“Do you think that Jeremiah and me weren’t planning on looking out for your ranch? What kind of fool notion is that? After all you’ve done for us, don’t you think Jeremiah is smart enough to get himself over there and feed your livestock and look after your cattle? Just this morning he gathered up the Boyds and they worked your ranch. So, you see, there’s no sense in working yourself into a tizzy about things. I’ve got everything under control.”
Dorie took a sharp breath, needing the oxygen to fill her lungs back up after her long tirade. She stared at Shane.
“You through?” he asked, his lips tight.
She nodded.
“Fine. I’ll be sure to thank Jeremiah. As for you, Doc Renfrow better not come to any wrong conclusions. You saved my life and I’ll be sure to tell him. You’re taking good care of me, Dorie, and I appreciate it.”
She nodded again, hearing the frustration in Shane’s voice. He was a man used to doing things for himself. He didn’t like taking a helping hand.
“But I have to return to my ranch.”
“Why, Shane? You’re not healed and, heavens, you haven’t even had a meal yet. I brought you broth. It’s probably colder than Lake Washoe by now, but it’s nourishment that you need. Lean back and let me feed it to you.”
“I can feed myself, Dorie.”
“No, I don’t think you can. You’re weak, Shane, and your fool intentions sapped what was left of your strength. I see it in your eyes, and the way your body is slumping. Don’t fight me. Lay your head on the pillow and let me feed you.”
Shane sucked in oxygen and stared at Dorie for a long moment, making up his mind. Finally, he leaned back, straightened on the bed, and placed his head against the pillow. “This doesn’t set right with me. I can do for myself.”
“And you will, once you’re healed.” Dorie found a place on the bed next to Shane. She took up the tray, placed it on her lap and began to feed Shane.
Once he’d finished without any further complaint, Dorie set the tray on the night table. “I’ll fix you a proper meal later, if you feel you can eat something more substantial.”
“Thanks,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I know this isn’t easy on you, Shane.”
He grunted.
“It’s just for a few days.”
He grunted again. Then he looked her square in the eyes. “Do me one favor, Dorie.”
“Sure, Shane. What is it?”
“Don’t sleep in this bed with me tonight.”
Dorie gasped. “Oh.” She hadn’t expected that. And suddenly their early-morning encounter rushed forth into her mind. Shane kissing her. Shane touching her. Shane wanting her. The vivid images brought color to her cheeks. She blushed full out.
But how could she sleep without knowing he was all right? What if he needed her during the night? “What if your wound opens up? What if you start bleeding again during the night?”
“I’ll call for you.”
“But what if you lose consciousness again? I won’t know. I won’t be there.”
“Dorie, I’ll be fine. I’m feeling better now.”
Dorie saw the lie in that. He looked weak and tired and he surely didn’t look better.
“I won’t sleep much from worrying over you.”
“No need to worry.”
“But why, Shane? When it’s so much easier for me to be in here with you.”
Shane’s green eyes focused solely on hers. Then his gaze traveled over her body, the heat of his attention creating warm tingles wherever his eyes touched. “You know why.”
“It’s because of what happened this morning. You said it yourself, it was the whiskey.”
Shane pursed his lips.
“If that’s the case, then you won’t have that worry. The bottle is empty.”
Shane appeared dubious.
“I’ll be here in case you need me, Shane. And you won’t have to concern yourself with doing anything inappropriate.” Not that she thought they’d done anything to feel shamed, but it was obvious Shane had admonished himself countless times over it today.
“It doesn’t exactly work that way, Dorie.” Shane’s voice held more than a note of frustration.
She could only come up with one conclusion from his arguments. “Then it’s because you don’t trust me.”
Shane sighed and shook his head slowly. “No, honey. It’s not that at all. It’s because… I don’t trust myself.”
“I made fried chicken and potatoes,” Mrs. Whitaker declared as she walked up the steps of Dorie’s house, carrying a big straw basket in one hand. “Jeremiah told me what happened to Shane and I thought I’d fix you all some supper. You must have your hands full here, dear.”
Dorie stood on the porch, noting the elegant way Mrs. Whitaker held her head, the ladylike sway of her gait and the soft charm in her voice. The clothes she wore were a bit nicer than one would call ranch clothes, with softer colors and finer fabric, but Dorie figured it wouldn’t matter if the woman wore a sack. She just had a way about her.
Dorie found herself admiring the older woman, while finding herself completely lacking. If only Mrs. Whitaker could transform her into a refined, graceful woman, half of Dorie’s battle would be won.
“It’s nice of you to come by, Mrs. Whitaker. And I’m grateful for the food. I plan to try to feed Shane a meal a little later on.”
“How is he?” she asked. “May I?” She gestured to a wooden bench on the porch and when Dorie nodded, she took a seat. Dorie sat down next to her.
“Stubborn as a mule,” Dorie blurted.
Mrs. Whitaker chuckled. “Most injured men are. They don’t like being tied down to the bed.”
“That’s for sure. Shane is resting now. He’s been asleep most of the day.”
“It’s probably the best thing for him. Jeremiah says he was stabbed by a longhorn?”
“Yes, he found him slumped over his horse out on the range. It looked as if he was heading here for help. There was a wagonload of blood, but Dr. Renfrow says he’ll be fine.”
“There was a great deal of blood.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said there was a wagonload of blood.” Mrs. Whitaker winked and cast her a quick smile. “You must always remember your speech, Dorie. Even when your guard is down.”
“I’m trying to, but it ain’t… I mean, it isn’t easy.”
“There, you see. If you think first, then speak, you’ll remember the finer points we’ve discussed. It’s not difficult speaking correctly if you take your time.”
Dorie nodded. “I guess I just don’t know how to slow down. I say whatever jumps into my head.”
“You’ll get it in time, dear. When you think, consider the words in your head first, before you open your mouth to speak.”
“I suppose I can do that,” Dorie said, without much enthusiasm. She wanted her plan to work so badly, but at times, she wondered if she could accomplish her goals in less than two weeks’ time.
“I suppose Shane will be here a little longer?” she asked.
“Maybe just one more day. He wants to leave now, but he ain’t… I mean, he isn’t healed enough. Why, I caught the fool man trying to get dressed today. He could barely stand on his own. The wound opened up and started bleeding again. He worried me to death. I had to pull his pants off and tell him he wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t all too happy about it.”
Mrs. Whitaker’s brows rose and Dorie once again wondered if she’d said something wrong. “No, I don’t suppose he would be. But as long as he’s here, you could take advantage of the situation.”
Dorie’s mind spun in a dozen different directions. She honestly didn’t know what Mrs. Whitaker meant, but if she’d been privy to their early-morning encounter, she might not have said it quite that way. “What do you mean?”
“Well, while he’s here, it’d be a good chance for you to get to know each other.”
Dorie mentally counted to ten, curtailing the
rush of blood to her face. She had experienced a rare chance to know Shane by the power of his kisses, the strength of his body, the desire he could barely contain. Oh, Dorie would relive those intimate moments for years to come. And his last words to her had caught her quite by surprise. She’d never have believed that Shane had trouble trusting himself while he was around her. He’d always given the impression he thought of her as little more than a child—one that needed his protection. His admission had opened her eyes and she realized that maybe he hadn’t only wanted her while plied with whiskey, but at other times, as well.
The revelation warmed her heart considerably.
“How?” she asked softly. “How should we get to know each other better?”
“Well, a wife has to know things about her husband. For instance, do you know his favorite meal? Do you know how he likes his coffee? Or whether he prefers his chicken fried or baked?”
“Fried, right? That’s why you brought him fried chicken.”
“I’m only guessing. But, you should know these things if you want anyone to believe you’re married. There are a whole variety of things you should find out. Now’s the time. Shane can’t very well refuse. He’s got nothing else to do, right?”
“Right.” Dorie smiled, the idea sinking into her head. “But he won’t like it.”
Mrs. Whitaker patted her arm. “Maybe, or maybe not, but you’ll find a way. I have every confidence in you, dear.”
“Really? You do?” Dorie felt ten times better now. If Mrs. Whitaker had faith in her, maybe she could pull this whole thing off.
“Yes, I really do. And… Shane should know your likes and dislikes, as well. A husband needs to know your favorite flower, color, time of day. Why, my Iggy knows me like a book. Sometimes I think that man knows me better than I know myself. That’s what you need to convey to the Parkers. That’s how they’ll believe you’re truly happy and in love.”
“Okay, I’ll try it. After I feed Shane your delicious meal, I’m sure he’ll be in a better mood.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.”
“Yes. Would you care to come inside for a glass of iced tea?”
“Yes, I would, dear. Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Dorie said, quite elegantly. “Please join me.”
Dorie opened the door for Mrs. Whitaker and they entered her house, her mood suddenly lighter.
“It’s downright bribery, Dorie, that’s what it is,” Shane grumbled, folding his arms across his middle, not entirely sure whether making that move was smart or not. The sudden thrust from that particular gesture stung his side with fresh pain. He shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed, sitting up against the headboard, with his back braced by a pillow. Dorie sat dangerously close, her bottom planted beside his thigh, lucky for him the sheet and blanket separated them.
“It’s not a bribe, Shane. But since you’re being so stubborn about this, I thought it best to make a deal.”
Shane stared at Dorie, willing himself to forget the muffled images in his head of kissing her this morning, and touching her soft skin, caressing her perfect breasts. Images that hadn’t been far enough from his mind all day. Hell, he’d even had a dream about her today and he’d not been pleased with his body’s reaction to that dream. He’d woken up stiff and miserable. “I’ve already made one deal too many with you.”
Dorie’s eyes widened and Shane noted the anguish he’d just caused her. “If it weren’t for Jeremiah, I wouldn’t have asked you for help.”
Shane softened his tone. “I know you were pretty desperate.”
“I never thought to break up your wedding, Shane. Even though you shouldn’t be marrying Marilee, I wouldn’t have barged in like that.”
Shane didn’t want to rehash this. He’d made a promise to Dorie and he’d find a way to fulfill his vow. But her last little tactic rubbed him the wrong way. “It’s in the past, so forget what I said. Now, about your latest bit of blackmail, you promise to stay out of this bed tonight, if I do what?”
“All you have to do is tell me some personal things about yourself. And I’ll share the same with you. That’s all.”
Shane narrowed his eyes. “What kind of personal things?”
Dorie shrugged. “You know, things only a wife might know.”
Shane scrubbed his jaw. He took a swallow of air. He was a private man and liked to keep it that way. How the hell would he know what a wife would know about him? He’d never been married before. “And you’ll let me alone to sleep in peace?”
“Was I that disturbing to your peace, Shane?” she asked softly.
Ah, hell. Dorie spoke with a winsome, hopeful tone in her voice as if it pleased her no end knowing she could addle his brain and create havoc with his body. He’d practically admitted to her that she tempted him with or without the benefit of alcohol. “More like a distraction. I like sleeping alone.”
“I promise I won’t disturb you, unless you need me. So, we can start with easy things. What’s your favorite meal?”
“Anything that doesn’t smell like horse dung and/or chew like leather is fine with me.”
Dorie folded her arms across her middle, and the move that meant to show her frustration, only added to his. Her breasts lifted and the material of her blouse hugged the soft globes underneath more tightly. “That doesn’t help, Shane.”
Shane prayed for patience. “Okay, let me think. I guess, I like beef stew best of all.”
Dorie smiled. “Beef stew. Want to know what mine is?”
“Sure, why not,” he said, giving up the battle.
“I like roasted turkey with all the fixings, potatoes with gravy and candied carrots. Oh, and I like cranberries. My mama used to make a cranberry and walnut dessert that I loved. So, how do you like your coffee?”
“My coffee? Black without grounds at the bottom.”
Dorie chuckled, the sound of her laughter almost as distracting as her pretty blue eyes and shiny coppery hair. Shane had been bedridden too long. His well-honed willpower had almost disappeared. “I don’t like coffee much, but if I do, I take it sweet and creamy.”
Sweet and creamy? Again, Shane prayed for patience.
“So, I know you drink whiskey. Do you drink any other kind of liquor?”
“Why?” he asked, glancing around the room. “Do you have any?”
“Lord, no. I don’t drink liquor, Shane. And it wouldn’t do to have it in the house. Jeremiah is just a boy.”
“Right,” he said, his hopes dashed. “I drink anything the barkeep shoves my way. But only if I’m so inclined. I don’t usually drink anything at all when I’m home. If I’m in town and a mite thirsty, I’ll have a drink. The alcohol at home is for medicinal purposes only.”
Dorie nodded as if she thought to file it all inside her head. “I understand.”
Shane smiled for the first time in two days. Dorie took this very seriously. He had to commend her for her diligence. When she wanted something, she went after it with unrivaled determination.
Dorie tapped her foot on the floorboards. “What else should I know about you?”
Shane hadn’t a clue.
“Was I your first love?”
Shane cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”
“The Parkers might want to know how we met? Was it love at first sight?”
Shane scoffed. “No such thing.”
“There is, too, Shane. My mama said my papa fell in love with her the moment they met.”
Shane held his tongue. He wouldn’t add that that marriage hadn’t ended well, with Dorie’s papa taking off to trap beaver. He’d never returned and then her mother discovered that he’d taken an Indian wife and a year later, died. It only proved his point. He didn’t much believe in love at first sight, and had a hard time believing in love at all. Shane had no experience in that regard.
Dorie appeared pensive. “We should have our story straight. They might ask.”
“If they do, then I’d say they’re pretty nosy.
”
“But they’re coming here to make sure Jeremiah is well cared for and loved. They’re bound to have all kinds of questions.” Dorie tapped her foot again. “Let me think.”
After a minute, Dorie’s eyes lit. “We met at a church social. You asked me to dance and…and well, you sort of swept me off my feet.”
Shane pursed his lips. “A church social?”
Dorie nodded with a smile.
“Okay, a church social.”
“And we got married about five years ago.”
“That’d make you thirteen, Dorie.”
She bit down on her lip. “Oh, right. We got married two years ago.”
Shane lowered his lids, thinking the Parkers wouldn’t hold him in too high regard figuring he’d wedded and bedded a young girl. “If you say so.”
“And we’re madly in love.”
“Right.”
“Well, you can pretend, can’t you?”
Shane scratched at his beard, the stubble itchy and uncomfortable. He’d need a shave soon.
“Well?” Dorie asked again.
Shane yawned. He’d had enough of this for now. He’d agreed to Dorie’s plan but he hadn’t figured to spend all of his waking hours readying for the day when the Parkers would come. He didn’t care for lying, and this scheme of Dorie’s required more than a king’s ransom of lies. “I’m getting tired, Dorie. You promised to let me sleep. Be sure to thank Mrs. Whitaker for supper. It was delicious.”
“Are we through?” Dorie asked, her voice laced with disappointment.
“Yep.”
“We’ll have to finish this another time.”
“Yep,” Shane agreed, slinking down into the bed and covering himself. “Another time. Good night, Dorie.”
“Good night, then. Remember, call if you need anything.”
“Uh-huh.”
Once Dorie slipped out the door, Shane breathed a sigh of relief.
He couldn’t have a repeat of what happened this morning. Their little “marriage” story reminded him how young Dorie truly was. She was just a girl. With a woman’s body.
Abducted at the Altar Page 8
