Now that I’d started cleaning him, though, I’d finish the job. Touching him as little as necessary, and then as much with the cloth as possible, I continued the job. It seemed prudent to err on the side of caution and minimize direct contact given how skittish he’d made me. It didn’t escape my attention that if he made me this nervous unconscious, I’d likely be in serious trouble once he awoke.
By the time I finished, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to sleep, but at least he was cleaner, and I laughed at myself to break the tension, thinking that at least I could be proud of myself for not giving in to temptation and taking complete advantage of an unconscious man.
I removed the bowl of dirty water to the kitchen and returned with fresh water from the hand pump. After placing a clean, cool cloth on his forehead, I returned to my chair. Despite the late hour, and how tired I felt, I had no illusions that I’d be sleeping, but before I knew it, my eyes drifted shut.
Chapter Five
~Isaac~
When I regained something similar to consciousness, it took a while for my memory to catch up. Every part of me ached, except my shoulder, which burned like a white-hot brand. I ground my teeth together, pushing the pain away, then took a deep breath and let it out. Another breath helped clear my head, and then Clay Dearborn’s face loomed in my mind and everything came rushing back at once—fighting Dearborn, the bullet, running.
I’d failed my quest to see him dead. Dearborn still lived, but I was surprised at how happy I was to still be drawing breath myself. If nothing else, it meant there was still hope I could finish him off. But I was also glad I hadn’t cashed in just yet because it felt good to be alive when I’d expected to be otherwise. It was a welcome reprieve.
Then I remembered—I’d run as far as the Caldwell place before blackness crowded the edges of my vision and I stumbled with every step. I must have made it to the door, but beyond that, I remembered nothing, not even how many days I’d been there.
I took stock of my surroundings, which included a soft bed under me that smelled of woman. I was surprised when the scent conjured an image of Hannah. Even though I’d never been in her bed, I’d smelled her plenty in the time we’d courted. This scent was different, though. It was rich and savory, like baking spices and wildflowers, something steadfast you could wrap yourself in without worrying about it. Hannah had been dainty and sweet, like hothouse flowers, and I’d always been afraid she might break if I so much as touched her.
I opened my eyes to banish Hannah’s image from my mind. It had been over ten years since she’d promised to wait for me when I’d enlisted in ’62, then written to tell me in ’64 that she’d met another man and been married for several months.
A muffled snore drew my attention away from Hannah’s memory, and I followed the sound to find Beth Caldwell sleeping in a nearby rocker. Her head lolled onto her left shoulder, the blond waves of her hair falling in a tangle down her arm. Even through the haze of pain, I couldn’t help considering the possibilities of being in her house and in her bed. I’d long since put Hannah out of mind, but Beth Caldwell erased her completely.
I’d seen Beth in town a couple of times, but I doubted she’d ever seen me. Some of the other hands on the Lazy D had talked about her, how beautiful she was, and speculated about her like men tend to speculate about women.
She certainly was a handsome woman, even more so in the warm lamplight, and I couldn’t help the desire to feel her soft skin under my touch. It was no use fooling myself, though. If she didn’t know already, she’d learn soon that I was a wanted man, and the first thing she’d do as soon as she found me awake was show me the door, if she didn’t turn me in first. Not to mention, I still faced finishing what I’d started. I’d see Dearborn dead if it was the last thing I ever did.
“About time you woke up,” she said. “How’re you feeling?”
Her voice startled me. Daydreaming about revenge had dulled my reflexes, and I hadn’t noticed her wake.
“How long have I been here?”
“This is the third night. Your fever broke yesterday, but you’ve been darn stubborn about waking up.”
She stood and yawned, stretching her way out of sleep, and the thin nightgown she wore left little to a man’s imagination. Despite my damaged condition, the healthy parts of me could still appreciate her curves and contours.
It took an effort to be a gentleman, but I lifted my gaze to her eyes. When she stepped closer and laid the back of her fingers against my forehead, I noticed her eyes were dark blue like the evening sky just after the sun dips below the horizon.
“No sign of fever. That’s good news,” she said, then sat on the edge of the bed next to me. I’d have to take her word for it, because her touch certainly left me feeling warm.
The lamplight passed right through her nightgown, illuminating her breasts and drawing my attention. I imagined the weight and roundness of them in my palm, and my thumb itched to stroke the nipples and watch them firm under my touch.
She followed my gaze to her body, and her brows went up.
I think I actually blushed, something I’m sure I’ve never done in my life.
I cleared my throat. “I apologize, ma’am. That was improper of me.”
She slid her fingertips down my arm and took my hand in hers, checking the pulse at my wrist. There was no hope of hiding the evidence of her affect on me, and the hint of a smile on her lips told me she felt my heartbeat thundering under her touch, despite my contrition. She was dangerous. I’d heard the rumors, that she had a history as a wild woman, that she’d been married to a gambler, maybe even been one herself, that her past was scandalous at best. But who was I to judge? My past was littered with scandal.
I threw the sheet off and shifted to sit on the edge of the bed next to her.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.
“I need to relieve myself.”
“I’ll bring you a pot.”
My head spun, and I wobbled a bit as she crossed the room and collected a chamber pot for me. A deep breath helped clear my head, at least until she returned and I caught her scent. It was even more enticing sitting near her and put me in mind of cool nights in front of a warm fire.
Staying here was a bad idea. I needed to leave and find a safer place to heal, someplace without the distraction of Beth Caldwell, where I could plan my next move.
“I’ll just put it on the floor, here. If you’re not strong enough to stand, you should be able to reach it from here.” By the humor in her voice, she found it amusing I’d have to take aim at the pot from a sitting position.
She turned her back to allow me some privacy, and I went about the business of relieving my full bladder.
“I appreciate you taking me in and caring for me,” I said as I finished. “I apologize for bringing trouble to your door. I’ll be going in the morning.”
“Seems like every time you show up at my door you’re leaving in the morning,” she said, turning back to face me. That she teased me was evident from the twinkle in her eye, and her smile. She moved the chamber pot back to the corner, and returned to the bed to sit beside me.
“It’s not very gracious of me to take advantage of your hospitality so often. I wouldn’t want to see you pay a price for my mistakes,” I said.
Her smile disappeared in an instant and her chin went up, and I figured I’d got her back up somehow.
“Don’t for an instant think I’m afraid of you and your troubles. I’ve got troubles of my own. And if you’re worried about bringing Dawson or Dearborn to my door, I’m not afraid of them either. I’ve got my own ax to grind with the both of them.”
It was my turn to smile. She was a real wildcat, that was for sure, but I still had no right asking her for any more than she’d already given. Besides which, I didn’t need her occupying my thoughts when I should be focused on finishing what I’d started with Dearborn.
“Even so, I’ll be on my way in the morning.”
She
stood then, and putting her little hand on my chest, pushed me back down onto her bed. I went willingly, swinging my legs back up, if only out of curiosity at her next move.
“We’ll see about that. Until then, you’re still my patient and you’ll do as I say.”
I found the idea of this tiny woman trying to stop me from leaving, laughable, but it couldn’t hurt to let her think she was in charge, at least for now.
“I’m at your mercy, Doc.”
I watched her as she leaned over me and removed the bandages from my shoulder. She struggled to keep her face straight, but I recognized the twitch of humor at the corners of her mouth, even a flash of defiance in her eyes that I’d taunt her by calling her Doc—a position generally denied to women.
“I’m just going to check your wound and change the bandage,” she said, her focus concentrated on my shoulder while I watched her face. I was surprised by the hint of a blush on her cheeks when she touched me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought the saucy Mrs. Caldwell was flustered by me, and that gave me a twinge of satisfaction. It had been a good long time since I’d cared what a woman thought of me, or I’d cared about a woman as more than someone to warm my bed for a night. But there was something different about this one, worth taking note of. I wondered how a little teasing would affect her.
She removed the bandage, then reached for a wet cloth on a table near the bed and used it to wash my shoulder. The cool water felt good, but the whole time I never took my eyes from hers.
“How does it look?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
She cleared her throat before answering, still not meeting my gaze. “Well, the swelling is down, the entrance wound seems to have sealed, and it’s not oozing or infected, so that’s very good.”
“Good,” I said, convinced by her discomfort that I did, indeed, make her nervous. Curious what she’d do, I reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. My fingers brushed her cheek and it was so soft and warm I couldn’t resist shifting my hand to the back of her neck and burying my fingers into all that blond hair. “So I’ll be able to leave in the morning?” I asked, drawing her closer to me. She froze, resisting me, but not removing my hand from her neck.
“You lost a lot of blood,” she said in a strained voice. “You still need to regain your strength.”
At the moment I was pretty sure I still had plenty of blood left in my system, as it pounded through my veins with a mighty healthy strength.
I leaned up on my elbow, bringing us closer together. “I’m feeling strong enough right now,” I whispered against her lips, and she was finally forced to look into my eyes.
The desire I saw there would have knocked me back a step if I hadn’t already been down, and it made me think twice about teasing her. I was foolish for doing so, and cruel to her. But before I could withdraw, she closed the space between us, touching her warm, sweet lips to mine, and I lost my ability to think at all.
I twisted my fingers deeper into her hair, fisting it as I pulled her into me. The little moan that escaped her lips as she opened her mouth for my tongue was enough to feed my lust and send the blood that had been thundering in my ears to points farther south.
She shifted, placing her hands on my chest and pushing me flat on my back, and I brought my left arm up to help her, because more than anything I wanted to feel the weight of her body laid out on top of mine. A searing pain shot through my shoulder when I tried to lift her, and I gasped.
She pulled away, her cheeks a pretty pink and her lips swollen from my kiss, but despite the dark desire in her eyes, I saw the worry there, too, and maybe some shame.
“I’m fine,” I whispered and reached to pull her back to me. The look of her mussed and lusty made me forget all about the pain, and apparently about reason.
But she resisted, reaching for my hand and untangling it from her hair.
“That was…” She stood and paced, turning her back to me so that the lamplight shined through her gown illuminating the roundness of her bottom to delightful advantage. I tore my eyes away, though, knowing it would be difficult enough to calm the parts of me raging with desire, without the further encouragement of imagining that bottom in my hands as she sat in my lap.
“Delicious?” I asked.
She spun and I was greeted with a lamp-lit view of her breasts again, as well as what I imagined was a soft belly, and of course the dark vee between her legs.
“Inappropriate,” she said, although I didn’t miss the quick movement of her tongue darting out to lick her lips.
“Well, I have to say, as doctors go, you’re definitely the finest I’ve ever had.”
I had to grin at the way her brow cocked and her features took on a mocking set. Damn, she was a fine and feisty woman.
“You just worry about getting well,” she said, stepping to the nearby table and selecting a fresh bandage, then coming close again. “And keep your hands to yourself,” she warned.
She leaned in and, barely touching me—as if doing so would sting—redressed my wound. Her eyes met mine this time, and even though the corners of her mouth twitched, I didn’t miss that her hand shook just a bit as she worked on me. However, I heeded her warning, and with a supreme effort kept my hands off her.
When she finished, she pulled the sheet up to my neck, then collected her blanket and moved for the door.
“You’re past the worst, but you’re still in no shape to be going anywhere.” At the bedroom door she turned and added, “And that includes leaving tomorrow morning.”
I couldn’t say it hurt my feelings any to stay a spell, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure why she’d want to harbor a wanted man, especially after I’d nearly taken advantage of her. She hadn’t said so, but she had to know who I was, and even knowing, she still offered her help.
“You’re the doc,” I said, winking at her as she turned and left the room without another word, just shaking her head like she’d never understand me.
I watched her go, knowing she was right, that I wasn’t ready to leave yet, but mostly because now I didn’t want to. I’d been injured worse and kept going, and I was inclined to believe that with some effort on my part I could get out of this bed and be on my way. But her kiss still burned on my lips, and the image of her body lingered in my mind. I may not be long for the Earth given that I’d likely die killing Dearborn—I nearly had this time—but why shouldn’t I enjoy the company of a beautiful woman like Beth while I still could? I smiled and closed my eyes, tucking my good hand under my head, and settled in to sleep.
It looked like I’d be staying at the Caldwell place for a little while longer.
Chapter Six
~Beth~
The next morning my mind was still a jumbled mess, and worse, my heart was a traitorous beast. It didn’t help that after tucking Isaac back into bed I couldn’t sleep a wink. Rather than sit in the rocker and pretend to sleep—something that would never happen with every inch of me tingling with awareness of him lying just inches away—I excused myself and retired to Daisy’s chaise.
Even there I couldn’t sleep, but at least he wasn’t in the same room. Images of Isaac danced in my head all night and I could only think about talking to him, asking him questions, and listening to his answers in that smooth, deep voice of his. Somehow it reached inside me and plucked at some yearning I had no control over.
And then, of course, there was that kiss.
I didn’t even want to think about that, so I tried to focus on buttering a hunk of bread.
My imagination had other ideas, though. All I could see was the longing in his eyes when he’d looked at my body last night, and how he’d tried to be a gentleman about it. Until he hadn’t been a gentleman, and how I’d nearly crawled on top of him. Where had my common sense disappeared to in such a hurry? So much for promising to resist temptation. Apparently whenever it reared its charming head, I became a slave to all my old weaknesses.
“How is Mr. Collins this morning?” Lydia asked
as she entered the kitchen, startling me so that I dropped the knife and it clattered to the table.
“Lydia, you gave me a start.”
“It wasn’t my intention. You were clearly lost in your thoughts.”
I stifled a smile and tried to regain my composure. If only she’d been privy to the thoughts, she’d have blushed to the roots of her hair.
“Mr. Collins awakened last night. But he’s still very weak. I’m preparing him some breakfast. ”
“The sooner he’s healed and can leave, the better,” Lydia said as she set about packing herself a lunch bucket in her always-efficient manner.
“He’ll be on his way as soon as he’s able, Lydia.”
“I’ll be happy to take his breakfast in to him,” Daisy said, sauntering into the kitchen. “After all, you must be exhausted from watching over him while he was out cold.”
I picked up the tray and turned to her, feeling a powerful need to defend my territory even though there really wasn’t any territory to defend. Isaac Collins didn’t belong to me in any way, and I’d remind myself of it as many times as it took for it to sink in.
Daisy yawned and stretched, forcing her body to test the limits of the lace-and-beribboned corset fastened tight over her chemise. The entire ensemble was just absurd and blatantly advertised her most abundant features, which, I was certain had been her intention. With a man in the house, Daisy was like a vulture drawn to carrion.
“Thank you for your concern, Daisy, but I don’t mind a bit. I slept very well last night,” I lied. Her whole getup only emphasized, at least to me, my more modest qualities. Not that I was particularly lacking, but any woman would feel boyish standing next to Daisy.
“I’ll be back at my usual time,” Lydia said from the doorway, oblivious to the competitive undercurrent. “It would be a blessing to know then for sure when to expect him gone.” She closed the door as a solid punctuation of her wishes.
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