by Jody Hedlund
All she could think about was Zeke, his kisses, and how much she wanted to keep kissing him. Even though she could never let it happen again.
FIFTEEN
ZEKE’S HEART HAMMERED against his chest with the need to chase after Kate. For a reason he couldn’t explain, he sensed that he had to pursue her, or he might lose the ground he’d just gained.
With his crutch under his arm taking the weight off his broken leg, he took a wobbly step. But with all the items scattered over the floor, he hesitated, not wanting to trip and fall over something again. His leg still ached from landing on it before.
“Help me, Mr. Peabody,” Zeke said, as he fought a wave of dizziness.
Mr. Peabody was at his side in an instant, steadying him. “You’re not going anywhere tonight, son.”
“I need to go after her and talk to her.” He lurched forward another step, inwardly cursing his broken leg for slowing him down.
“Mr. Blake and Mr. Putnam are here for your board meeting.” He nodded toward the men who were standing in the hallway, both tugging at their collars and fanning their faces with their hats.
Zeke swiped again at the perspiration running down his face. “Sorry fellows, but I’m in no frame of mind to discuss anything tonight.”
“Sure, you go and talk to her.” Putnam’s grin was lecherous. “When you’re done, I’d like to talk to her too. How about you, Blake?”
At Putnam’s elbow in his gut, Blake offered a knowing smile beneath his red beard. “Sure, I like talking.”
Anger ripped through Zeke, along with the need to plow headfirst into the men. “She’s not that kind of woman. And if I hear you talk about her that way again, I’m gonna make you wish you hadn’t.”
The laugh lines around Putnam’s eyes disappeared. He pulled himself up to his full height, at least a foot taller than Zeke, and he glowered. “You might be able to order around everyone else in this town, but you’re no boss of me.”
Blake didn’t add anything to Putnam’s statement, but his eyes glinted with resentment that stabbed Zeke, even a dozen feet away.
Zeke rubbed a hand over the back of his neck to ease the tension. Here he was again, using his authority to threaten people. But this was about Kate. He’d do anything for her, even abuse his power, if necessary. “Kate Millington is a sweet young woman. She’s completely innocent—”
“Sitting on your lap on your bed and kissing the way you two were going at it?” Putnam scoffed. “The two of you have a thing going here.”
“Aye.” Blake nodded, his expression still hard. “The way I see it, neither of you is innocent.”
“We don’t have a thing going. That’s the first time I kissed her.” Zeke didn’t want news of his indiscretion with Kate to spread around town. It would ruin her. Men would say vulgar things about her the same way Putnam and Blake were doing. And it was his fault.
Mr. Peabody patted Zeke’s arm. “You know what all this means, don’t you? You simply must get married.”
“Aye. We’re gonna get married. As soon as the traveling preacher comes to town.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Peabody said. “You do the honorable thing and propose to her.”
“In the meantime,” Zeke leveled what he hoped was his most convincing glare upon his guests, “neither of you better mention—”
Putnam’s eyes narrowed, and Blake leaned back as if he expected a blow.
“I’d appreciate it,” Zeke forced a calmness he didn’t feel to his tone, “if neither of you mention anything about this incident around town.”
Blake shrugged, as noncommittal as always.
“Please,” Zeke added. “Not for my sake, but for Kate’s.”
Blake remained silent, but after several long seconds, Putnam grunted. “Fine. But even if she’s as innocent as you claim, you need to do the right thing and marry that gal by the week’s end. If not, I’ll drag you both to the preacher myself.”
“Two weeks,” Zeke countered, trying to buy himself more time. “It might take that long before I can get someone here to perform the wedding.”
Deep inside, he knew the real trouble wouldn’t be getting a preacher to come in two weeks. That would be the easy part. The real trouble would be convincing Kate to marry him.
“Miss Kate, go on and wake up now.” The tip of Becca’s shoe prodded Kate’s ribs. “You in big trouble.”
Kate pulled up her cover and burrowed against her pillow. “Please, Becca,” she replied, unable to open her groggy eyes. “It’s too early.”
“Early?” Becca chortled. “Girl, it ain’t early. We been working for two hours already while you been sleeping.”
Two hours? Kate pushed up from her pallet, blinking at the bright sunlight flooding the shack from the open door.
After being awake most of the night, she’d fallen asleep just before dawn. She’d only planned to slumber for a little while before getting up. But she’d overslept.
All because of that kiss.
“What time is it?”
The scent of lye hung in the air, and Becca stood above her, damp skirt inches from her face. “Time to get married, that what time.”
Kate laughed. “Time to get married. Very funny.”
“Do I look like I’m being funny?” Becca pressed her lips in a straight line.
Kate sat up farther, disentangling her nightgown from between her legs and brushing aside long waves of hair, only to have them fall back into her face and remind her of the way Zeke had loosened her braid and freed her hair. She could almost feel his fingers stroking and twisting at the same time he’d deepened his kiss . . .
Warmth fluttered in her belly, the remnants of the heat that had plagued her all night long—heat the kiss had ignited. His kiss had been wonderful, magical, heavenly. The kind of kiss that could make a girl forget everything. Almost.
She lifted fingers to her lips as if that could somehow bring back the feeling and taste of his mouth against hers.
“I was gonna ask you if it true what they’re saying. But that goofy smile done give it away.”
“Goofy smile?” Kate tried to remove any trace of her smile, but it only widened.
Becca’s brow furrowed as she stepped carefully over Kate’s art supplies and retreated to the doorway.
“What?” Kate brushed her lips once more. Even if she shouldn’t have kissed Zeke and never would again, she couldn’t deny she’d enjoyed every second they shared. He’d been tender and yet eager, restrained and yet passionate.
“You love him.” Becca’s quiet statement was a dash of cold water.
“No.” Kate scrambled to her feet, scattering the pages of discarded drawings she’d torn from her sketch pad—all of them of Zeke. “No, of course I don’t love him.”
Becca cocked her head. “You didn’t even have to ask who.”
“That’s because—” What excuse could she give?
“That’s because you been thinking about Zeke Hart every day, all day since you got here.”
“He’s been on my mind lately because—because I’ve been taking care of him.”
“And you been thinking about him all night and that’s why you didn’t sleep a wink.”
Kate met Becca’s warm brown gaze. Even filled with censure, the depths of compassion there reached out to Kate and broke down her last defenses.
“I kissed him.”
“From the rumors flying around town, you done more than kiss that man.”
“Rumors?” Kate’s pulse slowed to a crawl as she began to make sense of what Becca had been trying to tell her all along. With a groan, Kate buried her face into her hands. “I wanted to keep Zeke out of danger by taking the attention away from him, and I probably just made it a hundred times worse.”
“You the one in big trouble, Miss Kate.”
Kate peeked through her hands at her friend. “How so?”
Becca unhooked Kate’s skirt and shirt from the peg on the back of the doorway and handed them to her. “You sure you want to hear? It
ain’t pretty.”
“What choice do I have?” Though the morning was warm, Kate shuddered from a chill and clutched her garments against her chest.
Becca cast her gaze heavenward, muttered under her breath as though praying, then met Kate’s gaze directly. “The men be saying you on Zeke’s bed right on top of him.”
Kate covered her mouth with her hand and captured a muffled scream of horror.
“Then it ain’t true? The most you did was kiss him?”
Kate’s thoughts returned to the moment in the bedroom when Zeke had tugged her down onto his lap. She shouldn’t have stayed. She should have risen right away. At the very least, she could have turned her head away when he’d leaned in to kiss her. He’d given her the chance to say no.
“Then it’s true?” Becca’s voice rose. “You on his bed—?”
“No!” Kate held out a hand as if that could somehow stop Becca’s accusation. “I mean, yes. I was on his bed, but not in the way you think.”
“And the part about you being on top of him—?”
“No!” Kate dragged in a breath. “Yes, I was sitting on his lap, but that’s it. Nothing else happened.”
Becca folded her arms, and her brows arched high.
“Please believe me, Becca.” Kate lowered her hand, only to realize it was trembling. Her body was shaking, and her heartbeat was erratic. What had she done? With those kinds of rumors circulating, she’d sullied her reputation and likely ruined her chance at making a match with a God-fearing Christian man.
Becca heaved a sigh, her expression crumpling into one of worry. “Miss Kate, it don’t matter if I believe you. The men of this town ain’t gonna think of you as a lady no more. They gonna treat you like a loose woman.”
Tears sprang to Kate’s eyes. “Oh Becca, I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?”
“Mm-hmm. You sure did.”
Kate hung her head to hide her tears as they escaped down her cheeks.
“Come on now. Don’t cry.” Becca crossed to Kate and brushed at a strand of tangled hair. “Once you married to Zeke, all those rumors gonna go away. Ain’t nobody gonna remember them long.”
She nodded at Becca’s wisdom, then stiffened. “Once I’m married to Zeke?”
“Yep, told you when I first come in this shack that it’s time for you to get married.”
Kate wiped the tears off her cheeks. “I can’t marry him, Becca.”
“Sure you can. You gonna have to now.”
He didn’t share her faith, but was she making too much of that small difference? Maybe eventually she’d be able to win him over. Surely, with enough time and prayer, she’d help him to realize he didn’t have to run away from God any longer.
“You love him,” Becca said more confidently than the first time she’d said it. “And he sure do love you.”
A tiny bud of hope unfurled. “Do you think so?”
“Mm-hmm.” Becca glanced out the open door and retied her apron.
Zeke hadn’t told her that he loved her. But he’d been open all along about how much he liked her and wanted to court her. If the kiss was any indication of his feelings, then he must feel as deeply for her as she did for him.
Wouldn’t that be enough to hold them together?
A needle of doubt pricked her. What if it wasn’t enough someday? What if they needed something stronger to bind them—like a commitment to God and His plan for marriage? Without a solid belief in doing things God’s way, what would prevent Zeke from walking away when life grew tough?
Her fingers slid into her pocket. She stroked the thin, frayed ribbon before crumpling it into a tight wad. Then she pulled her hand out and straightened her shoulders.
She’d make sure Zeke never had any reason to leave. And she’d make him see his need for God. He had a firm foundation in his faith and had grown up believing in the saving Gospel. It was just a matter of time and effort before he decided to return to his faith.
“Go on now.” Becca finished tidying her appearance and stepped through the door. “That pesky assistant of Zeke’s been here a dozen times over the past two hours, checking to see if you awake so he can bring you over to the house.”
“Over to the house?” Did that mean Zeke was eager to see her?
Becca nodded. “Don’t you be coming back here unless you get engaged, d’ye hear?”
Kate’s throat constricted around her answer, and when the door closed, she sagged against the wall. After breaking things off with Herbert Frank, she’d told herself she wouldn’t jump right into another engagement, that she’d choose more carefully the next time.
But what other option did she have? If she didn’t marry Zeke, she’d only bring more disaster on both of them.
SIXTEEN
“SHE’S NOT COMING,” Zeke called, his leg aching from standing for so long near the parlor window.
“Miss St. Germaine assured Wendell she’d awaken Miss Millington,” Mr. Peabody replied from across the hallway in the dining room.
“That’s what she said last time Wendell went.” Zeke took a long look up the street in the direction of Lee Chung’s Laundry, but only the usual mix of wagons, teams, and men crowded the street. Still no sign of Kate.
With a slap of frustration against the window frame, he pivoted and slowly made his way to the nearest chair. The tap of the crutch and the unsteady thump of his footsteps echoed in the stale air of the room, the heat from yesterday lingering even though Mr. Peabody had kept the windows open around the house all night.
Zeke lowered himself into the chair and released a groan. He stretched out his plastered leg and gave his underarm a break from the pressure of the crutch. He wearily studied the room, noting the plain white walls without any pictures, the mantel devoid of decorations, and the wood floor bare of a rug. From the simplicity of the interior, no one would guess the riches he’d accumulated.
He’d expected that building the big house would make him feel accomplished and would prove he’d made more of himself than his father had. His father had worked long hours in the mill and had never had much to show for it. After Mum’s miscarriage, he’d started drinking. Then when she’d died, he’d all but given up on life and taken to drowning his sorrows and loneliness in drink. His drunken rages had only become more frequent and more violent.
Zeke had vowed he’d be different. But after moving into the house, he hadn’t felt different. Fact was, the big, empty rooms only magnified his loneliness.
He still had every intention of buying more for his home—furniture and all the fine items rich people owned. But the trouble with living so far up in the mountainous region of British Columbia was that the transport of such goods was difficult. Even though the Royal Engineers were building a road up the Fraser Canyon, their work was dangerous and wouldn’t be completed for many years.
In the meantime, Williamsville relied upon the pack trains that traversed narrow passes and steep gorges to bring in everything from the outside world they couldn’t make or produce themselves. While new businesses were springing up every day, the town couldn’t keep up with the demands, especially for food and other staples. He’d always figured feeding the miners was more important than filling his house with fancy things.
But now, with his need to get married to Kate, he didn’t have just himself to think about anymore.
He bent forward and propped his elbows on his knees, letting his head drop. ’Course, Wendell had been the one to deliver the bad news first thing that morning—the sordid rumors circulating around town about him and Kate being in bed together.
Ever since Wendell’s visit and report, Zeke’s nerves had stretched until he felt like a lit fuse about to explode. He’d wanted to find Putnam and Blake and punch his fist into both of their faces and ask them why they’d betrayed him, especially after they’d agreed not to say anything about the indiscretion.
He didn’t care one whit for himself. But he’d wanted to protect Kate. Wanted to keep her reputation from being sullie
d. And he’d failed.
Blowing out a tight breath, he jammed his fingers into his hair. He’d failed to protect her because he’d been a weak man. He should’ve known better than to kiss her in his bedroom, especially on his bed.
Regardless, he hoped to have the chance to convince her to marry him. But she’d probably heard the rumors from Becca and Lee, who’d no doubt gotten an earful from the men dropping off their laundry. Now she’d hate him and never come near him again.
Maybe that was for the best. After the death threat, he was afraid he was putting her in danger by her association with him. He’d told himself that if the attacker cared enough for Kate, he wouldn’t attempt anything around her. But what if he did try to injure Zeke, and Kate got hurt?
“Zeke?” Her voice came from the parlor doorway.
He jerked his head up to find her as fresh as a mountain brook in her blue gown that brought out the creaminess of her skin and the rich brown of her eyes—eyes that weren’t filled with the anger he’d expected. Instead, her expression was as carefree as it always was.
Had she so easily cast aside their moment of intimacy from last eve? What if it hadn’t meant as much to her as it had to him? Or maybe she hadn’t heard the rumors after all. Would he have to be the one to tell her?
Dread settled at the bottom of his stomach.
“You’re not walking around by yourself, are you?” She started across the room toward him. She’d worn her hair down except for the front strands, which she’d braided and tied back. The braids only served to remind him of her thick plait from yesterday and the pleasure of unwinding it and burrowing his fingers into the luxuriousness.
Get a hold of yourself, Hart. He couldn’t think of touching her hair at a time like this. He had to stay impartial and refrain from causing further trouble.
She stopped in front of him and held out a hand. “You look exhausted. Let me help you back to your room.”
He took her hand, relishing the softness and gentleness of her touch. She tugged in an effort to help him rise, but he didn’t move. Instead, he surrounded her hand with both of his as though that could somehow anchor him with the words he needed to say.
