A Soft Kiss in Winter

by Lily Graison

  She gave an apologetic look to his face and mumbled, “I’m sorry,” before she cut up the length of the trouser leg and through the waistband. Her face heated at the thought of uncovering him. Would he be angry with her for stripping him bare?

  Chewing on her bottom lip, she stared at the gentle rise and fall of his chest before jumping to her feet and walking back into the bedroom. She searched through the trunk at the foot of the bed again and found a stack of sheets and carried them back into the other room. She unfolded one and flipped it into the air so it would unfurl to its full length and knelt at his side again. “Please, forgive me, Gideon.” She pulled the ruined pants away and quickly covered him from the waist down with the sheet, leaving his injured leg uncovered. Strips of cloth were cut from another sheet for bandages.

  She searched the entire cabin for needle and thread and found a small box tucked underneath the bed that held an assortment of threads and a few sewing needles and to her surprise, a jar of clear liquid. She pried the lid off and took a sniff and gasped when her nose began to burn. It was alcohol. Her cousin had once brought a decanter of harsh smelling spirits to her father’s annual Christmas party, boasting that he’d gotten it from a fellow who ran a still behind his house. This smelled much the same.

  She carried it all back to Gideon’s side. Threading the needle, she cleaned the sharp metal with the alcohol and took a deep breath before glancing at his face. He was still out. “Please don’t wake up yet.” She bit her lip and splashed a bit of the alcohol on the cuts and was glad he only twitched and groaned instead of waking. She leaned over him, her stomach rolling as she pushed the needle into one edge of his flesh and out the other. Holding her breath seemed to help her queasiness. She kept her stitches small and close together and worked as quickly as she could, ignoring the fact every poke led to more blood.

  A clock on the mantel ticked away the seconds and the heat from the fire warmed her face. She worked hunched over until her back protested but was determined to finish before resting. When the last stitch was in place she wiped down the wounds again with clean, warm water. She knew she’d never be able to lift him high enough to secure bandages around his back and settled for laying them over the wounds instead.

  She carried the bloody water to the sink and dumped it, melted more snow and washed her hands and arms before splashing the sweat from her face. Exhausted, she crossed the room to kneel at Gideon’s side. She checked to make sure she hadn’t missed anything before she leaned against one of the chairs facing the fireplace. Her shoulders and back ached from sitting hunched over so long and every move pulled a new muscle she wasn’t aware she had. With a final sigh, she closed her eyes, letting the adrenaline coursing through her body slowly seep away. The crackling wood in the fire and the ticking clock lulled her until she dozed off.

  A noise drew her eyes open sometime later. She didn’t know how long she’d slept but it was long enough for the wood to burn down. She leaned over Gideon again. He was still out. She patted his cheek. “Gideon.” She said his name three more times, the pats to his cheek landing harder with each repeated use of his name and relief flooded her body when his eyelids fluttered. “Gideon?”

  He groaned, then swallowed, his throat working as he did. His eyelids fluttered again, before he blinked them open. He looked dazed.

  “Gideon? Can you hear me?”

  He licked his lips and winced when he tried to move. “I guess he didn’t kill me after all.”

  She laughed as tears filled her eyes. “No, he didn’t kill you.” She pulled the sheet up higher on his waist. “Are you in much pain?”

  He lifted his head and groaned.

  “Don’t try to move.”

  His head thumped back to the floor and he winced.

  “Careful. You have a nasty bump on the back of your head.”

  “What happened?”

  “What do you remember?”

  “You screaming, then a mountain lion jumping me.”

  She nodded. “I barely saw him before he hit you. Once he had you on the ground, you lost your pack and I grabbed your rifle and shot at him. It was enough to scare him away. You were unconscious so I dragged you back here and cleaned you up.”

  He looked down the line of his body and lifted his right hand, lightly tracing over the crude bandages she’d made. “How bad is it?”

  She sighed. “Bad enough to make me worry.”

  That fear she’d had when Thomas took ill crept along her body until her blood started racing through her veins. “I cleaned the wounds best I could and sewed the worst of the torn flesh closed. Do you have anything to cover the wounds with? Any salves or remedies? I know nothing about doctoring.” She was starting to panic. Tears burned at the back of her eyes and she could barely catch her breath.

  Gideon grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  Thomas’s pale face and unresponsive gaze filled her mind’s eye. “What if it isn’t?”

  He licked his lips again and blinked his eyes a few times before closing them. “It will be. I trust you. I’m all right.”

  He was dying. There was no way he could be in this much pain and not be.

  Gideon closed his eyes and tried to keep from groaning. Every muscle hurt, the flesh on his chest felt as if it were on fire and his head throbbed with each pulsing beat of his heart. The worried look on Victoria’s face was the only reason he didn’t complain. She looked pale, her hair hanging in wet tendrils by her face and she kept biting her bottom lip making it red and a bit swollen. If he had to guess, he’d say she was close to panicking. The fact she did made him worry.

  He lifted his head up and tried to see why he hurt so much. Most of his chest was covered in bandages of some kind. A sheet lay over his legs and hips. A slight move of his leg told him he was naked and he didn’t get that way by his own hand. Victoria had undressed him but he was in too much pain to worry about it at the moment. He laid his head back down and tried to swallow. His throat was so dry it hurt. “Can you get me some water?”

  She nodded. “I’ll have to melt more snow. The pump at the sink isn’t working.”

  “It’s just old and stubborn. If you keep pumping the handle, the water will eventually get to the house.”

  “Oh, all right then.” She was on her feet in seconds, hurrying to the kitchen. He watched her try to draw water out of the old pump. He’d been meaning to fix it for ages now but never got around to it. The water pipe groaned as Victoria pumped the handle quicker, the water finally gushing out to splash into the sink. She smiled, then filled a cup and one of the water pitchers on the shelf and brought them both back to where he lay. She helped him lean up enough to not make a mess and drink his fill, then set the cup and pitcher nearby. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked.

  “That mountain lion’s hide would make me pretty happy at the moment.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “Unfortunately, I’m not a good shot. I don’t even think I came near to hitting him.”

  He grunted and closed his eyes. The room was starting to spin and the back of his head hurt. He raised a hand and ran his fingers through his hair and winced when he felt a knot the size of an egg.

  “Don’t do that,” Victoria said, pulling his hand away. “I think you hit your head on a rock when you fell. It didn’t look as if it needed stitching but I would imagine it will be quite sore for some time.”

  He lowered his hand and blew out a deep breath. “What time is it?”

  “Half past four.”

  “Hmm…” He ran a mental list of all the things that needed to be done before nightfall. “It’ll be dark soon. Is there enough wood?”

  “Umm….”

  He could hear her shifting near him and opened his eyes and tried to look behind him where the wood box sat.

  “I don’t think this will last the whole night.”

  He nodded and braced his elbow on the floor and sat up.

  “Gideon! What are you doing?
”

  “We need more wood.” Sitting up was a mistake. The whole world spun and he slammed his eyelids shut to try and make it stop. Nausea caused his stomach to flip, his mouth filling with saliva. He groaned and let her push him back to the floor.

  “Lie back and don’t move. I’ll get more wood.”

  Her hands felt cool against his skin. He licked his lips and willed his stomach to settle. “I can help.”

  “No, you can’t. You’re hurt and completely naked at the moment so stay where you are. I’ll get it myself. I’m not helpless.” She stood and turned away, her skirts sweeping across his arm. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He heard the door creak open. “Where is the woodpile?”

  “Beside the house. Next to the porch.”

  The door closed a moment later and he was alone, the ticking of the clock and the crack and pop of wood in the fireplace the only sounds he heard other than the occasional gust of wind whistling against the house. He’d been alone in this cabin more often than not but for the first time since moving up here, the silence was deafening. He looked toward the window in the kitchen. Not much light lit the glass panes. It would be full dark soon. He closed his eyes again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so tired. His brain felt sluggish and staying focused was getting difficult but he had to stay awake. Victoria needed him. Had she eaten? Was she hungry? She’d need fresh meat. If she couldn’t hit an animal as large as a mountain lion, he doubted she could shoot a rabbit.

  Thinking of her seemed to conjure her out of thin air. One moment his thoughts were filled with her, the next she was beside him.

  “Are you still all right?”

  “Yes.” He licked his lips to moisten them. “Are you hungry? It’s too dark to hunt but there’s a cellar under the house. I can—“

  “You’re not going anywhere but to the bed. Can you stand?”

  “I’m fine right where I am. You take the bed.”

  “I will not. You’re hurt.”

  “And I’ve slept on this old rug more times than I can remember. When Graham is up here with me we flip a coin for the bed. I always lose. You take it. I’m used to the floor.” He looked up and held her gaze. “I’m fine. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I knew it was you down here and not me.” It took her long minutes to agree, but she eventually nodded her head at him and pulled the sheet higher up on his chest.

  “Get some rest, Gideon. You’re in no shape to be worrying over me. It’s my turn to watch over you.”

  Chapter 7

  Mauled by a mountain lion and he was still trying to take care of her. Victoria made Gideon as comfortable as she could on that old rug and stood. The first order of business was getting enough firewood to last through the night. She made three more trips out to the woodpile and filled the box by the wall to overflowing.

  She looked toward the kitchen when finished. It wasn’t overly large. A table with four chairs sat close to the front wall near the door. Windows stood on either side of the stove, the sink and long cabinet on the right. Shelves lined the wall above the sink and held an assortment of pots, pans, plates, cups, and bowls. The cabin wasn’t much more than two rooms and a fireplace. It felt quaint and cozy.

  A narrow door off to the side of the sink drew her attention. She crossed the room and peeked in. It was dark inside but she could make out a few shelves, each one filled with dry goods. It was a pantry, fully stocked from the looks of it.

  She grabbed one of the oil lamps she’d lit earlier and returned to the pantry, taking a mental inventory of what was there. They needed something to eat. They hadn’t had anything substantial since the night before. Most of what they’d eaten on their trek over the mountain had been nothing but dried meat and water.

  Heading to the front door, she gathered up both their packs she’d dropped there and carried them to the table. She searched through everything Gideon had in his pack and found the cloth sack he kept the dried meat in.

  Gideon moaned and shifted. He seemed restless. Victoria crossed the room to check on him but he appeared to be sleeping. She added another log to the fire. The cabin was warm now and the extra shirts she had on over her dress were causing her to sweat. She pulled the sheet covering Gideon higher up on his chest, then stood and began pulling the extra shirts off, tossing them to one of the cushioned chairs near the fireplace. Turning her back to Gideon, she shimmied out of the trousers she wore underneath her skirts and felt better once free from all that extra material.

  Heading back into the kitchen, she saw a round metal latch in the floor as she neared the table. She bent to see what it was and noticed the way the boards around it appeared to be off-center to the others. It was a door. Was this the cellar Gideon mentioned? Grabbing the latch, she pulled up on it, the door creaking as it lifted. It was dark inside but cool, musty air wafted from the hole and chilled her to the bone.

  She grabbed the lamp she’d left near the sink and walked back to peer down into the inky blackness. It was the cellar. The dirt floor was packed and she could just make out a few free-standing shelves off to one side.

  The steps leading down were narrow and the cellar wasn’t overly large but shelves lined three of the dirt walls and all of them were filled with jars of canned vegetables, fruits, and a few things she couldn’t identify. A low table on the wall behind the steps held a basket of potatoes and onions. She smiled at the bounty and grabbed an empty basket from the table, filling it with enough vegetables to make a hot stew. The dried meat would flavor it and it would at least fill Gideon’s stomach with something. Seeing a bag of beans, she carried those up as well. She’d put a pot of those to the side to soak and cook tomorrow.

  Carrying it all back upstairs, she lit a fire in the stove and set a pot of water on top to boil. The vegetables and dried meat were added and it didn’t take long for the scent to fill the small cabin. Thomas may have turned out to be the complete opposite of what she’d thought he was when they married but being with him had given her a few skills she hadn’t possessed before leaving Chicago, cooking being one of them.

  She checked on Gideon again as the stew simmered. He was still sleeping if she had to guess. His chest still rose and fell with even breaths. His bandages were only showing small spots of blood but perspiration dotted his forehead. Was he too close to the fire?

  The water and cloth she’d used earlier were still on the hearth. She dumped the water outside and refilled the bowl and settled back down beside him, dipping the cloth into the water and squeezing as much moisture as she could from it and bathed his exposed skin. He never moved as she put the cloth to his face.

  He had strong features, his nose straight, his lips full. Her gaze lingered on his mouth for longer than it should have before she blinked and moved the cloth to his shoulders and neck.

  Old puckered scars raked across his left shoulder and ended just below his collarbone. She fingered one of the raised slash marks and traced it over his shoulder to his back. Was this from the bear attack he’d told her about? She moved the cloth across the old scars then moved lower.

  His chest was well defined with a dusting of dark hair that Thomas hadn’t had. Thomas’s features had resembled that of a boy compared to Gideon. Where Thomas had been soft, Gideon possessed honed muscles stretched tight. There wasn’t an inch of fat on him anywhere she could see. This was the body of a man who worked hard, the calluses on his hands were proof of that. His stomach was ridged with muscles she could just make out underneath his skin and the same dark hair on his chest continued to his belly and swirled down below his navel to disappear underneath the sheet.

  Her face heated as her thoughts lingered on where that trail of dark hair led. She’d tried her best not to look while undressing him but it had been hard to ignore that region of his body completely. That was one area he’d been different from Thomas as well. Very much different.

  She dipped the cloth into the water again and ran it over his stomach, the sheet slipped lower as she moved further down. T
he thin material did nothing to conceal him. It outlined parts of him she shouldn’t be thinking about and the cloth in her hand stilled as her gaze was drawn to his groin. She could make out every inch of his flesh underneath that thin sheet. The cloth in her hand lowered, the sheet falling down his hips. That trail of hair leading from his navel ended up in the exact place she had no business looking. Heat crept across her cheeks. She turned away, glancing at his face to make sure he wasn’t watching her.

  Gathering the water bowl and cloth, she went back into the kitchen. Why had she done that? What was wrong with her? If someone had observed her as she’d just done Gideon, she would have clawed their eyes out, so why?

  Guilt and shame filled her as she dumped the water. Her face felt on fire as she turned to the stove and stirred the stew. She laid a hand to her cheeks and closed her eyes. The moment she did, all she could see was Gideon, the endless expanse of flesh on his body that looked so unlike Thomas. The hardened muscle covered in patches of dark hair, the sheer size, and girth of his—

  Her entire body flushed hot. The air inside the cabin grew humid and now she was the one perspiring. Bathing Gideon’s skin may have led to thoughts she shouldn’t be having, but she wouldn’t be sorry she did it. It had to have made him feel better. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d bathed and looked to the sink before glancing back at Gideon. He would sleep for a while yet, she was sure. She’d have time to get cleaned up while the stew cooked and forget all about the shameful thing she’d done while bathing his sweaty flesh.

  She grabbed another pot and filled it with water, then set it on the stove to heat.

  There wasn’t much she’d been able to pack in her bag when Gideon found her and announced he was leaving. She’d had to throw what she could inside the satchel and chase after him but she had remembered to grab the brush and comb Thomas had bought her after selling the fancy silver set her mother had given her.