Squire's Quest (25 page)

Her teeth worried her bottom lip before she said, "I thought you... You've been working
hard, and I figured you'd be... Are you hungry? I can cook up some eggs in a jiffy."

"What am I going to do with you?" He lifted her still-clenched fist to his lips and kissed
each finger. And each time his lips touched skin, he felt her flinch.

"Tell me what you want. I'm never sure. You won't let me help in the barn, or bring in
wood--"

"I didn't complain when you did."

"No, but yesterday when I offered, you said it wasn't woman's work."

"It's not, when there's a man handy. You're doing the cooking. I can haul wood and
water." Rising, he pulled her up with him. He set both hands on her shoulders and turned her to
face him, straight on. "You trouble me. The girl I left behind in Virginia City seven years ago
was as feisty and independent as she could be. You still show a sign of feistiness now and then,
but mostly you're..." He sought the right words and didn't find them. "You're like a servant,
always trying to please."

Her jaw set, but she still wouldn't look at him.

"What sort of woman did you work for? Was she mean to you?"

"Oh, no. Mrs. Flynn was kind. Strict, but she never hit me or made me do without
supper. But she yelled at me when I did something wrong. I hate being yelled at."

"Can't say I blame you. So, your pa beat you?"

"Ye-- No, of course not."

"Cal? I told you a long time ago the one thing I wouldn't put up with was being lied to.
Did your pa beat you?"

"He hit me. 'Twasn't really a beating, but he did hit me good, more than once. Pa's not a
patient man."

"Anything else?" When she looked puzzled, he stopped being so worried. "Did he lay
hand on you any other way?"

"Sometimes he'd grab me by the hair and jerk. Once or twice he kicked me. On the
train," she said quickly, when he frowned. "There were folks around, but they couldn't see the
kicks. They didn't hurt much." But she leaned over and rubbed one shin.

"Huh." The one thing that had puzzled him, ever since she'd told him how her pa had
showed up one day and told her they were leaving was why. "He never told you where you were
going or why when you were coming this way?"

"I told you. He just said he had business and it was my duty to come with him. I told
him I'd rather stay with Mrs. Flynn, and he slapped me good. He said now I was grown up, I
could be useful, but he didn't say how."

Was she really so innocent? Or was he that suspicious? As lovely as she was, he could
just imagine what use her father would make of her.

What was the going price for an eighteen-year-old virgin who was slavishly
obedient?

He sure wished his Aunt Soomey was here. She'd take Cal in hand and teach her to stand
up for herself.

* * * *

The wind found every tiny crack between logs, every gap twixt wall and floor. Even
though Callie had pulled her old coat on top of the heavy comfort and the thick wool blanket, she
was like to freeze to death. Before they'd gone to bed, Merlin had tied back the canvas curtain,
saying, "I'll get this out of the way so the warm air will circulate better."

It did, but so did the wisps of icy wind that came with every gust outside.

A shiver took her, and she fought to keep her teeth from chattering. She had to pee, but
just the thought of her feet on the cold floor kept her curled in a tight little ball.

Finally she could wait no longer. She skinned out from under the covers, hoping they'd
hold the heat until she came back. The chamber pot was tucked behind where the curtain was
fastened to the wall, private enough so she didn't feel exposed. All she had to do was find it. The
fire was nearly out, just dimly glowing coals giving little light.

The lid clattered against the pot when she replaced it, loud enough to be heard over the
howling wind.

"Cal?"

"It's me. I just..."

"Oh, r-r-right."

She was about to dive under the covers when she stopped to think about the funny sound
to his voice. Not sleepy. His teeth were chattering.

His bedroll was a long, skinny tarpaulin and a couple of blankets. Rolled up it wasn't a
foot through. Her covers were nearly that thick, if she counted the heavy wool coat.

It wasn't as if they'd never shared a bed before. Before she could have second thoughts,
she said, "Merlin?"

"Y-y-yes?"

"I'm awful cold. Would you come sleep with me? I'd be lots warmer with you to snuggle
up to."

He didn't answer for the longest time. Finally, when she was wondering if he'd somehow
gone back to sleep, he said, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not? I'll bet you're cold too, down there on the floor. Why, I can feel the drafts on
my feet right now."

"I'm not c-c-cold."

He'd complained about her being obedient, not feisty any more. Well, she'd show him
feisty. "Merlin Lachlan, you get yourself over here and into this bed. It's plumb crazy for both of
us to be shivering when we could keep each other warm." Her feet were like ice by now, and she
could feel shivers trying to climb up her backbone. "I'm going to build up the fire, but it's not
going to help much, not with the drafts blowing in."

She scurried to the wood bin. As soon as she opened the small door, a gust of wind
finished what the drafts had started. She shivered all over and her teeth started chattering again.
Clenching her jaw, she dragged four fat pieces of wood out of the bin and slammed the small
door. "How come the wind comes in there when it's blowing from the other side?"

She hadn't expected an answer and nearly jumped out of her skin when he said, from
just behind her, "It's like an eddy in a creek. It works its way around whatever's in its way. Here,
give me that wood. I'll tend the fire. You fill the kettle."

They huddled near the fire while the water heated, both of them bundled in their coats.
Merlin had suggested portable soup instead of tea, and she'd scraped some off a cake into two
cups.

"You didn't take off your clothes," she said, and could have bitten her tongue as soon as
the words left her mouth. That wasn't something to say to a man in the middle of the night,
especially not a man she'd just invited to her bed.

He promised he wouldn't kiss me, wouldn't try to talk his way into my bed.

She'd been thinking about those words ever since he'd said them to her. Not thinking
like she wanted him to do it. Just thinking about what went on between a man and a woman. She
had a pretty good idea, having seen dogs and cattle and chickens mating. It didn't look all that
comfortable for the wo--for the female, but the males sure did like to do it.

She knew it was sinful, for Mrs. Flynn had made her go to church and she'd heard a
whole lot of sermons against fornication and adultery. Mrs. Flynn had warned her she shouldn't
let anyone know Lemuel Smith was her father. Now she knew he'd owned the bawdyhouse in
Virginia City, she understood why.

They'd known anyhow. She'd heard some of the nice young ladies at church saying how
she was probably no better than the women who worked for her father.

So had the men. The way some of them had eyed her in a hungry sort of way had scared
her to death. Whenever she'd gone on an errand, to the grocer or to the post office, she'd walked
fast and kept her eyes on the ground. "Mind you act the lady. You don't want to end up like those
girls of your father's," had generally been Mrs. Flynn's last words before she walked out the
door.

The hot, salty broth warmed her from the inside out. When her cup was empty, she set it
on the table and stood. "I guess I'd better--"

"I'd be obliged if you would share the bed with me. It's like sleeping in an ice cave, there
on the floor." He sounded stiff, like he was embarrassed. Or shy.

"Oh, well, yes. Um..." Wondering if she should feel like a rabbit with a hawk about to
swoop down, she froze halfway between the fireplace and the bed. Swallowed. Cleared her
throat. "Uh, do you want the inside or the outside?"

"The outside. That way I won't wake you when I get up."

She doubted if she'd be asleep. Even though it had been her idea, she just knew she'd lie
there the rest of the night waiting for him to pounce.

Hadn't Mrs. Flynn told her men were slaves to their passions?

Merlin knew it was a mistake before he ever got to the bed. If the floor hadn't been so
cold. If he hadn't heard every rustle of covers, every sigh of breath for two nights already, he
might have been able to resist.

If he hadn't smelled her faint spicy scent when she'd sat next to him before the fire.
Where'd she get that fancy soap, anyhow?
And most of all, if it hadn't been nigh a year
since he'd had a woman, he might have stayed on the floor and froze to death.

Instead, he followed her across the room and sat on the edge of the box frame while she
spread his blankets atop what was already there. Tried not to watch while she crawled in and
settled herself.

You didn't take off your clothes.
No, he hadn't, because every layer was more
protection from the cold when he was sleeping on the floor. But now, with his two blankets on
top of the two already on the bed, he'd be plenty warm in his union suit.

And plenty tempted. His heavy black britches are were like armor, hard to get out of.
His shirt was sweat-soaked and stiff, for even in the cold he'd worked hard, getting the wagons
moved into a drift fence, the tired mules brushed down and fed.

That's probably for the best.

"Those britches look uncomfortable for sleeping, especially with the belt."

He didn't turn around. He didn't have to. He could see her in his mind, clear as day. Her
nightgown was buttoned clear up to her neck, and its sleeves drooped over her hands. Except
when she raised her arms, and then the soft flannel slid down, showing white forearms, sweetly
rounded and probably satiny smooth.

He'd just take off his shirt and belt and unfasten his britches.
More comfortable that
way.

A draft hit him as he slid his arms from the shirt and he shivered. He loosened the belt
and unbuttoned his fly.

Oh, the devil with it.

He dropped his britches and crawled into bed. As tired as he was, Cal's virtue was in no
danger from him.

The next thing he knew, she was wrapping herself around him, burying her nose
between his shoulder and chin. "This will be so much warmer."

The next moment he felt her go limp, as she slipped into sleep.

* * * *

She woke with a hand cupping her breast, a knee tucked between hers, and--

Oh goodness! Is that what I think it is?
Callie held her breath and hoped Merlin
was still asleep.

If he was awake, he'd have noticed how she'd stiffened. He'd know she knew what was
prodding her in the backside.

She took several deep breaths, imagined herself lying in a sunny, flower-bright meadow.
Once she was as relaxed as she could be, she rolled onto her stomach and let out a little snore.
His arm was still draped across her shoulders, but that was the only place he was touching her
now.

Is it time to get up?

She'd closed the shutters early last night, hoping to keep the cabin warmer, so there was
no telling. No matter. She'd not sleep another wink.

She wished she could see. If it was light, she could look her fill at him, like she never
could when he was awake. Looking at him made her feel...safe. Not just safe, though. It made
her feel like she was worth something. Like she was smart and...and maybe something more than
a bother.

He'd never said anything about her being plain, or built like a beanpole. He'd even said
she was pretty, that time he'd promised to wait for her to invite him into her bed.

Oh, goodness! Did he think...
No, he couldn't. He had to know she was worried
about him sleeping on the cold floor. Nothing more.

But his hand had been...and his leg was...and his...

Living in a rough mining town, she'd heard a man's thing called many names, but all of
them seemed crude and nasty.

I wonder what he calls his.

He moved then, turning away from her. After a bit he moved again, and made a
sound.

She lay still, frozen in place. Would he turn back? Would he--

A draft of icy air flowed under the covers as he sat up. She heard him yawn, then groan
softly. After a while his feet thudded on the floor, and a moment later he tucked the covers
tightly around her.

I should probably get up and make his coffee.

Instead she stayed snug in bed, and listened as he dressed and moved around the cabin,
building up the fire, pouring water into the kettle.

Pa would have made her get up and do for him while he laid in bed. He'd have expected
her to have his breakfast cooking before he got up. Those few days she'd stayed in his cabin, he'd
done nothing. "Now you're here, the house is your job," he'd told her. "A man shouldn't have to
do for himself when he's got a woman around."

She'd been proud to be called a woman, and had not minded taking care of Pa. Only
she'd turned out to be such a terrible cook he'd apprenticed her to Mrs. Flynn. "Teach her a trade
so she can make her own way," he'd told the town baker. "And while you're at it, make sure she
knows how to feed a man. She's useless now."

Merlin doesn't think I'm useless. He never did.

The realization gave her a deep sense of satisfaction. She just hoped he liked her for
more than her cooking skills.

"Cal?" He knew she was awake, or had been. He'd heard the change in her breathing,
felt how she'd stiffened when she realized he was wrapped around her.

Maybe he shouldn't have pretended not to notice.

She stirred, rolled to face the room. "Hmmm?"

"I'm heading for the barn soon as I've drunk some coffee. Can you fix some breakfast? I
don't reckon oatmeal will hold me today."