A gust of wind slapped him in the face, and he jolted out of his stupor. What the hell was he thinking? He shouldn’t be having these feelings. Not here, and not for her. Cool raindrops on his face shocked him to his senses. On impulse he grabbed her arm.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Kate jumped like a startled kitten and whirled toward him.
“Whoa! It’s just me.”
The panic in her eyes iced to anger as she recognized his face. “Of all the—” She jerked out of his grasp and thumped his chest with a fist. “What the devil are you doing creeping up on me like that?”
“I wasn’t creeping, I was just—”
“Following me. Why?”
He started to speak, then thought better of it. Why had he followed her?
“Well?” She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a fiery brow at him. The wind whipped at her hair and cloak. He’d never seen her look more beautiful.
For the briefest second, he knew why he’d come, and so did she.
“It’s…” Struggling for an explanation, he nodded toward the clearing where Matt and Mei Li continued to kiss, oblivious to the rain and their presence. “It’s them.”
“Them?”
“Yes, them. You’ve got a put a stop to it. The townspeople won’t stand for it.” It was true. They wouldn’t.
Kate’s eyes widened. “I’m to put a stop to it? I’ll do no such thing. He’s your friend. You put a stop to it.”
“Me? As if I could. That little vixen down there—”
“Mei Li has nothing to do with this. It’s his fault.” She gestured toward Matt. “Everyone knows it’s men who…who…”
“Men?” A hundred tiny incidents from his first marriage crashed across his consciousness. Sherrilyn had taken seduction to a new art form, had used it to manipulate him from the very beginning.
“Aye, men!” She thumped his chest again. “The sisters taught me all about it. How—”
“The sisters?”
“Aye, at St. Stephen’s, back home. Our parish priest says that when a man gets the devil in him, there’s no tellin’ what he’ll do.”
“Oh, so it’s the devil, now?”
“Aye.” She tipped her chin at him. “And don’t be actin’ like you don’t know what I mean.”
He knew exactly what she meant.
An overpowering urge to kiss her charged every nerve in his body—past reason, past all concern for consequences and far past restraint.
“To the devil, then,” he said, and pulled her into his arms.
Chapter Eight
Never had she dreamed of such a kiss.
Kate gave herself up to Will’s crushing embrace and, in a haze of desire and confusion, opened her mouth to his questing tongue.
His hands were everywhere. Cupping her behind, stroking her back, pulling her tight against him. No matter that she wore three layers of wool, her body responded to his touch as if he stroked her bare skin.
His scent intoxicated her—a heady rush of leather and wood smoke and sweat. His tongue was hot glass, his lips commanding. The roughness of a day’s beard growth burned her face, but she didn’t care.
Her arms slid easily around his neck, and her cloak, which she’d unbuttoned during the climb, slipped to the ground. Somewhere at the edge of her awareness, she realized it was raining. Will lifted her off her feet and backed her against the tree.
Icy raindrops pelted her face, cooling her skin but not her ardor. Will groaned as he rolled his hips into hers, spreading her legs with the motion. Thunder cracked overhead.
“W-wait.” Her eyes flew open as she felt the hard length of him press against her.
Lightning flashed. His eyes were slits, his expression a feral union of power and desire.
“Stop,” she breathed, and pushed weakly against his chest. God help her, she knew she didn’t mean it.
Will’s body went rigid, as if heeding her command of its own accord. He opened his eyes, blinking against the rain. The wind whipped at his long, dark hair.
Their gazes locked, and in that moment Kate knew what it was to want a man, to crave his touch, his kiss, the feel of his body hard against her own.
“Sorry,” he said, and eased her feet to the ground, releasing her. He raised his palms in a gesture of apology, his eyes darting from hers, as if he were suddenly embarrassed.
A flurry of erratic feelings twisted inside her. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was a stranger, their marriage a sham. In name only. That was their bargain. He had plans, and she, obligations. In little over a fortnight they’d quit this wild place, never to see each other again.
Why, then, did her stomach twine into knots as he backed away from her?
“I—I’ll get the horse.” He ran a hand through his hair as rain sluiced down his face.
“You go on,” she said. “I’ll walk back.”
Another flash of lightning lit the darkening sky.
“You’re soaked. Wait for me.”
“I’m fine.” She snatched her cloak and the borrowed basket from the ground. “Besides, Mei Li and I can—” She glanced at the clearing where the couple had stood not a minute before. “They’re gone.”
“They’re smart.” Will cast her a hard look. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
The second he disappeared into the trees, she fled down the hill. Not because she didn’t want to ride double with him on the gelding, pressed up against him, clutching him tight.
But because she did.
Two minutes later Will cut her off, reining the horse directly into her path. Kate had no choice but to stop.
“I told you to wait.”
“Aye, but—”
“Get on.” It was an order, not a request. He held a hand out to her, his expression stone. The passion she’d read in his eyes just moments ago had vanished. She felt like a fool.
“Put your foot in the stirrup—” he slipped his own booted foot out of it to make room for hers “—and I’ll pull you up.”
She obeyed, and a second later plopped onto the gelding’s back, her wet skirts twisted beneath her. It was anything but comfortable. Before she had a chance to adjust her position, Will kicked the gelding into action.
Kate swore.
She looped her arm through the basket and held on to him as gingerly as possible, affording herself just enough leverage to keep her seat.
In silence Will maneuvered the gelding down the hill toward town, his demeanor icier than the weather.
The rain continued into the next afternoon. Will counted four days since Dan Dunnett had hightailed it back to Sacramento City for another load of goods. No telling when he’d return.
Not that it mattered. The brass bell overhanging the store’s front door hadn’t sounded all day. The whole town, in fact, was dead quiet. Too quiet.
Will watched as Kate counted the coins in Dennington’s old cash box for what had to be the fourth time in as many hours. Her fingers flew over the carved ivory beads of the abacus Mei Li had taught her to use.
“Well?” he said, and snorted. “Has it miraculously doubled since you last counted it?”
She shot him a pithy glance, and proceeded to reweigh the gold dust she kept secreted away in the leather pouch in the pocket of her dress.
“We’ll never get out of here. Not at this rate.” He strode to the window, restless, and looked out on the empty street.
“There’s enough to get us both to San Francisco, and nearly enough for part of one sea passage. But that’s all.”
He didn’t want to think about it.
“We’ll sell the horse in the city, and my father’s rifle, too. With that, we’ll have—”
“Give it a rest, Kate.”
“I’m not giving up.”
He turned on her, primed with a snide retort, but the fire in her eyes stilled his tongue.
“We’ve a bargain,” she said, and slammed the lid of the cash box closed. “I mean to hold you to it, Mr. Crockett.”
Twenty-four hours ago he’d held her in his arms, had kissed her with a hunger and a ferocity he hadn’t realized he’d been leashing until that moment.
And she’d kissed him back. Willingly. Wantonly.
But today it was back to Mr. Crockett, and skirting around each other, being polite, taking care not to meet the other’s gaze. As if it hadn’t happened.
He wished to hell it hadn’t.
“I don’t go back on my word,” he said evenly.
She arched a brow at him, her way of saying she didn’t trust him. She was right not to, he supposed. If he had any kind of sense, he’d saddle the horse, grab the cash and go.
A cynical grunt formed in his throat. He didn’t have any sense. That was the problem. If he had, he wouldn’t be here now. He’d be halfway to Sitka, a free man. No ties. No responsibilities weighing on his mind.
She flashed a glance at him, wondering what he was thinking. Watching her tidy up the counter, he ran a hand across his smooth chin. He’d shaved that morning, and now he asked himself why. Was he hoping for a repeat of yesterday’s excitement?
Kate busied herself around the store, and he allowed his gaze to follow, drinking in her features. Those down-soft lips, freckled cheeks, the curve of her neck as she reached for a tin resting on a high shelf.
There was nothing remarkable about her looks. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. All the same, he felt an uncomfortable tightness in his groin as he watched her.
By accident she brushed a pile of neatly stacked garments to the floor. Will was there in a second, stooping to retrieve them. She knelt at the same moment, and their hands brushed in the exchange.
Neither of them moved.
Her face was inches from his, her lips parted, her breath soft and warm on his cheek. Her eyes widened ever so slightly. He looked into their sea-blue depths and knew if he kissed her now, he wouldn’t want to stop.
“Tell me something,” she whispered.
At that moment, he’d tell her anything she wanted to hear.
“Why did you do it?”
“Do what?” He inched closer, aware of her rapid ;breathing, the acceleration of his own heart rate, of the tension wound so tight between them it threatened to snap.
“Give over the wee jacket to the Miwok man.” Slowly Kate drew the stack of fallen garments—baby clothes, he realized—from his grasp. She rose, and he with her.
A jumble of raw emotions gripped his gut, constricting his throat. He started to answer, then thought better of it.
“It was a good and decent thing you did, Mr. Crockett. For the babe, I mean.”
He turned away and stared out the window, eyes unfocused, a barrage of dark memories blasting across his muddled mind.
“You were married before,” she said matter-of-factly. Will didn’t answer. “Mr. Vickery told me. He said that your wife—”
“She died.”
“Aye, he told me that as well. I’m sorry.”
He fisted his hands at his sides, remembering the flat white light of the winter sky on the day it happened.
“She…” He shook his head, then spun on her. “The frontier’s no place for a woman—or a baby.” Kate jumped as he jerked the tiny garments out of her hands and stuffed them onto a high shelf, out of her reach.
“So you’ve said before.”
He stormed across the room, then turned and started to pace. “Damned this weather! No wonder we’ve had no business.”
“The frontier’s really no different than anywhere,” Kate said, ignoring his change of topic. “Aye, there are strange animals, deadly weather and other dangers. But illness can strike a man, or a woman, anywhere. What happened to your wife could have happened—”
Will froze and leveled his gaze at her.
Kate’s mouth clamped shut.
“Mention her again and the deal’s off.”
Shock registered on her face.
Before he could say more, the bell over the storefront door jingled to life, startling them both. Kate smoothed the skirt of her dress and quickly turned to greet the customer.
“Mrs. Crockett.”
Vickery.
Will snorted. Perfect timing. He was ready to wring the lawyer’s twiggy white neck. Somehow Vickery had found out he’d been married before, and that his wife had died. Will didn’t have to think hard to figure out who’d told him.
“Oh, good day, Mr. Crockett.” Vickery looked almost surprised to see him. “Still here, I see.”
Will grunted.
Vickery carefully closed what had to be the only umbrella for a hundred and fifty miles, and tucked it under his arm next to a parcel wrapped in oilskin. “Just this morning I was speaking with your friend Mr. Robinson, and—”
“The two of you are damned chatty these days, aren’t you?” He planned to wring Matt’s neck while he was at it.
“Mr. Robinson and I? Well, yes, I guess—”
“Forget it.” Will started for the back room, thinking to grab his slicker, saddle up the horse and go for a hard ride. To hell with the weather.
“I—I’m just here to remind you about tonight.”
Will turned.
“Oh…yes. That’s right! I nearly forgot.” Kate moved toward him, forcing a smile. “Mrs. Vickery’s returned. We’re invited to supper this evening.”
“Supper?” He stifled a groan.
“Aye. Yesterday afternoon as I passed their cottage, Mr. Vickery mentioned it to me.”
Vickery nodded, with a measure of enthusiasm that seemed overdone, given Will’s icy reception of him. Kate nodded, too, and clasped her hands together, waiting for his response.
“You go ahead. I’m going out for a while. Don’t know when I’ll be back.” He started to turn and caught the disappointment in Kate’s eyes.
For a moment no one said a word. He wondered how long it had been since she’d sat down to supper in a real house, with another woman for company.
He swallowed the curse forming in the back of his throat and exhaled. “What time?”
Kate’s face lit up.
“Seven o’clock,” Vickery said, and smiled.
“We’ll be there!” Kate walked the lawyer to the door, and held his parcel while he opened the umbrella.
“Oh, I nearly forgot.” Vickery nodded at the oilskin-wrapped package in her hand. “That’s for you, from Mrs. Vickery.”
“For me?” Kate shook it, grinning like a child on Christmas Eve.
From across the room, Will narrowed his eyes at the mysterious gift. “What is it?”
“Oh, it isn’t much, really. Just something Gladys can’t use anymore. She thought Ka—er, Mrs. Crockett—might like it.”
“Thank her for me, will you?” Kate clutched the package to her chest. “And please do call me Kate.”
“Thank her yourself, tonight.” Vickery opened the door, the brass bell sounding his departure. “Seven o’clock, then.”
“Aye, on the dot.” Kate closed the door, then whirled toward Will, still clutching the gift. “Do we have a timepiece?”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”
Kate wrestled with the hooks of her corset, which she’d relaced three times before it felt snug enough, given the tight-fitting lines of the two-piece gown laid out on her bed.
Mrs. Vickery’s present.
Gingerly she ran a hand over the shimmering, midnight-blue silk, not believing for a moment the gown was a castoff, as Mr. Vickery had implied. What woman in her right mind would give up such a treasure?
She slipped into the cambric-lined skirt, then the stiff bodice, and fastened as many of the tiny hooks that ran up the back as she could reach. Perhaps she’d don her cloak, run up the street and ask Mei Li to fasten the rest. The sky had cleared, and it promised to be a fine night.
Will had gone down to the blacksmith’s. Something about beaver traps he’d lost to Landerfelt in the incident with Cheng. He wanted to buy them back, she supposed, to take with him to Alaska. Not that they could
afford to buy anything right now.
Footfalls sounded on the back porch.
He was back!
The storefront door was bolted, and Will had made her lock the back door as well when he’d gone out. She’d draped the one window in the cabin’s living space and couldn’t see out to the porch, but she recognized Will’s familiar knock.
“Just a minute,” she called, and hastily retwisted her hair into a knot and pinned it on top of her head.
There was no looking glass. Not that she’d ever had one at home in Dublin. All the same, she wished for one now. She had no idea how she looked, and it was the first time in her life she’d ever worn an evening gown.
She suspected her father would roll in his grave if he saw her like this. Her brothers would probably laugh. As her hand closed over the back door latch, she peered down at her breasts, pushed high from the tightened corset and half-bared in the sinfully low-cut gown.
“God forgive me,” she breathed, adding another rosary to the penance she’d yet to start on.
“What’s the hold up?”
She sucked in a breath and yanked wide the door.
Lantern light spilled onto the porch, illuminating Will’s face. He never finished the sentence. Kate stood rigid, waiting for his reaction, watching his expression change from annoyance to surprise to something else all together as he swept his gaze over the lines of the gown.
“Is it awful?” she said, unable to contain her anxiety.
She held the door open and he nearly tripped into the room, his eyes darting from her bosom to her face, then back to her bosom again.
“It is, isn’t it?”
He started to speak, then stopped.
“I’ll have to wear it, regardless. Mrs. Vickery gave it to me.”
“That’s…what was in the package?”
Kate nodded. “I know I don’t do it justice. All the same, I—”
“No. No, it looks fine on you.”
He was probably just being polite again. She was suddenly embarrassed. Their gazes locked, and she felt a slow heat radiate from his eyes, which had gone a warm chestnut-brown in the lamplight.
Gold Rush Bride Page 10
