Rocky Mountain Man (Historical) (18 page)

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Authors: Jillian Hart

Tags: #Man-woman relationships, #Historical fiction, #Western stories, #General, #Romance, #Western, #Historical, #Fiction, #Love stories

BOOK: Rocky Mountain Man (Historical)
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“I only meant to compliment your work,” she said when he returned. “I've never seen anything so amazing.”

“It's just wood. I whittle.”

“Well, I love it. I didn't realize you could see me coming.” She gestured to the wide window he'd repaired that offered a sweeping view of the forest sloping downward to the prairie that stretched forever and in the far, far distance, mountains she didn't even know the name of. “That's how you knew when to skedaddle.”

“Guilty. I do find that view useful when I'm expecting a certain woman.”

“Because you wanted to avoid me.”

“Yes. Because what chance does a man like me have with a woman as lovely and as good as you?”

Her heart tumbled, and if it were possible to fall in love with him again, she did. “Even when my family left you here alone? I don't think I can ever forgive them, and yet you had no problem forgiving me.”

“You would have stayed, I know. But they wouldn't let you. And your grandmother was right.” It was now or never, and Duncan was a man who did not skirt, who did not crumble. “I have a past I'm not proud of.”

“You're such a good man. What possible bad thing could you have done?” She had no notion how her words were killing him, driving deep like tiny blades into his vital organs. “I promise that when my family comes to know you the way I do, they are going to see how horrible they'd behaved. It was plain wrong, leaving you out here. I can only imagine what they told you.”

“Something about how beloved and precious you were to them. I didn't understand it at the time, but since I'm starting to develop a slight fondness for you, I guess I see their meaning.”

“You're not angry with them? I surely am. Furious. I can't trust myself to talk to them without losing my temper. Do you know they make a habit of this…this meddling, and they always will. You said you were in love with me, well, they are likely to be the test of it.”

“I cannot blame them, because I have come to see their point.”

“What point?”

She didn't know, he realized, that it was impossible not to love her. He'd wanted to hate that meddling grandmother of hers and that overbearing brother, but if the situation were reversed, he would do more than lie and issue threats to keep Betsy safe. Even before he
realized he was in love with her, he'd been willing to die to protect her.

“So if they come here and raise a fuss about all this,” she went on, trying to heft a full basket from the buggy's crammed boot. “Ignore them. Please. They mean well, which is their saving grace.”

He reached around her, and it was intimate the way she turned toward him to brush her lips against his cheek. “Maybe they have a damn good reason for wanting me to keep my distance.”

“They are like this with everyone they don't think is good enough for me. Mama would prefer I married a wealthier man this time around. My grandmother thinks that is the best suggestion she's ever heard. And Joshua… I hope he understands.”

“He understands just fine. I'm not good enough for you.”

“And why do you think that? Unless you've decided that you don't want to see where this bond between us leads?”
Please, don't say it's over.
Betsy ached with the words, putting her entire heart into them.

Her worst fears were confirmed as Duncan turned his back to her, his arm muscles bulging against his long-sleeved, insulated shirt as he hesitated, as if debating her words.

Then he put the basket in the compartment where he'd gotten it and walked away. Leaving her standing alone by the buggy.

Was it something a member of her family had said to him? Or was it that he was afraid, because she mentioned marriage, that she was angling for a proposal, just as he'd initially feared?

She found him in the kitchen, the lovely room framing the stunning mountain and forest views. His back stayed to her as he opened a case of bullets and began counting them out onto the table.

“I didn't realize what I was saying.” She felt as helpless as she had the day the bear had charged from the forest's shadows. Except the man before her exuded a cold emotion she didn't understand, but whatever it was, she'd done this to him. She'd made him walk away.

She had to fix this if she could. “I shouldn't have mentioned getting married at all. The truth is, as much as I've come to love you, I would never want to marry anyone who doesn't want me. Do you understand?”

“Is that why your brother didn't show up with a shotgun the morning after we…” He grabbed his Winchester, snapped it open and slid in the first cartridge. “They didn't know you spent the night here.”

“I didn't think it was any of their concern. I've been married and widowed. I worked side-by-side with my husband to make a successful farm, and now I work hard at my own business. I love my family, but they don't dictate my life. I'm wise enough to know a good man when I see him.”

He couldn't be beguiled by her words; at the same time he wanted to be. “You're just saying that because you want another husband.”

“Yes. I want you.” She pulled the rifle out of his grip and set it on the counter. Then pushed the bullet cartridges out of the way. She eased her fanny onto the table so that she had his complete attention. “Now I just have to convince you to want me.”

“You don't know who I am.”

“You are the man I love.” She wrapped her arms around him and breathed him in. His integrity. His honor. “There is nothing that could ever make me stop loving you. Please, love me in return. Just love me.”

“You seem so sure.”

“I am.” She kissed the center of his chest. Like a promise meant to be kept, she kissed an inch lower. And then another inch. Tugging at his buttons to get at his bare flesh.

His groin tightened. Desire thrummed through him as quick as a whip's lash. Love so pure made him catch her mouth with his, lay her back on the table.
I would give anything for you.
He took her hand in his and kissed the backs of her knuckles. It was wrong to take this any further. But how did he tell her the truth?

“You don't know me at all.” He choked on the words.

“I know what matters. If it's real love, Duncan, then it can't break. Then nothing will destroy it. Trust me.” She caught hold of his belt and worked the buckle loose.

He was lost the instant she curled her hand around his arousal. He loved her with enough power that it made him trust that she meant what she said. That she meant it when she guided him into her tight heat and whispered in his ear. “I love you more than anything. No matter what. Is that how you love me, too?”

“Yes.” His voice broke as he covered her mouth. He kissed her with all the gentleness in his soul.

She loved him no matter what, she'd said. As they clung to each other, lost in their love, he found hope. Because if this wasn't worth fighting for, then nothing was.

Chapter Seventeen

B
etsy hurried down the hallway, her steps echoing in the emptiness. The meeting had started without her. Not that she minded being late, but everyone was going to watch her slip in late—there was no way around it. Mama would notice.

What was her mother going to say? Betsy paused, cold with dread, outside the door to the church's auxiliary room. Her hand remained in midair as she contemplated the wisdom of leaving her lover and speeding straight here without benefit of even a mirror.

She could have sex hair, the curse of her long bouncing locks. They were untamed enough as it was, but add ecstasy and a couple of climaxes and not even her best bonnet—which she was wearing—could cover the disaster. I'd better take a trip to the necessary room, she thought. Some generous patron had donated a wall mirror.

The instant she spied her reflection in the polished looking glass, she was very glad she'd thought to check her appearance before waltzing into the
crowded room full of proper and prim church-going ladies.

Heavens, I look like a well-loved woman, and I'm not a married woman.
Her cheeks glowed a very bright pink, flushed from the three orgasms Duncan had generously given her. Her curls were a tangled mess from how his fingers had wound through her hair.

Her soul sighed, remembering how he'd cradled her head while they'd made love. And he'd thrust his wonderful thickness into her, gazing into her eyes the whole while. She'd come, pulling him down into orgasm with her, and still, he had not looked away.

I love that man.
Her heart sang with the power of it. How was she going to walk into that room and pretend as if nothing extraordinary had happened? How was she going to act normal, speak sensibly, and give a whit about the upcoming funding when she wanted to be alone? She wanted to savor every image, every sensation, every word Duncan had said, and every loving act he'd committed this afternoon.

Most of all, she wanted to cherish the sweet intimacy that lingered in her body and in her soul from being joined with him. Maybe she ought to go home and cry off the meeting entirely. She'd been out on deliveries, it was a legitimate excuse she could stretch into a little white lie so that she could keep Duncan all to herself for a little while longer.

Mama was going to throw a conniption. Joshua was going to get his gun. The rest of her brothers would hunt down the preacher. And all she wanted was to enjoy every step of this lovely courtship. Because that's
what this was. Duncan was courting her. He'd promised to come by her house for supper.

Duncan. In town. Eating in her house. He had to be seriously in love with her to agree to that.

“Betsy?” came Rayna's voice from outside the door. “Is that you in there?”

“Guilty.” Betsy unlatched the narrow door. “How did you know? How are you?”

“Needing in here. The bane of every expecting woman.” Not unhappy at all, Rayna stroked her tummy hidden beneath the full gathers of her skirt. “I couldn't catch up with you in the hall. Are you all right? You look warm. You're not feeling well. It's the change of weather.”

“No, not the weather.” Betsy knew she shouldn't say one word. She loved her friends, but secrets didn't stay secret for long, and… Oh, she couldn't help it! She was bursting to tell. “I was seeing a certain gentleman and—”

“What gentleman? Oh!” Rayna's eyes went wide with shock. “You look like a well-pleasured woman. You haven't been…”

Betsy blushed rosily and nodded. “Please, don't tell anyone.”

“This is too good to keep to myself! Wait—I've got to go!” Rayna hurried into the water closet and closed the door behind her. “Are you going to tell me which gentleman?”

“My family hates him.”

“That doesn't narrow it down much.” Even though she spoke quietly, Rayna's voice echoed in the small room.

Betsy splashed cool water onto her cheeks, but to no
avail. Her face wasn't quite so bright but her eyes glinted with the greatest of happiness. Looking at her swollen lips from hours of Duncan's tender kissing, she realized there was no way to hide the fact that she was dangerously in love. With a man who loved her in return.

What had she asked him?
I love you more than anything. Is that how you love me, too?

Yes,
he'd said, his voice breaking, his hands sliding down her hips and beneath her skirt and—

Her face flamed remembering how he loved her so thoroughly, she'd been changed. She would forever be a part of him.

Betsy frowned in the mirror and splashed more cool water on her cheeks. If she kept remembering making love with him, then she'd never appear demure enough to join the Ladies' Aid weekly meeting.

The door opened and Rayna emerged to wash her hands and splash her face. “That feels good. I suppose it will help me more than you. After all, I haven't just come from my lover's bed. You are a shady type of woman, Betsy, and I'm afraid I can't associate with you any longer.”

“I know. I lost all self-respect. I guess that's what happens when a widow goes too long without remarrying.”

“It was bound to happen. Sad, but true. So are you going to tell me which gentleman you've chosen? Wait, it's not that furniture store owner, is it? What's his name? Hipps?”

“Hopps. He's on Mama's list of desirable son-in-laws—”

A knock rapped on the outer door and there was Mariah, shaking her head. “I could hear you two through the wall. You'd better not say you're frolicking with Roy Hopps—”

“It's Ray, not Roy and no, it's not him.” Betsy shivered. “Never him.”

“I used to find incriminating items in his trouser pockets!” Mariah, who'd started the laundry business over a decade ago, obviously had found the same match tins.

“It's not him.” She took a deep breath, debating. Oh, she couldn't keep a secret like this from her best friends. But she had to protect this new tender romance. She wasn't ready to share it just yet. But soon. “He's coming to supper tonight. I was out on deliveries and got carried away when I saw him—”

“You mean, when you behaved like a trollop.” With a wink, Mariah made a point of looking in both directions down the hall before stepping into the tiny room and closing the door. “He's a customer, isn't he? That's why you've been able to get away with this romance. You're out delivering and picking up laundry and so you have time to dally.”

“Tell us,” Rayna prodded, releasing several hairpins from Betsy's tangled hair. “Or we can go through your customer list until we guess the right one.”

“Oh, I don't know. My family isn't ready to know about this. Not yet.” Betsy didn't know what to call the confusing tangle of emotions that felt more like rage…and then sadness. She knew that when the time came, she would need to make a decision between her overbearing family and Duncan. She already knew what that choice would be.

Mariah, efficient as always, grabbed the comb from Betsy's open reticule. “I'd wish you luck, but I know you don't need it. I can see how happy you are.”

“I haven't been this happy for so long. I'd almost forgotten what it was like.” Betsy knew her friends understood.

Mariah had been a spinster for many painful years caring for her father, and then alone for more years after his death. The right man had transformed her life, and where Mariah had been a quiet, prim spinster, she was now a wife and mother. She smiled. She laughed.

She blushed, as she was doing now. “I can see by the satisfied grin on your face, that you've been…how shall I put this delicately? Testing out your marital candidate?”

“Well, the passionate relationship between a man and wife is extremely important.” Betsy felt her face heating, but she didn't care. She knew, unlike her family or the other women in town, her friends would understand.

“Very important.” Rayna flushed as she set the hairpins aside and stroked her swollen tummy. “I didn't get this way by accident, but from a lot of practice.”

“I miss a lot of things about being married. The emotional bond, you know, when you look across the room and your eyes meet and you know him so well, you know what he's thinking. I miss the companionable evenings and I do miss the passion. Very much.”

Betsy didn't know how to speak of the emotions that ran so deep and vast beneath the surface. “I'm just doing my best to be sensible and I'm failing miserably. I just want him.”

“I think it's wise. To test out your future husband to make sure he is up to your standards.” Mariah bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing, but her eyes were merry as she confessed, “Wifely duties are a very serious matter. You need to know that you will be well satisfied with your husband. Look at all the practice we married women are getting.”

Rayna blushed rosily. “Love is a very, uh, thrilling condition.”

Mariah's grin spread across her face until she glowed. “Yes, it certainly is, and I seem to have fallen victim to the same malady as Rayna. And all from too much practice being a good and passionate wife.”

As Mariah's announcement sank in, a brief, rare silence fell between them. Then Rayna laughed.

“You're expecting?” Betsy couldn't help the flow of happiness for her friend…and it gave her a little hope for herself.

There was no telling what could happen in the future. Five years ago, Mariah had been a spinster living in the same house Betsy was renting, running the laundry business, and alone. Without a husband. A family. Children. And now she was a mother of three, and expecting another child.

Was it too much to hope for a similar kind of future?

The conversation turned to Mariah, to when she was due, and all the excitement that went with such talk. When Betsy's hair was finally tamed and demure, the three of them ambled down the hall, falling quiet outside the auxiliary room's main door. Mama was in that room and she was as sharp-eyed as a hungry eagle.

“Are you sure I look normal?” she whispered.

“There's no way to hide the glow of a woman in love.” Rayna leaned close to answer. “Whoever he is, your mother isn't going to approve. But don't let that stop you, all right? Life is too short to spend it alone, not if you've found your heart's match. Don't waste any time, just enjoy the rare gift of love come a second time.”

If anyone understood, it was Rayna, who'd buried a husband and mourned him. And found happiness again. Betsy pitched her voice low as she stood behind Mariah, who was opening the door. “It seems too good to be true. There are so many obstacles.”

“True love finds a way. Believe.”

Rayna's promise remained even after they slipped into their seats behind the long cloth-covered tables. Her words remained strong in Betsy's mind as the meeting progressed and her mother, seated across the room, studied her with knowing eyes.

 

Betsy hadn't been gone more than a few hours and as the afternoon shadows grew long through the trees, Duncan could no longer pretend he didn't miss her. It was as if she'd taken all the life in him with her and he was an empty shell.

He missed her laughter. He missed her sunny presence. He wished he could keep her here on his silent mountain forever. It was amazing how one vain woman's lie had irrevocably changed his life. Brought him the taste of severe injustice and taught him the brutality and the hurt that lurked within the human spirit.

That was why he was here. Not because he was hiding. But because he'd lost hope entirely. What good
could ever come out of a world plagued by that brand of evil?

His grandfather had often said there is justice, it is not swift but it is evenhanded in the end. Through his haze of grief and killing bitterness, he'd retreated.

He would rather live among the wild animals, among predators that hunted and devoured one another, because it made sense. They were protecting their young, their territory or they were hungry. But people…

People were not so logical. He'd had enough of people who enjoyed the harm they caused. The destruction and devastation and death, and all because they could do it. He wanted nothing to do with civilization. With laws and rules and people who said one thing and did another.

And then the Great Spirit had brought him Betsy. There wasn't an ounce of malice in her. She was like the warm winter sun on his face, burning bright and clear regardless of the crusted snow on the ground. The clouds massed and fought, but still the sun found a way to shine through, in thick heavenly rays that could not be conquered.

She'd accepted him. She'd saved him. She'd reminded him what it was like to be alive. Her soft woman's scent remained on his skin, and breathing in the faintest scent made his groin tighten and his soul stir. He'd tried to tell her that her family was never going to allow this, but she hadn't cared.

She'd made her own decision, he realized, and made love to him. Making it clear, as she'd laid back on the table and guided him into her heat, that she'd chosen.

Incredibly, she wanted him. They'd moved together, creating something much more than passion and as he'd watched and felt pleasure roll through her in tight waves, he hadn't been able to tell her the truth.

He'd had more than enough opportunities. Before he'd made love with her, after he'd made love with her. The entire time she'd sparkled in his arms and she'd served them lunch from her big basket, and while he'd been kissing her goodbye, he could have said the words. But for some reason, saying “I was convicted of rape and sent to prison for ten years,” didn't roll easily off his tongue.

He was a hard man—hard, but honest. For whatever reason fate had given him a great chance. And he wanted to tell her. He intended to tell her. Hell, he'd started to tell her why her family objected to him so vehemently. But when he'd gazed into her trusting eyes and read the love for him twinkling there, as bright and everlasting as the brightest stars in the sky, he just couldn't make himself say the words he'd known would drive her away for good.

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