She placed her hand on the white horse’s rump, stepped onto the tongue, and reached down to free the horse tail. The animal shifted and wedged her between his butt, and the sorrel. Her breath grew shallow, and her heartbeat kicked up when the powerful animal pranced and sidestepped in response to her intrusion.
The white horse slammed into her side and smashed her against the front of the wagon. Pain pierced her lower back, and her heart beat hard and fast against her ribs. She was going to die. God, Elizabeth. Why do you do such foolish things?
Spooked, the sorrel pranced to the right, and the tug of the axle caused the white gelding to resist and panic. Before she could jump clear, the pale horse thrashed, yanked, and tried to buck to break free. Beth held on to the wooden frame. The wood beneath her feet splintered when the horse kicked toward her. She squished against the front of the wagon and clung with a white-knuckle grip, trying to brace herself. All she could do was cling. Cling to the wooden structure and cling to her life as she tossed back and forth, bashing into each of the horses.
The harness that connected the panicked horse to the wagon snapped and whipped past Beth’s face, barely missing her tender skin. Within a heartbeat, the second connection cracked, and the frightened animal broke free of its confines and bolted. The mare tore down the trail, the long reins whipping in the air. The wagon shook as the remainder of the animals fought to break free and follow.
Beth eyed the now empty space, gauging the distance she’d need to leap. She bent her knees to jump as someone yanked her from the perch. She landed with a loud thump in the vegetation, a safe distance from the wagon and team.
She glanced up to see Garrett, face fierce, but fright tinted his eyes like a storm over the mountain top. He towered over her as her heart began to slow.
“Get up, boy.” Teddy Barns stalked toward her after settling the remaining horses. “The horses didn’t lick you enough. I’m gonna finish the job.” Across the field, men dropped their tools, and started after the fleeing horse.
Teddy grabbed the front of her overly large jacket near her throat and plucked her from the ground like she was no heavier than a babe. Her feet dangled in the air as Teddy wound his arm back, prepared to issue the promised beating. Beth closed her eyes, ready for a lickin’ she knew she deserved.
It seemed like time slowed as she waited for the pain, but all she felt was Teddy release her jacket and the hard ground as she once again landed on her butt.
“I’ll do it,” Beth heard Garrett say. She opened her eyes as she clutched the ground in her fists, as if the little crushed plant in her palm could stop the moment.
Garrett released the white-knuckle grip he had on the front of Teddy’s shirt, but the chute monkey shook his head. “Hell no, Garrett, this flunkey broke my harness and spooked my horse.”
“He’ll pay for it. A week’s pay should cover the expense. Brent isn’t a wet-nosed flunky,” Garrett replied in a mild tone. “He’s training to be a riverman.”
Teddy paused for a moment and stepped back. “Fine, I’ll use my spare harness, but I expect you to teach this river rat a lesson in touchin’ another man’s belongins.”
Garrett nodded at Teddy, grasped Beth’s upper arm, and picked her up. She tripped along the trail as he led her farther into the forest. “What kind of fool thing was that? I’m gonna whoop you a good one, boy,” he growled as they stomped through The Grove and headed deep into the forest. The men chopping trees stopped and watched.
She followed him up the path until it became no more than an animal trail. Angry vibrations emanated from Garrett. They were getting farther into the trees now. She couldn’t see or hear any sign of habitation. Except the occasional bird call or scurry of a frightened animal, there was no sign of humans anywhere. They were alone.
“What the hell was that?” His voice sounded calmer than before, but still shook with a vibration of anger. “You could have been hurt…or worse.”
“I know.” Her voice sounded small, even to her. “The mare was beautiful. I didn’t think she would spook. They looked tamed and calm.”
“What would your brother think if the whistle sounded for you? He’d be devastated.”
She didn’t have a response. He was right.
Garrett studied the trail in front of them without speaking, or even glancing in her direction, as the path grew narrow. They continued the climb without a word. She knew from dealing with him the last few days that his pinched-lipped silence meant he was upset. She’d really messed up this time. He’d never forgive her, or let her stay.
Just when she was about to insist on stopping for a break, they entered a small clearing. In the middle sat a small, roughly built cottage surrounded by tall grass and smiling white daisies. The serenity of the meadow helped to ease the tense back muscles she’d sported since realizing her mistake with the horses. She didn’t want to make the blunder that would put her on the first train home, and she had a feeling she just did.
He neared the cottage and faced her. “I think you should reconsider your determination to ride the river.”
“No.”
“I can force you.”
She blinked a few times to stay the tears caught behind her eyes. Her voice cracked in a weak whisper. “You wouldn’t.”
“Beth.” The simple word sounded pained.
“I’ve got other reasons to stay,” she said. Anything to convince him.
“What?”
“I…I can’t say. It’s important, though.”
“If you can’t give me a reason, I will put you on the next train down the mountain. The camp is no place for a lady. You’re going home.” He grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the trail.
“Someone’s trying to ruin the company!” she blurted out. Blast. She showed her hand, but if that’s what it took to stay, she’d let him in on all her secrets. Well, most of them.
He hesitated and turned to her. “What?”
“I overheard someone at the platform after Simon got home from the pre-season meeting with you and the big bugs. Someone’s out to destroy Big Mountain. I know who he is.”
Garrett stiffened. “Who.”
“He has a deep drawl.”
“You said you knew who he is.”
“I do. I saw him,” she lied. “But I don’t know his name.”
Beth chewed on her bottom lip as the lump in her throat dropped to the deepest pit of her stomach and made it ache. He had to let her stay. The more she got to know him, the more she wanted to bring the saboteur to justice. He loved this company as much as her brother did.
“If I could meet everyone—see who they are—I’m certain I can identify the culprit.” She dropped her shoulders and tilted her head, a silent plea that always worked on her brother. “Please, Garrett. I need to stay. I promise. I’ll take care in the future. I won’t get into trouble. You’ll be there to watch me.”
Garrett pressed his palms over his eyes and then jerked his head back up and threw his hands to his sides. “You can stay, but you will remain with Aunt June as camp cook.”
“No. The men already think I am a Devil May Care, and I won’t meet anyone in the Bonner camp if I’m hidden in the cookhouse. I’ll stay in the bateau during the drive. I promise.”
“What do you plan to do once you find the traitor? You can’t even heave an ax properly let alone take on a riverman.”
“I’d planned to tell Simon.”
“Why didn’t you do that to begin with?”
“I didn’t want to risk his life.”
“No?” Garrett scoffed. “Just your own, right?”
“Please? I need to do this. Do you realize what will happen to Bonner if they lose the mill? So many children will be without homes, without the means to buy clothes. If I can help to keep even one baby fed, alive, I will move this mountain to do so. Can’t you understand?”
&n
bsp; “I can.” He stood silent and fixed his gaze on her. “You would stay here to help save a company you don’t have any connection with, other than your brother, for the prosperity of others?”
“For the lives of others. This place is important to Simon, and you. Why would I not help out if I knew something was amiss?”
With a deep inhale, he inched closer. He reached up with hooded eyes, and pinched a stray lock of her spiked hair between his fingers. The heat from his hand made her vision blur and all she could see was his face.
Silence stretched as the air seemed to thicken.
“You have a good heart, Elizabeth Sanders.” He lowered his head closer until she could feel his breath mingle with hers. Was he going to kiss her? She stared at his lips, hovered over hers. They squeezed together mere seconds before he stepped away, and cold air replaced the warmth of his breath—a cold she felt down to her soul.
He cleared his throat.
“Uh…this is a place we can go to get away,” Garrett said and motioned to the small abode in the center of the flowers.
“A cottage?” She turned to the small house. “How did you find this?”
“Your brother and I made it our first spring here. Quaint, is it not?”
“What is it called?”
“Called?” Garrett shook his head in confusion.
“It seems a little too whimsical to not have a name. Don’t you think?”
Garrett dipped his chin a fraction of an inch and gave her a stare that made her stomach flip. She swallowed harder than she’d expected, her tongue dry. He waved toward the abode. “We never bothered naming it. Would you like to do the honors?”
“Hmmm.” Beth cocked her head to one side and stared at the building, partly to break away from the growing need to radiate toward him, and part to judge the entirety of the scene. “It feels as though a fairy tale could take place in this meadow. How does Mother Goose’s Cottage sound?”
“Like a princess would be welcome to grace the bed within.” The tenor in his voice wove the words like silk over a velvet carpet. The thought of both sinfully pleasant fabrics brought visions no decent woman should possess—especially since Garrett stood like a conqueror, square in the center of said visions.
Loggers do not wear silk.
Not even loggers of the female kind. Namely, her.
She took a deep breath to steady the beat of her heart as he stepped toward her. His eyes darkened like a storm above a mountain peak, and pulled blessed moisture back into her parched mouth. He stopped close enough to warm her entire body with his heat. He flicked his hand toward her, stopped, clenched his fist, and then dropped it to his side. Beth’s heart all but stopped short when he cleared his throat and turned to wave toward the cabin. “Loggers, on the other hand, may not be so fortunate.”
“Why not?” Beth also focused on the solid structure. As if the swirls and dips in the wood could answer his question, and make sense of the moment they’d just shared.
“Aren’t loggers always the villains in fairy tales?” he said in a tone she could only describe as a manly, forced chipper. Not his usual drawl. Curious.
If he could pretend the moment wasn’t profound, then so could she. “Heavens no. The timber men are always the heroes. Everyone knows this. Why else would they be featured in such a romantic story?”
“Romantic?” One of his eyebrows perked up. “I didn’t know stories about wolves trying to eat children were romantic.”
“Well, maybe not all fairy tales, but most.” She smiled.
“Mother Goose’s Cottage it is then. As long as I can be the hero in whatever story takes place here.” The silk was back in his tone, but luckily without the velvet carpet. To be honest, the whole thing confused her to no end. This was Simon’s friend, Garrett, for heaven’s sake. A man too refined to speak her name on the sidewalk. Yet she was quite certain he was flirting with her.
She’d played this coy game before, but never had it filled her heart with more joy than it did today.
“Perfect. Now all we need is a princess.” She walked into the sea of flowers, and spun around to watch the colors mix. She needed to cool her fiery skin, and what better way to do so than to make distance and feign delight in the foliage.
Her twirl halted when a large hand snaked around her middle. She gasped and stopped. Garrett’s face hovered mere inches from her own. In that moment, she wanted him to kiss her. To take the sensation she’d felt moments ago a step further. Would he?
“You are the closest thing to a princess these woods have ever seen,” he said, the silk and velvet now weaving a tapestry in his voice. A blasted tapestry to hide the secrets he kept hidden behind pretty words. A moment of passion, perhaps? Would it be wrong of her to give in to one kiss should he be so inclined?
Her breath caught in her lungs. Her mind swirled as his hand caressed her cheek bone. This was real. Garrett’s touch tightened her core, and spread heat to every inch of her body. The fire in his eyes made her stomach churn in alarm, yet somehow it excited her. She’d been kissed before, but never by a man like Garrett. And never had she wanted it more than she did right now.
She stopped breathing, evident by the stillness of her chest. Garrett couldn’t help but study the path his hand took down the soft contours of her neck to dip into the crevice of her collarbone. She tilted her head, an offering. She needed to deny him. Make him stop…for her sake.
By the small of her back, he pulled her closer and lowered his lips to hers, needing to taste her as much as he needed to breathe. Her lips were as soft as he’d imagined. Warm and pliant beneath his, they begged him to take more. The scent of honeysuckle drifted and mixed with the surrounding smell of the flowers in the field. She could be his if he wished—the way she leaned into him as they kissed proved as much. He should claim her for his own.
Instead, he drew back and nestled his face into the hair above her ear. “‘And even silence found a tongue. To haunt me all the spring long’… I’m sorry, Beth. I guess I’m not the gentleman I believe myself to be.”
She drew back, confusion written on her face like the ink stained swirls of a hundred-year-old book. He shouldn’t have kissed her, but when she’d spun round, an inherent need to touch her itched his fingers. Only the softness of her skin beneath his could set his mind to right after her brush with death filled every fiber of his being with rage. The woman could send his world spinning, and stop it dead in its tracks in the same confusing moment.
A whisper of a frown creased her porcelain face, and she took a deep, shuddered breath. “I’ve heard that poem.”
“It’s John Clare. The name of the poem, I will never tell.”
“Did you bring me all the way up here to quote pretty poetry?”
He dropped his hands and stepped back, needing to put distance between them. He couldn’t have her so he shouldn’t toy with her emotions in such a way. As much as he wanted to claim her for his own, he could not. “No. I needed to clear my mind after your little incident down there. This is where I go to think.”
Beth chewed on her lower lip. “What did Mr. Barnes say?”
Garrett stared down into her crystal eyes. Heaven above, she tempted his resolve. Her swollen lips begged him to take them once more. He concentrated on her eyes, but even the blue depths only allowed him to gain enough mental control to answer her question. “He doesn’t know when the logs will be ready after the incident this morning. It could be weeks, maybe even a few months.”
Beth nodded, her face unreadable. He needed to pretend she was a spirit—nothing but the whisper of a woman, untouchable to him. He’d already proven he couldn’t control his impulses while she was around. He had to do something to keep his mind off her and his lips to himself. He would only break her heart. If pretending she was physically beyond his reach would work, then so be it.
“What do we do until then?”
Garrett pivoted and started down the trail. He waited for her to catch up before glancing back to see the disappointment show on her beautiful face. Did she want him as much as he did her? Did she love him? To find out that she felt something for him would be too much. If he could have had her for a wife, stolen her heart the way she did his, only to lose her because of his father’s pride, would be too much to bear.
No.
Focus on the task, he mentally scolded himself. “We help the timber beasts. There’s plenty of work to be done. Someone always needs a hand. We’ll have a meeting with the boys tonight. The shave tails usually train for the drive at night, which we will do, but during the day we’ll help with whoever needs a hand.”
“Are there many shave tails who need to train?”
“No, just you. I’ll be personally taking you through the ringer. When the time comes to take the river, you’ll be ready for the bateau.”
“I may seem frail in my gowns at home, but I’m no wilting miss,” she boasted, tripping over a raised tree root and falling flat on her face. He flinched toward her as she fell.
“I can see that,” he said, picking her up off the ground. A mistake. The line holding together his resolve tightened to its breaking point. He wanted to kiss her again. Taste the warm flavor of her mouth. Savor it.
“I can walk.” She wriggled out of his arms, only to crumple straight back to the ground, clutching her ankle. “I lied. I think it’s twisted.”
“Let me have a look.” He took a deep breath to check his wayward thoughts and bent down to adjust her leg so he could unlace the spiked boot and slip it off. He ground his teeth together against the urge to run his hands over her calf to see if her skin was as soft as her lips.
She yelped in pain when he pressed on her ankle.
“Sorry… It doesn’t look too bad. I’ll carry you down until we get close to where they’re working, and then you can try to walk again and see how it feels.” God, he was a glutton for self-punishment.
White Water Passion Page 9
