They sat like that for an hour, maybe more. The silence in the sleigh was awkward, but outside, the wind and snow made up for it. Clumps of snow fell from the branches above, plopping noisily on the canvas, while the horses’ hooves crunched the snow every time they shifted position.
Soon, the cold became more than Madeline could bear, because she edged closer to him over time, until she was once again nestled into his arm. She kept her face turned away, and Clay was glad of it, because he could feel the attraction sizzling through his body, and he could barely keep himself in check.
When it became unbearably cold, Clay added more coals to the tin foot warmer, and soon it was toasty again in the tight space. As the night wore on, Madeline’s head bobbed with fatigue, and soon she was fast asleep, with her head on his shoulder.
As dawn broke behind the clouds, Clay woke before Madeline, his head nestled atop hers. It had gotten very cold again in the sleigh, and in her sleep, she had all but crawled into his lap. He grinned, imagining what her reaction would be when she woke. Until then, he let her sleep a while longer, while he enjoyed the feel of her chest pressed against his, and the smell of her hair.
Nothing wrong with me enjoying the presence of a pretty woman. That didn’t mean he wanted her—as a wife—it just meant he was a normal man with normal desires.
At that moment, sitting beside Madeline with his back stiff and his right arm numb from the pressure of her body against it, he was reminded of the many mornings he woke up feeling the same way—with his arm numb and tingling from the pressure of Tabitha’s head. He always let her keep sleeping as long as he could bear it, though, just to have the pleasure of watching her sleep.
He smiled at the memory. Then a wave of sadness washed over him, as he remembered that he would never experience that again. It was true, he could marry another woman, and feel happy again—but what was the point? Death and tragedy always lay just around the corner, and it came all the more often out in the wilds of Montana, when doctors were so few and far between. Even in Helena—where there was access to medical care—life was precarious. Childbirth claimed many a Montana wife, not to mention disease, epidemics, accidents, fires, earthquakes…
Yes, Death lay in wait around every corner, hungry for a new victim. It seemed foolish, to Clay, to hand yet another innocent victim over to sate Death’s appetite. Safer by far to live on his own. There were drawbacks, but it was an easier life, he told himself.
But oh, does she smell good!
Madeline stirred, lifting her head slowly and yawning. She jerked in surprise when she realized where she was, and who she was leaning on.
“Oh, I’m sorry…I guess I—”
“Don’t be sorry. You needed the sleep.” Clay loosened his grip on her arm to let her sit up a bit.
“Didn’t you sleep?”
“As well as can be expected, given the circumstances.” He was very aware of the warm spot against him that she left behind, cooling in her absence.
She pushed up against the canvas that lay heavy on their heads. “I can’t imagine what this has done to my hair.”
In the dim light that filtered through where the canvas gapped, he saw her lift a hand to pat her hair, then pause. Her fingertips followed the trail of curls that hung down about her neck. Curls that had fallen free when he’d pulled the pins from her hair the night before.
“Oh!” she murmured.
Clay was sure she must be blushing.
She tugged down the lapels of her coat, and smoothed her gloved hands over the wool fabric.
He wondered what it would be like to lay beside her, no wool coats or heavy blankets—just the two of them, with only her thin cotton shift between them. He imagined lifting the shift, up over her thighs…her hips…
“What?” Madeline looked up at him.
“Huh?”
“You were staring at me.”
“I was?” He shook his head to clear the erotic images that flooded his brain. “I was just…wondering if you were hungry.”
“Famished! I’m glad you decided to hold some of the biscuits back for today.”
“We’ll have to eat them on the road. I don’t want to take the chance of wasting time. We can’t survive another night like that. Not without food or coal.”
“Are we out of coal, then?” Worry crept into her voice.
“Not yet, there are a few small pieces left. But that’s all we’ll have for the last leg of the trip.” He worried about her. Though the night had been bitterly cold, they had been able to trap all their body heat under a wind-proof tarpaulin. During the day, they’d have nothing but the blankets and furs, and had the wind to contend with as they sped down the trail. No matter how calm the wind might be, it would be frigid as they drove—the front of the sleigh didn’t provide much of a wind-break.
No doubt she’ll complain, as usual.
But she didn’t say a word.
Clay got up and pushed back the canvas, shaking off the snow and folding it up to store away. He looked after the horses as Madeline got out the food, slathered on the last bit of honey, and put everything away. She laid the food on a napkin in the middle of the seat, then concentrated on trying to put her hair back up as neatly as she could, searching for the pins that had fallen on the seat the night before without a word. He watched her from the corner of his eye as he worked, fascinated at how expertly she twisted and arranged the curls without a mirror, even as her bare hands trembled in the cold.
She’d barely finished and put her gloves back on before Clay had all his chores out of the way and the horses hitched up. He’d put both the old gals together, hoping for as much speed as they could give him. He didn’t want to chance Madeline’s health by risking any more bad weather.
He lit the last few coals and tucked Madeline in well, then climbed in and sat on top of the edge of the covers.
“Aren’t you going to lay the blankets over your legs?”
“No. I’m afraid it will let in too much wind. You need to stay warm.”
“So do you. You’ll get frostbite, Clay!”
“I’ll be fine.” He winked at her. “We’re tough out here in the territories.”
“No, really, just cover them up a bit, at least—”
“No need. I’ll take this tarpaulin and unfold it a bit, and lay the canvas over my lap. It will block a lot of the wind.”
She eyed the tarpaulin skeptically as he unfolded it twice and laid the heavy thing across his legs. “You do know that if you die of exposure, it’s a death sentence for me as well—don’t you? I can’t drive a sleigh.”
“Why am I not surprised?” He laughed. “Have you driven anything?”
She shook her head. “We were always driven everywhere. Though I was mad with envy when I saw a driver training his son to drive, once. I’d have given every china doll I had to hold those reins in my hand. But mother said it would be undignified.” Her voice trailed off, wistfully.
“Maybe I’ll teach you how to drive.”
“What? No. No!” she gasped, shocked at the idea. She looked out at the winding road as Clay signaled the horses and eased the sleigh out of the trees. Snow rained down on them in clumps, and Madeline squealed.
“Oh! It went down the back of my coat!” She sat up, twisting and turning in her seat, trying to dislodge the snow before it melted.
“Really?” He laughed, a deep, belly laugh as he watched her squirm.
“Oh, no, it’s gotten down the back of my dress, too!”
His chuckle died away as he realized just how much he envied the snow that was caught and melting against her soft skin. He stifled a groan of frustration. The woman was a danger to his resolve.
Soon she gave up the struggle to get the snow out of her clothing—it must have melted away. She sat back and pulled the covers up to her chin, teeth chattering. “How long will it be, do you think?”
Clay gauged the sky. “If the weather holds up, and we hurry, we could get there before mid-day.” He glanced
at her wary expression. “That is what you want, right?”
“Of course,” she spoke quickly. “Yes, of course it is. No point in putting off what needs to be done.” Her soft lips pressed together in a firm line.
She spoke of her impending marriage as if it were a chore to be crossed off a list. No one should think of marriage that way. Not a new bride, especially. It should be enjoyed…reveled in…
He cleared his throat. “You’re looking forward to your nuptials, then?”
There was a pause.
“I’m ready to embark on my new life.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
She flashed him a searing glare. “Am I not excited enough for your taste? I’m sorry to disappoint you. This is a business arrangement as far as I’m concerned.”
“You do know that he expects the arrangement to be far more than just business, don’t you?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Don’t be vulgar.” She turned away, looking out over the white landscape.
“I just hope you know what you’re getting into.”
“Oh, is that what you were doing last night? Giving me an education in what I’m ‘getting myself into’?”
He felt the heat rise up as the blood flooded into his face. “That isn’t what I meant. You know nothing about me. I would never take advantage—”
“But isn’t that exactly what you did?”
“Hey lady, I seem to remember your hands on my face, your lips on mine, and your moans of pleasure as I kissed you!”
“I did not—” she stopped abruptly, then screeched out in frustration through gritted teeth. “How dare you,” she seethed, staring straight ahead in humiliated fury. “Perhaps I participated somewhat, during…” she sucked in a breath “…the incident. But you took advantage of me. I’m a woman stranded in the wilderness with a total stranger, in fear for my life—”
“Are you joking?” he cut in. “A stranger? I’ve spent more time with you in the last three days then I’ve spent with most people in the last five years, except for Herman, and Cara and her family. I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone except maybe my sister. We may not be life-long friends…but you’re going to call me a stranger?”
“You just said yourself, I know nothing about you.”
“I meant you don’t seem to pay attention to what’s right in front of you. You can learn a lot about a person when you go through a rough trip like this, spending all day and sometimes all night together. You should have a pretty damn good idea of my character by now.”
“Don’t curse.”
“You aren’t my mother. You aren’t my sister. And you’re certainly not my wife! So don’t tell me what to do.”
“What would be the point of telling you what to do? You’re so stubborn, you’d never listen anyway!”
“Of all the—” He clenched his jaw tight, reining in his anger. “Why don’t we just drop it before we end up spooking the horses and getting ourselves killed? I got paid to deliver you to Sam Croft, and if you’re too foolish to heed my warnings, then I’m happy to dump you off right on his front porch. Seems like the more I get to know you, the more I think the two of you will be perfect for each other!”
“Maybe we are! Maybe this whole time you’ve made him out to be a villain, when he’s nothing more than the kind gentleman rancher that I know from my letters! And you’re nothing but a miserable, bitter, jealous man who can’t stand to see someone else have the happiness that he’s been denied!”
“Hey, I’m fine. I’m happy, just the way I am. And if I wasn’t, I don’t need the likes of you, I could find a hundred girls willing to make me happier.”
“Oh, because you’re such a catch? A man who lives above a butcher shop and makes deliveries for a so-called dastardly villain for spare change? Yes, I’m sure they’re lining up to marry you, Mr. Porter.”
The horses snorted and slowed down, acting twitchy and looking around. Clay loosened his grip on the reins. “You have a lot of nerve, Miss Barstow. You’ve got looks, and you’ve got a name in Boston, and you still couldn’t get a man to marry you without a big, fat dowry. Because you’ve got the personality of bitter, shriveled-up, spinster schoolteacher!”
Her eyes flashed as she tilted her chin up at him. “I could have married any respectable businessman I wanted! It was my choice to come out here.”
“So you say. And it was my choice not to marry again. Not that anyone respects my choice!”
“Oh sure, you’ve had loads of opportunities with loads of women. Ha!” she scoffed. “More like lots of appointments with saloon girls, I’d bet.”
He flushed, as if she could somehow see into his mind, into his past, and know about the few visits with saloon girls that he’d had, hoping that they would stop the itch of need and loneliness. “No, I’m talking respectable, nice girls. But I’m sure plenty of saloon girls would line up for free, if only I asked!”
She laughed derisively. “Yes, the saloon girls would just love doling out their affections! Except I’m quite sure they charge for it. That’s what they’re in the business for, after all. Maybe that’s what last night was all about. You’ve spent so much of your money on saloon girls that you’ve forgotten how to behave in the presence of a lady.”
“Maddie, I don’t need a saloon girl,” he lied. “I don’t need any girl. I certainly don’t need or want the likes of you.” He was yelling then, angrier than he’d ever been in his life. “And even if I did need to pay saloon girls, I’m sure a roll in the hay with any one of them would be a lot more enjoyable than with a rigid, stuck-up priss like you!”
“No, you didn’t want me at all last night, did you? What kind of man makes advances on a woman at night, then tells her she’s worthless in the light of day? You’re not a man, you’re a monster!”
Several moments passed, her chest heaving as she fought for control.
Oh Lord, please don’t let this woman cry. His blood ran cold, as if someone had sloshed a pail of ice water over his head. He didn’t know what to say. From her perspective, it must look that way—like he’d attempted to use her, then toss her aside.
And isn’t that exactly the way it was? Whatever my motivations at the time, I knew I had no intentions of marrying her, yet I was willing to give in to my own desires, with no thought to how that might ruin her entire future.
Stupid conscience. Always had to pipe up and make you feel guilty. But what right did she have to pin the blame all on him, as if she hadn’t kissed him back with everything she had?
He still vibrated with tension, but forced himself to ease off and take a breath.
“Look, I’m not saying I shouldn’t have behaved better—I should have. But it ain’t fair to put it all on me. Mistakes were made. Believe me, I won’t be making them again.”
Madeline sat, her hands pulling the covers up to her chin, her eyes downcast. Her lower lip trembled, and her fur-covered shoulders shuddered as she cried silent tears.
He didn’t know what to do. He felt like…like a monster, just as she’d said. Just because she was testy and embarrassed about last night’s events, that didn’t mean he had to browbeat her because of it. He could have been a man, could have held his tongue and let her get it all out. Tabitha got that way too, and so did his sister. Sometimes they just needed to get it all out. And instead, he’d lit into her. Humiliated her further.
“Listen, do you want me to pull over? You could rest, get out and walk around—”
“No,” she snapped. “The last thing I want to do is spend another second with you, Mr. Porter. Get me to the Croft Ranch. Get me to my future husband, so I can marry him and forget I ever met you.”
He sighed. “As you like, Miss Barstow.”
With a shake of the reins, he urged Tansy and Sunny onward, bringing Madeline Barstow closer and closer to her chosen fate.
Chapter 13
With hands clenched in her lap so hard that they went numb, Madeline stared straight ahead. She wouldn’
t spare the man a glance. Not one single glance!
The man was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He acted as if he cared, as if he was concerned for her well-being. He tore down the reputation of her husband-to-be, while simultaneously building himself up. Making her feel sorry for him being a widower. Introducing her to his family, letting her watch him gambol in the snow with his nieces and nephews so she’d think he was a nice, kind, caring uncle. Getting her to let her guard down with him, and tell him personal things that she would never tell anyone. Then, as soon as the moment was right—as soon as her defenses were down—he swooped in for “the kill,” taking advantage of her in her most vulnerable moments.
The miserable wretch had the audacity to accuse me—ME—of moaning like a…like a...like some kind of loose woman. Her lip quivered, and she bit it to make it stop.
To top it off, he compared kissing her to a “roll in the hay” with a prostitute! No doubt he’d partaken of plenty of those, she was sure, but to be so vulgar? So cruel? How could he? How could any decent man behave in such a way—treat a woman, a lady, in such a way?
It took all her self-control to keep herself in the sleigh, instead of telling him to stop, and leaping out of it. She had to keep her wits about her, not make foolish, over-emotional decisions. Only a few more hours, at most. She could handle it. She could make it. And then she’d be safe. Safe in the arms of her new husband.
And her husband would make sure that Clay Porter was never hired to haul a load of cargo by anyone, ever again.
***
The rest of the ride passed in strained silence. The hot coals burned out until there were barely embers enough to keep the thin metal of the foot warmer heated. The wind blew hard as they came down onto the prairie, pulling tendrils of Madeline’s hair loose so they whipped about her face. It roared in her ears and chapped her cheeks, and she pulled Cara’s shawl tighter around her head.
Clay urged the horses on faster, his jaw set with grim determination. He didn’t spare a sideward glance at her, either. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, as angry as she’d ever seen a man, and it provoked her to even more uncharitable thoughts about him.
Mail Order Regrets Page 13
