He crashed into the fiery cabin with a shrill cry before the wall gave way. His scream was swallowed by a deafening crash as the roof collapsed and the cabin fell in around him.
It happened in an instant.
“Holy shite,” George muttered.
Lucy rushed to his side, wrapping her arms tight around his middle as she buried her face in his chest. Breathing deeply of his scent and pressing her ear to the rapid beat of his heart, she stood enclosed securely in his arms while the fire raged beside them and the snow melted at their feet. Her entire life before this moment was being consumed by the relentless flames, but at least they were both alive. After a while, she lifted her face to the sky and dragged in a few raw breaths of the chill night air before meeting his concerned gaze.
“Are you all right, lass?” His voice was rough and ragged.
Lucy nodded and blinked to clear the blurring tears from her eyes. “The horses?” she asked.
He nodded. “They’re fine.”
“I think he started the fire.”
“He did,” George replied, tipping his head toward the empty oil cans the man had left behind to trip over.
Lucy shook her head, stunned by the destruction wrought by one man. Perhaps it was fitting that his avarice resulted in his own death, but Lucy couldn’t help but feel the utter waste of it all.
As she watched the only home she’d ever known disintegrate beneath the raging hunger of the flames, she slowly began to feel an odd sort of acceptance. Everything she’d ever cared about had been inside. Her books, mementos of her father, the basic elements of her existence. But they were just possessions. None of those things could really define a life.
Shortly after her father’s death, she’d come to the realization that the solitude and isolation her father had created on this mountain had been for him. It was the life he had wanted, not her.
Now…there was nothing left to keep her here.
Within a short time, the cabin was reduced to a skeletal structure with only the hardiest beam and supports still standing. But even they would fall eventually.
“You can rebuild,” George said beside her. “You’re alive. That’s what matters.”
She looked at him and saw the compassion and support in his steady gaze. “I know.”
At the moment, she didn’t know if she’d want to build another home here or somewhere else. The fact was that she was free to decide that for herself. One thing she knew for certain—she didn’t want to be alone anymore.
“The pass to the valley is likely open by now,” George noted gently. “We can take shelter there.”
Lucy nodded.
Not long ago, she never would have considered entering that valley, under any circumstances.
But now…
At least George would be with her, and unless she wanted to take up residence in the cave, she had nowhere else to go. The ride was solemn, but it did not take long to reach the hidden pass. The tree that had fallen across the way at the start of the blizzard had already been dragged away, and there was evidence of others having passed that way since the heavy snowfall.
Sunrise was still hours away when they reached the end of the winding trail, but the sky was clear, allowing the stars and moon to illuminate the valley that opened up at the end of the pass.
Lucy had never really imagined what an outlaw hideout might look like, but she certainly wouldn’t have guessed it would appear so peaceful.
The valley was wide and long, extending farther into the distance than she could see in the night, and it was covered in thick, white snow that glistened under the moonlight. Protective pines rose up the slopes on each side, creating a natural haven. A log bunkhouse with a long covered porch running along the front was the most prominent building. No lights shone from inside, but a thin thread of smoke drifted up from the chimney as though an earlier fire had only just burned down to the glow of coals. Beyond the bunkhouse, Lucy could make out a large barn outlined in the darkness, and she thought she could see a small cabin tucked in among the trees off to the right some distance up the mountainside, but she couldn’t be sure.
It was a beautiful scene.
The still and quiet hush of the winter valley seemed to whisper to Lucy of hope and warmth and other things she wasn’t quite ready to name.
A smile tickled her lips as they neared the bunkhouse and she noticed evergreen garland looped along the porch railing with red bows tied to each post.
Not at all what she would have expected of outlaws.
But then, hadn’t George surprised her from the start?
With only the sound of their horses’ steps in the snow breaking the serene silence of the winter night, he led her around back to the barn. They quickly saw their horses settled with water and grain before George took her hand and led her toward the bunkhouse.
All was quiet and dark inside, but he didn’t need a light to make his way through the familiar space. Lucy was more grateful than ever for his presence. Tonight, she needed him to take care of her. Tomorrow, she would be capable again. Tomorrow, she would address her new circumstances.
But for now, all she had to do was follow the man in front of her.
He brought her to a small room tucked halfway down a dark and narrow hallway. After closing the door quietly behind them, he turned to release the ties on her coat. Tugging it free, he laid it over a chair in the corner of the room. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and walked her back to the bed, indicating she should sit.
Kneeling before her, he silently removed her boots, then looked up at her with a quiet smile that warmed her in the dusky darkness. “Rest a bit, lass,” he whispered hoarsely.
She did as he said, and he pulled the blankets over her. “Lie with me,” she said.
“Of course,” he replied as he shrugged off his coat and removed his boots to climb into the bed behind her. Curling around her back, he whispered against her nape. “The morn brings a new day.”
Ten
Lucy opened her eyes to a room flooded with morning light.
She immediately recalled the events of the prior night. Her throat still burned from the smoke, and her chest ached with loss and fury.
Then she remembered George’s words. She was still alive. And life meant hope.
She rolled to her back and reached an arm out beside her, seeking his warmth. She encountered an expanse of cool, empty mattress. A very grand expanse.
Sitting up, she realized she lay on one side of a bed that was bigger than any she’d ever seen before. It was nearly too big for the room it was in and allowed very little space for anything else.
As she grew more alert, she became aware of a significant amount of noise coming from beyond the closed door of the room. A cacophony of voices and activity.
But one of the voices was definitely George’s. She’d recognize his great roaring laugh anywhere. A smile widened her lips at the sound, and her body warmed with something like joy.
Her father had instilled a hard core of independence in her. She’d been resentful at times about the isolated life he’d created for them, but she understood he’d been motivated by a desire to protect her. And she’d become confident in her belief that she didn’t need anyone. And then she’d gone and dragged a ridiculous, handsome, considerate, wonderful man out of the blizzard, and she could no longer imagine her life without him.
She’d gone and fallen in love with him.
Her heart leapt in her chest at the sudden realization.
Oh my God, she loved him!
It was true. Love was the cause of the sensation that swept through her whenever his gray eyes met hers. Love made her chest ache with the thought that they’d someday part ways. And love gave her the strength and hope to think maybe parting wasn’t so inevitable after all.
Suddenly anxious to be in his company, despite knowin
g she would be stepping into what sounded like a crowd of strangers, she slipped from the bed and crept from the room. She made her way down the narrow hallway toward what appeared to be a large common area.
Lucy enjoyed people even if she’d never really had an opportunity to be around very many at once, but as she stepped from the hall and looked around at the activity spread before her, she felt more than a little out of her element.
The first thing she noticed was that there weren’t quite so many people as she’d expected by the level of noise they made, though over half a dozen were still more than she was accustomed to.
The second was that the large great room and open kitchen area were decorated for Christmas.
Pine boughs and droopy red bows graced the wooden mantel of the large fireplace, which was a centerpiece to the room.
A Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room. A boy of two or three with a shock of honey-gold hair and vivid blue eyes was decorating the branches with colorful ribbons and scraps of cloth shaped into angels. A man with black hair but those same blue eyes was on hand to lift the boy up so he could reach the higher branches.
Lucy realized with a shock of surprise that the man was none other than the doctor from Chester Springs.
What on earth would he be doing here?
Laughter erupted from the group seated around a long table set in front of a row of windows to Lucy’s far right. On one end of the table stood a girl of about eleven with the same blue eyes as the boy but the black hair of their father. She was covered in flour up to her elbows and was rolling dough out on the tabletop while grinning at the antics of the three rough-looking men seated around the table threading popcorn and dried cranberries onto string. The outlaws jostled and elbowed each other in their attempts to find the best pieces for their garlands. They were clearly the cause of most of the noise.
The kitchen took up the far corner and was open to the rest of the great room. A lanky young man was chopping vegetables at the counter, while another stood in front of a very large, black iron stove, slowly stirring something in an oversize pot. Overseeing them both was a beautiful woman who possessed a firm air of command and honey-gold hair just like the boy.
It looked for all the world like a large family gathering.
Or rather, what Lucy would imagine a family gathering looked like.
Hearing a door open, she turned to see two newcomers entering from outside.
The first was a small and graceful woman with pale hair and elegant features surrounding the softest blue eyes Lucy had ever seen. She walked just a step ahead of the man behind her, and her hand was reached back and linked with his. Before he came into full view, they released each other’s hands, and he stepped up beside her.
Lucy recognized him as Gabriel Sloan, a Cheyenne with long, black braids and a still gaze. Gabriel who was the only member of the gang that had ever come to the cabin—before George, that is. He and Lucy’s father had been acquaintances of a sort and had come to the agreement that allowed them to live so close to the outlaw gang without any trouble.
After hanging their coats on hooks, Gabriel scanned the room in an efficient glance. When his dark gaze fell on Lucy, still tucked into the shadows of the hallway, his only response was an abbreviated nod. The woman beside him noticed his focus and looked toward Lucy curiously before giving a gentle smile.
Seeing the woman’s fine and natural elegance suddenly made Lucy painfully aware of how disheveled she must look in her red flannel long johns covered only by her buckskin breeches with her hair twisted into a tangled braid. She was relieved when the woman shifted her attention to the boy who had noticed her entrance and came running forward with a shout of delight to greet her. After a quick and energetic embrace, the boy tugged at the woman’s hand and led her toward the tree. Gabriel followed behind her.
As Lucy soaked in the festive scene, she realized with a sinking feeling that George wasn’t present.
But she swore she’d heard his laugh only moments ago.
And then she heard it again. She breathed a sigh of relief as he emerged from the hallway extending from the great room directly across from her.
He was talking to the man who had followed him down the hall—a handsome enough fellow with a striking golden gaze and brows that were drawn at a serious angle. The other man said something Lucy couldn’t quite make out, but before George could reply, he caught sight of Lucy across the room. His lips spread into a wide grin, and his companion was all but forgotten as George crossed the room toward her.
As soon as her eyes met his, Lucy didn’t give another thought to anyone else. Suddenly, she was excited, emboldened, and infinitely aware of the pull that was still there between them as he came to stand before her. Looking down at her from his impressive height, his wide grin turned into that half-crooked smile she adored as he took her hand and brought it to his lips. The brief brush of his mouth across her knuckles sent her senses into a tailspin.
“Are you feeling better this morning?” he asked in a low tone.
“I’m still a bit…off, I guess,” she admitted, “but definitely better.”
He nodded.
“Are you going to introduce us to your friend there, George?”
Lucy looked toward the kitchen to see the lanky young man with amused brown eyes staring boldly in their direction.
George didn’t bother to turn his head; he just shouted back. “Not at the moment, so just go right on back to whatever you’re doing.”
The young outlaw guffawed, apparently not at all put off by George’s curt reply.
Lucy, on the other hand, lifted a brow. “That was rude. What happened to your renowned charm?”
His smile was heated and intimate. “I’m saving all my charm for you, lass.”
Lucy had to glance away from the smolder in his eyes, or she’d end up dragging him back to his bed. It was only then that she noticed he carried something in his hand. “What is that?”
George glanced down. “Oh shite. You weren’t supposed to see this yet.”
“Why not?” she asked, her curiosity growing.
“Och, what the hell. Come on.” He tugged on her hand and led her back down the hall to his bedroom.
Once the door was closed, he gestured for her to take a seat on the bed before he crouched down in front of her and offered her the parcel. “This is for you. From me.”
Lucy took the small rectangular package and looked at it pensively. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied off with a festive red bow. “What? Why?”
He chuckled. “Because it’s Christmas Eve and because I wanted to. Usually we all wait until tomorrow morning for such things, but I reckon we don’t have to follow those rules if we don’t want to.”
“A Christmas present?” Lucy asked, her throat suddenly tightening up.
George took a seat on the bed beside her and laid his large hand on her thigh. “What’s the matter, lass?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just…this is all a little unexpected.”
George lifted his hand to cradle her face, turning her head until she met his gaze. “I know and I’m sorry. I’d forgotten today was Christmas Eve, but if you’d like to join the festivities, you’ll be in for a treat. No one puts on a better Christmas Eve feast than Honey. And after we eat, there’ll be music and dancing. You’ll probably hear a few wild tales from Old Pete…” Something of her astonishment must have shown in her face because he paused. “But that’ll be later, and if it sounds like too much, I understand. This, anyway, is just between us,” he added gently as he glanced down at the parcel still clutched in her hands. “Open it.”
Lucy willed her racing heart to a slower pace as she untied the ribbon and removed the paper to reveal a lovely book bound in faded red leather that had been softened and worn from frequent handling. She opened it to the title page, which read The Works of Robert Burns
Complete in One Volume with Life by Allan Cunningham.
“A collection of poems from the Scottish bard. It was my favorite when I was lad,” George explained. “It’s one of the few things I brought with me when I left.”
She looked up in surprise. “Then why are you giving it to me? It means too much to you.”
He placed his hands over hers, forcing her to hold the book more securely. “That’s exactly why I want you to have it. You lost everything last night,” he said in a roughened tone. “I’d like you to consider it the start of your new collection.”
“I don’t know what to say.” She’d never received anything so thoughtful…so perfect. “Thank you. It’s an amazing gift. I’m…overwhelmed.”
His smile was jaunty as he replied, “That’s what I was going for.”
Lucy pressed the book to her chest as her heart welled with emotion. Intense and bright and a little bit terrifying.
And wonderful, she added as she looked into George’s beautiful, stormy eyes. Last night she’d lost everything that had made up her life before meeting him. Today, she’d awoken in his bedroom, in a lodge filled with strangers. Yet, when their gazes met and held, she felt safe and happy and…home.
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed, leaping to her feet. “I almost forgot.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly as she tugged on her boots. Handing him the book, she said, “Just stay here. I’ll be right back.”
She dashed from the room and down the hall. Ignoring everyone in the great room, she let herself out the back door and ran across the snow to the barn.
She found Rupert snug in a stall beside Thistle, and she quickly untied the bundle of fur she’d secured to his saddle before they’d left the cave. Holding it to her chest, she ran back into the bunkhouse and to George’s room.
He stood beside the bed, looking bemused and slightly worried. “What is it, lass?”
Lucy pressed her hand to her chest as she caught her breath. “I have something for you too.”
She’d never given anyone a gift before. She didn’t realize how anxiety-ridden the experience could be.
Longing for a Cowboy Christmas Page 41
