by Caroline Lee
If she hadn’t known him, she would have missed the hint of doubt in those green eyes. And that’s when it struck her: He’d done this for her. He was dressing like a civilized, stylish man—like Steven—because it’s what he thought she wanted. What she had always thought she’d wanted. She’d been so very wrong.
She couldn’t let him stand there uncertain. “You look very refined, Nate.”
Just like that, his hesitance was gone, and she smiled to see his grin. “And you look gorgeous as always, Wendy.”
He offered her his arm, and they stepped out into the night together.
“You’ve been busy.”
She caught his questioning glance, and when she canted her eyes down at his coat, he gave a small acknowledging smile. “Yeah. I figured it was time to start dressing like these St. Louis gentlemen I’m seeing all around.”
“You look the part. Very handsome.”
“How come you don’t sound like you mean that, then?”
He knew her too well. She remembered cutting his hair for him, a lifetime ago. Standing behind him, running her fingers through his hair, watching the way the little goose bumps formed on his neck from her touch. He’d probably gone to a barber for this haircut, and it hurt a little to think of someone else touching him like that. Which was stupid, because she hadn’t seen him—hadn’t touched him—in three long years. He wasn’t hers to get jealous over, no matter how hot that feeling was in the pit of her stomach. Why, he’d probably had women throwing themselves at him while she’d been gone.
So she didn’t answer, but gripped his arm tighter, and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. Like they were kids. Like they were married. Like they were someone else. His free hand covered hers, and she liked that he was still wearing his leather gloves.
They crossed back from Pratte to Park Avenue, and started walking along the rail lines. “I thought you would’ve liked seeing the new me. You were always writing about the fancy styles and the fine clothing in the big city. Serena’s like that, and Sebastian has elegance dripping off of him. I assumed…”
She tried to reassure him. “You look magnificent, Nate. Like a businessman who belongs here.”
“Is that who you want, Wendy?”
Her mouth went dry. Is that who you want? A man like Steven, or Mr. Morgan, who belonged here in a refined city? Or did she want Nate, as he’d always been; free and just a bit wild and perfectly happy to love the big wide nothingness of Wyoming?
She smiled ruefully. She’d always wanted Nate. But now that he was within her grasp, she couldn’t have him. Couldn’t hurt him that way.
“It doesn’t matter what I want, Nate. What you want is all that matters.”
“You.” She stumbled at his candor, and he stopped to catch her in both arms. Staring up at him, she shivered at the promise and the intensity of those mossy green eyes. “I’ve only ever wanted you. I’ve been waiting to have you since we were kids, Wendy, and I’ve followed you way out here. I can change my clothes and cut my hair, if that’s what it takes to make you love me, Wendy.”
Make you love me.
Dear God, she was in love with him. She’d always been in love with him. And now she’d lost him, due to her stupidity and naiveté.
The tears came then, but she turned away from him to wipe them from under her glasses before he noticed. It didn’t work, because she felt him squeeze her elbow. “Wendy?”
She did love him.
Wendy wanted to turn then, to throw herself into his arms, to press her cheek to the hollow at the base of his throat. To borrow the strength of those sinewy arms and hard chest. She wanted to let him comfort her. She wanted to be free to love him.
Instead, she swallowed her longing, and forced her voice flat when she lied. “It’s cold, isn’t it?”
He made a little noise—she wasn’t sure if it was frustration or agreement—and flagged down a Hansom cab. They were private, and more expensive than the horse-drawn streetcars, but they were faster and farther-ranged. Bundling her into it, he sat next to her and pulled the robe up over their laps. Squeezed next to him, the deep walls protected them from the cold, Wendy felt quite safe. Quite warm, except that he always made her feel warm.
“Now, you going to tell me what that was about?”
“No.” She smiled slightly, and pretended great interest in the shops along Park Avenue. “I’m rather afraid that if I do, our evening will be ruined. And since I ruined our last outing, I don’t want to do the same so early this time.”
“How about later?”
“Oh, I’m sure that I could ruin our evening later on. Give me time.”
“Fair enough.” She could hear his smile as he took her hand under the robe. “But for what it’s worth, I don’t think you ruined our last outing.”
The warmth in his voice drew her gaze, almost against her will, to his face. Unlike the smiling and teasing Nate she remembered from her childhood, right now his expression was still. But she could see the amusement dancing in his eyes, and felt her stomach flip at the realization.
Her tongue was too tied to respond, and that seemed to amuse him even more. “In fact, I rather enjoyed our time together Sunday. I especially enjoyed the last part.” He squeezed her hand, and leaned towards her a little more. “The kiss.”
“You did?” she breathed, feeling like a ninny. Goodness, he was warm, wasn’t he? She told herself that was why she was leaning towards him, drawn to his breath like moth to a flame.
“Yeah.” Had his drawl always been so arousing? Or was it just that she was woman enough now to appreciate it? To appreciate the promise she saw in those green eyes? To appreciate the way he made her pulse quicken and heat spread…
They were going to kiss. Wendy knew it. It was going to be another mind-shatteringly beautiful kiss, and she was going to be taken to Heaven and Hell all at once. It was going to be even better than the last one, and worse too, because she would know how hard it would be to pull away, and she couldn’t wait.
Then the horse took a corner a little tightly, and with a curse, the driver had to jostle the cab up on one large wheel. She was thrown against Nate, who anchored her to him with one strong arm. She could feel his frustration, but before he had a chance to resume his spell over her, she quickly scooted back to her side of the seat, certain to leave some space between them. Thank goodness for poor road upkeep, providing distractions for desperate and thoroughly wanton young women.
Clearing her throat, she stared intently out the window. “Where are we going, anyhow?”
“Forest Park.”
“Really?” The answer was unexpected enough to draw her gaze back towards him.
“Yeah.” Blast him, how could he look so relaxed and blasé when she was just a ball of nerves? “Mrs. Gardner suggested I’d like it, when I told her I missed trees that weren’t growing in a line and cut into ridiculous shapes.”
Wendy had to smile at that description of all of the carefully manicured St. Louis parks. But her earlier unfounded jealousy reared its head, and asked before she could tamp it down, “Mrs. Gardner?”
“My current land-lady. She’s nice, with plenty of stories and jokes.” He smiled, and Wendy told herself it was just the jealousy that made it seem like a fond expression. “She made me help decorate her Christmas tree with her the other night. I tell you, she’s got a hell of a lot of personality for someone so old.”
Ah. Well, that explained it. Her jealousy slunk off someplace to hide, and she said good riddance. There was no need to feel any ownership over Nate, after all. “Well, you always were irresistible to old ladies.”
He scowled, and she smiled. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“Aunt Agnes and Aunt Agatha never could get enough of you.” She’d missed teasing him, for all these years.
“Looks like they have, though.” The carriage took another turn, and he pulled her close again to anchor her. When he didn’t make any other move, she relaxed slowly against him. “Miss Agatha is stepping o
ut with Ian MacLeod now. Did Serena mention that?”
“She most certainly did not!” Wendy ignored the bite of guilt at the reminder that she still read Serena’s letters, if not his. “I remember Mr. MacLeod being… crotchety.”
Nate chuckled, and she felt it through her chest. It felt nice. “That’s an understatement. But he’s gotten better since Cam got married, and he’s got two new grandkids to distract him. Annie said that Miss Agatha said that she likes all of his new ‘energy’.” Wendy stifled a giggle at his grimace. “Swear to God, her words: ‘his energy’.”
“Well,” she managed not to choke on her laughter. “I don’t think we need to hear any more about his ‘energy’ or anything else the two of them have been doing, thank you very much. But,” she sneaked a glance at him, and was pleased to see his smile, “I would like to hear more about Cam’s new family.”
So for the rest of the trip, Nate held her and told her all about the amazing woman Cam had married. She’d never met anyone who was half-Chinese, and she found herself longing to hear Tess’s stories in person, and to hold little May. For that matter, she would like to hold Rose, her first niece, and see the boys and Molly and Annie and Ash again. And Serena and her aunts and all of her friends in Cheyenne.
This wave of homesickness was worse than any she’d experienced since those first few weeks in the city. She missed her family. She missed her home. She missed Nate, and he was sitting right beside her for goodness’s sake. She’d given up so much for some stolen moments of happiness that she thought would be forever. She was a fool.
The tears were threatening again when the Hansom pulled into Forest Park. She’d been here before in the daytime, but the torches and the lamps made it positively magical at night. The sight was enough to pull her from her melancholy, for which she was thankful.
The cab dropped them off in front of The Cottage, the most popular restaurant in Forest Park. Wendy had eaten here a few times with the Mulligans, two years before. Nate helped her down and paid the cabbie, who offered to come back in a few hours for a generous tip. Wendy listened with half an ear while they made arrangements, utterly enthralled by the magic of the moon reflecting off the snow around her.
When Nate turned to her, he must have seen something in her expression that gave him pause. He cleared his throat. “I was going to ask if you were hungry, but you look as ready as I am to go exploring.”
“Oh yes, let’s!”
With a smile—that special smile that he used to save just for her—Nate pulled her away from the restaurant’s blaze of light and into the shadowed woods. Forest Park was only a few years old, and at over a thousand acres, was still mostly undeveloped. Here was the natural beauty that Wendy had missed from home. Here was the magic and the wonder of snow drifts among tree trunks.
It started to snow slightly, and she thought she might burst, from the sheer perfection around her. Nate started to chuckle, and she turned to him, a smile on her face. “What?”
“You look like a kid with a handful of candy.”
She laughed, and it felt good to let some of the wonder escape. “I feel like a kid. Oh, Nate, isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yeah.” That drawl again, and the way he was looking at her said that he wasn’t talking about the trees. She blushed, and looked away.
Inspiration struck, and she knew how to distract him. Scooping up a handful of sheltered snow from beside a trunk, she pelted him hard in the chest. He didn’t make a move to block or dodge, like he had when they were younger. Instead, he stared down at it incredulously. Good Heavens, he was the only man she knew who could look so loose and relaxed while dressed in a suit. But when he slowly turned those eyes back towards her—dark now, in the dim reflected moonlight—she knew he wasn’t as civilized as he was pretending. She saw the wildness and savagery which she’d always tried to convince him wasn’t there… but that she loved.
With a squeal, she did what any young woman with an interest in self-preservation would do; she turned and ran, deeper into the woods along the little path. He growled, and she laughed, and they were children again.
She should have known that she didn’t have a hope of outrunning him. Still, she was laughing when he tackled her, and they both tumbled into a pile of snow. He turned slightly to cushion their fall, and made sure that she landed on top. The beauty of the scene wasn’t marred in any way by her breathlessness at the way he held her.
Black on white, that’s what she saw, looking down at him. His hat had fallen off, and his hair spread against the snow beneath them. Dark skin, dark coat against white… but she knew that the metaphor had no meaning. This man was honorable and good and deserved the best things in life.
She wished she could give them to him.
Nate had stopped breathing, with her poised over him like that. She was in control now, and although he ached to kiss her again, he wasn’t going to foolishly try to, like he had in the Hansom cab. No, it was up to her now.
She rested against his chest, her head held proudly above his, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so beautiful, so desirable. Oh yeah, he desired her alright, but more than that, he desired her love. He wanted to find out what was wrong, find out why the idea of loving him made her cry, and fix it. He wanted to be the one she turned to with her troubles, the one who helped her solve her problems. He wanted to be part of her life.
But the joy in her eyes turned to hesitance, and he exhaled slowly, knowing that she wasn’t going to kiss him again.
“Wendy?” His whisper broke the silent spell around them.
She wiped at his cheek with gloved fingers, and he wished it were warmer, so that he could feel her skin against his. “I’m sorry, Nate.” His stomach tightened, wondering what she was about to confess; but she was just apologizing for their earlier scuffle. “You have snow everywhere.”
He managed a light smile, and helped lift her off of him. She scrambled to her feet, and even retrieved his hat, pulling it down over his ears with a fond smile. He helped her brush off as much snow as possible from her coat, and then his. Then, hand-in-hand like it was the most natural thing in the world—and maybe it was—they strolled on.
It was one of those nights where the world seemed to be holding its breath. Soon they were far away from the lights and warmth of civilization, and he was thankful for the almost-full moon lighting up the scene. It was so quiet that he could hear the tiny, crystalline sounds the snowflakes made as they landed on branches and pine needles. Quiet enough to hear his own heartbeat, and he felt like he could hear hers beside him. He squeezed her hand, and she turned a wonder-filled expression to him. It was all he could do to keep from taking her in his arms and kissing her. Only the memory of the way she’d pushed him away the last times kept him from doing it.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” Their whispers fogged the air around them, but it was the kind of night that called for hushed voices.
“For bringing me here. For sharing this with me. It’s…” She looked up, smiling, and his throat tightened at the way the flakes fell on her cheeks and lips and lashes. “It’s… beautiful doesn’t describe it.” No, it doesn’t, he thought, watching her. “Amazing. Wonderful. Magic.”
He didn’t think he’d ever loved her more than he did at that moment, experiencing her wonder and joy at something as simple as a moonlit snowfall. But he couldn’t tell her that, not after the way she’d cried all over him earlier. So when she turned another smile on him, he just squeezed her hand. “Yeah.‘Magic’ is a good way to describe it. Reminds me of home.”
She blinked, and her dark eyes turned melancholy. “Yes, it does.” He was sorry he’d brought it up, and wondered what she remembered when she thought of Cheyenne. Wondered if she still thought of it as “home”. Wondered if she ever had.
“What do you think they’re doing back at the ranch?”
“Right now?” Nate shrugged. “In the winter, they let the kids stay up past dark, reading and telling stor
ies. Like when you were there, just…crazier now, with three of them.”
She had a snowflake stuck to the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, he reached up to brush it away. To his surprise, she caught his hand and pressed it to her cheek.
“I bet they’re all ecstatic about Christmas coming up.”
“Yeah.” He smiled, thinking about Christmases with his nephews. “They’re into everything, trying to find their presents. Ash has me hide them in the top loft of the main barn, where they’re not allowed to climb.”
She smiled too, but it was melancholy. With a sigh, she dropped his hand and turned to walk on. He felt empty, somehow, after that shared moment. But then she took his hand again, and they ambled off through the snowy woods, speaking of past Christmases.
After a few minutes, the light ahead grew stronger, and they began to hear voices and snatches of laughter. As they got closer, they realized that the path they’d been on had circled them back towards the central buildings, as in other parks. They emerged from the woods to see The Cottage restaurant again, but she didn’t drop his hand.
Dinner was memorable only because he shared it with her. The proprietor, a Mr. Herbert, came by to make sure everything was to their liking, but Nate hardly glanced at him. He was utterly entranced by the beautiful, gracious and outgoing woman across from him. They spoke of all sorts of things; the city, the ranch, her life at the school. He asked her about her writing process and what it was like getting published. She told him about having to keep her career a secret from her employers—Nate wasn’t surprised, considering Mrs. Blakely didn’t appear to approve of anything—and about her relationship with Mr. Lee, her publisher in Chicago.
“I never get to see him in person; we communicate almost entirely by post. He trusts me to get him the work, and I trust him to mail me my checks once a month.” She leaned forward, her eyes bright behind her round eyeglasses. “Producing art, Nate, isn’t like working a wage job. I work hard to write a story without getting paid. But then it’s published, and as long as people are buying that story—even years from now!—I’ll get paid. Mr. Lee sends me reports on how each story is selling, so that I know which types are popular.”
