Restless Heart

by Beth Williamson

  “You called me Angel.” She shook her head slowly. “Believe me, I am no angel, Samuel.”

  He needed to apologize but didn’t know how. Sam wasn’t used to the softer things in life. A warrior at heart, he could hardly bear not taking this woman to his bed. He wanted her with the heat of a thousand suns.

  “You look angelic to me. And please, call me Sam.”

  Was that the best he could do? Idiot.

  “Don’t let the outside fool you. Nothing about me is angelic.” She backed up toward the stairs and stumbled.

  Sam grabbed her by the elbow, and she gasped. Again, her gaze slammed into his. He wanted to gasp, too. Touching her sent a jolt through him unequaled in his life. As though a bolt of lightning had come down from the sky and slammed into them. Every hair on his body stood on end.

  Her mouth opened, and she scrambled to her feet, apparently eager to stop touching him. Sam rubbed his hands together to prevent him from reaching for her again. He didn’t necessarily believe in the gods or the spiritual teachings of his mother, at least what he could remember of them.

  Yet, the gods in their wisdom had made this woman to be his other half, his mate. There could be no other explanation.

  “I have to get back to work. Marta will be wondering what happened to me.” Her voice was strong, but he heard a slight tremble nonetheless.

  “At least let me bring in the wood for you.”

  She hesitated, and Sam didn’t blame her. “All right, come in then, Sam.”

  His name on her lips send a shiver through him that had nothing to do with the cold, and had everything to do with the arousal already coursing through him. He filled the bucket and his arms with wood and stepped into the warm kitchen. Marta stood before the stove frying bacon. When she spotted him, her brows went up.

  “You don’t look much like Daniel.” She chuckled. “Thank you for helping Angeline. I’m not sure where that boy has gotten to.”

  Sam put the bucket beside the stove. “More?” He directed the question to Marta, unable to look at his angel without dropping to his knees to beg for one hour in her bed.

  Completely fucking loco.

  “Another armful would be perfect. There’s another bucket by the door. Thank you, Sam.” She winked at him and inclined her head toward Angeline, who was currently scrubbing her hands in the wooden sink.

  Sam wanted to press himself against her, feel the softness of her curvy form. If he wasn’t careful, he might embarrass himself in front of Marta, and then Pieter would have to step in. Shaking off the urgency of his apparently uncontrollable lust for Angeline, Sam went back out into the cold. He sucked in a lungful of cold air then filled the other bucket with wood.

  This time when he came back in the kitchen, only Marta was there. Disappointment tasted like ash on his tongue.

  “Oh, don’t be discouraged, young man. She’s got no family to speak of except for Lettie, and I think she’s a cousin or an aunt. There’s no one to protect that girl, and I think someone hurt her already.” Marta shook a wooden spoon at him. “You behave yourself, and no more sneaking kisses.”

  Unbelievably, Sam’s cheeks heated. “I didn’t sneak.”

  “No, but you took without asking. She’s a bit flustered, but lucky for you, not angry. I’d say it’s a good start, even if you did flub the first kiss.” Marta nodded sagely. “Mark my words, she’s never shown a speck of interest in a man before. You, Samuel Carver, are just what she needs.”

  Sam grinned at her predictions. If she was right, then he had a chance even if he had made mistakes. However, the kiss itself had been no mistake. He’d spend many a moment reliving the feel of her lips against his.

  It would only get better from there.

  Angeline splashed water on her face and told herself to relax. She could hardly believe she’d stood there and let him kiss her. Not once, but twice.

  And she’d enjoyed every second of it.

  She gripped the washstand with both hands as the water dripped from her face into the basin. Her entire body trembled with the aftermath of the kisses, but mostly from when he’d touched her. She’d never felt anything like it, even the chaste kisses she’d shared with Jonathan Morton, the man she’d dreamed of marrying. Her life had taken a few right turns since then, and the sweet infatuation she’d shared with the young man was long gone.

  Her marriage as third wife to Josiah Brown had crushed every dream she’d ever had, and the horror that followed had been worse than any nightmare she could have imagined.

  Now here, she was in a situation she’d never expected, never wanted. She was drawn to Samuel Carver, to his dark visage, his intensity, and even his warm, soft lips. Her body heated all over again, and she splashed more water on her face.

  She needed to talk to someone who could help her figure out why she had such a strong reaction to a man she barely knew. And especially, why she’d let him kiss her and had silently encouraged him to. Her sister Eliza might know, but she was off with her man somewhere and couldn’t help.

  Angeline dried her face and fixed her hair, tucking the stray strands into the braid hanging down her back. The person she should talk to was Lettie, the only woman who knew what Angeline had gone through, who knew what had sent them both running into the night.

  She’d never expected someone like Samuel, nor what his presence would do to her equilibrium. Maybe she could pretend nothing had happened. That thought made a chuckle burst from her throat—it would be easier to tell the sun not to rise.

  The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and Angeline was thankfully too busy to think about Samuel or his kisses. She didn’t catch her breath until nearly eight o’clock, after the supper crowds had finally thinned.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes, child. I need to check to make sure Pieter ate.” Marta left Angeline alone in the kitchen to clean up.

  After putting on the water to heat to finish the dishes, she poked her head out of the kitchen door and waited until Lettie noticed her. Angeline motioned her friend into the kitchen, eager to talk to her. She wrung her hands as she paced the kitchen until finally Lettie came in.

  “What do you need?” The brunette was a bit abrupt although never rude. She didn’t do what she called “wasting time”, talking about nonsense.

  “I need to talk to you,” Angeline blurted. “About a man.”

  Lettie’s brows went up. “A man? What man?”

  “Samuel Carver, the one who gave me the book.” Angeline touched the book, still firmly tucked into her apron. “He kissed me.”

  “He did what? Did he force you?” Lettie sounded so fierce Angeline was nearly afraid for Samuel.

  “No, nothing like that. I, uh, I let him kiss me. And, well, I liked it.” Angeline’s cheeks heated as she confessed what was really bothering her. “After Josiah, I didn’t think, I mean, I never thought I’d want someone to kiss me.”

  Lettie took her hands. “You are too young to have that monster’s memory on your skin. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  Angeline managed a shaky smile, although inside she wanted to cry. Of course, letting Josiah touch her hadn’t been her choice. Her father followed the teachings of the Church of Latter-day Saints, and she’d been taught to obey, no matter what. She hadn’t had the wherewithal to refuse an order to marry a man who had offered for her. Truthfully, she’d always wished she’d had Eliza’s spirit, but instead Angeline had been the obedient daughter, never knowing she would nearly trade her life for it.

  “I’m sorry you did, too. That man deserves no woman in his bed.” Angeline’s voice trembled with fury. Although she was terrified of Josiah, if he were there, she would strike him with anything she could lay her hands on. He’d taken away her future, her innocence, and her trust.

  “Truer words were never spoken.” Lettie didn’t smile much, which was understandable considering she’d lived under Josiah’s rule for five years.

  Angeline’s eyes pricked with tears. “I’m confused, Le
ttie. I don’t know what to do. The first time I saw Sam, I felt strange, as if it wasn’t really me talking to him. And then today when he kissed me, when he touched my hand, I had never felt such a thing.”

  Lettie led her to the table, and they sat down. “What did you feel?” She seemed genuinely interested, as if she herself had never experienced it either.

  “It was like a thousand fireflies had landed inside me, their heat and flutters warming me until I felt hot. His lips were so soft, softer than flower petals.” Angeline had never considered herself a poet, but the words simply flowed from her. As if they’d been trapped there since her encounter with Samuel. “I didn’t understand what was happening, and my reaction scared me.”

  Lettie sighed. “I remember that feeling, the trembling in your stomach, the tingles on your skin.”

  “Yes, that’s it, exactly.” Angeline frowned. “You didn’t feel that with…”

  “No, absolutely not.” Lettie shook her head so hard that her hair nearly came out of the bun. “I felt nothing but disgust and fear with him. No, it was another man, my first love, Robert. We waited to get married, and then his parents arranged for him to marry another girl.”

  “I’m sorry, Lettie. I didn’t know.” Angeline saw the sadness beneath the anger. Lettie might be a bit caustic on the outside, but it was a wall she’d built around her to protect herself against the terrible, dark things in the world.

  “It was seven years ago, a lifetime it seems. I never forgot the feeling of kissing Robert though.” Lettie looked infinitely sad. “I knew he was the only man for me, but now, he has three children and a wife. Sometimes, I avoided going to church so I wouldn’t have to see them together.”

  Angeline heard the pain in her voice and gripped her friend’s hands. “Oh, Lettie, there must be someone else out there for you.”

  “And you’re so convinced of that fact that when a man kissed you, you ran to me?” Lettie’s left brow rose. “We’re both stuck in a situation of our own doing, trapped by the shadow of a man who refuses to let us go.”

  The reminder made Angeline’s stomach twist. Lettie was right, of course. They would never be free of Josiah Brown, of their husband, until he died. Although he was fifty, he was in excellent health judging by the strength in his hands and fists.

  She wanted Lettie to tell her what to do, to reassure Angeline her needs were normal and to follow her instincts. Yet deep down, she knew it wouldn’t happen. Lettie knew the risks they took every day, and having a relationship with a man was simply out of the question.

  Angeline’s heart squeezed so hard that tears pricked her eyes.

  Chapter Three

  ‡

  It became a game of sorts. Sam would say hello, and Angeline would respond. Then she’d quickly walk away before he could take the conversation any further. For the last two weeks, he’d been frustrated, aroused, and intrigued.

  One time he saw her leave the restaurant in the evening and walk to the livery. Intrigued, he’d followed her only to see her with an old horse. She spoke softly to the animal and rubbed his neck. Foolish to feel jealous of a gelding but it was true.

  Each time he caught her gaze, he could see in her eyes she was interested, and yet she held herself back, turning away. Still, she met his gaze when he walked into the restaurant. Every time he caught site of her, he immediately thought of the kiss, the sheer bliss of those stolen moments in the cold morning air.

  Not to mention the dreams he was having about her every night. For Christ’s sake, he hadn’t come on his sheets since he was thirteen years old. He’d had to wash them twice over the last week. Thank God his father hadn’t noticed since he was busy with the paper or so lost in his own world. He wouldn’t have seen a train coming through their front door.

  Sam had to talk to her, had to make her understand he meant her no harm. He couldn’t continue this way, or he’d fall over from exhaustion. Even the Widow Primrose had noticed how distracted he’d become. For God’s sake, he’d nearly nailed his thumb to the fence he’d been repairing for her.

  It was embarrassing as hell.

  “You like that blond girl, eh?”

  Sam turned to find an old man peering up at him. He was a grizzled old coot with the dirtiest clothes Sam had ever seen. Time and again, he’d seen the man hanging around behind the restaurant, digging in the scraps.

  “That’s none of your business, old timer.”

  “It’s my business all right.” The old man poked at his shoulder with one bony, dirty finger. “I look after those girls at the Blue Plate for Pieter. He gives me free vittles, but even if he didn’t, I’d watch over them.”

  Sam didn’t know what to make of him. “How long have you been looking out for them?”

  “Oh, roundabout five years.” The old man’s breath gusted past Sam with yesterday’s onions right along with it.

  Sam eased away from him, a hammer firmly gripped in his hand. “That so? Do they know about it?” He had no idea what loco notions the old man had in his head, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

  “Miss Marta does and Karen. That Alice,” he scrunched up his nearly toothless mouth. “She’s mean enough so I don’t talk much to her, but the blond angel, she’s something different.”

  Sam narrowed his gaze. “You’d best not bother any of those ladies.” The last thing he wanted to do was get into a scuffle with an old man who was hard on his luck.

  “I don’t bother them none. I just keep an eye on them is all.” The man looked insulted at the insinuation. “I just wanna make sure the angel is safe.”

  Sam frowned at him. “What’s your name, old timer?”

  “Jessup. I used to work in the mines back in the day, but I got me a bum arm so mostly I look out for folks.” He sounded as if he believed every word he said.

  “What do you want with me, Jessup?” Sam needed to focus on work, not on a crazy old man.

  “I seen you watching the angel.” Jessup eyed him up and down.

  “She’s not your daughter or anything to you,” Sam snapped. “What I do is none of your business.”

  “She’s an angel, that’s what she is. I don’t want no devil making her cry.”

  “Cry? Who made her cry?” Sam’s own protective instincts surged forward.

  “Well, now, I don’t rightly know who, but I seen her crying once or twice.” Jessup scratched his bald pate. “It was a bit ago, mebbe a month or so.”

  “That was before I gave her…well, before I met her.” Sam didn’t want to admit to the man he’d watched her since the moment she’d arrived in Forestville. It was only in the last few weeks he’d found the courage to speak to her. Fool that he was, he’d thought her too good for him, like the angel Jessup believed her to be. However, she was human like him, if ethereal in face and form.

  Jessup peered at him. “So, you like the blond angel?”

  Sam could have lied, but he didn’t. “Yep, I do.” He sighed and tapped the hammer against his palm. “Now all I have to do is convince her she likes me.” He managed a smile.

  “I can help you with that.”

  A spark of hope lit through Sam although he was definitely dubious. “You can help me?”

  “Yep, sure can.” Jessup grinned, showing his two front teeth. “The angel needs a good man to help her stop crying. I think you’re the right man.”

  Sam didn’t know if the man was spouting nonsense or if he could really help, but it was worth taking a risk. God knew he wasn’t doing a very good job of convincing her he was the right man.

  “What can you do?”

  Jessup smiled even wider. “You just wait and see.”

  Angeline wanted to talk to Sam, but she didn’t know how to approach him. He said good morning to her or good afternoon and always smiled. Each time he did it, she wanted to sit with him, to find out more about him.

  But she didn’t.

  She was a coward, and she knew it. Life had taught her not to trust men, and she had learned her less
on well. Much as she’d enjoyed the kiss and the book, which she’d devoured in only two nights, Sam was still a stranger and a man. Angeline was completely unsure of what do to.

  It had been two weeks since the kiss, since her world had turned sideways and all she could do was hang on. Two weeks of speaking to him without really talking. It was a beautiful morning, and she happily agreed to go to the general store to pick up baking soda for Marta. The morning rush was over, and they still had at least an hour before the dinner crowd began arriving. Since the bread for dinner was rising, Angeline was free to try to clear her head.

  Her worn boots made a dull thunk on the wooden sidewalk as she made her way to the store. She’d had the boots for years and they pinched at the toe, not to mention the soles were nearly worn through. Although she’d love to be able to purchase a new pair, it was an extravagance her small salary could not endure. Angeline knew how to do without; it wouldn’t be beyond her abilities.

  “Good morning, Miss Angeline.”

  She turned to find Jessup, the old man who had charmed her with his toothless grin and offers to help her. “Good morning, Mr. Jessup.”

  “Oh, I done told you, it’s just Jessup. I ain’t no mister.” He smelled decidedly ripe, and she took a surreptitious step back. It wouldn’t be polite to tell him how much he needed a bath—with soap. A lot of soap.

  “Well then, good morning, Jessup.” She smiled and started to walk on.

  Until he spoke again.

  “I seen Sam Carver talking to you. Is he bothering you?”

  If only he knew how much, but it wasn’t the kind of bother he was talking about.

  “No, he’s not bothering me. Mr. Carver is a gentleman, Jessup.”

  Except of course when he’d kissed her behind the restaurant, the sweet, hot kisses she couldn’t get out of her mind.

  “Then he has my permission to court you.”

  She turned to look back at him, her mind racing with the possibilities of exactly what Jessup was talking about.

  “Pardon me?”

  The old man hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Seeing as how you don’t got no family in Forestville, and I don’t got a family to look after, I figure we should look after each other.”