drifter and sometimes spoke like one, too, perplexed her. She’d always pictured herself with someone settled. A man with both goals and roots. Not anyone stuffy or overly sophisticated, but someone more restrained, more refined.
Someone—her heart sank—like Nathan.
The what-ifs loomed larger as Blackwater neared, and her growing attachment to Seth made her feel like a fraud and a traitor. Nathan was the man of her dreams. Yet Seth was the man who stirred her, body and heart.
Thankful for the break she got from him while cooking, she used the time to reason all this out. First kisses aside, the bulk of her feelings for him arose from gratitude and familiarity. That’s all it was. Not only had he rescued her, they were traveling together, for heaven’s sake—spending every waking moment together and depending on each other for their very survival. How could she not grow attached?
All she had to do was keep that in mind. There was nothing wrong with being friends. Even close friends. She simply had to make sure they didn’t become anything more.
After serving their plates, Becca pulled her coat closed and tried to get comfortable on a cold, flat stone.
Seth scooted over and patted the space beside him. “It’s warmer over here. Come sit.”
She considered his offer, then took him up on it, lowering herself onto his ground blanket, a few inches away.
Seth scooped some beans onto the top of his cornbread and broke the wedge apart with the side of his spoon. “What are you going to do when you get to California?”
The bite of food she’d just taken seemed to swell in her throat. Becca balanced her spoon on her plate and took a sip of coffee. “I’m not sure. It depends on what I find when I get there.”
He tilted his head and regarded her thoughtfully. “Fair enough. What do you want to do? With your life, I mean.”
You ask that like I have a choice. “Well, if I’m welcome at my parents—” He raised a brow in dissension. “—I guess I’ll spend some time with them, and then get married. To someone. Eventually.”
“What about your art?”
“What about it?”
“Have you ever thought of studying to become a professional artist?”
“I’ve thought of it, but... I just want to settle down and have a family.”
A smile curved his lips but failed to light his eyes. “You’ll make a fine wife and mother.”
Once they finished eating, Becca stared at the crackling logs and watched the sparks rise from the fire, swirling up to meet the stars. “I love the sky when it’s clear like this.”
“Me, too. There’s nothing quite like sleeping under the stars.”
“How do you use them to find your way?”
“I locate the North Star, then I look at the positions of the other stars around it.”
“But they’re always moving.”
“True. But their movements are predictable.” Seth lifted his arm and pointed. “See those three bright stars in a row?”
“Where?”
He put his other arm around her shoulders and leaned closer. “There.”
“Oh. Now I see it.”
“That’s Orion’s Belt. The constellation Orion always rises in the east and sets in the west.”
Becca closed her eyes and savored the feel of Seth’s chest against her arm. How easy it would be to rest her head on his shoulder and stay here with him, safe in his embrace. But she couldn’t. She had to maintain a respectable distance, no matter the cost.
Her family probably thought she was dead, and Nathan likely did also. But what if he still wanted her? That her intended might be waiting, or at least willing, to marry her when she found him again was a possibility she couldn’t ignore. She’d promised herself to him. And, regardless of her nebulous feelings, she had to stay true to her word.
Treading carefully through her tangled circumstances, Becca eased away from Seth as gently as she could.
In a flash of self-awareness, he withdrew his arm and assumed a less familiar posture.
“Goodnight,” she said as she stood, unable to keep her murky emotions from dimming her smile. At his equally-formal reply, she collected their empty plates and left him for the wagon.
Seth barely spoke the next morning.
Though she longed to go to him and explain, Becca let the silent rift between them stay. Decorous distance was better than the risky alternative.
Gray clouds coated the sky as thickly as the ache of separation coated her soul, and by late afternoon, a brutal winter storm had blown in, bringing icy rain and unrelenting winds.
Seth parked the wagon near a stand of trees to shelter them from the worst, and then insisted on staying outdoors.
Becca burrowed under her blankets, but sleep wouldn’t come. How could it when she lay there, dry and in relative comfort, while Seth huddled in the rain and the cold? She tossed and turned for hours, wishing she’d pressed him harder to join her, wishing—
“Becca,” he called from outside.
“Yes?”
The glow of a lantern lit the space as he opened the bonnet and peered inside. Rain dripped from the brim of his hat and his lips were blue. “The rain’s too h-heavy. I c-can’t keep a fire going. C-can I come inside?”
“Of course.”
Ushered by a gust of rain-soaked wind, he climbed inside and sealed the bonnet.
Propping up on one elbow, Becca took the lantern from him and hung it near her head as he removed his duster and lay his hat aside. Water darkened the edges of his clothes and he smelled of winter.
Seth rubbed his arms as his eyes took in the crowded space. The only place for him to lie was next to her.
With a smile she hoped would allay his doubt, she scooted over and lifted the edge of her covers. Surely he wouldn’t object. They were both fully dressed, and they’d slept together before.
Brow tightening with obvious reluctance, he lowered himself to her pallet and eased in next to her.
Becca jerked when his frigid form touched hers. There was no stemming the shiver that rattled through her body.
Seth scooted away. “I’ll move. I—”
“Nonsense. You’re half frozen.”
“I’ll b-be all right. I’ll just go—”
Becca grabbed his arm. “No.” The force of her tone surprised them both. “Please. Let me warm you. If you take ill...”
The words left unspoken sobered him and he relented.
She pulled the
quilts up around them, then took his icy hands in hers and rubbed them briskly, blowing her warm breath over them again and again and feeling lower than low. She shouldn’t have left things as she had. Thanks to her well-meaning snub, he’d waited too long to seek shelter.
“I’m sorry for all this,” she said, alternately kneading his hands and rubbing them, trying to restore the circulation. “I bet you’re wishin’ you’d never offered to take me home.”
Seth’s whole body quivered from the cold, but beneath that, it took on a strange stillness.
She glanced up to see him staring at her. She stopped what she was doing and stared back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“The time I left to go hunting and g-got stranded, you cried yourself to sleep.”
She returned her attention to his fingers and began rubbing again. “I was worried about you.”
Seth pulled his hands from hers and grasped them, stilling them, then placed a cold finger under her chin and tipped her face up. “Why do I get the feeling that’s not all?”
Becca chewed the inside of her lip. “At first, I worried something had happened to you, but then... I was injured, and you were forced to take care of me. I thought you decided I wasn’t worth the trouble and went on without me.”
The sudden glaze of compassion couldn’t dampen the ire flashing in his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I didn’t take you from the safety of your cave to abandon you in the wilderness. I’ll return you to your family if I have to die doing it.”
She swallowed back the emotion that lodged in her chest. “Well,” she said, feigning bravado when she wanted to cry, “if you don’t let me warm you up, you’ll die right here of pneumonia.”
Becca rubbed his hands again, then scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him. She felt like a handkerchief trying to cover a haystack, but she was determined to warm him. Tiny bumps broke out and scattered over the surface of her skin as the chill of his body seeped into hers. Only half of them were from the cold.
Seth tensed and regarded her warily as another bout of shivers racked his body.
After reaching up and turning out the lamp, Becca guided his head to her shoulder and drew him close. “It’s all right, Seth. Do what you need to survive.”
When his quivering frame folded into hers, she lay there, listening to the storm howl and the wind buffet the wagon as tremulous streams of breath skimmed the hollow of her neck.
Cold air grazed her face, but the rain had stopped and the howling wind had died to a low drone. Becca opened her eyes and strained to see in the blackness that surrounded her—a wasted effort. It was still night.
Seth lay next to her on his back, his breathing slow and deep. At some point, they had switched roles. Now it was her head on his shoulder and his arm around her. His familiar scent filled her nose and comforted her soul.
She knew she should keep her distance, but his very presence was like air to the drowning. When they were apart, she found it hard to breathe.
Molded to his side like warm candle wax, her body came alive with tiny jolts of awareness that flickered like edges of smoldering coals. She lifted her hand and ran her finger along buttoned placket of his shirt. Smooth, even stitches guided her path like the dotted line on a map. When her fingers reached the valley of his chest, she flattened her hand over his heart. The slow, steady thump against her palm was exactly like the man.
Strong. Predictable. Dependable.
Seth’s hand came to rest on top of hers before she could move it. He turned his head and buried his nose in her hair. “Are you cold?” he murmured.
“No.”
“Mm. Me neither.” His sleepy reply warmed her forehead, his lips brushing her skin as they formed the words.
When his easy breaths turned to deep, soft snores and the hand holding hers slid aside, she resumed her caress of his shirt until her fingers grazed his jaw. His beard framed the curve of his face like coarse corn silk. She spent several moments stroking it gently, smoothing the hair from root to tip.
The pad of her index finger skimmed the ridge of his lips. A heartbeat later, she lifted her face and planted a light kiss at the corner of his mouth. Then another.
He sighed and turned his head, mimicking her gesture, his lips eventually capturing hers in a lazy, nibbling kiss.
It was as if he’d fanned flames. Her skin ignited and her body burned. She cupped the side of his face with her hand and nibbled back. A deep groan vibrated Seth’s chest. He rolled toward her and deepened the kiss, his powerful arms clutching her tight and his leg sliding up and resting on hers in weighty possession. A few more inches and she’d be pinned.
Groaning again, he kissed a fervid trail down her neck, and reality splashed over her like an icy wave. This wasn’t real. Seth wouldn’t behave like this if he were aware of himself. And he would regret his actions once he was.
Becca ignored the longings of her flesh and her heart and whispered his name.
His moist, warm mouth continued to draw on her skin.
“Seth.”
His ardent grip turned to rigid detachment in an instant.
“Becca, I—” He disentangled himself and scooted away, filling the space between them with frigid air. “I didn’t mean to do that. I...”
“You what?”
“I dreamed you kissed me.”
Her face burned so hot, she was surprised it didn’t glow in the dark. “It wasn’t a dream.”
Seth didn’t move a muscle. He barely breathed. “You kissed me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Becca tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. She refused to admit the depth of her feelings, but she couldn’t deny the truth to herself any longer. She was falling in love with him. “Because I care about you.”
The pounding of her heart marked endless moments of silence.
Fabric rustled as he scooted closer again. He gathered her in his arms and drew her into a comforting embrace. “I care about you, too.”
Their sighs mingled as she slid her arm around his waist and rested her head on his chest.
He gave her a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have spent an entire day thinking I left you.”
Becca snuggled closer. “Why didn’t you? Tell me, I mean.”
“I figured you wouldn’t be interested in someone like me.”
She lifted her face and nuzzled the underside of his chin with her nose. “Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself?”
He drew back. “I could ask you the same question.”
Becca pressed her lips together. She didn’t feel like rehashing the thoughts that had plagued her for months.
Seth’s fingers grazed her cheek. He brushed her lower lip with his thumb, then tilted her face up to his. His breath caressed her skin as his lips met hers in an easy kiss. “You’re beautiful, Rebecca. You’re smart.” His lips touched hers again. “And talented.” He kissed her a third time, and this time he lingered, resting his head against hers when he was done. “Don’t let anyone tell you different or make you feel unwanted ever again. You deserve better than that.”
He tugged the quilts up around them and held her close. “Morning’ll be here soon. We’d better get some sleep.”
Becca hugged him back and buried her face in his chest, hoping he wouldn’t feel the tears soaking into his shirt.
Five days later
Clear skies stretched out in every direction as the wagon bumped and clattered beneath them. The storm had been short-lived, and for that, Becca was thankful. If Seth’s calculations were right, they would reach California in a matter of days.
What she’d find when she arrived still cluttered her thoughts, but she’d made peace with her feelings. At least for now. Hypothetical obligations weren’t worth hurting Seth. And they certainly weren’t worth jeopardizing his safety or his health.
Becca squinted at a dark object in the distance. “What�
�s that?”
“What?”
She leaned in and pointed. “That.”
Seth narrowed his eyes as they drew closer, then lifted his brows. “I think it’s a stove.”
He reined the team to a halt and set the brake. After climbing out of the wagon, they circled a black cast iron stove that sat pristinely on the prairie a few feet from the trail. As stoves went, it was pricey. And it was practically new.
Seth squatted down and opened the door to the firebox. “I guess it got too heavy to carry.” He looked up at her. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Can we?”
He rose and glanced at the sun hanging low in the sky. “It’s almost time to make camp. Why not?”
Becca bounced on her feet. They’d have supper—and breakfast, too—cooked on a stove.
Seth grinned. “Gather some wood while I park the wagon.”
She’d gladly do that. And stir up some bread to bake—bake!
By the time Seth unhitched the team, she had a nice collection of sticks. He brought some thicker logs from their cache and set her crates of utensils nearby. “Need any help?”
“No.” She adjusted the damper and began adding kindling. “What would you like for supper?”
“Well... we’ve got plenty of beef.”
Becca choked back a laugh. No kidding. Two days ago, he’d shot a wild cow. “How about some stew?”
“Sounds good.”
While Seth was fetching the meat, she fanned the flames and added some larger sticks. When the stove began giving off heat, she closed the door to the firebox and adjusted the flue. She needed to get the dough mixed soon, or it wouldn’t have time to rise.
As she stood, something darted out from under the stove and skittered across the ground. Then another. Brown. With tails.
Mice!
Becca leapt onto the crate, screaming and clutching her skirt. She was acting like a ninny, but she hated the sneaky little creatures.
Seth dropped the meat and ran. “What’s wrong?”
“There—under the stove. Mice.”
He stopped a few feet away and followed her gaze, then sprang backward as three more ran out. “Ah!” He hopped on one leg and shook the other, bouncing around in a jerky dance.
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