She leaned forward to splash water on her face, getting the ends of her hair wet in the process. Then she tried to discreetly knead some of the soreness from her upper thighs, but that hurt too much, so she stopped.
She realized that she undoubtedly looked a fright. The rest of her braid had unraveled and her long golden hair spilled down her back and over her shoulders. Without her usual coiffure, her lovely little hat probably did look ridiculous now, perched atop her wildly disarrayed mane. But she was beyond caring, too sore, too tired, too miserable—and still a little afraid of her abductor escort. What if he wasn’t Morgan Callahan? He never had confirmed that he was. But even if he was, that didn’t mean she was safe with him.
A splash to her right made her glance to the side. She was arrested, watching the man dip his head in the water then flip his head back to get the wet hair out of his face. Beads of water reached her, though she barely noticed.
It was the first time she was seeing him without his hat on. She’d been able to tell that his black hair was beyond shoulder-length. Slicked back with water as it was now, and with his long beard wet, too, his face was a little more defined, could even be called ruggedly handsome, she supposed. It also allowed her to see that he wasn’t really that old, maybe less than twenty-five years. Not that either made any difference. He was still a detestable bear.
He’d been kneeling to dunk his head but stood up now and, once again, hooked both thumbs on his belt—his actual belt, not the gun belt that slanted across his hips. “I appreciate that you’ve been mostly silent during the ride.”
That “mostly” nettled her. “It’s been too hot to make an effort to tell you what I think of the despicable way you are treating me,” she said indignantly. “And it wouldn’t have served any purpose, would it?”
He chuckled and walked away without answering, but then his amusement was answer enough. She huffed to herself and didn’t follow him with her eyes. She was content just to sit there in the shade with her feet in the water and ignore the odious man. But she did glance back when she heard the crackling of a fire. He was roasting something above it, had positioned four stakes around it to hold the meat out of the flames. Her eyes flared when she realized he was cooking the snake! Good Lord, did he expect her to eat that? Even as hungry as she was, she simply couldn’t.
She closed her eyes tight, trying to hold back tears. She might have enjoyed the outdoors when she was a child, but she could never have imagined anyone roughing it like this. Or being so poorly prepared that they had to eat snake meat!
A while later he said, “I’ve let it cool enough for you to hold.”
She glanced down to see a long slice of the cooked meat being offered to her over her shoulder. Oh, God, no plate, skin still on it, though he’d at least split it open.
She turned her head aside. “No thank you.”
“I thought you said you were hungry? Damn well yelled it, too.”
“I am, but only savages eat snake.”
“You see a restaurant nearby? Out here, we eat what’s available, and while snake meat is tough, it has very little flavor.”
“It’s certainly not considered fit for human consumption in England.”
“Do you see England nearby?”
Was he making a joke? She remembered an exhibit at a London museum about people in some distant land who ate snake meat. Sophie had whispered that the male savages ate it to increase their virility. This man certainly didn’t need help in that regard—he was virile enough as he was!
She ignored her growling stomach and repeated, “No thank you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t see him eating. But a while later he tapped her shoulder again, and she turned to see him offering her a piece of bread.
She took it before saying, “So the snake was just to prove what a savage you are?”
“So savage I tried to feed you something that would hold you till the next meal? You need meat.”
Not that kind of meat, she didn’t, but it was pointless to argue with him. She gazed at the lake as she chewed the dry bread. The less she had to look at the man and his strapping body, the better. His very size still frightened her. He was bearish in appearance and manner. He was rough, uncouth, lacking in refinement, lacking in charm, everything she would find objectionable in a man.
And then her eyes flared wide when she saw a very large bear, a bloody real one, lumbering toward the water on the other side of the lake. Horrified, ignoring her screaming muscles, she jumped up and hurried to hide behind Morgan. Why wasn’t he getting his rifle?! She peered around his shoulder and saw the bear stand up to sniff the air before it dropped to all four feet again to drink from the lake. Fascinated, she couldn’t take her eyes off it.
“It’s not coming over here,” Morgan said.
“But if it does?”
“Then I’ll be taking home bear meat.”
“So you’re a hunter, too?”
“Every man’s a hunter when it’s necessary, but I don’t pass up free food, though I admit I’m not partial to bear unless it’s only been eating nuts and berries.”
Bear meat, snake meat. Did people in this uncivilized land really eat anything that became available? God, they probably did. As he’d pointed out, the nearest restaurant she knew of was half a day’s ride away.
Ignoring the bear, Morgan moved to another one of his baskets. When he turned, she was amazed to see him offering her a puffy pastry coated in sugar. She was so pleased that she said thank you this time before she sat down by the water again to enjoy the pastry, glad to see the bear wandering off in the opposite direction. A few minutes later, feeling replete, she wished she could lie down and nap for the remainder of the time they would be there, but was afraid she wouldn’t get back up if she did.
She peered up at the cloudless sky. “Does it ever rain in this territory? Or does the rain dry up in this heat and disappear before it can reach the ground?”
He laughed. “I’ve never thought of that possibility, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it happens. But sure, it rains, just not that often. Snows a lot come winter, though.”
She didn’t care because, thankfully, she wouldn’t be here then. She was already dreading having to get back on her feet, much less on the mule. “How much farther to the mines?” she asked.
“Depends.” She assumed it depended on whether the animals walked or trotted. But then he added, “But it won’t be today.”
She was aghast. Was he serious? And if they wouldn’t reach his mining camp by nightfall . . . “But where will we sleep?”
“On the ground, of course.”
She was utterly appalled by the notion. “I’ve never slept anywhere but on a bed. I simply won’t be able to sleep.”
She thought she heard a chuckle. “You will.”
She probably would, but she had to point out, “It would be most improper for me to sleep near you.”
“Well, if you don’t want me nearby to protect you, I can sleep somewhere else.”
Her eyes flared, her mind filling with possibilities of what he would need to protect her from. Did he have to be agreeable about this when herds of bears and snakes could converge on them? “Perhaps near but not too close?” she amended.
“I wasn’t planning on sharing your blanket, lady. I’ll wait for you to invite me.”
She gasped and looked away from him again to hide her blush. She heard him walk toward the mules again and glanced to the side to watch him rummage through the baskets until he had a handful of carrots. He proceeded to snap them in two and give each mule half of one, then a whole one to his horse. Feeding his animals lunch—no, she’d seen them eating grass. He was giving them a treat. He definitely had a fondness for them.
She supposed that might be considered a good trait in a man. His sense of humor was another one. He didn’t hesitate to laugh when he was amused. So far that humor had all been at her expense, but two good traits were better than none, she supposed. Still, it wa
s quite surprising that an abductor of women had any.
Her boots suddenly landed next to her. She sighed and tugged them back on before she noticed him standing in front of her with an extended hand. She groaned loudly when he helped her to her feet.
“It’s probably going to feel worse tomorrow,” he warned.
“Impossible.”
“Meant to stay here longer and sleep off some of this heat, but we can’t with that bear in the area. We’ll stop again at the next water.”
She nodded, but gasped when she took the first step toward Carla. She couldn’t bring herself to take another, which might have been why Morgan swooped her up in his arms and deposited her—on his horse.
“No—” she began.
“I wasn’t asking,” he said very firmly as he mounted the animal in front of her. “It’s either this or you’re going to be in bed for the next week crying in pain, and I’d just as soon not hear it. So ignore that I’m on the horse with you and try to forget that you’re touching me.”
Her abhorrence of their proximity had nothing to do with propriety at that point. It simply concerned who he was. Her torturer! Her abductor! The man who’d tried to force her to eat snake!
But then he added, “Use my back if you want to take a nap. I promise I won’t mind.”
She sputtered. He took off—at a bloody trot!
Chapter Nine
VIOLET HAD NEVER BEEN this close to a man before. She was actually touching Morgan. Her thighs were touching the sides of his hips. And when he’d taken off at a trot, she’d instinctively grabbed his waist. She was thoroughly embarrassed by this physical proximity, but there was no way around it. After a while, she let go of his waist and just clutched the material of his long vest until he slowed the horse to a walk. That didn’t happen soon enough for her.
Even after she could safely remove her hands from his person, she still didn’t like riding so close to this frightful beast of a man. He was too big, too masculine, and everything about him made her nervous, but he’d been correct in one regard. She didn’t need to use her already screaming leg muscles to stay on the back of his horse. She was perfectly balanced now and firmly seated.
Another disadvantage of riding with Morgan was being unable to see ahead of them because of the width and height of his back. She couldn’t tell where he was going anymore. He seemed to meander for a while in different directions, probably to avoid the steeper slopes of the hills they were crossing over.
After perhaps two hours of riding, they crossed a river. She glanced down to see if her boots were going to get wet, but the river was shallow enough at that point for her feet to stay dry. Were they stopping? He had said they would when they reached water again. But he kept going, following the river until they reached a lone tree on its bank. There were forests on all sides of them, most of them in the distance, and mountains on three sides, also in the distance.
Dismounting, he slipped his hands under her waist-length hair to lift her down from his horse without asking permission. “You can sleep until dusk.”
If she could move. It hurt so much just standing there, she wasn’t sure she could. But at least her legs hadn’t buckled this time. And getting to sleep through the remainder of this awful heat sounded heavenly to her—if only there were a bed to do it in.
“I told you I can’t sleep on the ground. I’d like to talk to you about my father instead.”
“I don’t know your father. If you mean Charley, then say so.”
She gritted her teeth, but persisted. “What was his life like out here? Did he get used to these wilderness hardships?”
“Charley had help.”
“You?”
“And he’s none of your business.”
“Please.”
He gave her a hard look. “I can’t see what interest Shawn would have in these questions. You improvising, lady? Think this will make your tall tale more believable? So it’s actress after all? Too bad, I was hoping for the harlot.”
She gasped. “I’ve had quite enough of your insults.”
“And I’ve had enough of your jabbering. Sleep or don’t sleep, doesn’t matter to me, but the animals need rest, so we’ll stay here till dusk.”
Then what? “Does that mean you intend to ride at night?” He only nodded, which brought the alarmed question, “But isn’t that dangerous?”
“Shouldn’t be, as long as the sky remains as cloudless as it’s been today. Moonlight can be pretty bright out here.”
His lack of concern should have been reassuring, but it wasn’t. She kept her eyes on him as he went to get her blanket from Carla and spread it out under the tree for her before he unsaddled his horse.
At least she wasn’t hungry. The last meal had been quite filling and palatable—minus the snake. But she shuddered to think what the next one would be like, so she wasn’t looking forward to it. And then she saw the deer at about the same time Morgan did, some hundred or so yards away.
He reached for his rifle. Violet let go of her parasol to clap both hands over her ears before he could fire. She was watching him, not their soon-to-be dinner, and frowned when he put his rifle away without shooting. She figured the deer must have fled. But when she glanced around, she saw it was still there and so indifferent to their presence that it actually lay down near the river’s edge.
“You’re letting it live?” she said in surprise.
“Takes time to bleed it so it doesn’t taste so gamy. I don’t like gamy.”
She was surprised that a man who ate snake could be so picky. But she didn’t share that thought with him, or how much she abhorred being dependent on him for every morsel of food she got. She wanted to get some rest while she could, even if she couldn’t sleep. Dusk came late in summer, but that might be only a few hours away, for all she knew. In Butte she was usually done with dinner long before it started to get dark.
She proceeded to ignore Morgan and inch her way to the blanket. Each little step she took was painful, but she managed not to cringe. Finally sitting down on the blanket in the shade, she continued to watch Morgan because she didn’t trust him one little bit. When he walked away, she lay down to rest her back, planning to sit up when she heard him returning. She never heard him. Despite her sore muscles and the lack of a bed, she fell asleep instantaneously.
She awoke to the crackling of a campfire, surprised that she’d fallen asleep on the hard ground after all. And it wasn’t dusk, but full dark. That was disappointing. She had counted on seeing the sun setting so she could get her bearings. She was also facing her parasol now, but didn’t remember opening it and positioning it on the blanket with her. Had Morgan done that to give her extra shade? She doubted he could be so considerate. She must have done it.
The day’s heat was gone. She had no idea how long she’d slept, but she felt refreshed. And hungry again. And cold. But when she sat up, all the pain came rushing back. How on earth had she managed to sleep at all when the slightest turn would have hurt like this?
She didn’t think she could make it to Carla to fetch her jacket, but detested the idea of asking Morgan to get it for her. She was not helpless. And her abused muscles would never get better if she didn’t use them. And then she felt her jacket slide down from her shoulders to her lap. Thank God for small favors. Morgan had probably just tossed it toward her and it had ended up covering her. She didn’t, couldn’t, credit him with actually placing it carefully over her, but she slipped her arms into it.
He was sitting on the other side of the fire watching her. He was wearing a cream-colored jacket now, made of some sort of smooth animal skin. She saw the vest beneath it, but still no shirt.
He’d built the fire at the foot of her blanket. She started to get up but was brutally reminded by the pain in her legs that she couldn’t. He’d predicted that she’d be crying from it. She fought back the tears by getting angry—at herself. Why did she have to be so bloody stubborn? She could have ridden on his horse from the start and avoided the
worst of these aches and pains. He’d offered, but she’d been too furious to accept.
She managed to roll toward the fire without leaving her blanket. And saw two fish resting on some twigs next to it, already cooked, as well as another chunk of bread and an apple.
She didn’t try to sit up again, just lay there on her stomach resting on her elbows within reach of the food. “Have you changed your mind about continuing on in the dark?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you wake me before dusk?”
“Maybe I like watching you sleep.”
That was absurd when she had to look a fright, her face dirty and dusty, her hair a wild mess, so she put him on the spot, asking, “Why?”
“Why not? For all your lies, you’re still a damn fine-looking woman. ’Sides, look at my choices.”
She followed his gaze as it turned to his mules and almost laughed, since only their rumps were within view. A joke. Who would have thought a bear could joke?
Glancing at the food again, she asked, “Is half of this repast for me?”
“All of it is,” he said. “I’ll store whatever you don’t eat.”
Then he’d already eaten? And caught the fish. Which had her ask, “You didn’t sleep a’tall?”
“I will, later,” he said, and got up to resaddle his horse. “Just hurry it up, lady. Time’s wasting.”
She picked apart just one of the fish, then ate all the bread and the apple, but now her fingers were utterly sticky from eating without utensils. She glanced toward the river longingly, before he said, “Here,” and turned back to see that he was tipping his canteen toward her. She quickly stuck out her hands, and he poured the last of the water over them before he went to the river to refill his canteen. Then he did the same with hers while she flicked her hands to dry them.
Then she became uncomfortably aware that she couldn’t leave yet, and started looking around for a bush. And she had to do this on her own. She couldn’t very well mention it to the bear.
But she was scooped up in his arms. “Wait! I’m not ready to leave yet. Put me down!”
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