by Caroline Lee
And truthfully, Cam couldn’t have been happier. It was well past supper by the time he reached the fort, and only then did his charges awaken. He could tell she was embarrassed by the peaceful way she’d slept in his arms, although he didn’t mind it one bit. A blush climbed up those smooth cheeks, and she didn’t look at him when she thanked him. Before he knew it, she and her son were being whisked away by the commandant’s wife, and he was on his way to the barracks to see about some grub.
It wasn’t until much later, lying on his bedroll with his hands stacked behind his head, that he realized that he hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye to Tess Kitchens. He thought it should have mattered more to him, and wondered why it didn’t. It took a few minutes of examining his reaction before he realized that he wasn’t bothered by it because he knew it wasn’t a goodbye. He was going to see her again, to find out all about her, to answer his questions.
Whether she knew it or not.
CHAPTER THREE
It took two days before Tess was feeling human again. She slept straight through that first night; in fact, she barely woke up to get off of Mr. MacLeod’s horse and into a guest room provided by the kind Mrs. Gibbon. All she knew was that someone had told her Jacob would be fed and cared for, and she’d fallen asleep again. The next morning she woke to her frantic son trying to get into bed with her, and they snuggled until her hunger drove her from the room. But she was pushed back into bed by an overbearing housekeeper, who fed her until Tess thought she’d burst. And then she slept again.
On the second day, Tess was feeling right as rain, but Mrs. Gibbon and her staff insisted she remain in bed after her ‘ordeal’. “To think!” the matron had harrumphed, “walking close to forty miles carrying that big boy! In this heat and with limited supplies!”
Tess smiled slightly as the woman tucked her into bed again, amused at the fuss. She’d told her story to her host and hostess after she had woken that first morning, and saw their horror. But while the experience had been one of the hardest things she’d done, she still thought that it had been a wise choice. After all, she had saved herself and her son from violence, and had made it to her intended destination. Of course, she might not have made it had it not been for her mysterious rescuer, but she wasn’t going to let that dull her attitude of no regrets.
But Cam MacLeod was a regret. She wished she had thanked him again. She wished she had apologized for sleeping on him for so long, and making him mind Jacob. She wished she hadn’t been rude to him and had taken the time to ask him about himself. She wished she hadn’t been so attracted to a man who’d swooped out of nowhere to rescue her, and who disappeared so suddenly from her life.
It would have been nice to say goodbye.
On the third morning after her arrival, Tess felt like her old self, and chaffed at the inactivity. So she donned borrowed clothes—hers were still missing—and snuck out of her sick bed. She found the nursery, where Jacob had been staying with the youngest Gibbon children, and spent an enjoyable few hours with her son and one-year-old Andrew and three-year-old Laura. The housekeeper was surprised to see her, and Mrs. Gibbon nearly had a fit to find Tess lying on the floor with the children climbing around her. But Tess calmly explained that she was fully recovered, and ready to be out of bed. Mrs. Gibbon threw her hands up with a huff, smiled, and bustled out again.
Tess found out why at luncheon, when she dined with the family. Since she was recovered enough to “roll around on the floor”, her hostess had decided that she was well enough for a social function. A groan threatened to slip free, but Tess managed to bite down on it. She’d had little use for social dinners in her life, and less experience. But she could tell that in a fort like this one—where society was limited to the men stationed there and their families—that the hierarchy was well-defined. Mrs. Gibbon proclaimed that tonight’s dinner would be hosted by Captain and Mrs. Jonathan Newell, her husband’s adjutant. Tess recognized the name as the lady who’d lent the dress she was wearing, as everything Mrs. Gibbon owned would be huge on her. So she smiled tightly and thanked her hostess. And if she was lying just a bit when she said she was looking forward to the dinner—to being put on display in front of the commandant’s staff and their wives, to having to give her story again—well, that was just being polite.
She didn’t feel any differently by that evening, but she had to admit that she looked better than she had a few days ago. The borrowed gown was a lovely shade of green; tight in the front—lower than she would have chosen for herself too—and full in the back. There was a small bustle that was popular these days, but which Tess had never had the money for. She felt quite elegant.
Mrs. Gibbon called her to the nursery to put Jacob to bed, and she cuddled with him through their bedtime routine. First a story, and then songs. She loved the way his little cheeks crunched up as she stroked his forehead, and the way he tried to nuzzle into her chest. This was her own special time with her own special boy, when none of the outside world could intrude.
Tonight, though, Jacob had something on his mind. Before she could start a second song, he grabbed her hand. “Man, mama?”
“What man, honey?”
“Horsey man?”
“Mr. MacLeod? The man who gave us food and carried us on his horse?”
“Where, mama?”
She kissed his forehead, and ran her fingers through his curls, Joshua’s legacy. “I don’t know, honey. He saved us, though, so we have to remember to pray for him.”
Jacob frowned. “Bye-bye man?”
“Yes, he went bye-bye. He said he had to meet with Colonel Gibbon about beef—moo-cows, you know—so he’s probably long gone.”
“Good man.”
“Yes honey.” Tess swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. What was it about Cam MacLeod that had affected her so? “He was a good man.”
Her son fell asleep a few minutes later, but the normalcy of the routine was soured by her melancholy. She kissed his little forehead, and checked on the other two, before closing the door. Straightening her back and taking a deep breath, she headed downstairs to find Colonel and Mrs. Gibbon waiting.
Tess smiled at the older woman in appreciation. “Thank you for your patience.”
“Of course! I know how important bedtime routines are, for both child and mother,” She leveled a mock glare at her husband, “even if John doesn’t.”
The colonel harrumphed, but wisely said nothing as he held the door for his wife and young guest. The walk across the parade ground was short, and they nodded greeting to several groups of young officers strolling about. Tess could feel their gazes, and straightened her shoulders. She’d known that she’d be on display, and had tried to prepare herself for it. But there was a difference between understanding it and experiencing it. She steeled herself to be on her best behavior.
To her surprise, when they arrived at the Newell home, there was no one else there. Confusion must have shown on her face, because Charlotte Newell—a tiny little fluff of a woman who looked like she lived and breathed social functions—smiled. “Frances,” she nodded towards Mrs. Gibbon, “thought it would be best to keep tonight’s dinner small. We’re waiting on one more guest.”
Tess’s relief was so great that she actually grabbed Mrs. Gibbon’s hand. Her breathy “thank you” must have conveyed more emotion than she’d intended, because Colonel Gibbon chuckled, and Mrs. Gibbon patted her hand and smiled understandingly.
They adjourned to a small parlor where they made small talk. Apparently the Newells had heard of her ordeal. Captain Newell—a tall, gangly scarecrow of a man who tended to lean towards her when he spoke—was particularly interested in the details. He loomed over her and decried the state of lawlessness in the territories. “Have you considered pressing charges, my dear? You said that these men were headed to Cheyenne. The city isn’t so big that we couldn’t find them and punish them for their actions.”
Tess bit her lip. “Truthfully, sir, I would rather put it all behind
me. I left their company because of something I feared, not because of action on their part. It was possible that it was the whiskey speaking for them, and that they’d never have acted. I didn’t want to take that chance, so we parted ways.” She could tell the Captain didn’t approve, and wanted to punish someone. “My real regret is losing my trunk. All of my clothes, and Jacob’s things, and a few mementos from my parents.” She sighed. “It was hard to part with that, but I felt lucky that we were both alive and healthy.”
“Indeed, indeed.” Colonel’s boom interrupted whatever retort the Captain was going to offer. “We can all thank the Lord that you and your son were spared. And unless I’m mistaken, here’s the man we have to thank.” The older man turned towards the sound of the parlor door opening, and Tess felt her heart drop into her stomach.
There, handing over his hat to a waiting servant was none other than Cam MacLeod. She wondered if she’d somehow conjured him, to have him appear so soon after her conversation with Jacob. So soon after wishing she’d have a chance to say good-bye.
Whereas the other men were dressed primly in their starchy uniforms, Cam wore only a fresh cotton shirt tucked into neat blue jeans. He didn’t even have a tie, and Tess could see the faint shadow at the base of his throat. Her gaze flew back to his, mortified to have been caught staring at him, and was captivated once more by that uneven grin of his. Good Heavens, but he was handsome, wasn’t he? She felt her pulse in her temple, and swallowed past a suddenly dry throat.
The Colonel was still talking, but she didn’t know what he’d said, and only hoped that she hadn’t been asked any questions. She was dimly aware of the others responding, of moving around her, but she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from those bright green ones across the room. Tess wondered if he could hear her heartbeat, loud in her own ears.
And then he was walking towards her.
The look of pure joy that flashed across Tess Kitchens’ face when she first saw him pierced Cam right through the heart. It was something that he hoped he’d never forget; the way her dark eyes lit up and her lips parted. She gave him a thorough once-over, and he felt himself getting tight under the belt at the realization. Then a blush colored those creamy cheeks even pinker, and he saw her fists clench nervously. He couldn’t help his smile then, knowing that she was happy to see him again.
Colonel Gibbon was introducing him to the others, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from those dark ones across the room. He heard some laughter, and then the Captain was inviting them to the dining room. “Why don’t you escort Mrs. Kitchens?” Cam was happy to.
He crossed the room, and watched her stand to meet him. Not that it did any good; she still only came up to his chest. Then he was standing before her, her head tipped back to stare boldly into his face, and he liked the way she didn’t look away. For such a tiny little thing, she didn’t have any of Serena’s primness or reticence. No, Mrs. Tess Kitchens was as determined as he was, and the thought made his lips quirk.
He kept his voice low, between just the two of them. “In the absence of Mr. Kitchens, can I escort you to dinner, Tess?”
The flush crept further up her cheeks. “My husband died two years ago, Mr. MacLeod.”
He tried to feel sorry for her loss, but just couldn’t. His smile spread. “Then I hope you’ll take me instead.” Until he said it, he hadn’t realized the implications, but her eyes widened. He turned slightly and offered her his arm. She hesitated a moment, and then placed her fingers lightly on it. Did they feel warm through his shirt, or was that just his imagination? He couldn’t seem to make himself move.
“I’d be happy to, Mr. MacLeod.” He wondered if she was talking about accepting his escort, or him. At that moment, Cam himself wasn’t sure what he’d meant. All he knew was that this woman aroused him like no other, and that she wasn’t married. That meant that she was available, and he planned to take advantage of the fact that she obviously was affected by his touch.
“Please, Tessa,” He bent his head towards her and allowed his father’s gentle burr to enter his voice with the nickname, “Call me Cam.”
Was it his imagination, or did she shiver? His grin turned pleased and he escorted her through the door to the dining room. He held out her chair for her, acknowledged her murmured “thank you”, and took his seat across from her.
Truthfully, the dinner was only saved from being boring by her presence. Cam normally wouldn’t have been caught dead at such a highfalutin social function, preferring the easy camaraderie of saloons when he went to town at all. But after his discussion with the Colonel—during which the commandant agreed to take another delivery of ninety head of Open Skye cattle next month—the conversation turned to his recent adventure. When Colonel Gibbon mentioned that his wife was arranging a small dinner when their guest recovered, Cam did everything he could to finagle an invitation. The older man had smiled through his trim beard, and nodded kindly. “If you can stand Newell’s company, you’re welcome to join us!” The twinkle in his eye told Cam that the Colonel understood his desire to see Tess again.
Now, seated across from her, he tried not to let his confusion at the multiple forks and too many wine glasses show. Instead, he watched her. She seemed out of her element as well, but he admired the grace and elegance with which she negotiated the dinner. He thought that she had the loveliest voice—surprisingly throaty in someone so small—and probably neglected a delicious dinner to just stare at and listen to her. She seemed flustered by the attention, and he hoped it was a good sign.
Because Cam wanted her like he’d wanted no other woman before. What he’d felt for Serena was—quite literally—a pale comparison to the way Tess made his blood boil with just a touch. And hell, he hadn’t even kissed the woman!
“So, Mrs. Kitchens,” Colonel Gibbon was drawing Tess into the conversation that Cam had been ignoring for the better part of the meal. “You were headed to Cheyenne with that cattle drive, correct? Do you still need an escort down that way? Is there anyone expecting you we should have notified of your sojourn here?”
She shook her head slightly, and took a small sip of wine before speaking. “No one, Colonel. My son and I have been living in Montana Territory, but we were trying to get to the railway in Cheyenne—or one of the nearby depots—to head west again.”
“To California?”
“Yes, sir. I grew up in San Francisco.”
“Visiting family?” Mrs. Newell effortlessly joined the conversation.
“No.” Tess looked down at her plate. “Giving up.”
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Newell patted her arm. “I can’t imagine how hard life must be for a young mother in someplace as lawless as Montana. I completely understand the desire to get back to civilization.”
“It’s not…” Tess took a deep breath. “The land is beautiful up there, but yes, very rough. It was my late husband’s dream to open a general store in Bozeman, to become part of the lumber industry. We sold my family’s shop and went north, and it was lovely. But hard. And even harder when he passed away. Then I had Jacob and realized I couldn’t handle the store myself, so I sold half the stock and moved to Coulson. But it was so…” she took a deep breath, as if tamping down bad memories, “…so lawless there. We had to move again to Miles City. A few months back I realized I wasn’t going to be able to make it alone there either, so I decided to go back to San Francisco, where at least I knew people.”
Mrs. Gibbon tsked. “Such a shame! No family there either, so your supports will be just as limited.”
Cam smiled slightly at the way Tess’s back straightened. She wasn’t defeated, not by a long shot. “Well, what choice do I have, really? There are no churches or schools in Coulson, and whiskey ruled Miles City. In San Francisco, at least there will be people I can learn to trust.” He thought that last part was telling.
“No, dear, my point is that this life is hard when we’re all alone. The good Lord put us on this earth to find a partner, and not in business. We all n
eed someone else to rely on occasionally.”
“I have Jacob.”
“And he relies on you, but you can’t rely on him. You need someone to share your burdens. So you don’t have to ‘make it alone’, as you said.”
The Colonel interrupted. “She’s saying you need to get married, my dear. Re-married, as it were. So you don’t have to call it quits and head back to California. You’d better watch yourself; my Frances is an accomplished matchmaker.”
And in that moment, Cam knew what he wanted. He wanted a wife, and she fired his blood like no woman he’d ever met. He barely knew her, but could tell that they’d do well together. She was a widow, and he was going to marry her.
Seems she had different thoughts though. “You think that marrying would solve all of my problems?” He even liked the way she managed to lace sarcasm through her polite tone.
“Why not?” Mrs. Newell patted her arm again, and Cam could see Tess’s frustration at the way they were all ganging up on her. “Marriage would give you a home, and Jacob a father. You’d have a place to belong and wouldn’t have to worry about supporting yourself.”
“I’ve been doing fine for two years now, and I’ve turned down dozens of proposals.”
“Of course you did, my dear. You were in the middle of the wilds, and those men were likely true barbarians. But you just admitted that you’re no longer able to stand on your own feet, so I would say that times have changed.” Mrs. Newell’s gaze softened. “Just think about it. There’s nothing waiting for you in California, but here you could marry an officer or a rancher—” Cam appreciated the subtle flicker of her eyes in his direction, but wasn’t sure if Tess noticed, “and stop having to toil alone.”
