by Linda Ford
And yet...
Didn’t it feel good to have him need her?
She shoved the thought away and concentrated on the task before her, dipping hot water from the reservoir on the stove, filling a bowl, opening drawers until she found towels. She searched through them, looking for a ragged one that would serve to clean up Duke’s blood. All she found was one towel that had a slight stain. She took it and a couple of others with her back to the other room.
She pulled a stool up to the sofa and carefully began to wash away the blood on Duke’s face. The wound continued to bleed. With barely a hesitation that she was about to ruin a beautiful tea towel, she pressed it to the wound and held it in place while she gently washed his face.
Once the blood was cleaned from his eyelids, he opened his eyes. Aware that his gaze locked on to her face, Rose avoided meeting his eyes. She dragged the towel over the blond whiskers along his jaw to his hairline. She couldn’t help noting how golden his hair was. Slowly she cleaned toward the wound and lifted the cloth. The bleeding had slowed enough she could see that it was deep, but thanks to the amount of blood he’d shed, it was clean.
“Billy, will you please get that sack of things Ma sent with me?”
He dashed away to do so.
Duke continued to stare at Rose and she tried to ignore him, keeping her eyes glued to the wound as if by doing so she might meld the edges together.
His hand wrapped around her wrist.
She jerked her attention to the hand, then slowly brought her gaze to his. Not for a moment did she doubt he was clear in his mind. So much so he threatened to mentally overwhelm her. She couldn’t pull away from his gaze, couldn’t talk reason to herself.
He smiled somewhat crookedly as if his mouth hurt. “I’m glad you’re here.” His hand fell to his chest and his eyes closed.
“Duke, wake up. Don’t you dare fall asleep.” Ma had taught her well. If he slept, he could easily slip into unconsciousness and from there to—
He was not going to Heaven today. Not if she had anything to say about it.
* * *
Cool fingers brushed his cheek. The touch pushed back the thick fog that threatened to enclose him.
“Duke, wake up. Stay awake.”
The voice seemed concerned. He tried to think about how to reassure the person. Who was it? Rose Bell. He smiled and fought his way to the surface.
“What are you doing here?” His tongue staggered under the weight of the words.
“Open your eyes.”
“Okay.” Easier said than done.
“Duke, open them.”
She sounded as though she cared. He must be dreaming. “I am.”
She chuckled. The sound tumbled through his brain. More evidence this was only a dream. “And yet they are still closed. Come on, I need to see your eyes.”
“They’re blue.” His voice sounded thick even to his own befuddled brain.
She chuckled again.
He had to see if this was a dream or if she was actually there, so he raised his eyebrows in an attempt to force his eyelids up. The simple movement hurt. “Ow.” His eyes opened and he stared into a beautiful, concerned face. “Hi.”
Her smile fled. Or had he only dreamed it in the first place?
“You’ve got a nasty gash on your forehead.”
“I can feel it clear to my toes.” He watched emotions flit across her face as she leaned closer to look at his head. First, concern and then worry. Worry? Rose Bell worried about Duke Caldwell? It didn’t seem possible. Her gaze returned to his and he caught a flash of something he almost believed to be tenderness. For him? Hardly. The Bells were known for helping the sick and injured. That’s all it was.
A tiny grin tugged at her lips and amusement filled her eyes. “Your handsome face will be forever marred.”
“I can live with that.”
“You’re fortunate to be alive.” Her eyes snapped with anger. “Why are you riding a wild horse around the country? Don’t you know you might have been killed?”
He was caught in the green flare from her eyes. “Seems you should be happy about that. You haven’t exactly thrown out the welcome mat to me.”
Her expression slowly hardened, grew impassive.
He missed being able to read her emotions.
She sat back and pulled her hands to her lap. “That doesn’t mean I want to see you dead.”
“Good to know.” His eyelids drifted closed.
“Duke, don’t you dare go to sleep.”
He answered without opening his eyes. “Doesn’t seem like I’m going to get a chance with you constantly calling my name.”
He heard footsteps and then a worried voice. “Here it is. Is he alive?”
Duke opened his eyes to see Billy hand Rose a sack. “I’m okay, Billy. Don’t you worry. It will take more than a skittish horse to kill me.”
Rose pursed her lips. Her disapproval of his horse was evident.
Billy patted Duke’s arm. “I prayed and prayed and prayed ever since you got hurt. God helped me.”
Duke’s mind cleared enough for him to remember trying to find his way home. “How did I get here? And what are you doing here?” he asked Rose.
“Billy came to the farm to get my help.”
It took a moment to digest this information. “You came?”
She pulled back. “I’d never refuse to help anyone in trouble.”
He held her gaze. “Anyone? Even a Caldwell?”
She nodded. “Even you.”
“Ouch. You make it sound as though that’s the worst possible thing ever.”
Her expression softened again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” She opened the sack and pulled out bandages and a tiny jar. “I’m going to fix your cut as best I can.” She considered it. “I suppose I could sew it up.”
He laughed but cut it off as pain ripped through his head. “Never mind sewing anything unless it involves fabric.”
The gust of air she released told him she was happy not to have that option. And yet she’d offered. What a strange woman she was.
She pulled the stool closer and gently stroked his hair back from his forehead.
He closed his eyes as a thousand sensations of pleasure and delight flooded his skin and tingled in his fingertips. This feeling was new. And not unwelcome. In fact—
“Ouch.”
“Sorry. But I need to pull the edges as close together as I can.”
“Don’t hurt him.” Billy sounded about ready to cry.
“It’s okay,” Duke assured him. “It hardly hurts at all. I just wasn’t prepared.”
“I should have warned you. Now I’m going to put a dressing in place to hold it.” She bent over him, her scent bringing to mind summer pastures filled with wildflowers. Her touch was gentle yet firm. Not unlike the lady herself.
“There. That will keep it for now.”
“Thanks.” His voice came from a long distance.
“Duke, you must stay awake.”
Why must I? “You’ll stay?” He pulled the words from the fog.
“Until I’m sure you’re okay.”
So long as she was there, he’d be safe. And he let the fog drift closer.
A faint breeze, a sense of aloneness, forced his eyes open. “Rose?”
She stood by the sofa. “Billy, stay with him while I clean up these things. And keep him awake.”
Billy perched on the stool that Rose had vacated and patted Duke’s hand. “You’ll be okay now. Rose fixed you up good. I knowed she would. That’s why I got her to help.”
Duke grunted a time or two to indicate he listened as Billy rattled on and on, but he barely heard a word the man said. His thoughts had followed Rose to the kitchen. Would
she leave without saying goodbye? The thought of being alone except for the frightened Billy sent his pulse into a fury.
From the depths of his heart he prayed. God, please convince her to stay.
Chapter Four
Rose stood in the middle of the kitchen, her hand pressed to her throat. What was there about this place, this situation, about Duke, that unraveled her thoughts until she could hardly remember who she was?
She went to the stove and lifted the kettle. It was full of water. A cup of tea would set her to rights. She pushed wood into the stove and stirred up the fire. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she searched for tea. Every cupboard she opened increased the tightness in her head. Would she be accused of snooping? But Mrs. Caldwell was away, so she wouldn’t know. Still, Rose’s sense of intrusion increased.
As did her growing awareness of the vast difference between her as a Bell and Duke, a Caldwell.
She found a canister of tea and a fine china teapot and closed the cupboards firmly and with a sigh of relief.
She warmed the pot, then measured out a handful of tea leaves and added the boiling water.
A good look around the kitchen gave her cause to think that Duke didn’t cook for himself. The place was far too tidy. Did Billy cook for them? Did a housekeeper come in and prepare meals? Or did they go over to the long building down near the barn she took for the cookhouse?
Duke would never make it that far in his present condition.
She poured tea into three matching teacups, put them on a serving tray and carried it to the other room.
Billy jumped up as she entered the room. “I’d of helped if you called.”
“Thank you, Billy, but I managed fine.” She set the tray on the nearest table. “I thought tea might hit the spot.”
Duke pushed himself upright, grimacing.
She hurried to his side. “Lie back.”
“Can’t drink tea lying down.”
She could practically hear his teeth creak from the way he clenched them.
He swung his feet to the floor and gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m fine. Really.”
She stood in front of him, her hands planted on her hips. “About as fine as snow in July.” It was on the tip of her tongue to say being a Caldwell didn’t make him impervious, but the pain and determination in his face made her hold back her words. Instead she almost commended him for the strength he showed.
He lifted his face to her. “I believe I’ll have that tea now. Thank you.” His crooked smile made her grin.
“Yes, sir.” She carried a cup to him and hovered close as he took it. The tea sloshed so wildly, she caught his hands to steady them.
His eyes bored into hers.
A part of herself broke free and seemed to float above her as she looked into his eyes and held his hands. If only...
“You must find it hard to do this.”
“Do what?” His voice settled her wandering mind.
“Coddle me.”
“Am I doing that?” Her words came out soft and sweet, from a place within her she normally saved for family. “Seems to me all I’m doing is helping a neighbor in need.”
“It’s nice we can now be friendly neighbors.”
This was not the time to point out that friendly neighbors did not open gates and let animals out.
Duke lowered his gaze, freeing her from its silent hold. He sipped the tea. “You’re right. This is just what I needed. I’m feeling better already.” He indicated he wanted to put the cup and saucer on the stool at his knees. “I haven’t thanked you for rescuing me. Thank you.” He smiled.
She noticed his eyes looked clearer. He was feeling better. The tea had been a good idea.
“You’re welcome.” She could barely pull away from his gaze. Why did he have this power over her? It had to be the brightness of those blue eyes...
What was she doing? She had to stop this. Resolved to not be trapped by his look, she pulled her gaze away and managed to gather her wits about her. “Do you have a housekeeper coming in to make your meals?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she clarified, “I ask because if you’ve been taking your meals at the cookhouse, I don’t think you’ll make it tonight.”
Billy answered. “The cowboys eat at the cookhouse.” His voice lowered. “They stare at me.”
That didn’t exactly answer her question. What were they doing for meals?
Billy brightened. “I like it best when we go away and have a campfire. Duke knows how to cook lots of things over the fire.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Is that a fact?”
“Yup. He showed me how to do biscuits on a stick.”
Duke leaned his head back on the sofa. “Don’t look so surprised, Rose. I’m a lot handier than you think.”
She forced her expression into blandness when she looked at him. “I doubt you know what I think.”
“I’m guessing you think I’m a useless, spoiled rich kid.”
“Hmm.” Let him believe that. Far better than knowing the truth that she wished she could go camping with them to see him make biscuits on a stick.
His mouth tightened. He closed his eyes as if to hide his hurt from her.
She’d rubbed some ointment on the edges of the wound that should relieve some of the pain, but remnants always crept through. “You should take it easy.”
“What do you call what I’m doing?” His words were lazy but she didn’t miss the edge of pain.
She made up her mind. “There’s no way you are going to make it to the cookhouse. Nor are you in any shape to be cooking over a campfire. If you’ll allow me, I’ll prepare a meal for you.”
That brought his eyes open in a hurry.
“If you don’t object to me doing so,” she added.
“Object? I’d be forever grateful.”
Billy grinned from ear to ear. “Can we eat in the kitchen?” He slanted a look at Duke. “I kind of don’t like the dining room.”
Duke chuckled softly. “I’d enjoy eating in the kitchen, myself.”
“Then it’s decided.” Rose gathered up the teacups and tray and marched back to the kitchen to stare around. She didn’t know where anything was, or what sort of staples a place like this would have, but from peeking in the few cupboards she’d opened looking for the tea, she guessed anything she needed would be available. She’d make something simple that would be easy for Duke to eat.
Ma’s potato soup could never go wrong and Billy’s story of biscuits on a stick helped her decide on biscuits to accompany it.
She found a bin full of potatoes and was removing some when Duke, leaning on Billy’s shoulder, came into the room. She straightened and favored the man with a scolding look. “What happened to the part about taking it easy?”
He pulled out a chair from the table and sat. “There. I’m taking it easy.”
Billy sat beside him. “Duke wanted to watch you cooking. He said there’s nothing prettier than a gal in the kitchen.”
Duke rolled his eyes. “Billy, I didn’t mean for you to repeat that.”
Billy lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I’m stupid.”
Duke gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Billy, you aren’t stupid. And don’t you forget it.”
Billy sucked in a long breath. “If you say so.”
Rose turned away to hide her expression. Her admiration for the way Duke dealt with Billy left her struggling for equilibrium.
“Billy Boy,” he said, “I fear the horses are still tied at the rail. Would you take care of them, please?”
Billy set out on the task immediately.
“Billy seems an odd friend for you.” Rose kept her attention on peeling the potatoes as she spoke, but she couldn’t resist darting a glance at Duke to see his r
eaction.
He wiped a hand across his face. If she wasn’t mistaken, he tried to remove regret. Regret from Duke Caldwell? It didn’t seem possible.
“Billy said you saved his life. Sounds as though he tried to drown himself.”
“It was my fault.” The agony in Duke’s voice brought her attention to him.
Her heart twisted at the look on his face. “What did you do?” she whispered.
“I stood by while so-called friends teased him.”
The horror ground through her insides. “Let me guess. They called him stupid?”
“Among other things.” Each word seemed to scrape from inside him. “They were very cruel. To be fair, I was on my way to some silly play and I didn’t think I had time to stop and tell them to leave him be. I should have.”
“Oh, poor Billy.”
Duke wiped his hand across his face once more.
“He tried to drown himself because of what they said?”
Duke’s gaze clung to her, full of despair and sorrow.
She pressed her hand to her chest in a vain attempt to quench the same emotions rising within her. “You rescued him?”
Duke nodded.
“He saved me.” Neither of them had heard Billy reenter the room. He rushed to Duke’s side and hugged him. The movement caused Duke to flinch with pain but he patted Billy’s back and smiled.
Billy continued, “He almost drowned, too. You’re a good man, Duke.”
A silent communication passed between Rose and Duke. She understood what he hadn’t said. He saw only his failure in not intervening when he could have.
She wanted to grip his shoulder and say his good deed cancelled out his failure. Instead she turned her attention back to the meal preparations.
Who was he? Truly? A manipulator who said the feud was over when it obviously wasn’t. A hero who almost drowned rescuing someone weaker than him in every way.
He was a curious mixture of strength and vulnerability. Could he be both at the same time? What was she to believe?
Was he a feuding neighbor, the arrogant son of the rich rancher?
Or a kind, noble man?
She tried to dismiss the questions. What difference did it make to her? She had only come because he’d been injured and Ma had taught all the girls to never refuse to help a sick or injured person.
