“Oh!” Macky looked down at her pants and shirt and blushed. Though neither Lorraine nor Hank had commented, she certainly looked more like one of the miners than the preacher’s wife.
“Clara says we’ll have lemonade too, and maybe some punch, but the men will need coffee, particularly if somebody spikes the punch.”
“Yes, of course,” Macky managed to say, trying to hide her ignorance about social events. She’d attended one or two when she and Papa had first moved to Promise. But after Papa made it clear that he wasn’t a farmer and had no intention of remarrying, the invitations had stopped coming. It looked as if she were about to learn.
Quickly Macky dashed into the house, assembled her green-checked dress, underclothes, and a drying cloth, and set out to find a private bathing spot along the stream.
“I’ll take you to a good place, Macky.” Bran’s voice surprised her. She wasn’t aware that he was behind her.
He walked along the bank, following the rip in the earth through which the water flowed. When Macky hesitated, he reached back and took her hand to assist her across the boulders and through the brush. “There’s a pool up here where we can bathe, out of sight.”
“We?” There was no hiding the quiver in her voice.
“That was a general statement, Macky. Relax, we have to get through the day. Don’t get spooked before it even starts.”
The thought of them bathing together sent a frisson of fear down Macky’s spine and she stumbled, twisting her ankle as she fell.
Bran quickly lifted her up. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so. I just stepped wrong. Let me go.”
Being so close to Bran was setting off more vibrations than the twisted ankle. Bran released her. She took a step forward, winced, and kept walking.
The pain in her ankle was sharp and searing, but she refused to give in. It wasn’t going to stop her—but, wait a minute. With a sprained ankle she wouldn’t have to reveal that she couldn’t dance. Suddenly she let out a moan and reached back for Bran.
“Maybe I do need some help,” she said.
Bran didn’t have to be a scholar to see that Macky was exaggerating, but he couldn’t figure out why. If she wanted to be hurt, he’d go along. “Of course,” he said with a grin and swung her up in his arms.
“Bran! Put me down. I’m too heavy for you to carry.”
“Macky, you’re not too heavy. I’m a big man, or haven’t you noticed? Besides, what kind of husband would allow his wife to walk on an injured ankle? Up ahead there is a deep pool where you can soak it in icy water. It’ll keep down the swelling and you’ll be able to dance a jig with the best of them.”
Macky groaned again and this time it wasn’t put on. This wasn’t working out as she’d expected. Then Bran pushed through a growth of evergreen brush and they were beside a pool of water that came from a waterfall above.
“Oh, this is beautiful,” Macky said, awed by the picture. “How did you know this was here?”
“I was looking for Kelley’s mine this morning while you were sleeping.”
“Did you find it?”
“I found where he’d been prospecting, yes. But I can’t say that it looked promising.” He put her down on a rock. “Let me help you.”
He took the clothing she was clasping to her chest and laid it aside. Then he began to unfasten her boots.
She slapped his hand away. “I can do this,” she insisted, unlacing and removing her brother’s boot. “I mean, really I can. You can go now. I’ll get back to the house by myself.”
“Not until I’m sure you can get into the water. Take off your clothes.”
“Not necessary,” she protested, removing the second boot. If he laid a hand on her, she’d plunge into the water, clothes and all. Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. “I’d planned to wash these clothes anyway. If you’ll help me, I’ll just wear them into the water.”
“That’s an odd way to wash clothes, isn’t it?”
“It’s the way I always do it.”
Biting back a grin, Bran assisted her to the bank and into the water. “When you’re done, give a yell. I’ll be listening for you.” He turned his back, whistling as he walked away.
Macky waited until he was out of sight, then let out a sigh of relief. He was going to let her get away with it. She stepped into the pool.
“Brrrrr!” The water was cold enough to make chill bumps on an iceberg. It wouldn’t take long to wash herself, if she didn’t drown first.
The pool wasn’t big but it was deep and suddenly her feet weren’t touching the bottom. Her wet clothing had begun to pull her down.
“Horsefeathers!” She’d have to get undressed or she wouldn’t live long enough to get to her own party. Quickly she slid out of the shirt and, kicking her feet madly, unbuttoned her trousers and shucked them in the water.
Bran heard her splash and the frantic sound of moving water. He let his whistle die. He’d give her a chance to enjoy the temperature of the melting snow before he returned. Then, just to punish her for the ruse, he’d sit and watch her freeze for a while before he helped her out. He counted slowly to ten.
“Macky,” he called out as he retraced his steps. “It occurred to me that you might not be able to climb out.” He reappeared at the pool and sat on Macky’s rock. “Oh, I see you decided to soak your entire body. Not a bad idea. I’ll just wait until you’re done and help you up.”
Now what was she going to do? Not only was she wearing nothing but her drawers and her chemise, but her clothing was hanging on a limb. If she climbed out, Bran would see her almost completely naked in broad daylight. If she stayed in the pool, she’d turn into an icicle. She’d stay.
Minutes went by, longer for Macky than for Bran, who was watching her with what he hoped was concern in his eyes. She began to shiver. Her lips turned blue. Then his amusement turned into concern. Punishing Macky was one thing, but he didn’t want her to get sick.
“Don’t you think you ought to get out now?” he asked.
She shook her head. If she opened her mouth her teeth would sound like woodpeckers tapping a hollow tree.
“Macky—don’t be stubborn. I’ll get your clothes.”
She shook her head again.
“I know what you’re doing, Macky. If you don’t want to dance, you don’t have to. I’ll even turn my back. Just get out of that water, now!”
Macky was too cold to argue any more. She started toward the side of the pool and held out her hand for Bran. He turned his head as he pulled her up. This time she knew that his concern was genuine.
But Bran hadn’t counted on Macky’s playful nature, or her decision to take revenge. He hadn’t counted on her strength, either. She gave a sudden jerk and he went sailing past her, landing in the freezing creek up to his neck in his clothes.
“Why, you scheming woman. You—”
She couldn’t move fast enough to escape. Moments later they were both engulfed in laughter and rolling on the path with arms and legs entangled. Dried leaves and twigs stuck to their bodies like flour on frying chicken.
Then Macky made the mistake of looking up at the man lying on top of her. His patch had been shoved aside, revealing the wound where his eye had been.
“Oh,” she whispered, as she touched his face. “The man who did this must have been a monster.”
“Yes, I swore that night that I would never rest until he was dead. Not because of what he did to me. But for what he did to my family. For a long time I wished he’d killed me.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“He thought he had. And in a way, he did. A part of me died along with my eye.” A distant look crossed Bran’s face for a moment, then he said quietly, “After that I knew what I had to do.”
“What?”
“Find him.”
“And did you?”
“Not yet.”
“But that’s what you’re doing here?”
Lying there, in the silence, he finally decided to
give her a part of his truth. “That’s one reason,” Bran agreed.
“Will you recognize him?”
“I don’t know. He was in the shadows but I know he’s a Southerner with an odd laugh. For fifteen years I’ve looked for this man. Thieves don’t stop being thieves, they just change what they steal. Sooner or later, I’ll find him.”
“Maybe it’s time to stop looking and put the past behind you,” she said, wanting to comfort him. “Maybe we can look after each other.” She raised her lips to his.
“I wish I could,” he said, his voice hoarse. He’d felt nothing but emptiness for so long. He’d refused to let himself care about anything or anybody. She almost made him believe that together they could cast out the demons who’d been driving him.
Now this woman with the wild red hair was forcing him to open up and let her inside. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t kiss her again, even though every part of him wanted to claim her, brand her with his taste and touch. For this moment he forgot about where they were, about the people waiting back at the cabin, about those who were coming to a housewarming.
“Please don’t worry,” she said and pulled his head down so that their lips touched.
The kiss was inevitable. Every time it happened he was astonished how she melted beneath his touch. Every time he explored her hot, sweet mouth he was stunned by the explosion inside him. He kissed her tenderly at first, then more fiercely. Her eyes were closed. Her fingertips kneaded his neck, then they slid down his back and moved beneath his shirt.
She was melting into him, her breath coming faster, her heart beating wildly. There was no mistaking her need, nor her invitation. She was asking, seeking, moving against him. He was as helpless to fight it as she. But he was a man who had learned control. He’d always been able to rein in his emotions and hold them tight.
Until Macky brought trouble into his life.
A rush of heat surged through his loins. He was so close to letting go. And she wouldn’t refuse. Holding back was punishing her, making them both suffer.
His hand moved between them, seeking her breasts. He had to touch her, hold her. She was so soft, so yielding, so new. He felt as if he’d never been with a woman before.
Stop, Bran. You don’t need this kind of want in your life.
Logically he knew he couldn’t allow this to continue but his body refused to obey his mind’s commands. Drawing on all his strength, he forced himself to pull back. Beneath him, Macky’s eyes flew open. The shimmering green of her eyes reflected the storm of her uncertainty.
She gradually became still, relaxing her fingers that lay against his bare skin.
“Why did you stop?” she whispered.
“Because taking you would be a mistake.”
“Why?”
Her question was honest and he didn’t know how to answer it. “I don’t know. Because it isn’t right. Because I would be hurting you and you don’t deserve that.”
“I already hurt. Now we both hurt. Why?”
“Maybe I’m more of a preacher than I thought,” he said and drew her to her feet. “We’d better get you dressed, Mrs. Adams. Otherwise you’re going to meet your guests looking like a catfish pulled through the bull rushes.”
Macky should be upset, but she wasn’t. There was a kind of quiet joy inside her. He was rejecting her, as he’d done from the beginning, but it was different. Sooner or later— What? She was very confused. She had thought he wouldn’t want any part of her, but he did. She could tell.
He removed a leaf from her hair, tangling his fingers in the damp tendrils that fell across her shoulders. Then he kissed her. And she understood that his kiss said what he couldn’t. It was a silent promise, a pledge of trust. She understood and she’d wait.
Macky stepped back. Her foolish action meant that she had to don her dress over her wet underdrawers and chemise. Bran waited, watching her. She smothered a smile. He may be pretending to be a preacher, but he was still a man and she saw no reason why he couldn’t be both. She simply had to convince him of that. In the meantime, she couldn’t help teasing him, making her movements slow and her body visible.
Hank accidentally brushed against Miss Lake as he reached below the table to steady the legs. He hadn’t realized that she was there. She hadn’t been so close when he’d leaned down. Now, as he raised up, they were standing thigh to thigh.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled and wished for the plug of tobacco in his shirt pocket. He felt uncomfortable being bare chested. He was clean, but being so close was too intimate.
“Don’t be,” Lorraine said with a smile. “Nobody saw. In fact, we’re all alone out here, aren’t we?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I guess the preacher and his wife will be back any minute.” Hank wouldn’t let himself look directly at the beautiful woman. She was moving her leg slowly back and forth against his, as if she knew what she was doing.
Except she couldn’t. She couldn’t know how many times he’d sat in the dark of the livery stable and watched her silhouette walk back and forth across the window shade. Since Mrs. Adams had mentioned that she might teach the children to read, he’d been even more aware of her.
“Hank?”
Her voice drew his attention back to her.
“Hank, do you have a girl?”
“No, ma’am,” he stammered, trying to sound as if he were the ignorant blacksmith people believed him to be.
“In that case, I hope you’ll ask me to dance tonight. Macky invited me, but let’s face it, there won’t be another man here who will dare ask me, and I know it’s silly, but I don’t want to be left out.”
There was a longing in her voice. “Perhaps you’ll be surprised, Miss Lake. Mrs. Adams has a way of seeing people in another light and making other folks see them that way, too.”
Lorraine looked at Hank in surprise. She’d had the same thought but she didn’t know anyone else had noticed.
Moments later, Lorraine looked up as Bran and Kathryn came down the path. There was no mistaking the flush in the girl’s face, nor the proprietary way that Bran was assisting her. It was obvious to Lorraine that Bran was totally smitten, even if Bran didn’t know it yet.
“Macky fell and turned her ankle,” Bran explained. “That’s why her hair is … mussed.”
“Macky?” Lorraine’s eyebrows raised at the affectionate name he’d given her. “Let’s get you inside and I’ll see what I can do to help. Can’t have your congregation seeing you like this.”
Bran helped Macky to a stool by the fire, gave Lorraine an odd look of appeal, then excused himself to go to the loft and replace his wet clothing with dry.
Macky ducked her head near the fire and concealed her face by rubbing the wet ends of her hair with a drying cloth. She could tell that Lorraine wasn’t fooled. Macky didn’t have a mirror, but she guessed that anybody, including Hank, would know that she’d been thoroughly kissed.
The kettle filled with coffee was boiling over the fire, sending its smell across the air. She could hear Bran’s footsteps overhead as he changed clothes. Hank was outside hammering the table legs into the ground.
Once Bran left the cabin, Macky took her comb and began to rake it through her hair. She stopped and let out a deep breath, raised her head and looked miserably at Lorraine. “Have you ever been in love?” she asked.
“No,” Lorraine admitted, laying her hand on Macky’s shoulder. Then she rescued the comb and took over. “Have you?”
“I don’t think so. Papa said it would happen one day. But he didn’t tell me how I’d know.”
“Ah, Kate, I can’t tell you, either.”
Macky was silent for a moment. “Please help me. I don’t want to make Bran ashamed.”
“You’d never do that, Kate.”
“I’m really called Macky,” she said. “I mean, Kathryn is my name too, but nobody ever used it before. I wish you’d call me Macky.”
“I will. Does your ankle hurt?”
“It’s all right. I
didn’t hurt it that badly. I just thought if Bran believed it was sprained, I wouldn’t have to dance.”
“Because you don’t know how, is that it?”
Macky caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I never learned. No reason to. I never thought I’d go to a dance. In fact, I never thought I’d be in a place like this.”
“From the look on your face,” Lorraine observed, “seems like you’re not too happy about it right now.”
“I’m happy. Goodness yes, I’m happy. But I’m worried. Do you know Pratt?” Macky asked quietly. “That bank robber the marshal is after?”
“No, should I?” Lorraine asked, not hiding her confusion.
“He was in your saloon. I saw him, twice. I mean I saw him leaving,” Macky said in a rush. “He rides a horse with a silver-trimmed saddle.”
“A lot of men come through the saloon, Macky, some I know, some I don’t, some I don’t want to know. Why, is there a problem?”
Macky wanted to tell Lorraine that Pratt was on her trail, wanted to ask Lorraine what she thought Macky should do. But she couldn’t. She’d as much as promised Bran that she’d keep his secret, whatever it was, if he’d keep hers. If she confessed, she’d admit that claiming to be the Reverend Brandon Adams and his wife was a lie.
“No,” she finally said. “I once knew someone who had a saddle like that. I’m just being silly. So much has happened that I don’t know what to think about anything. Even Bran.”
Lorraine laid the comb down. Taking Macky’s chin in her fingertips, she tilted her face up. “Don’t let it overwhelm you, Macky. No matter what he says, he cares. I can see it in his eyes, and I envy you for that.”
“He cares about me?” Macky couldn’t keep the wonder from her voice. “Sometimes I wonder.”
“Believe me,” Lorraine insisted, “and I’ve seen enough men without that look to know. Besides, you’re not ignorant.”
“I can recite most of the words of Shakespeare, the Greek poets, and even Benjamin Franklin, but what I don’t know about being a woman could fill all those books and have some left over.”
The Redhead and the Preacher: A Loveswept Historical Romance Page 19
