“I am afraid my foolishness resulted in a rather unfortunate accident, that being a rather bothersome cut to my foot.”
Dawson jumped to his feet once again, his look of concern deepening.
“We should fetch the doctor. I will ask your grandfather to lend me a horse, and I’ll—”
“Dawson, I’m fine . . . really,” Georgiana interrupted, motioning for him to sit back down. “It has been cared for properly, I assure you.”
“But you can’t be too careful,” he warned, the worry evident in his voice. “I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.”
“It’s not that serious and will mend itself in no time,” she reassured him.
When she took a drink, a tangled lock of her hair fell forward. At once, she realized what a fright she must look with her hair down, damp, and disheveled from the storm.
Embarrassed, she quickly ran her fingers through it, untangling it as best she could before nimbly working it into a braid and rolling it into a loose bun. She secured the bun with the few pins that thankfully had remained in her pocket. When she was finished, she stood up and carefully walked back over to fetch the kettle and finish preparing Dawson’s tea. He never took his eyes off her the whole time she’d reworked her hair in silence, and when she got up, he followed over to help.
“Let me finish this, Georgiana. You need to rest.”
“Nonsense,” she chided him. Surely she was not so hurt she couldn’t prepare a cup of tea. Besides, she had responsibilities to the men, and she didn’t intend to ignore them because of a little wound. They were all still working out in this beastly storm and would no doubt be cold, tired, and hungry when they came in.
She began hastily taking down pots and pans. Georgiana had promised the men fried chicken tonight with potatoes, and that’s what they were going to get.
“What are you doing?” Dawson asked, looking shocked.
Georgiana turned to face him, placing a hand on each hip. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m fixing dinner,” she replied sternly.
“But surely you can’t with—”
“I can and I will.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he put his hands up in mock surrender. Dawson was not ignorant of her Irish temper. She had never tried to hide it from him. If she had succeeded in doing so, surely that would mean they weren’t nearly as close as she thought they were.
“But how can you? You can barely stand,” he said, an incredulous look on his face.
“With your help,” Georgiana announced. Reaching over and grabbing her apron from its peg, she threw it at him. The look on his face made her laugh. She knew he wouldn’t put it on. Wearing an apron was always where he drew the line. Dawson had joined her in the kitchen back home a number of times while she was trying out some new recipe or technique she had learned. At first she figured he had devised it as a way to spend more time talking with her, but after a bit of coaxing on her part for him to participate, he seemed to enjoy himself. He would never admit it though.
All of their kitchen rendezvous had, of course, been on the sly. Had Aunt Cecelia ever found out, she would have put an end to them immediately. Never would she have tolerated such a breach of etiquette. It was already a stretch for her to allow Georgiana to continue cooking and sharpening her skills. Nevertheless, Georgiana had not once seen her aunt push aside a dessert or crumpet she had baked.
Dawson looked back at the door and then at her injured foot. She assumed he was weighing in his mind the repercussions of being caught cooking, by a bunch of cowboys no less. Would it damage his reputation too entirely? He must have decided to take the chance because he removed his town coat, hung it on a chair, and began rolling up his sleeves. When he was finished, he walked over to her side and smiled.
“Where would you like me to begin?”
Georgiana motioned over to a sack of potatoes leaning against the door to the pantry.
“If you wouldn’t mind peeling a few potatoes for me, I’ll start frying the chicken. I prepared most everything before I left earlier to paint. If we hurry, we can probably be done before any of the men return.” Before he walked away to begin his given task, Georgiana stood up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, ignoring the pain that shot through her foot.
He grinned a little wider.
“Thank you, Dawson, for risking your reputation to help me,” she teased, but having to feign her smile. Her foot was hurting her more than she would admit to, but with Dawson’s help, she would no doubt be able to get off it more quickly.
While they cooked, Georgiana told Dawson about what had happened in the meadow that led to her injury. She could see the grateful expression on his face when she told him how Ridge had saved her from being struck. Afterward, she dared not look at him directly. When she talked about Ridge, even as she said his name, her body warmed and a blush came to her cheeks. She worried Dawson would notice.
Her thoughts were instantly drawn back to the moments before Dawson had arrived. Ridge had almost kissed her again. She imagined she could still feel the warmth of his hands on her waist and the tender way he had held his hand against her chin as he looked into her eyes.
Guilt washed over her. Here, directly beside her, stood Dawson. A man she knew loved her dearly and one she greatly admired—maybe even loved back. He must have gone to great lengths to come out so far to see her. Dawson was a city man, through and through. He had no hidden or repressed desires to live on the frontier, and she knew him well enough to know he didn’t particularly enjoy being unclean for very long. The stagecoach ride was probably a great sacrifice, as dirty and dusty as she remembered getting. Now here she was being unfair to him—unfair to both of them, actually. Could she be in love with both men? How would she ever choose between the two?
It was Ridge, though, who seemed to be dominating her thoughts and affecting her so much lately. So much more than Dawson ever had or possibly could, she was beginning to realize. What did that mean for her and Dawson? Could that be her answer? Yes, she couldn’t deny it. She knew now that Ridge was the reason she had never been able to give her heart to Dawson. But now that Dawson was here and had kissed her in front of Ridge, what was she to do?
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Georgiana turned her thoughts from both men and put her energy instead into the meal she was preparing.
◁ ◊ ▷
Ridge stormed into the barn and shook the fresh rain from his coat and hat. Then, grabbing a currycomb, he went over to his horse’s stall and began brushing him down vigorously.
“Confounded, fickle women,” he swore under his breath, and Storm twitched his ears. “Why do they have ta be so . . . so . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence but instead kicked a bucket lying at the foot of the stall. The sound startled the horse, and Ridge gently rubbed Storm’s side and murmured a few soothing words to calm him down before continuing to brush him.
When the barn door opened and closed, he didn’t have to guess who had come in, and soon Angus stood leaning up against the door of the stall.
“Evenin’, Ridge.”
“Evenin’, Angus,” Ridge replied without looking up.
“I’m here to be thankin’ ye for findin’ me girl and bringin’ her home.”
Ridge nodded his head that he accepted his thanks, but he didn’t say anything.
“Surprised I was to see Tiny a totin’ that city lad of Georgiana’s out to the west field with him where we was workin’. Havin’ a tough time of it, we were, when they arrived. That there birch was no wee saplin’. If we tried haulin’ it out of the way with the horses, it would’ve fer certain taken another portion of the fence down with it. So I sent Roddy back to be gettin’ a couple of cross saws. Jonas and Jeremiah were searchin’ for the cattle. When Roddy returned, there was just the three of us, not countin’ Mr. Alexander.” He stopped to shake his head and chuckle softly. “Shocked out of me skin I was when the lad grabbed one end of a saw and started workin’ right along with us.” He looked up at Ridge an
d watched him for a second. “Never stopped or complained, just kept workin’ till we were done, even helped with fixin’ the fence. I ’spect he might be a pretty good lad after all.”
Ridge was finished seeing to his horse, so after he hung the currycomb back up, he walked over and picked up his coat and hat where he had haphazardly tossed them. After putting them back on, he grabbed a lantern.
“The storm’s let up quite a bit. I think I’ll walk around ta make sure there isn’t anythin’ else that needs tendin’ to.”
“Awk! Don’t ye be troublin’ yourself about that lad. ’Tis a chore that can wait ’til morn,” Angus argued.
“I’d feel better ’bout doin’ it now,” Ridge insisted.
As he opened the barn door, Jonas, Jeremiah, Tiny, and Roddy all rode up together. The storm indeed seemed to be passing. The wind had died down considerably, and only a light drizzle fell.
“Good, yer back,” Angus called to the men. “Have any trouble findin’ them runaways?”
“Nah, we got ’em under control,” Jonas called as he dismounted his horse and headed in their direction.
“Didn’t need Tiny and Roddy’s help,” Jeremiah added and followed suit.
Tiny and Roddy dismounted and walked their horses over. They looked a bit more worn for all the sawing they had done on the big old birch tree.
“Well then, lads, I thank ye for all yar hard work tonight. Take care of yar horses, get cleaned up a bit, and I’ll see ye in the house.” He turned to Ridge, who had begun walking off. “How long are ye expectin’ ta be gone, lad?”
Ridge looked up at the sky. As he stood there contemplating an answer, the rain ceased to fall.
“Seein’ as it has stopped rainin’, I think I’ll do a more thorough check of things.” He walked off again. Calling over his shoulder, he added, “Don’t wait supper for me.” Suddenly remembering something, he turned around. “By the way, Angus . . . thanks for the warnin’ earlier.” He tipped his hat at his boss’s knowing look and walked away.
◁ ◊ ▷
Angus shook his head as he watched the lad go. What a day! At least he had been able to head off what could have been a bad scene only moments before.
When he had first sent Ridge to find his Georgie, he was hopin’ they could find a minute to talk. Ridge had only returned from Castle Rock that mornin’. Angus had sent him there out of pity mostly, figurin’ it might give him a little peace to get away for a few days.
He knew Ridge was driving himself crazy worrying about Georgie having a beau back in the city. He’d been working and keeping himself busy enough to avoid being around her, and that was making him even crazier.
His granddaughter hadn’t been acting much better. What feelings she had for this Mr. Alexander, he didn’t know. But he knew, as sure as the dawn, she had feelings for Ridge. Besides, Jimmy had told him what had happened in town between the two of them.
When he and Mr. Alexander had headed back up to the house, Angus started to worry what they might be walking into. He decided it was best to call out to his girl. From the commotion he heard on the other side and the look on Ridge’s face when they entered, he figured he had made the right decision.
Angus shook his head and headed back up to the house. Yes, what a day this had been already, and this was only the beginning. Things were going to be lively around here, for a few days at least, he was sure. He was glad Jimmy had gone home for a few days to help his brother with the harvest. Even though Georgiana had seen fit to put the lad in his place, it would be one last thing to add to the drama.
◁ ◊ ▷
By the time dinner was prepared, the storm seemed to have passed. Georgiana’s grandfather came in and began engaging Dawson in a conversation about his family. It was then Georgiana excused herself to change and freshen up for dinner.
As she closed the door to her room, she let out a deep and weary sigh.
At least her surprise and apprehension at Dawson’s unexpected arrival had begun to dissipate somewhat. For now, all she had to do was get through dinner.
Georgiana slipped out of her tattered dress and sat down on the edge of her bed, drawing her foot up to take a look. She had begun to worry it had started bleeding again. She was pleased when she could see no sign of blood coming through the bandage. Ridge must have done well with his stitching, even though it throbbed relentlessly.
Lying back on her pillow, a sense of fatigue overcame her all at once, and she found herself struggling to keep her eyes open. Maybe I can rest for just a few minutes, she thought. Emotionally drained and having lost quite a bit of blood in the meadow before Ridge had bound her foot, her body was fighting exhaustion. So closing her eyes to rest, she fell unexpectedly into a deep sleep.
Startled, Georgiana sat up in her bed and looked around, her blanket falling away. Some night sound outside her window must have woken her, and for a few minutes she remained motionless, confused at the consuming darkness of her room. What time is it? she thought, shivering violently as the cool night air seeping in through the window pricked at her bare skin. She was wearing only her undergarments, but someone had thrown a quilt over her. It was the one that usually lay folded at the end of her bed. Georgiana pulled the quilt, still warm from her body heat, up and around her shoulders. She must have fallen asleep before she’d finished getting dressed. After the scolding she’d given her grandfather her second day back, she was confident he would never have allowed anyone else into her room. He must have checked on her and covered her with the quilt before going to bed himself. Snuggling deep into the comforting warmth, she lay back down on her pillow.
The moonlight filtered in through the window across her room, highlighting small particles of dust that danced around in the soft light as if to some reticent melody. Outside, a multitude of stars peeked out from behind a few wispy clouds. The storm had passed.
Georgiana lay in bed another moment debating which was worse, the pain in her foot or the pain in her stomach. She had eaten only a slice of buttered bread for lunch and had completely missed dinner. Either way, she would never get back to sleep if she didn’t at least try to appease her appetite. Besides, she was curious what had happened in her absence. There would be no one to ask, but the state of the kitchen would surely hint as to how everyone had gotten along at dinner.
Throwing back the quilt, Georgiana swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The throbbing became exceedingly worse as blood rushed to her injured foot. Nevertheless, she stood up slowly, limped over to her bureau, and retrieved her nightgown. As she slipped it on, Georgiana shivered again until the heat from her body, trapped in the heavy fabric, warmed the chill from her skin.
Leaving her room, Georgiana felt her way down the poorly lit hallway, grateful to the walls for support as she fumbled awkwardly. It would be a little more difficult to cross the parlor without upsetting some unseen object, but she didn’t want to risk stumbling with a lighted lamp.
When finally she hobbled through the kitchen door, having managed without incident in the parlor, there was enough moonlight coming through the two large windows that she could see fairly well.
Everything in the kitchen seemed to be in perfect order, and she felt an immediate sense of relief. She decided a slice of bread and a glass of milk would be sufficient to stave off her nagging hunger, or at the very least, it would get her through the night.
After pouring the milk and slicing a large piece of bread, she turned to head over to the table but then jumped with a start. Recovering quickly, Georgiana immediately smiled. Ridge was sitting at the table eating a plate of cold chicken. They had obviously been thinking alike.
Georgiana felt her heart begin to race. Oh, how being near him thrilled her senses! And now she wouldn’t have to wait until morning before they could talk. Besides, she thought hopefully, we have unfinished business.
Georgiana limped a few steps toward Ridge and slowed to a stop when she remembered she was not only wearing her night clothes but also her hair hu
ng loose, trailing wildly down her back. The gown was modest enough, she supposed, but just being near a man in her bedtime attire with her hair unbound felt entirely too intimate. She wouldn’t even consider what Ms. Wilmington would say. Shamelessly choosing to ignore her sense of propriety, she began walking toward him again.
“Georgiana . . . ,” Ridge spoke her name tenderly and leaned slightly forward into the light streaming in from outside.
She froze. He’d only whispered it, but she could hear in his voice the same timbre that earlier had spoken so completely to her heart. Her pulse quickened even more. She couldn’t help that her eyes were drawn to his full lips, which were now bathed in the moon’s soft glow. The disappointment of being deprived of his kiss earlier was still fresh in her mind. Forcing herself to look at his eyes instead, she saw a flaming hope that he might kiss her still this night. But instead of coming to her and taking her in his arms, his expression abruptly changed to something she couldn’t read. Next, his shoulders sagged, and she heard him sigh deeply as he turned his eyes away from her to stare out the window.
“What are you doing up in the middle of the night?” Georgiana finally asked when her heart rate slowed enough to trust herself to speak. She limped the rest of the way over and sat down across from him, wincing slightly because her foot was now throbbing. He looked back at her when she spoke, and she saw a sympathetic look flit across his face before it was once again unreadable.
“Same thing you’re doin’ in the middle of the night, looks like.” He attempted a grin, but it ended up looking more like a smirk.
“Hmm,” was all she could think to say as she stared at him. Georgiana knew now was the time she should explain about Dawson’s kiss . . . tell him it was a misunderstanding. “Ridge . . . about earlier . . . I . . .”
He stiffened immediately and sat up straighter. “Ya don’t need to say anythin’. I understand.”
The Kissing Tree Page 14
