Loving Linsey

by Rachelle Morgan

  The scenery continued to roll by as the balloon kept a steady course, carrying them high above a world mired down in duty and survival—and for some, like him, an insatiable need for success. Linsey was right: if she hadn’t lured him into this lofty trap, he’d never have experienced the freedom of it.

  Though it didn’t sit well to admit it, she was right about another thing, too—fun hadn’t been a part of his life in a very long time, if ever. He couldn’t recall exactly when studying and doctoring had become his sole existence. Once he’d passed all his classes at Tulane, he’d worked at Charity Hospital for a year and half, and it had been fulfilling. Then his mother had gotten sick.

  It had been hard losing her, harder than Daniel ever expected it would be. She hadn’t been an overly affectionate woman, prone more to bouts of melancholy than cheerfulness, but she’d always been there, as much a part of his days as the sunrise.

  Maybe it had been her smile. Small, sad, urging him not to take himself too seriously, to enjoy his youth while he had it. Or maybe it had been the way she’d often taken up for him against his dad. “Leave the boy be, Daniel. He’s got a mind of his own; let him use it.” Almost as if she could sense her son’s need to carve his own mark in the world.

  When she’d died, so had Daniel’s ally. He guessed that was when work had become his solace, his ambition, his weapon and his enemy. Never again his pleasure, never again his calling.

  Where had the pleasure of healing gone? Of giving someone a chance at life, and at living?

  “Oh, look—there’s Jenny’s place.” Linsey pointed as they passed over the orphanage. Children raced out from under the shade of live oak trees, leaping, laughing, some screaming as they ran toward the pitch-roofed house. Dogs nipped at their heels, bounding, catching the excitement.

  Linsey waved energetically, jiggling the basket. Her laughter, husky and abandoned, seemed to reach deep inside him and grab his heart.

  When he glanced at her, the expression on her face made his chest tighten and his breath dam up in his throat. She looked so breezy, so fresh, and so damn radiant it almost hurt to look at her. She made him all too aware of the things he’d shunned in his life so that he wouldn’t lose focus on what mattered most.

  And he could have lost her.

  When he’d seen her hanging from that flimsy ladder, his heart had plunged to his stomach, then shot into his windpipe. If he hadn’t heard the shouting from below, if he hadn’t been able to pull her into the basket . . .

  The realization buckled his knees.

  Daniel sank to basket floor and closed his eyes, willing his pulse to slow and the knot to loosen in his stomach. Damn her for reminding him what it was like to want the forbidden. “Stop dancing before you dump us out of here,” he snapped.

  “I wonder if they know it’s us?”

  “I doubt it. We’ve got to be a thousand feet up, maybe more. Too far to see.”

  “You’re probably right, but I bet they’ve never seen anything like this.” She spread her hands, indicating the balloon. “They’ll be talking about it for years to come.”

  Of that, Daniel had no doubt.

  She crossed her arms over the rim. The back of her head tucked into her shoulders in a pose of relaxed bliss. “Isn’t this wonderful?” Linsey sighed. “Oh, I just knew this would turn out to be a grand day.”

  “Let me guess—you found a rabbit’s foot under a full moon.”

  “No, a cat walked toward me.”

  Don’t ask, he warned himself. He was dying of curiosity but he didn’t dare admit it. Besides, didn’t curiosity kill the cat? Oh, Lord, now he was starting to think like Linsey!

  “That’s good luck, you know, when a cat walks toward you.” She nodded once. “If he walks away, he takes luck with him.”

  Daniel rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “It’s the truth!”

  “Who tells you these preposterous tales?”

  “Oh, they’re common knowledge. But Aunt Louisa is especially wise when it comes to divining the signs. Most of what I know I learned from her.”

  And Daniel had always thought Louisa such a sensible woman.

  “You’re scowling again, Daniel. If you don’t stop it right this minute, I’m tossing you over the side.”

  “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a brassy bit of fluff?”

  She gave him a swift and startled glance. “Bit of fluff?” A smile broke out on her face. The brilliance of it sent warmth spreading through his midsection like a dose of fine Irish whiskey, melting the lingering dregs of tension.

  “I’ve been called lots of things before, but never a ‘bit of’ anything.” A wry grin formed as she gestured to herself.

  Daniel inspected her figure. High, full breasts, curvy hips, rounded face—maybe she wasn’t the most dainty person, but next to him, she seemed almost fragile. Childlike, even. Except there was nothing childlike about those lush curves.

  Gruffly, he said, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “Why, Daniel, was that a compliment?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Just an observation. Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “Goodness, more pretty words! I declare, Dr. Sharpe, if you sweet-talk all the girls this way, it’s no wonder they’re all besotted with you.”

  Daniel didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew women were interested in him, but he had learned to ignore the coy glances and flirtatious overtures rather than encourage them. The only time he let himself get close to the opposite sex anymore was when it related to his profession, as he had done last night at the Rusty Bucket.

  The appalled look on Linsey’s face when she’d caught him leaving the saloon told him exactly what she thought he’d been doing there. Why it should bother him that she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, he didn’t explore, but with a trace of belligerence, found himself telling her, “I wasn’t doing what you think I was doing earlier.”

  “What, having fun?” Her eyes danced.

  “No, when you met me leaving the Rusty Bucket.”

  The pleasure in her eyes dimmed. She turned away and said, “Daniel, please, I really don’t want to hear the details.”

  “A customer got a little rough with one of Rusty’s girls. She was in pretty bad shape.”

  Linsey shot him a startled look. He was squinting at the sun, his features stoic. A crescent-shaped shock of glossy black hair had fallen over his winged eyebrow, drawing her notice to his sleepy eyes, as dark and inviting as hot cocoa, and framed by thick, spiky lashes. Black whiskers cast a shadow around his mouth and along his jaw. He did look weary. The news that he’d spent the night tending to the woman’s needs and not his own gave her heart wings—only because she didn’t want her sister hitched up with a rounder, she told herself. “I shouldn’t have assumed otherwise.”

  “No, you shouldn’t.”

  “Will she be all right?” Linsey asked, feeling sorry for the woman.

  With a nod, Daniel brought one knee up to his chest and slung an arm over his knees, obviously ending the discussion.

  A girl would have to be dead not to notice how the casual pose he struck enhanced the muscles of his thighs and the curve of his rear. The butternut fabric of his trousers pulled so tight along his trunk that it was a wonder he didn’t split a seam. She knew all too well that the rest of him was just as firm, and she wondered if the same dark hair that covered his forearm covered other parts of his body.

  Once more, her attention roamed upward, passing the breadth of his chest to his profile and centering on his lips, pressed in a relaxed line.

  What would he taste like? She’d only been kissed once in her whole life, and the experience still made her queasy. She had a feeling kissing Daniel would be nothing like that invasive slobbering she’d endured from Bishop when she was fifteen. No, Daniel would be assertive but not forceful. His mouth would be soft, yet firm. Perhaps even tasting of the peppermint sticks he kept in his shirt pocket for his young patients. . .
.

  The treacherous thought flew from her mind when Daniel reached for the pile of furs nearby. Her shoulders tensed. He uncovered the basket she had put together for him and Addie and flipped up the lid. As he pulled out a chunk of bread and a bottle of wine, he asked with a puzzled frown, “Where’d this come from?”

  Evasively, she answered, “Someone must have left it here.”

  “Never knew Jarvis to be much of a wine-and-cheese man.”

  “You’ve known him a long time, haven’t you?” Linsey told herself that her curiosity came from a need to know more about him for Addie’s sake.

  “We met in Louisiana while I was attending medical school. I stumbled upon him on the wharf one night after he’d gotten roughed up.”

  “And you treated him?”

  “No, I got him drunk. We’ve been friends ever since.”

  He smiled a lazy smile that made a pair of dimples dig deep creases in his cheeks, and Linsey’s heart flipped dangerously in her chest. It was the first time she’d seen him smile, and the sight stole her breath away. She realized that she’d just gotten a glimpse of the irresistible rogue who had hearts sighing all over the county.

  If she wasn’t careful, she’d be sighing along with them.

  Disturbed by the thought, she folded her cape closer about her shoulders. “My, but I didn’t expect it would be so cold up here. Think it will snow?”

  “Not this early in the season. Maybe by Christmas.”

  “I hope so. It would be nice to see snow before I—Oh, Lordy! Daniel, the trees!”

  He dropped the wine and scrambled to his feet, then cursed at the sight looming before them: a gradually rising slope wearing a thick and towering coat of pine trees.

  “How do we steer this thing?” Daniel hollered.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure we can.”

  “We’ve got to get it up higher!”

  “The valves!”

  They reached for the tanks at the same time. Daniel opened the valve, releasing a mighty blast of the gases. After one swift, upward lunge, the balloon began to climb at a steady rate.

  Just when they thought they’d cleared danger, a sudden downdraft yanked on the balloon, tilting the basket at a perilous angle.

  Pine branches seemed to reach out and seize the silk panels in their clutches like talons upon unsuspecting prey. A horrid rending sound sheared the air. Amidst a vicious tangle of branches, the balloon caught, swung, then knocked against the tree trunk.

  The impact threw Daniel and Linsey to the bottom of the basket. Daniel was smashed against the side with Linsey facing him, crushed against his front, her hand twisted in the folds of his shirt, her forehead against his neck. She buried herself against him as pine needles, cones, and branches showered down on them.

  Was she to survive the flight from hell, only to meet her end now?

  When the particles settled, neither of them moved, though their hearts pounded in unison.

  “Am I dead?” Linsey asked once she could speak.

  “Not yet, but after we get out of this mess, I’m going to strangle you.”

  “No, you won’t.” She lifted her head and grinned. “Admit it, Doc: despite everything, this is the best day you’ve had in your life.”

  “If this is the best, I don’t think I’ll survive the worst. Why did I ever get into this balloon with you? I knew it wasn’t safe—hell, I’m not safe with you anywhere!”

  She tilted her head back and gave him a quizzical study. “Of course you are, Daniel.”

  He snorted. “As a lit match in a tub of kerosene.”

  Of its own will, her hand reached up to cup his whisker-stubbled cheek. “When will you realize that I’d never purposely do anything to hurt you?”

  Her touch brought his gaze clashing with hers. She stared into the dark brown depths, wanting him to believe her, willing him to accept her apology for this transgression as well as those that had come before.

  But as they looked at each other, she saw his surprise give way to something darker, more primal. It set off a spark low in her belly and caused warmth to steal up her spine.

  Forgotten were their cramped surroundings and their perilous situation. Linsey slowly became aware of the rigid muscle of his chest beneath her breasts, the washboard hardness of his abdomen under her ribs, the power of his thigh aligned with the seam of her legs.

  The intimacy of their position uncoiled a heavy knot of longing inside her, flowing into her blood, saturating every nerve ending.

  She knew she had to get off of him, knew lying atop him courted danger and threatened every principle she had been raised with. And yet she couldn’t make herself move to save her life. He felt so warm, so strong, so powerful. And he smelled of sultry summer evenings and damp sheets, with just a hint of bay rum thrown in to add to his mysterious allure.

  Her fingers slipped from his jaw to the corner of his wide, perfectly defined mouth. The pulse at his throat gave a sudden leap. She felt his body tighten, his heart rate quicken, saw his eyes turn darker.

  She wanted that mouth, wanted to feel the moist softness of his lips against hers, wanted to taste the peppermint flavor of his breath. As if sensing her hunger, his hand blazed a possessive trail up her back, pressing her toward him. She closed her eyes as he brought her closer, an inch at a time, wishing he’d come to his senses and push her away from him, hoping to God that he wouldn’t.

  And then the decision was torn from either of them as the bottom of the basket gave way.

  Shading his eyes from the glare of the mid-morning sun, Oren scanned the land ahead. Still no sign of Horseshoe, but as long as they kept followin’ the train tracks, he knew they’d end up in town eventually. For the sake of the lady who trudged along behind him, he called encouragingly, “Ain’t much farther Miss Witt.”

  “I cannot proceed another step.”

  Oren glanced over his shoulder. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from grinning. He never thought he’d catch Adelaide Witt looking anything less than perfectly groomed—but, boy howdy, she was a sight. Her high-necked dress was stained and torn. Her bonnet dangled by its blue polka-dotted ribbons and trailed halfway down her back. Her yellow hair hung in limp strands around a narrow face smudged with half of Henderson County.

  Lord, she was a pitiful sight.

  He found her cute as a toddler’s dimple. Tired, rumpled, but cute nonetheless. “I s’pose it wouldn’t hurt none to rest for a spell.”

  “My deepest gratitude,” she breathed, then plopped down on a nearby rock without a care that her skirts flew up past her knees. Oren spied a glimpse of barn-red underdrawers, and red-and-white striped stockings that reminded him of a peppermint stick.

  His lips twitched. He’d have never have guessed that the demure Miss Addie possessed such fiery tastes. But figuring Miss Prim and Proper wouldn’t appreciate being the object of his amusement, he bit back his grin, sat beside her, and handed her the canteen he carried looped across his chest. “Here, this oughtta wet your whistle.”

  He expected her to sip daintily from the canteen.

  She guzzled like a trail-worn cowpoke.

  Oren watched her throat work the liquid down. As far as throats went, hers was a pretty one, he had to say that. Long and smooth and creamy. A drop of water trickled down her oval chin, into the unbuttoned collar, heading to the place only his imagination had ever taken him.

  She lowered the canteen and wiped her mouth. “Is something wrong?”

  His gaze shot to her eyes.

  “You’re staring at me. Is something wrong?”

  “No . . . no,” he said, feeling guilty color steal into his cheeks. This was his boy’s teacher, and though Oren considered her one of the prettiest little fillies this side of the Red River, he didn’t figure an old skewbald like him had any business fancying a thoroughbred like her.

  “Do you think she’ll be all right up there?”

  It took him a minute to realize who she was talking about. He squinted
in the direction they’d last seen the balloon, he nodded, then glanced back at the schoolmarm. “What notion ever got a-holt of her to ride in that thing anyway?”

  She gave a tiny shrug. “Linsey doesn’t always think situations through. Once an idea takes hold, she . . . well, she runs with it.” Hazel eyes shadowed with secret sorrow turned on Oren. “I apologize for involving you in this, Mr. Potter.”

  “Oren.”

  She hesitated. “Oren, then.”

  When she said his name, he half expected harps to start playing.

  “I simply didn’t know how else to reach her, and when I saw you . . . Oh, heavens!” she gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. “What about Bryce? He isn’t at home waiting for you, is he?”

  “No need to fret. He’s spending the weekend with his mamaw in Houston. That’s where I was coming from when you hailed me down.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Addie sighed with heartfelt relief.

  Then again, she couldn’t imagine Oren Potter gallivanting across the countryside if he’d left his young child at home. Granted, she knew very little about him, although he’d lived in Horseshoe for nearly five years. She knew he’d been married and had lost his wife a couple of years ago. And she knew that his child was a teacher’s treasure. Other than that, Oren Potter was as much a stranger to her as that Hobart creature who made spirits in his barn. But he didn’t strike her as the type of man who abandoned his responsibilities.

  And she realized that she very much admired him for that quality.

  She watched him for several minutes in silence before broaching the subject near and dear to her. “Have you given any further thought to our discussion?”

  “If you mean about sending my boy away, nope.”

  “You won’t even consider—”

  “Nope.”

  “Mr. Potter . . .”

  “Oren.”

  “Oren, perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. Your son has a gift of learning. He absorbs concepts with amazing accuracy, he can solve mathematical equations faster than—”