"We have to reach my uncle's tomorrow."
"I'll do my best. But we wouldn't have survived in that snowstorm," he said, keeping his distance, standing off to the side of the fireplace.
He was right. She knew he was right, but she just hadn't wanted to give up. If she'd gone to Texas, at least there if they had snow, it wasn't life threatening and she would have been surrounded by women, not one lonely man who lived alone.
She knew nothing about this man and yet she had to trust him. Worse, she didn't think he even liked her. From the moment they met, he hadn't been friendly and had even tried to go off and leave her behind. Yet, now she understood why and wished she would have crawled into that sleigh the moment she got off the train.
"I'm sorry for dawdling at the train station," she said softly. "I had no idea it would be this bad."
Nodding was the only indication she received that he'd heard her. The man was insufferable. He spoke very little, only bobbing his head, not moving his mouth to the point she wanted to scream at him “talk to me. Tell me what, if anything, you're thinking under that dark mop of gorgeous hair.” His blue eyes revealed more than his words, and even those, she sometimes had a hard time understanding their unspoken language.
She was tired. She was frustrated. She was still grieving, and now she was stuck in a cabin with a man she didn't know, who barely spoke while a snowstorm raged outside. Her reputation would be shattered from no fault of her own.
Tears rose in her eyes threatening to fall like an avalanche, the pain of the past months overwhelming her, causing her chest to ache from the unfairness of life. She should be home in New York with her family for Christmas. Her mother would be teasing her father and they would be sitting around the dinner table, talking about their day. Instead, she was here in this stupid little house, frightened and tired, and it was all too much.
To her horror, the first tear leaked out of her eye and then another, and another, and soon she covered her face and let the sobs rack her body. She shouldn't be here. She was Everleigh Walsh, suffragette, woman of the world, and instead she was reduced to a blubbering mess dressed in men's clothes, in a cabin with a strange male.
She wailed even louder, unable to stop the pain that engulfed her.
She felt his hand on her back and then he was pulling her into his arms laying her head on his shoulder. "Hey, what brought all this on? We're alive. We're safe."
Hiccupping, she tried to stop the tears. "For now. But once everyone learns we were alone tonight...they'll think...my reputation will be ruined." A new round of racking sobs hit her at the unfairness of the world.
She'd been a good girl her entire life and now because of a blizzard, she'd be shamed. It would be better if she'd died in that snowstorm than to spend the night with an unchaperoned man. At least then, she would have died with her reputation intact.
"If the snow stops falling, we'll go to your uncle's tomorrow. Maybe no one will think we spent the night alone. Your uncle would believe us if we tell him the truth that nothing happened."
She could feel her breasts squashed against his chest and his hand was rubbing her back as he held her in his arms. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks soaking his shirt and her nose was running. She hated it when she cried, because now her face would be all red, her eyes swollen, and she'd have the sniffles.
"We can try," she said, her chest heaving. "But I'm afraid he'll insist we marry. You don't even like me."
More tears flowed from her eyes. Most people liked her. Most men adored her and yet the one man she was stuck with scorned her.
He sighed. "It's not that I don't like you. You remind me of someone who hurt me very badly."
Sniffling, she leaned back and gazed at him. "Your girlfriend?"
"Yes."
She wanted to ask him more questions, but he was staring at her lips, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Suddenly, he placed his hands on her shoulder and leaned away.
She missed his nearness, the solidness of his chest, and the way she'd felt secure in his embrace. Did she want him to kiss her? Strong and handsome. Her pulse had accelerated the moment he touched her, but he barely talked.
"All better now?" he asked, moving away, putting distance between them.
Nodding, she glanced away. Seth Ketchum was a strong viral man who had captured her interest, but she was a newspaper journalist with a career waiting for her in New York. Her place was there, not here in the Montana wilderness.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Seth laid on the couch, listening to the wind howl and rattle the shutters outside. The wind was blowing so hard that at times he feared the roof shingles were going to fly off. And the snow was still falling. He didn't know how much they'd received last night, but it had to be at least a foot if not more. The storm outside was nothing compared to the danger he realized he was in last evening.
Last night, holding Everleigh in his arms had been a mistake. The feel of her soft breasts crushed against his chest, the smell of roses and lavender swirling took him by surprise as his body reacted to her while she cried. And to think he'd been part of her anguish made his stomach tighten with pain. Sure, she looked and acted like Catherine, but she wasn't the same woman. If anything, she was more beautiful, more accomplished, and she was so far above him on the social scale, they couldn't even compare.
He was the product of a gambling man searching for his brother and a woman traveling with orphans to Oregon. His parents met when Indians attacked his mother's wagon train, killing everyone but her and the children who had gone down to the creek to get water, saving them.
His mother never let him forget that by the grace of God, he was walking on this earth, because she'd been spared from the attack. He loved and missed his family and leaving them behind had been the hardest thing he'd ever done. But circumstances had proven it was best if he left town and so he'd come to Mistletoe, Montana.
And now he loved his ranch, the small town, and the people here. He would never leave, so he had to ignore Everleigh's soft lips and the way she felt with her arms clinging to him as she cried.
The image of her curled up and sleeping in his bed was something he kept pushing out of his mind. The sight of her wearing his pants and shirt would haunt him forever. Her shapely, long limbs and perfectly curved butt filled out his pants in a way he could never imitate. While a storm raged outside, the woman was a temptation he had to endure, sleeping in the next room.
Without getting up and looking outside, he knew they would not be going to her uncle's today. Probably not even tomorrow, but he couldn't tell her that. And every minute he stayed with her, she would become more tempting than the last. Yet, what he was thinking was not a good idea. She had a life on the other side of America and his was here in Montana.
Sitting up, knowing he might as well rise and tend to the animals, he quickly donned his pants, shoving his shirt tails inside. He threw another log on the fire and stoked the small flame until it roared, heating the room. Just as he was about to head out to the barn, the door to the bedroom opened.
"Good morning. I didn't expect to see you this early," he said.
"Couldn't sleep," she replied, gazing at him, her luscious emerald eyes sleepy and somehow so alluring that he wanted to grab her and drag her back to the bedroom and do what he knew they would be accused of doing.
They stared at one another and she licked her lips and he wanted to groan.
"Why don't you fix some coffee while I tend to the animals," he said. The cold would be a welcome blast to tame the heat filling his body. He couldn't stay around her every minute of the day. He had to escape the sensual pull of her body.
"Are we going to my uncle's today?"
He hated to disappoint her, but he didn't think there was a chance in hell they could get down the road, even with the sleigh. "I haven't looked outside, but the wind is still howling."
Pulling his heavy coat and boots on, he bundled up and walked to the door. Yankin
g it open, he stared in stunned disbelief. The snow was halfway up the door and the wind blew a swirling mass of nothing but white. He couldn't see the barn.
Putting her hands over her face, she turned away. "I'm ruined."
The urge to take her in his arms was strong, but he couldn't. Not now. "Everleigh, fix some coffee and I'll be back soon. Then we'll talk about what we're going to do."
Sighing heavily, she faced him. "I'll have it ready when you come back. Be careful."
Warmth filled him as he smiled at her. "Always."
He hurried out the door, slamming it behind him, pushing through the drift.
She was right, but he wasn't ready to face the consequences of the weather. He didn't want to think about how her family would expect him to marry her. He wasn't prepared to have a wife that would hate living here in Montana and being a rancher's woman. He wasn't ready to think about marriage again.
Everleigh glanced up from the coffee she'd been pouring when Seth walked in the door, carrying her trunk. She ran over to the opening and shut it after he struggled through.
"My trunk," she said happily following him into the bedroom, where he dropped her luggage. Without thinking, she threw her arms around him, ecstatic that her things were within reach and she could change out of his pants and shirt. The feel of his chest solid against her breasts had her realizing her mistake.
A stinging crackle of sensation along her spine had her catching and holding her breath. Quickly, she jumped, stumbling back and he grabbed her arm to keep her from falling onto the bed.
"Oh my," she said startled. "I guess, I got a little over excited."
They were standing in his room, the bed inches from them, staring at each other awkwardly, her heart hammering in her chest at the feel of his hand on her arm. The tight grip of heat flowed through her from his cold fingers.
"Your hands are like ice," she blundered, searching for something to say that would distract him from the sight of the rumpled sheets. The image of the two of them curled around one another in that bed had her heart cathunking in her chest like the roar of the train.
He released her.
"Yes," he said, a muscle in his jaw tightening, his eyes darkening with an emotion she'd never experienced. His body stiffened and he turned and walked out of the room.
She shut the door behind him and opened her trunk. Quickly, she changed her clothes, putting on a clean dress and undergarments. The only thing that would have made her feel better was a hot bath or him saying they were going to her uncle's. They had to try tomorrow; they just had to or she had no chance of saving her reputation.
After she finished pinning her hair on top of her head, she opened the door. Seth was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. "Do you like eggs?"
"Yes," she said as he turned to look at her.
Staring at her, his eyes skimmed her clothing. "Do you think we were going into town?"
For a moment, she stopped and gazed at him. Not a you look nice, or that's pretty or even how do you like your eggs? Instead, he was commenting on her choice of clothing. "Well, I thought after we went to the Smith's for tea, you might take me to that nice restaurant in town I've been wanting to eat at."
The expression on his face changed and his lips turned up in a smile as he laughed. "Either the cold has affected your sensibilities or the lady is quite good at sarcasm."
She shrugged. "You started it. Sorry my wardrobe is not fit for the Montana wilderness."
Nodding, he turned back to the pan on the stove.
"Do you have something wrong with your tongue?"
With a jerk, he glanced back at her. "What makes you ask?"
"Because conversation with you is ninety percent you nodding your head. So I thought maybe something was wrong with your tongue," she finally asked.
His eyes narrowed and she feared she'd made him angry.
Concentrating on the eggs, he said, "Ninety-nine percent of the time, there's no one here but me and Big Blue. Conversation is something I'm not use to."
"Who is Big Blue?"
"My dog. I left him in the barn with the other animals. I thought you might be frightened of him."
Everleigh put her hands on her waist. "You have a dog and didn't tell me?"
Turning the eggs, he reached into the cabinet for plates. "Yes. I didn't tell you about the chickens or the pigs either. Do you like chickens? What do you think of pigs?"
The man could definitely be annoying.
"Eh, they're okay. But I've always wanted a dog. Mother said I couldn't have one because she would have to take care of it," she said softly. At the thought of her mother, her chest ached and she wondered if the pain would ever go away. She would never stop missing her family, but when would a memory come without torment? When did the heartache get easier to bear?
"When I go into town, I leave him in the barn," he said, sliding the eggs onto the plates and handing her one.
They sat at the small table.
"Is he a big dog?"
"He's about fifty pounds and six hands high."
"That's a big dog," she said, cutting her eggs with her fork and knife.
He stopped eating and watched her. "Why are you massacring your eggs?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're slicing them into little pieces. Can't you do that with your fork?"
She tilted her head and gave him a haughty look. "This was how I was raised. My dad always cut his eggs this way. Who taught you how to daintily eat your eggs?"
"My mother."
"Well, my father taught me. And he was from New York."
"My mother was the daughter of a preacher. So la-ti-da."
It was the longest discussion they'd had and it was over how to cut eggs.
They finished their breakfast in silence. Christmas was fewer than two weeks away and memories of past holidays haunted her. Closing her eyes, she fought the pain the word mother invoked.
"You all right?"
Opening her eyes, she stared across the table at him. "I'm fine. Just dreading Christmas." She propped her chin in her hand and stared at him. "Where are your folks?"
"In The Dalles, Oregon."
He got up from the table and put water on the stove to heat. "Don't you miss them?"
"Every day. Mother writes me a letter about once a month and occasionally she'll send me cookies," he said, his voice wistful. "But I like owning my own spread and I wouldn't go back unless it was to visit."
"Must be hard living out here all alone."
"Nah," he said. "I've gotten used to it." He turned and stared at her. "It's why I don't talk much."
She shook her head at him. "You should get into town more."
"I go when I need to," he said, effectively cutting her off. The man was difficult to have a conversation with. But then again, her father hadn't been the talker. That was her mother.
"Do you want me to help with those dishes?" she asked, watching him and thinking she'd never seen her father do dishes. Her mother had been in charge of the home and the kitchen had been her domain. This was unusual, different, and she kind of liked watching him.
The man wore a pair of jeans like she'd never seen. They defined the muscles in his legs and his backside, which was well-shaped and cute. She'd never noticed a man's backside before, but with his back turned to her while his hands were in soapy water, she was enjoying the view. Didn't hurt to look as long as he didn't catch her.
Suddenly he turned around and frowned.
"Uh, what do you want me to do?" she asked, knowing she'd been caught.
"Why don't you throw another log on the fire," he said. "I'm finishing these dishes and then going to the barn to check on the animals."
"Didn't you do that already this morning?"
"Yes."
"They need feeding again?"
"No, I want to make certain they have enough water and feed and they're staying warm," he replied not looking at her.
Why did she get the feeling he was going out to the b
arn to escape being with her? Why did it seem he wanted to put distance between them?
She watched as he pulled on his coat, then boots, and finally his hat and scarf. Opening the door, he stepped into the blizzard. She ran to the window in the kitchen above the sink and watched him disappear into the swirling snowflakes. She could see the rope near the house moving.
She could walk to the barn in the snow. She wanted to see his animals. She wanted to see his dog. She wanted out of this darn building for just a few moments. Sure, she could pick up her knitting or even read a book she'd brought, but more than anything she wanted to escape this tension filled room.
Right now, her life felt out of control and the feel of a sweet dog licking her hand would be something she hadn't experienced since she was a child. Running into the bedroom, she found his clothes and put them on. The pants were way too long and she rolled the hem up and stuffed the material into her boots. She took a scarf and slid it through the belt loops. Yesterday, several times, she'd come dangerously close to losing her pants and embarrassing herself even more in front of Seth. She couldn't manage the snow, the rope, and the pants, so she tied the scarf around her waist.
Slipping her coat on, she took a deep breath and decided to brave the cold.
Opening the door, the blast of frigid air almost had her turning back. She wanted to see the dog. Snowflakes poured from the sky, blinding her. Groping in the snow for the rope she knew he'd tied to the house, relief filled her when she found the lifeline. Stepping off the snow covered porch, she was unprepared when she sank to mid-thigh in a drift. Her dress would never have made it through the mounds.
As it was, she followed the path that Seth had made to the barn. A gust of wind almost blew her over, but she hung tightly to the rope. The snow was falling so thickly, she couldn't see anything but whiteness surrounding her and the cold seeped through the pants to her legs leaving her skin chilled to the bone. Her hands began to numb and she feared she would drop the rope and never find it again in the snow.
Wild Western Women Mistletoe, Montana: Sweet Western Historical Holiday Box Set Page 12
