HisBootsUnderHerBed (14 page)

“I never really noticed what they were wearing. I had my eyes on…other things.” He winked.

“What kinds of dances did you do?”

“Waltzes, some hoedowns, sometimes a quadrille—and of course, it wouldn’t be a ball without a Virginia reel.”

“And what was your favorite choice?”

“None of them. My favorite dance ever was a slow waltz with a beautiful blond woman with the most incredible blue eyes I’ve ever seen. It cost me twenty-five cents.”

She must have drunk too much wine, because suddenly she felt very warm under the intensity of his stare.

“Were you ever in love with one of the ladies, Garth?”

“I loved all of them,” he said, grinning.

“No, I mean really
in
love.”

“Yes. Just one. Until I was five. That’s when I found out she was married to another man—my father. Funny thing, though, I never got over that childhood crush. And she and I always remained good friends.”

“Darn you, Garth. Can’t you ever be serious about anything?”

Undaunted, Rory closed her eyes and began to move to a melody floating through her head. “I can just see them swaying to and fro to a lovely Viennese waltz.”

“Is that before or after they had their mint juleps on the veranda, while a slave knelt before them massaging their aching feet for them?”

She opened her eyes in surprise. “Are you angry with me?”

“Not with you, Rory. Every now and then it gets my dander up when I think of how the Yankee propaganda maligned the women of the South. It made them all out to be indolent and witless, with not a care in the world except for what they’d wear to the next ball. In truth, they were the most indomitable army in the Confederacy. Someday history will have to recognize their courage and fortitude during the war and give them the respect they deserve.”

“I’m sure it will, Garth. But I’ve never thought of them as being lazy or stupid like you said. I always just…envied them.”

Garth reached for her. “Paddy’s right about one thing, honey. I do have some hanky-panky on my mind. Rory, I—”

She stood up to avoid the contact. She knew he intended to kiss her, and she was beyond resisting him. She wanted him to make love to her, but knew it would be disastrous if he did. It would create a bond between them that would only make parting from him even harder.

Soon they would head back to the mission and go their separate ways, so it was wisest she didn’t get any more involved with a man who openly said he wasn’t interested in settling down.

“Since we drank all the wine, I guess we should get to bed. Sunrise comes sooner than we think.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You go ahead. I’m going to bed down out here.”

Pop was snoring away, having passed out for the night. He’d left a lantern burning, and she went over, removed his boots, and covered him. Then she blew out the lantern and crawled into her bedroll.

I
t was past noon and Rory had just finished cutting up dough for biscuits when Garth came out of the cave to fill his canteen.

“Paddy gone?” he asked.

“Yes. You don’t think he’d go back to that other mine, do you?”

“It wouldn’t do him any good, because I sealed it up tighter than a drum.”

He took off his shirt and went over to the waterfall and stuck his head into the spray. Then he came back, shaking the water off his hair like a wet dog.

“I’d appreciate your not parading around here half-naked.”

“What?”

“You’re not fooling me one bit. I know what you’re up to.”

He started to laugh. “All I’ve done is take off my shirt.” He arched a brow. “Does that bother you, Miz Rory?”

“It sure does—and wipe that smirk off your face. Besides, it’s very improper. I’m sure a gentleman like you would never parade around in front of one of your fine ladies in Virginia.”

“Well, Miz Rory, I really can’t say, because I’ve never been on a mountain mining gold in the heat with one of those fine ladies in Virginia.”

He came over and pulled her back against him. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes when he trailed light kisses along her neck.

Shrugging out of his arms, Rory began to put biscuits into a pan to bake later for dinner. “Get away from me, Fraser. Can’t you see the cook is occupied? So stop distracting her.”

“Hey, Irish, you’ve got some flour on the end of your nose.”

She turned around, then started to laugh. “I can’t look any worse than you do, Fraser. You should see your chin.”

They were both laughing by the time she wiped the flour off her nose and his chin.

“I’ve had enough of chipping at that wall for the day,” he said. “I thought I’d go back to the fish stream and catch a few for dinner. Would you like to come along?”

“Yes, I would, thanks.”

“Good. I’ll saddle Boots.”

Rory had cleaned up her cooking supplies by the time Garth rejoined her. He leaned down, hooked an arm around her waist, and pulled her up behind him.

“I’d like to fish, too,” Rory said when they reached the stream.

Garth chuckled. “Have you ever tried to spear a fish before? They’re pretty fast, you know.”

“No, but I figure if a big, clumsy bear is fast enough to do it, so am I.”

“Okay.” Garth found her a strong limb, shaved it, and carved one end into a point. “Good luck.”

“You sound like you think I can’t do it.”

“Not at all. I’ve learned better than to underestimate your capabilities, Miz Rory.”

Rory took off her boots and stockings, rolled her pants up to her knees, and waded into the water. She discovered spearing a fish wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be.

After a lengthy time, she finally succeeded in spearing a trout, and in her excitement she dropped her spear. Garth splashed after it as the current started carrying fish and spear away.

Laughing, he brought them back. “We shouldn’t eat this; we should have it mounted to hang on the wall of that little house you hope to have one day.” He strung it on the vine he had started.

“Hush up, Fraser, or I’ll have you mounted right next to it.” Laughing, she picked up her spear and returned to the task, proud of herself.

Rory managed to spear another fish before Garth quit for the day, but she was enjoying the fishing too much to stop—and he was enjoying watching her too much to want to stop her.

How many women would find enjoyment in standing barefoot in cold water trying to spear a fish? Rory was willing to take on any task that faced her.

He hoped they’d get enough gold out of this venture so she could have an easier life than what she’d been used to. And he sure hoped that one day she’d meet that knight in armor she dreamed of marrying.

Right now she was having such a good time he didn’t want to disturb her, so he pulled the book he’d been reading out of a saddlebag and sat down to read, his gaze, more often than not, rising above the top of the book to watch her.

A short time later Rory came over and plopped down beside him, and he put the book aside. “I caught two more, so along with yours that gives us ten fish. We can eat five tonight for supper, and keep the other ones in water for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, honey.”

Rory picked up the book he had put aside. “What are you reading?”

“It’s Robert Browning’s
The Ring and the Book
, and some famous lines from a few of his plays and poems.”

“Poems?”

“His poems aren’t romantic ones like his wife Elizabeth wrote to him. Her
Sonnets from the Portuguese
are said to be beautiful.”

“I can’t picture you as enjoying romantic poetry, Garth.”

“I confess I’ve never read any. Some epic poetry yes, but romantic, no. I mainly enjoy the wisdom and optimism Browning expresses in his works.

“
The Ring and the Book
is a story of a Roman murder case. It’s anticipated to take at least twelve books, because each novel will be written from the viewpoint of an individual character in the trial. It’s fascinating, so far. Probably the finest thing Browning’s ever done.”

“This is a side of you I never suspected existed, Garth. You’re really impressed with him, aren’t you?”

He stretched out on his back and tucked his hands under his head. “Honey, do you remember when we were discussing our dreams, and I told you that if we attain them, they don’t always live up to what we anticipated? Robert Browning warned, ‘A man’s reach should exceed his grasp.’ That’s the point I was trying to make.”

“Well, whether you and Mr. Browning agree with me or not, I’m not giving up my dream. Besides, I am reaching way beyond my grasp.”

“No, you aren’t. That dream will come true for you someday. But suppose it doesn’t, which one thing would you want the most? The knight in armor? The house? The picket fence? There must be one thing more important than any of the others.”

Rory gazed deeply into the mahogany eyes of this man who had come to mean so much to her. He was the image of that knight in armor, yet she could never hope to attain anything greater than these stolen moments with him.

“I want to look up into the eyes of the man I love, and then down into those same eyes in my son as I hold him in my arms.”

She broke her gaze and returned to paging through the book. “ ‘Grow old along with me/The best is yet to be.’ What a wonderful thought, Garth. Do you believe the best is yet to be?”

“I keep trying to prove that to you, but we always get interrupted.”

She closed the book and bopped him lightly on the head with it. “You ninny, can’t you ever be serious?”

“Okay, I
seriously
hope that I haven’t yet experienced the best thing that will ever happen to me. And I
know
you haven’t.”

Her eyes flashed with devilment. “Oh, is that so? I once believed you were the smartest man I’d ever known, Garth Fraser. Now I know better.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“You don’t recognize the best thing that could ever happen to you even when it looks you right in the eye.”

“Let me guess. That would be you?”

She smiled coquettishly. “Of course.”

He reached up and dug his fingers into her hair. His eyes glowed with the flame of arousal. “Honey, when you flirt, you’re lethal.”

No one knew better than she that she was reaching far beyond her grasp, but if this was all she had to hold on to, she would seize the moment. Spurred to boldness by the urgency of her feelings, Rory lowered her head and kissed him.

The feel of his lips was a tantalizing sensation and she kissed him with a hunger that one day would be just a memory.

He pulled her across him, and she stretched out against his long, muscular length, abandoning herself to the sensations that swirled within her as his hands roamed her back and the curve of her hips and waist.

With a muffled moan, he rolled over, and his ragged breaths feathered her cheek as he unbuttoned her shirt. Burying her face against his neck, she breathed in the intoxicating scent of him.

The sudden chill of the air on her naked breasts dueled with the surge of heat that burned through her when his tongue caressed her taut nipples. She matched his urgency and unbuttoned his shirt, and reveled in the sweet tantalization of her breasts against the crisp hair of his chest. The driving need for his touch became unbearable as he slipped her Levi’s past her hips. She melted against him. He kissed her with a passion that flooded her soul as it did her body.

“You’re so precious, sweetheart. So very precious,” he murmured between kisses.

She savored every lingering kiss, every heated touch, and every whispered endearment, then groaned with ecstasy when he slid his hand to the core of her sex to prepare her for his entry.

“Oh, my God!” He sat up in shock. “No, no, no!” he cried out in anguish and slammed his balled fists on the ground. “You’re a virgin!”

In the throes of passion, Rory opened her eyes and looked up, dazed. “Yes, I told you I was.”

He quickly pulled up her Levi’s.

“What are you doing?” she cried, when he began to fumble at the buttons of her shirt in an effort to close them.

“You don’t understand; I’ve never deflowered a virgin.”

“You mean you’re not…we’re not—”

“Not right now. I’ve got to adjust to this.”

Laughing hilariously, she cried, “I can’t believe this. Garth Fraser, the relentless womanizer!” She slapped his hands away and rebuttoned her shirt properly.

“How do you think
I
feel? I’ve been trying to make love to you from the time I met you. It’s a plot. An evil torture, devised by Satan himself. And I’m sure your father had a hand in it too.”

He stormed down to the river and into the cold water.

After both had recovered from the shock, neither was yet ready to return to the mine. Rory lay contentedly gazing at the water and the fish darting through it, while Garth lay at her side, half dozing.

“Garth, what are you planning on doing with your gold?”

“I haven’t thought about it.”

“You certainly must have a need for it, or are you wealthy already?”

“No, my family lost everything except the plantation in the war. My brother Will had all he could do to hold on to Fraser Keep. My brother Clay’s got a good start here in California with his winery, but it will take several years of good crops before he’ll get out from under the debt. I’d like to help him out now, if he’ll take it, but he’s pretty proud and might not take money from me. I sure hope Will doesn’t hold any such thoughts. Even though they’ve brought in a couple of crops since the war ended, plenty of money is still needed to restore parts of Fraser Keep.”

“Would Clay let you buy into his business?”

“Probably, but I’m not ready to become a businessman, Rory. There’s a lot more of this country that I’d like to visit, like the Northwest Territory, even Alaska and Canada. And I want to see more of the Southwest, especially Texas. I’ve been reading a lot about those amazing cattle drives that are starting to come out of Dallas and Fort Worth. Wouldn’t mind going on one to see what it’s like.

“I’ve spent most of the past ten years in a military academy or fighting a war. It’s time I sow a few wild oats.”

Rory smiled in amusement. “Why do I suspect there’s
never
been a time in your twenty-eight years that you didn’t sow some wild oats?”

Garth sat up. “What about you, Rory? What do you intend to do with your gold?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never been able to plan my life that far ahead. I hope that I won’t have to go back to working saloons, but I’m not skilled to do anything else. Pop claims he’s going to build a big mansion in San Francisco. Maybe I’ll just sit on the porch and wait for that knight in armor to ride up.”

“So you intend to remain with Paddy?”

“Of course. All we’ve got is each other.”

“Why don’t you go east? There are some grand cities, like New York, Chicago, and St. Louis.”

“And what can they offer me that San Francisco doesn’t? I’m not seeking the adventure and excitement that you are, Garth.”

“I only meant there may be better opportunities for you in one of those larger cities.”

“Is that why people are coming to California by the wagonload? Is that why, when you speak of all the rivers you have yet to cross, you don’t ever speak of returning to Virginia? Practice what you preach, Garth Fraser.”

He gently caressed her cheek. “I only want you to be happy, honey. I don’t want to ever think of you as needing something, or being at the mercy of a Mo Buckman ever again.” He lowered his head and gently kissed her.

“Well, I don’t want to think of what my life will be like in the future. For now, I’m happy right here with you,” Rory said. She stood up and brushed herself off. “We better be getting back to camp before we run out of light.”

Later that evening, Garth and Paddy sat down after dinner for a game of chess. Garth’s mind was on the possibility of being alone with Rory later that night. His gaze continually strayed to her as she sat at the fire brushing her hair. His fingers itched to dig into it.

He stared, transfixed, as the glow of the fire rippled along the long strands of her hair and his groin knotted with every stroke of the brush.

She was so beautiful. But not the hardened comeliness of women who depended on their looks. Rory had an intangible radiance that bordered on ethereal—and an innocence that belied the profession she’d chosen.

“I’m thinking you should’ve figured it out by now,” Paddy said.

“Chess is a thinking man’s game, Paddy.”

Paddy snorted. “You know what I mean. She didn’t take the map, son. I did.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a dear and loving daughter, who figured you’d be angry with me if you knew I did it. ’Tis no wonder I love her.”

“I mean, why did you take the map, Paddy?”

“I’ve no excuse for the foul deed,” he said sadly. “’Twas that devil Satan whispering in me ear. All me life, I’ve yearned for something better than I had. When I was younger, it was always hoping to hit that big strike; when I grew older, it was winning the big pot. Always something that seemed at me fingertips. And there were times I could almost touch it. All I’d have to do was reach for it.”