Edward regarded her with his wide, wise eyes, and she could almost trick herself into believing that he understood. Wouldn’t it be grand if he did?
Perhaps he did understand in his fashion. Perhaps he felt sorry for them both, as Roan was about to embark on something for which he was entirely unprepared, and Holly was about to get her wish, when now she was entirely uncertain that she wanted to go home at all.
Oh, she did want to go home. She wanted more than anything to be with her sisters, to be free. To be able to roam without fear of slipping and falling on rocky terrain. To sleep in her bed, to be warm and comfortable.
Life in the shack was not the life for her, of that she was certain.
Yet this did not stop her from suspecting that she might have done everything possible to make the best of it were his feelings for her were more than just those of a friend.
“They held up well,” he said as he joined them, taking a seat by the fire. Satisfaction was evident in his voice.
How difficult it was to keep herself from crying. Only knowing how he would hate it if she didn’t hold the tears at bay. “No doubt. After all, you’ve kept them exercised and are excellent with them. I suspect that were you not a trapper, you would make a wonderful horseman.”
He chuckled.
“I’ve never seen anyone who understands animals the way you do. And they take to you, as well. It’s as if you share a language.” She blushed, turning her face away. “I’m sure that sounds very silly.”
“Not silly at all. In fact, I must admit…”
When he did not continue, she turned to him. “What? What must you admit?” How hungry she was to share even a brief moment with him, learning more about him. The way he thought, the way he felt. They had so little time left.
He chuckled again, a bit sheepish. “There are times when I think the same way. As if we share a way of speaking to each other, the horses and me. I understand them. I’ve seen men mistreat their animals, almost to the point of abuse. I’ve never understood that. Animals think. They feel. Horses possess a great deal of wisdom. They are more than just pack mules, and even pack mules think and reason in their own way. Their instincts are stronger than ours, and they are wise enough to follow them when we might sometimes tell ourselves otherwise. I probably make little sense to you.”
“Nothing could be further from the truth,” she assured him. “My sisters don’t know this, but I enjoy visiting the stables whenever I get the chance. I talked with the horses sometimes, when there was no one else there. They are good listeners.”
He laughed, but he was not laughing at her. “That they are,” he agreed with smile.
She had to look away from him. She feared that every ounce of longing would show itself on her face if she made the mistake of letting him see. And then he would know, he would know she had been a fool. That she might have fallen in love with him, which was the last thing she should’ve done.
For it was not as if he had ever given her a moment’s encouragement. On the contrary, from the start he made it clear that he had no desire to entangle himself with a woman.
And every heart-stopping moment they had shared, both the moments of near death and the ones when her heart had nearly stopped because he was so handsome, or so kind, despite how hard he tried to hide it. She was a fool for taking any of it more seriously than it deserved to be taken.
If there was anything between them, it was all in her head. He did not love her. He could not. He never would.
She would do well to begin removing him from her heart.
And his nephew along with him. That would not be so easy, but it had to be done just the same.
Edward finished his meal, after which she cleaned his face and hands and had him wish his uncle a good night. She tucked him inside the tent, wrapped in furs, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
“I do love you,” she whispered as tears came to her eyes. “I love you so terribly much. And I will miss you greatly.” She stroked his fine, dark hair until the wave of the emotion passed and she felt confident in rejoining Roan outside the tent.
The sun went down in a blaze of glory, red and gold. Glorious. She happened to glance at Roan and found him staring at to the west, awestruck by its beauty.
As she was awestruck by his beauty. She found herself memorizing every detail of him. His fine profile, his tawny complexion, and high cheekbones and that hair of his, oh, how she longed to sink her hands into it. How she had wanted to do just that when they kissed, but had at least possessed enough sense to hold herself back.
His healthy, strong body. The body she had already admired as he led them out of the mountains. He was so sure-footed and confident and powerful, and gentle with the horses, and kind and patient. How many times had he extended a hand to her when she was uncertain of where to place her foot next?
Every time their hands had met, uncertainty had left her. She felt no uncertainty when she was with him, when he was helping her. He would never allow her to fall.
He looked at her then, his eyes searching her face. “Is everything well?” he asked.
No, it’s not. Nothing is well. Because I think I love you, and I have to go home. I can’t be with you, and I’m afraid that’s all I want to do. I don’t know what to think or how to feel, or even how to act around you anymore. I don’t even know what I’d do if you told me you loved me.
“Yes,” she lied, despite her aching heart. “All is well.”
18
The sky was ink-black and full of stars.
Roan lay on his back, a firm blanket beneath him and one stretched over him. He bent his arm and propped it behind his head, never taking his eyes from the glory at which he stared.
Truly, it was majestic. Mystical. He would never understand where they came from, the stars, but that did not stop him from being grateful for them.
And in that sense, they reminded him of her. For he knew not from where she had come—Baltimore, Carson City, it didn’t matter. For she was of neither of those places, more like an angel sent from heavens.
Yet he did not need to understand her to appreciate her. To be grateful for her.
Perhaps she only seemed so precious because he knew she would be home by this time the following evening. The short time they’d had together would end, as it was always meant to end.
And the small bit of sweetness she had brought his life would go with her.
Yes, he would have Edward, and he was grateful for that. He would raise him as best he knew how, though he suspected he would make more than his share of mistakes along the way. He’d simply need to forgive himself for those mistakes, and to do his best regardless of them.
It wouldn’t be the same without her to talk to at the end of the day. To reflect on the day’s events and what might have been handled better. Someone to fret over the boy with. When he was ill, perhaps, or when he’d taken it into his head to make mischief. There would be no one with whom he could rejoice over the boy’s growth.
She was in the tent, preparing herself for sleep. The fire still burning outside the tent cast just enough light upon it that he could barely make out her silhouette as she loosed her hair from its thick, heavy coil on the back of her head.
She shook her head, allowing a waterfall to plunge down her back. His breath caught, his head spinning. He could not even see it, not truly, yet that vague silhouette was enough to set off a thousand dreams in his head. Dreams and images. He imagined what it would be like to plunge his hands into her hair, to smell its sweetness and feel its softness against his cheek.
He turned his face away, nearly ashamed that he’d taken the liberty of watching. He had no right to see her that way. She wasn’t his and never would be.
“Roan?” she whispered from inside the tent
His heart nearly stopped. Did she know? Had she sensed him watching? He drew a deep breath and released it slowly, willing himself not to sound like a guilty child when he replied.
“Yes?”
“I’ve been wondering something. And you do not have to agree, but please tell me you will at least think about it. Do not disagree without thinking about it first.”
This did not bode well. Very rarely did a conversation which started out this way ever turn out well. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. “All right. What do you have on your mind?”
“I was only thinking that if you ever decided you no longer wished to be a trapper. Not that there’s anything wrong with trapping and not that I believe you ought to think of another way to earn a living, but in case you wanted something a bit more secure for Edward sake, you might consider working at the ranch.”
Were his ears deceiving him? Where had this come from? “The ranch?”
“Yes, my ranch. It would not necessarily have to be my ranch, exactly. But with your skill with horses, I naturally thought…”
He stared up at the sky, asking himself how to manage this. What was she truly asking?
What was she truly saying?
“Do you disapprove of my life that much?” he asked.
She let out a sharp sigh. “I should have known you would take it that way.”
“What other way is there take it?” He looked at the tent, where it appeared as though she was staring in his direction. He could only imagine the outrage on her face, the way her cheeks would blaze with color and her eyes jump and dance with fury.
“Perhaps you could thank me for offering. Perhaps you could express just a small bit of gratitude that anyone would even think of you at all. I didn’t need to offer.”
“No, you did not need to.”
“I don’t know why I bother.”
“No, I don’t know either.”
A great deal of commotion went on inside the tent before she stormed out, wrapped in a blanket. Her hair fell in the same, shining waterfall he had imagined, spreading over her shoulders and back. She seemed not to notice, or perhaps not to care.
“You might stop being so stubborn for just a moment and give some thought to what I have offered you. You might be too stubborn to accept an offer made out of gratitude, or too prideful. But you now have Edward to consider, and you have no room for pride when it comes to him. You must think of him, his future. His potential. How are you going to raise him in that shack? You have traps to attend to, and hunting to do. Do you presume to take him with you? Do you plan on leaving him alone all day?”
“What business is it of yours?” he snarled.
They had argued many times, and had said many things they could not take back. Things which he’d come to regret.
Never had there been so much pain on her face as there was at that moment. Never did he think he’d truly hurt her.
He sat up, prepared to apologize, but she held a hand in front of herself. Signaling him to remain silent. He knew he would be wise to do so.
“I thought I would try to help you,” she hissed. “But your pride, as ever, is in your way. And it will continue to stay that way unless you open your eyes and see the world for what it is. Not for what you believe it to be, but for what it truly is. There are people who wish to be of help to each other, for no other reason than to simply do good. There are those in the world who wish to repay the kindness. Such as the kindness you showed to be, to say nothing of the effort it’s taken you to lead us even this far. I’ve been sitting in that tent all this time, asking myself what I could do for you and for Edward. That is what I came up with, and it is obviously not good enough for you.”
Oh, how she managed to shame him. What a fool he’d made of himself.
This did not mean, however, that he had any intention of apologizing. For now, she had angered him. “Who are you to say that I want anything to do with your type of life? Just because you think it is right for me does not make it so. I did not ask for any favors, and I do not expect any. I also do not expect any repayment, so you can put your mind at ease. I need nothing from you, and I want even less.”
What was he saying? That wasn’t what was in his heart at all. His mouth got away from him, forcing him to say things he didn’t truly feel. He didn’t want to hurt her. He certainly did not wish to give the impression that he wanted nothing from her.
He did want something from her. He wanted her love, her affection, her time. Her attention, her sweetness, her cleverness, and her bravery and all of it. Everything made her who she was.
If only he possessed the wisdom and the courage to say what was in his heart, rather than allowing anger and bruised pride to speak for him.
She threw back her shoulders, her face now stone. “I feel sorry for you,” she spat before returning to the tent.
If she’d leveled the rifle at him and fired, she could not have wounded him more deeply.
19
If anything, Holly reasoned, Roan’s cruelty made it easier for her to say goodbye.
The ride from the foothills through the land just beyond was passed in silence, and even the vast, breathtaking vista before them was not enough to lighten her spirits. Only the babbling baby on her back gave her any comfort, any reason to smile.
And when she did, the reminder that he’d soon be gone from her life rang through her head like a bell. Best not allow yourself to remain attached to him, the voice of reason in her head advised.
It was too late for that. He lived in her heart now.
Along with his uncle, damn him.
Oh, how she’d practiced over and over asking him to stay at the ranch. It made perfect sense from her vantage point. He was gifted when it came to the care of horses, and Lewis could always use a good man in the stables.
Edward might live in the house with the girls—they would love him, she was sure of it—while Roan built a house of his own on the land. She’d already planned out the perfect place just beyond where the old foreman’s cottage had once stood. A fire had destroyed it years earlier. The one in which Lewis’s parents had perished.
She had even allowed herself to imagine before posing the offer how Edward would love growing up on the ranch. He would learn to ride, perhaps even to lasso the way the more skilled of the hands did when it came time for branding. There was space for him, enough that to a child it would seem limitless. He could grow and explore without the fear of losing him in an avalanche or to a misplaced footstep or any of the multiple dangers which existed on the mountain.
Righteous indignation stirred in her breast at what she saw as Roan holding him back out of sheer stubbornness. Did he not know how dangerous pride could be?
What other reason would there be for him to turn her down without giving the offer any thought? Rather than being reasonable, thoughtful, he chose to dismiss her out of hand and accuse her of belittling his way of life.
Edward would have all the caregivers he could ever wish for, if only Roan would see past his dratted pride.
There was another possible reason for him to turn her down, and she knew it, though she did not much enjoy considering it.
What if he simply could not stand the thought of being in close proximity to her for that long?
She would have asked him about this and even might have eased his mind if she could bring herself to speak to the man, which she had not yet managed to do. It was already midday, and they’d shared not a single word.
She did, however, speak to the baby. “Yes, Edward, those are sugar pines in the distance,” she explained, pointing as if he’d asked a question. “We have nothing that beautiful growing on the ranch, unless you count our rose garden, which we are all very proud of. Our mother first planted it and tended to it, and we were all so surprised to find it blooming still. It seems our father saw to its tending over the years.”
Edward babbled in reply.
She chuckled. “Why, I cannot say why he went to the trouble. We’ve all wondered about it. You know, he maintained the house exactly as it was when we left as children. Not a piece of furniture or a single figurine or bowl was out of place. It was as if time stood still for him.”
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Edward still babbled.
She sighed, her heart heavier than ever as she saw the similarity between her father and Roan. “I suppose he was too proud to write to us even once in all those years,” she mused, staring straight ahead rather than at the man riding near her. “His pride kept him from knowing us. All he could do was bring us back after he’d died, and to what purpose? We could never regain the time we’d lost. He never had the chance to know his children, and we never had the chance to know him. Because he could not admit that he longed for us. And for our mother.”
Then again, was she not also guilty of the sin of pride? For she couldn’t bring herself to tell Roan how she longed for there to be no quarreling between them. She could not bear the thought of his scorn if she dared breathe a word.
Roan kept his thoughts to himself, which came as no surprise.
When she stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye, she found him sitting straight and tall in the saddle.
This also came as no surprise. He did look rather grand while in the saddle, though he looked grand nearly everywhere, while doing nearly anything.
Except when he was being hateful and stubborn and making her want nothing more than to strangle him.
His jaw worked, though his mouth remained closed. He was fighting himself on something or other. She had no doubt he understood her meaning all too well and wanted nothing more than to scowl and behave terribly.
At least he held his tongue. He had the good sense to do that much.
It was the strangest thing, truly. Each minute brought her closer to the ranch, and whenever she imagined the house in her mind’s eye, it was all she could do to hold the gelding back from running full-out the rest of the way.
Yet she wanted to bring him to a stop, too. She wanted to take her time, to let the minutes unravel into hours and days.
No matter how he disappointed her, no matter how he hurt her, she couldn’t help loving him.
An Inconvenient Bride Page 12
