Damn. He hadn’t considered this kind of reaction. Disappointment he’d expected. Take the money and go, yes. But dragging her with him to Sacramento? Hell no.
He rose to his feet. “No. I think it’s best if you go home, Stephanie,” he said, his voice tightening.
“What’s her name?” she asked softly.
“Sarah.”
She nodded. “Eric, please put my bags in Mr. Langley’s buggy. You will be staying on here, and I . . . I will be accompanying him to check out his story.”
Connor’s heart raced as he pushed aside his coat and thrust a hand into his trouser pocket. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the smooth hunk of precious metal he kept there, a large chunk of gold―his onetime good-luck piece. Jinxed, now. Merely a reminder of the good ole days in San Francisco. With a cynical smile, he slipped his hand out of his pocket and looked at her once more. The specks of green in her eyes danced back at him. Connor straightened then, and a wave of lust surged through him.
She nodded again and moved out the door, practically marching along, her shapely ankles showing as her fitted boots kicked up against her skirts. Connor’s jaw tensed as he ground his molars, scanning from her fawn-brown boots to the crest of her modest hat. His blood mate had a boldness that made her even sexier, even more dangerous.
What a challenge she would be to conquer. No. No, she would get in the way of his given task, and he couldn’t allow it.
For a moment, she paused and looked back at him. Then she raised her brows as her eyes locked with his across the distance and played what felt like a small game of tug-of-war, not coy but expecting him to traverse the steps to meet her. Connor waited. Absurdly, and for reasons he couldn’t name, he wanted her to come to him.
Her frown faded and she wet her lips, sweeping her pink tongue over them. She glanced at the ground, then back at him. Finally, with her mouth pulling up to one side in a smirk that clearly deemed the action unimportant, she turned away again.
Connor hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he involuntarily gasped for air when he tried to speak. Irritation flashed through him with the awareness. After all he’d been through, a pretty face still affected him?
Hell.
He scowled at her and followed her out into the street. He halted a few feet in front of her, and she stepped back. Wise girl.
Lord, she was striking.
“In case I didn’t make myself clear . . . You are not coming with me to Sacramento,” he said. If he was surly enough, perhaps she’d turn tail and go home.
She blinked at his rudeness, then tilted her head to the side as she pursed her lips in indignant speculation. Finally, she said, “If you don’t take me with you, then I’ll simply follow you.”
He lifted one brow and paused, silent, sober, measuring her. Did she have it in her to make that trip, to deal with the elements?
Evidently Stephanie wasn’t finished―or perhaps it was his intentionally piercing stare she was responding to―because she added, “I came here to learn about my father and I intend to do just that.”
At the moment he cursed the man. Well, at least Stephanie was practiced at handling difficult situations; he knew she’d been living pretty much on her own for years. He’d give her that. It was trusting himself with her that he wasn’t so sure about.
~ ~ ~
“Look here, I’ve had enough of your scowling stares,” she said, taking an assertive step closer to the tough, virile man who was doing his darnedest to intimidate her. She drew in a deep breath, hoping the glare she shot back at him would encourage a change in his attitude. “I’m tired, and . . . and not in the mood to deal with your interrogating looks without even so much as an I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Too late.”
He almost smiled and a devilish gleam barely glinted in his cobalt eyes. “You’re gorgeous when you’re miffed. I didn’t know that about you.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “I’m not miffed, Mr. Langley. I’m . . . exasperated.”
“Of course. And you might as well call me Connor now, Miss Davenport.”
She rolled her eyes at him.
With a lift of his shoulder, he glanced away then back. “Eric is taking a long time to fetch your belongings.”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll be here any second.”
“I think he’s afraid of you.”
“Well, he should be.” She’d given Eric specific instructions to stay here and find out more information about Connor Langley while she did the same at Papa’s mine.
Connor opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it.
“Do you think it wise for him to remain here? You don’t actually know me.”
“You were my father’s partner. He trusted you,” she paused, lifting her chin and searching his face. “So will I.”
A smile tugged at his lips, making her nervous, but he remained silent.
“Knowing Eric, he probably won’t stay behind for long,” she added.
This time he advanced to within inches of her, invading her space in a deliberately overbearing manner. “Good, then I can turn you back over to him if things don’t work out.”
“I promise you that won’t be necessary.” Stephanie tipped up her head, glancing at the man who already had her so frustrated she wanted to knock him on his backside. She let her gaze slide down his rigid, unyielding body. She could do it, too, she thought―one quick sweep of a foot catching his dusty, boot-clad ankle―that’s all it would take to make his long, manly legs buckle.
Connor stared back with intense, guarded eyes. “We’ll see.” His brows came together, almost touching. “The timing of your visit isn’t the best. I don’t have time for socializing.”
Obviously. It all but screamed through in his prickly mannerism. Yes, Connor was vastly different from the man her father had described in his letters. He didn’t seem like the type who took orders from anyone. Especially a schoolteacher from New England.
“Oh, how I wish Papa had not died,” she said longingly.
She thought she heard him give a low groan as he nodded. “Indeed,” Connor acknowledged tightly. “Shall we get going before the storm lets loose?” He pushed on his hat, settling it over his wide forehead, then spun on his heel as if expecting her to follow. She did.
Stephanie examined the masculine sway of shoulders and back as he walked a few strides in front of her. A cutting wind fanned her skirts and she shivered before buttoning her coat as they walked.
She waited inside the hotel while Connor retrieved her baggage from Eric. Through the window, she watched as he brought the buggy around and loaded her belongings. There was something intriguing, exciting even, about a man in a split coat, she thought, unable to take her eyes off him. Perhaps it was the contrast between the flow of the garment and his masculine, efficient movements as the rain pelted down.
He came for her next. He propped the door open with one booted foot and extended his hand to her. A half smile tugged his mouth up at the corner, cutting a dimple into his cheek. “Everything’s set. Ready?”
Stephanie blinked in disbelief. “Y-yes,” she said, pulling the hood of her coat up, marveling at the transformation his smile elicited. Even a bit of a smile. She shook her head. Perhaps he saw the futility of his dark, forbidding outlook, though she doubted it. Or it could be only that men see humor in the oddest things, like a woman choosing to ride across the countryside and battle the elements with a stranger. Whatever the cause, heat rushed through while looking at the dangerously handsome man before her.
Still, for all she knew, he could be laughing at the fact that she would be a drowned kitten by the time they stopped for the night. As she placed her hand in Connor’s, her heart fluttered a double beat.
She thanked Eric for getting her bags and gave him a hug. It seemed odd that she was all right with leaving him behind and putting her safety in Connor’s hands. But for a reason she couldn’t explain, she was, in fact, all right
with it.
Connor gently tugged her through the door, and then they sprinted toward the buggy. Once there, he angled his head down and tried to shield her from the rain by opening his coat.
“Sorry, I didn’t bring an umbrella,” he said in a rush. “But the buggy has a custom-made cover, so that should provide us some protection.”
“I’m sure it will do fine. I’ve been in worse.”
He towered over her, the water dripping from the brim of his hat forming a liquid curtain, softening the appearance of his chiseled cheekbones and firm, square jaw. But she could still see him raise one strong brow, clearly unconvinced. She wet her lips, her mouth gone dry.
Move away from him.
She forced herself to turn away, to think about the rain and getting herself into the buggy instead of imagining slipping beneath his coat and sidling up against his warm body.
Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating heavy, dark clouds. Stephanie flinched, and her foot slipped where she’d started to place it on the buggy step. Off-balance, she pressed closer to Connor until her upper arm touched his for his support. Odd, how he made her feel safe. And she couldn’t pinpoint why feeling protected suddenly appealed to her when she so longed for her independence. It must be the thunderstorm.
“Grab hold up there,” he told her, indicating a bracket up and to her right.
She nodded but was reluctant to leave his side. When she didn’t move, his firm hands encircled her waist to aid her assent. The muscles along her spine tensed and rippled. With more concentration than it should have required―after all, she could easily climb a horse in one smooth motion―she managed to settle onto the elevated bench. His touch left a hidden imprint of heat that raged through her body like wild fire. On the outside she was cold and damp, but inside, ohh . . . On the inside she felt ablaze, feverish. The next thing she knew, the buggy shifted to one side, tilted by Connor’s weight before he slid into the seat beside her.
He glanced sideways at her. Another half-smile lifted his lips, wavered, and then disappeared.
She blinked, frowned, and looked away.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She shook her head as a grumble of thunder rolled over them. She was letting the rainstorm get to her, that’s all. It couldn’t be disappointment, at the loss of his smile. “No, nothing’s wrong.”
He looked doubtful. “I hope Sarah is okay with meeting you,” he said.
The sudden change in his voice when he spoke of his half-sister caught Stephanie off guard. The velvet timbre, the calm tone was a puzzling contrast to his relentless stare.
“I hope so, too,” she said. “It might actually be nice to have family.”
She hadn’t even realized it until the words came out of her mouth. But it was true. The prospect of an extended family was a surprisingly welcome one.
Connor slipped on his gloves and rubbed his hands together with a slap. “Okay, well, we’d better go before the road gets too muddy to travel.”
~ ~ ~
As he had noted earlier, the makeshift canopy did keep out the water. Well, most of it. The buggy sloshed along the drive, and lightning split the sky, another crash of thunder shaking the ground. Stephanie flinched.
“You afraid of storms?”
“I’m certainly not fond of them.” She raised her shoulders, tucking herself further under her hood like a turtle, as if it would give her any protection. Yet, as she did so, she remembered the way she used to huddle beneath the wing of her father’s arm when she was a little girl. Something she started doing after one particularly horrible storm. “When I was a child, I was once out in the pasture and a bolt of lightning struck less than a few hundred feet from me. It killed one of our horses.”
Connor whistled. “I guess that’s good reason.”
Something melted inside her at his reply. He didn’t pass her feelings off as foolish nonsense like her stepfather had.
“Our stop for tonight is a considerable way up the road,” he went on. “I hope the weather doesn’t hold us up.”
Stephanie fidgeted but remained cocooned within her coat. “Maybe it will let up.”
“Perhaps we can beat it, instead,” he said, giving her a flash of that dimple. “Hold on.” He cracked the whip for the team to move faster.
Connor drove without speaking for a time, traveling around what the locals had dubbed Gold Nugget Lake, before he turned toward the mountain ridge. Thankfully, the rain had shifted so it was descending straight down instead of at a sharp angle, which helped keep them from being thoroughly drenched.
She felt Connor’s stare, yet a jolt still ran up her spine when he spoke. “Before we arrive, I think we should get a few things straight,” he said.
The authority in his voice was unmistakable. Her father had frequently used the same brusque, commanding tone. Why Connor would be using it with her, Stephanie wasn’t sure, but she instinctively tensed.
Clearing his throat, he continued, “Sarah is a different person now. Making it on her own with two small boys.”
“Papa’s death was such a tragedy,” she told him sincerely, as nerves about meeting this woman and her children finally flooded her.
“Perhaps . . . a preventable tragedy.”
Not even the storm could conceal the agony in those sorrow-filled words. The misery in his voice carried down to her like water tumbling to the bottom of rapids, emptying into a dark river. She had come to find answers—to secure the inheritance that would allow her an independent life, as well, of course, but also to learn more about the father she barely knew.
She sighed and worried her bottom lip, ashamed to admit such a self-seeking purpose, even to herself. All of a sudden, she felt apprehensive about her decision to come.
She glanced at Connor just as another flash of lightning lit the sky, revealing his stern profile. “What happened with Sarah?”
Thunder clapped.
“What?” he bellowed.
The racket created by the sounds of their journey—the horses’ plodding hooves, the mud sloshing around the wheels, and the rain assaulting the buggy—made conversation nearly impossible. Still, talking, even with this dark, intimidating man, was better than simply listening to nature’s fury. Besides, the answer was one she needed in order to fully appreciate Sarah’s situation.
She swallowed a huge lump of fear, telling herself his ranch wasn’t really all that far away. “How did it happen? How did my father and Sarah meet?”
His hands tightened on the reins. “We don’t need to discuss that now. You’ll find out soon enough.” His harsh words clearly turned inward with the power of a rockslide, and she tensed at his cryptic reply.
“I guess she can tell me when we arrive.”
“Yes, well, I wanted to warn you that, things can be different out west. These are hard times.”
His words sent a shiver through her. “I can only imagine.”
“Stephanie, what I’m trying to say is, don’t get all romantic over this meeting. You may be disappointed.”
“I realize that,” she said, remembering wistfully some of the days she’d spent with her father as a little girl. Before her mother had died and Papa had fled.
“You must take extra precautions,” he went on sharply. “Keep your distance.” Another boom of thunder cracked. “And stay close to me.”
What was with all the mystery? She expected him to finish the lecture by adding, Is that clear? but he didn’t. Despite the fact that he appeared undoubtedly wounded by something unknown to her, Stephanie’s defenses rose all the same. Nothing infuriated her more than being told what to do or how to act. “Mr. Langley―”
“Connor,” he interrupted.
Stephanie clenched her teeth. “Connor,” she paused. “I will treat her with the utmost care.”
“It is not how you treat her that concerns me, but how she relates to you.”
Stephanie’s irritation soared. “I’m quite capable, you know. Extremely adept at managing
things for myself.”
“Like leaving your cousin back in San Francisco and taking off with me?”
“Well, yes.”
“That’s exactly the sort of behavior that concerns me. These are dangerous times. Good God, you’re too trusting.”
He was over exaggerating the situation. “I don’t think―”
A bolt of lightning stabbed near the road several yards in front of them. The white flash slashed blindingly, and Stephanie flung a bent arm over her face, shielding her eyes. A thunderous crack chased the blazing light, and she clutched her head. The roar echoed so deathly loud―far worse than a cannon explosion―it hurt her ears, her chest, and her bones. The horses dodged to the side in a panic, as well, the buggy careening sideways off the road. When one of the wheels hit a deep rut, Stephanie was bashed about and nearly hurled from her seat. The upset happened unbelievably fast, yet the action seemed slow and detailed, as if she could paint a picture with each blink, as if were she to simply hold her arms straight in front of her she could halt the tumble of events.
Her shoulder slammed into Connor’s muscular arm, and then she was slung away from him. She grabbed for anything that would stop her fall and ended up clutching the front rail, her head down. When she looked up, a tree was looming before them. Her heart slammed into her throat. At that same moment, Connor seized her forearm. Pain ripped through her shoulder as he hauled her back, and with a vicious jolt, the buggy came to a halt.
She slumped against the seat completely still, stunned, sore, and exhausted. She heard Connor’s rapid, harsh breathing and was fleetingly comforted. If he hadn’t reacted the way he did, if he hadn’t been strong enough, quick enough, she’d be on the ground, or smashed against the tree they’d barely cleared, or maybe dead.
“Are you all right?” he asked, setting the reins aside.
“Yes.” She rubbed her upper arm, relieved she was still in one piece.
Connor leaped to the ground and checked the buggy. “The wheel is half-buried. We won’t be going anywhere in this.”
Forever At Dawn: The Blood Keeper Series (The Blood Keeper Series, Novella Book 1) Page 5