Lassoing A Montana Heart

by Flightner, Ramona

  Her shoulders heaved as she sobbed into his chest. He held her close, rocking her as she cried. “I hate that I was such a failure,” she stuttered out.

  “Shh, love,” he whispered. “You weren’t then, and you aren’t now.” He lifted her chin so he could look into her tear-brightened eyes. “Your babes died. At no fault of yours.”

  He waited for her to protest his words, but she remained quiet. “What did the doctor say when he visited?”

  “That they had weak lungs,” she whispered. “There was nothin’ to do for them. They never breathed well.”

  “But they were well loved,” he said in a voice that brooked no doubt.

  “Aye, oh aye.”

  “I’d take this pain for you if I could, but I can’t.”

  Davina stared at him in wonder, as she turned her face into his thumb as it traced along her cheek, brushing away a tear. “How are ye so good to me?”

  His eyes glowed with emotions. “You are cherished, Davina. Never forget that.” He kissed her head, sighing with contentment as she rested her head on his chest, giving comfort and receiving it from her in equal measure.

  Chapter 10

  April entered with a thunderclap and seemed determined to continue as it began. The weather matched Davina’s mood, for she was crotchety on the best of days, although she didn’t know why. Men had begun to arrive at the ranch, looking for employment, and Charlotte had insisted she work as the cook for the men in the bunkhouse, ignoring Frederick’s protestations that he preferred for her to remain in the big house. Davina missed the meals with Shorty, Dalton, and Dixon, who now ate all their meals in the bunkhouse. Slims and she ate with Sorcha and Frederick in the big house, although Slims would be absent a few nights a week to spend time with his men.

  On an evening Slims had decided to tell tall tales and to play poker with the men, Davina sat in their cabin, sewing and listening to the rain ping off their roof. The sound was familiar and soothing, as it reminded her of home. Of Scotland. She shook her head as she realized home was here. With Slims. She couldn’t imagine not having him in her life. How could she live away from the man she loved?

  She gasped as the needle jabbed the tender flesh of her finger at the word “love.” She stared at the stove, her heart racing and pounding at the thought she could love him. Closing her eyes, she tried to think rationally. Instead all she could see was Slims. Always treating her well and with tender care.

  Davina envisioned telling him how she felt, and a tidal wave of fear crashed over her. Shaking, she set down her needlework, as she knew she would only do herself more harm. This was one of her greatest fears, come to life. Loving and having that love rejected. It’s why she’d told Sorcha that she had only ever cared for someone. She couldn’t bear loving and not having that feeling reciprocated. Not again. With a stuttering sigh, she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her roiling emotions.

  As she relaxed, her mind envisioned Slims being delighted at the news. Her breath caught at such a possibility. “Am I brave enough to risk telling him?” she whispered to herself. Sitting in silence for long minutes, an inner battle raged over what she yearned to do and what she knew was safe.

  She gasped as the door opened, and she stuck her finger in her mouth as though she had just stabbed it. Any courage she had mustered scattered like tumbleweeds in the wind at his presence.

  “Dav?” Slims asked with a curious expression. “Are you well?”

  “Aye,” she said, as she extracted her finger to study it. “I poked my finger sewin’.”

  He chuckled. “A risk you have to take to continue to create such beautiful dresses, I’d think.” He kissed her head and sighed with pleasure to sit beside her.

  “Ye think my dresses fetchin’?” she asked.

  “Aye, but perhaps it’s simply because you’re in them,” he said with a teasing glint in his gaze. He frowned when she failed to tease him back. “Are you well, Dav?”

  “Aye,” she said, rising to turn to the bed. “A wee bit tired.”

  “Tired?” he murmured, as he stood too. “Or attemptin’ to avoid me?”

  She cupped his cheek, an affectionate smile blooming as she stared at him. “Tired,” she breathed, as she stood on her toes. “But never too tired for you.”

  He chuckled but stared at her. His fingers traced under her eyes, and he shook his head. “No, love,” he whispered. “I can see you speak the truth. You’re exhausted. Let me hold you while you sleep.”

  She pressed forward, wrapping her arms around him. “Yes, for I’ll never rest well if you are far from me.”

  * * *

  Slims traced butterfly-soft caresses over Davina’s shoulders as she slumbered against him. Unlike his wife, who had tumbled into a deep sleep almost from the moment she laid down in bed, he had slept in fits and starts. Unable to fully relax, Slims noted a fine tension coiled through him, and he knew the reason. However, he feared he was a fool to consider upsetting the peace and harmony in his marriage. Was the dream of something even better worth the risk?

  Davina stirred in his arms, and he kissed her head. “Mornin’, my darling,” he murmured. She snuggled close with a contented sigh, rubbing her face against his chest. He ran his fingers over her back a few more times, before he slipped from underneath her to move to the stove.

  “Simon?” she whispered. “Why won’t you stay in bed a little longer with me?”

  He filled the kettle to boil water for coffee and stood with his back to her. “I … Not today, Dav,” he rasped.

  She sat up with the blankets pooled around her waist, suddenly alert and staring at him with trepidation in her gaze. “Have I done somethin’ to disappoint ye?” When he swore softly under his breath, she whispered, “To upset ye?”

  “No, of course not,” he snapped. He looked over his shoulder and took a calming breath when he saw her flinch at his tone.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  He faced her, pulling the chair close, so he could sit at eye level with her, his gaze wild and filled with a mixture of dread and hope. “I fear I’m being a fool. Wishin’ for more than I should.”

  Staring at him in complete befuddlement and then horror, Davina paled. “I told ye that ye’d want more from me.”

  “No,” Slims said, gripping her hand. “I don’t mean children, Dav.” He closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead with his free hand. “I’m mucking this up.” He took a deep breath and forced himself to gaze deeply into her eyes. “Why are you happy with me? Why me and not another man?”

  She sat back, as though affronted by the question, her hand slipping free of his. “How can ye ask me such a question?” She shook her head. “You’re good an’ kind an’ honorable.” She stared at him in confusion. “I didna think ye’d need such praise.”

  “No, Dav, what do you feel for me?” His brown eyes glowed with fervent passion.

  “Feel for ye?” She swallowed and then shrugged, her shoulders turning down, as though needing to protect herself. “Ye ken I care for ye.” She shrugged, her hands gripping the quilt in her agitation. “That I’m happy with ye.”

  “Care for me,” he muttered in disgust. Slims sat for a long moment, the passion in his gaze fading to one of disillusionment. “You’ll never tell me how you truly feel, will you?” Slims murmured. “No matter what I do or what I say, nothing will ever be enough.” He rose and pivoted to the door, stilling when he heard words that sounded as though they had been wrenched from her soul. “What?” he whispered.

  She sat, crouched over herself on the unmade bed, with silent tears coursing down her cheeks.

  He moved to the bed and knelt in front of her, his large hands kneading through her hair as he tangled the strands even further. “Tell me,” he pleaded. “Tell me that I heard right. You love me?” His deep voice was filled with a youthful hopefulness.

  “No,” she moaned, as she covered her face, smearing her tears.

  “You don’t,” he breathed, his hands falling
from her, as it felt as though his heart stilled at the single word. In that instant, he understood what hell was: loving a woman who would never love him with an equal fervor.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  He stood with alacrity, moving to stand as far away from her as possible in the cabin. “Sorry?” he spat out. “Sorry you can’t feel anythin’ more for me than lust?” He stood with his back turned toward her, his shoulders taut, as though recovering from a body blow, and did not see the arrested look on Davina’s face. “Fool,” he swore at himself.

  “I didna mean to …” Her shoulders heaved as she fought a sob. “I didna mean to ruin everythin’ between us by sayin’ it too soon.” She waited for some response from him, but he seemed to not have heard her whispered admission.

  Davina pushed herself to stand, approaching him on wobbly legs. When she stood within an arm’s length, she reached out a quivering hand to stroke down his back. “Slims,” she whispered. “Simon.”

  “Don’t call me that. Not when … Not now,” he rasped out. He listened intently with head bowed, expecting to hear her soft footsteps as she retreated and then left their cabin. Instead, he imagined he could feel her subtle warmth behind him. Like a fool, his body swayed backward, yearning to be closer to her. “Don’t torture me like this,” he pleaded.

  “Forgive me,” she whispered, her voice calmer and clearer.

  “It’s not your fault you can’t esteem a man like me. How could a woman as fine as you ever respect a man who was a coward? A man who ran off, rather than fought for his heritage?”

  “Simon,” she breathed. “Ye are no’ a coward. Ye would have been killed, an’ then none would have remembered and honored yer family. Ye lived, as ye ken yer mother and da would have wanted ye to. There is no shame in that.”

  He sighed, his back still to her. “I was a fool to believe you’d ever esteem me, Dav. I’m just a cowpoke.” When she jabbed him in his shoulder with a finger, he grunted and spun to glare at her.

  “I dinna ever want to hear ye call yerself that again. Ye’re so much more than a … a … cowpoke.” She paused as her voice tumbled over the unfamiliar word. “Ye’re magnificent.” Stepping up to him, she held out her quivering hands to cup his face. “I didna mean I was sorry for lovin’ ye.” She stared at him with wonder, as a tear sparkled on one cheek. “How could I ever regret that?”

  He shook his head, his hands at his side, as he stared at her with longing and bewilderment. “Davina, I don’t understand. You were sobbing.”

  She pelted him on his chest, the soft slap feeling like the thump of a hummingbird’s wing against his strong chest. “I wanted ye to tell me first!” she yelled. In a calmer voice, she said, “No one but my aunt Mairi has ever loved me, and I’m terrified of lovin’ and no’ being loved in return. I wanted to ken ye felt the same.” She flushed as she admitted her fear.

  “How do you feel?” he asked. When she stared at him in mute defiance, he sighed. “You daft woman,” he murmured, using a word he’d learned from her cousin, Sorcha. With a wry, almost amused quirk of his lips, he relented.

  Her breath caught at the startling depth of emotions in his unguarded gaze. She took a step closer to him, her hands gripping his strong arms, as though anchoring her in place.

  “How can you not understand how much I love you?” He stared deeply into her eyes. “I adore you. I cherish you. The thought of you ever suffering any harm torments me.” Lowering his forehead to rest against hers, he closed his eyes. “The mere thought that an uncharitable word could cause you pain enrages me. I’d go mad if anyone hurt you.”

  She took a step back, gazing deeply into his eyes. She blurted out, “But I’m not worth such concern.”

  His eyes blazed with anger at her disparaging words about herself. “You are, my love. You are.” He lowered his head, his lips teasing hers for a fleeting moment before he deepened the kiss. With a deep sigh and a moan of regret, he forced himself to take a step back and to gaze with ardent devotion into her gaze. “I love you, Davina. I’ll always be thankful Frederick insisted I take you to town that day.”

  Her smile bloomed, her fingers rubbing over his whiskers. “I love ye, Simon. More than I could ever say.” She raised her fingers to cover his lips. “I feared ye didna feel as I did, an’ I was terrified of bein’ in another lopsided marriage. I dinna think I could survive that again.”

  “Oh, it’s lopsided,” he said, as he tugged her into his arms and swung her around, laughing as she squealed. He laid her down on the bed, his hands roving over her reverently. “It’s impossible you could love me with the same ferocity I feel for you.”

  “No, ’tisn’t,” she protested, arching up to kiss him. “Come here, an’ I’ll prove it to ye.”

  * * *

  A few days later, Davina entered the horse barn after Dalton had given her a message she was needed there. Although she was in the middle of baking bread, she set aside her apron, washed her hands, and hurried to the barn. Upon entering, she looked around, her alert gaze searching for trouble. She paused at Witching Hour’s stall, her anxiety dropping to see Flash healthy and staring at her with mild curiosity.

  “Dav,” Slims said with warm humor. “Come with me.” He held out his hand, his warm palm enveloping hers, as he led her away from the foal.

  “Why am I here? I have bread rising, Simon.”

  He chuckled, pausing to brush at her cheeks. “I can surmise,” he murmured. “You’re covered in flour.” He sobered as he stared deeply into her eyes. “I’ve asked Miss Sorcha to help with the cookin’ today.”

  When she gaped at him, he flushed. “I know it isn’t proper of me to ask her to do your work, but I wanted time with you, and we’ll be busy soon. She didn’t mind.”

  “I dinna understand,” Davina whispered.

  He stared at her tenderly. “Do you think I don’t notice your interest in the horses? I think your love for them is only rivaled by Frederick’s.” His smile softened as she flushed. “And yet you’ve never asked to spend any time with them. I hoped you’d want to go on a ride with me today.”

  “A ride?” she gasped, her gaze filled with wonder. Taking a step closer to him, she gazed at him with a near reverence. “Truly?”

  He smiled. “Yes, although I don’t know if I could bear to see you galloping around. I fear it will be a slow amble across the fields.”

  She gave a shriek of delight, throwing herself into his arms. A horse nickered in reproof at the noise, and she giggled. “Oh, thank ye, Simon. Thank ye.”

  He swung her around once before kissing her softly. “Come. Let’s ride.” After helping her onto Scout, a beautiful chestnut filly with a white chest, he mounted Pirate, a huge black stallion.

  Soon they were on the range, with green grass shooting up all around them. In the distance were scattered cattle, eagerly eating the fresh vegetation. Walking the horses at a steady pace, the ranch house was quickly out of sight.

  Pausing, Davina stared in wonder at the vast expanse of open land all around her. The mountains rose in the distance, providing a sharp border to the otherwise never-ending vista. “I never imagined such a place existed,” she breathed. Closing her eyes, she took another deep breath, inhaling the fresh scent of the loamy earth. Smiling, she murmured, “I never realized the birdsong would be so different from Scotland.”

  He urged Pirate a little closer to Scout. “I imagine everything is different.”

  She smiled at him. “Aye,” she whispered, as she leaned over to one side of her saddle in an attempt to kiss him. She squealed as she almost toppled out, but he caught her and tilted toward her to kiss her gently. “I’ve never ridden astride before. Feels a bit darin’.”

  He chuckled. “Well, we aren’t fancy here, Dav. And there’s never been a reason for a sidesaddle at the ranch.” He caressed her cheek, before easing back into his saddle and gripping the pommel with both hands. “I’d prefer if you only rode out with me.”

  “As long as ye promise
I dinna have to wait until next April when ye’re no’ busy again.” At his nod and smile of relief at her agreement, she closed her eyes again, as though listening. “What do ye call those birds that are singin’?”

  He stilled, attuned to her interest in the world around her. “A finch. A meadowlark. A robin.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her as she frowned, as though attempting to match the call to the bird.

  “What’s that rattling cry?” she murmured.

  “I think the cranes have returned,” he said with a smile. “That’s what they sound like when they call out while flying.” He motioned to her. “Come. Let’s see if we can find some.”

  After a few hours of riding along the fields with no cranes in sight, he sighed. “Well, it was worth a try. They are a majestic bird.” He gazed at her adoringly. “Would you like a rest?”

  “Aye,” Davina said. “Although I dinna ken how I’ll manage to get off this gentle beast.”

  He chuckled as he dismounted and tied his reins to a nearby willow branch. Goldfinches and sparrows swooped overhead, while the striking black-and-white magpies watched the interlopers with mild interest from their high perch. “That’s the benefit of having married a giant of a husband. I can help you.” He lifted her off with ease, cradling her against his chest for a few moments before settling her on the ground. “All right?”

  “I think I need to stay here a while,” she breathed. “I’ve lost all strength in my legs.”

  He held her close until she pushed away from him to explore the small creek running nearby. After extracting a blanket and food from his saddlebags, he set up a small picnic in the shade of the willows. After she returned from her exploration with damp face, neck, and hands, he held out his arms. “What do you think?”

  “I think I married a brilliant man,” she said, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank ye for such a perfect day, Simon.”