Robin Lee Hatcher (27 page)

As if knowing he watched her, she looked up and gave him a brave smile.

“We’ll be there soon,” he said, hoping he told the truth.

Bethany had never seen anything as welcome as the cabin at the Circle Blue. Hawk stopped the horse near the front door, then lifted her from the buggy seat and carried her inside. Near the fireplace, he lowered her to her feet.

“Better give me your hat and coat,” he said.

She obliged.

“You’re wet clean through. You need to change into something dry while I put the horse in the barn.”

“I haven’t any clothes here.”

“Put on one of my shirts and then wrap up in a blanket.” He brushed wet tendrils from her forehead.

A quiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Go on.” He offered a teasing grin. “You’re dripping all over the floor. I’ll build the fire up so you can get warm.”

Her pulse quickened as she hurried into Hawk’s bedroom, closing the door behind her. Little light came through the window, but there was enough for her to find her way to the bureau. After removing a folded shirt from a drawer, she began struggling with the buttons on her dress, her cold fingers refusing to make it easy. But soon enough she shed the wet garments and donned the shirt. It almost reached to her knees. She paused a moment to rub her cheek against the fabric.

Hawk has worn this shirt
.

Warmth spread through her as she reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed.

Hawk has slept under this blanket
.

She wrapped herself in it.

A rap sounded at the door. “Are you decent?”

“Yes.” Her heart fluttered. “You may come in.”

The door opened, and she turned toward it.

He stood for a long moment in the doorway, looking at her. Even in the dim light, she read something in his eyes that she didn’t quite understand. Did he feel as unsettled as she?

“You’d better go sit by the fire, Bethany, while I get changed.”

She nodded, unable to speak. Moving toward him, she resisted the desire to cast off the blanket and throw her arms around him. That was always her problem, doing or saying things without thinking them through first. She had pursued him before and made a mess of things. She mustn’t make that mistake again. Not with Hawk. She must be patient.

In the parlor, she stood by the fireplace while awaiting his return. The room had grown ever darker, despite the flickering firelight. Outside the wind whistled and moaned, and the sleet continued to batter the cabin’s walls and windows.

“You warmer now?” he asked as he stepped into the parlor, her dress over his arm.

She felt her stomach knotting in anticipation. She wanted him to hold and kiss her. Would he?

“We won’t be going to town tonight. Not in this weather.” He crossed to the fireplace where he draped her wet gown over a chair.

“Cousin Beatrice will worry.”

He stood before her now, his face trapped in shadows. “She’ll think you stayed with Ingrid.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Bethany . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Yes?”

His mouth descended toward hers. She longed to rise on tiptoe, to begin the kiss more quickly. But she waited, anticipation growing. A tiny tremor moved through her when their lips met. His kiss was light, tender, and dizzying. Her hands released their grip on the blanket and rose to clasp around his neck. It was either that or collapse into the fireplace. The blanket puddled at her feet.

I love you, Hawk. I love you so much
.

He pulled her closer, the kiss deepening.

Tell me you love me. Please tell me
.

He lifted his head, breaking the kiss. “I want you to come back. I want you to come live with me and be my wife. In fact, not name only.”

“Why?”

“I promised your parents and God that I’d take care of you. Let me keep that promise.”

Her heart broke a little over his reply. His answer was all wrong. “No.”

“Do you want an annulment?”

“No.”

He frowned as he took a step back from her. “I don’t understand you.”

“I know you don’t.”

“I want you here, with me.”

“Wanting isn’t enough.” She picked up the blanket and wrapped herself in it again as she turned to face the fire. How she wished she were wrong. How she wished wanting was enough. But it wasn’t, and she couldn’t come back. Not if he didn’t love her.

“I’ll take you home at first light. You know where the bedroom is.”

She heard him walk away, heard the sound of the door close.

Never had she felt so alone as she did now.

THIRTY-THREE

The cold snap held the area in its grip for a week. It rained. It hailed. It snowed. The wind rattled windows and shook houses. It felt like the middle of winter even though the calendar still read September.

But it didn’t last. After seven days of cold came the return of clear blue skies and a sun that promised real warmth again.

“After we eat, I’m going for a ride,” Bethany told her cousin as they walked home from the bakery a little before noon. “If I don’t get out in the open air for a while, I’ll turn into a lump of dough.”

It wasn’t as if the bakery required her presence every moment. Mr. Grant disliked anyone in his kitchen, and Beatrice could manage the customers for an hour or two.

And so, immediately after lunch, Bethany rode out of Sweet-water on Buttercup. As soon as they were a good half mile outside of town, she loosed the reins, lifted her arms and face toward the cornflower blue sky, and shouted, “It’s a beautiful world, Lord. Thank you!” She laughed as she took the reins in hand again, her gaze trained on the mountains that rose like proud soldiers, guarding the range below.

The sun was warm upon her face, and the air smelled wonderful, clean and fresh. Her mother would scold her for being careless with her complexion if she could see her now. The thought dampened her spirits a little.

Only this wasn’t a time for sad thoughts. This was a time to enjoy being out for a ride, to revel in Montana’s beauty, to sing and to laugh. Tomorrow would have trouble of its own. Today she would take pleasure in riding her horse through the wide-open spaces.

She eased her hold on the reins and allowed the mare to break into a jog, mindless of the mud clods thrown up behind the trotting hooves. Oh, it was so beautiful out here. She loved it. She loved everything about it. Just look at those mountains.

Hawk’s mountains.

She hadn’t seen him since the morning after the ice storm. They’d said little to each other when he’d delivered her to the house in town, and he hadn’t returned since.

I miss him.

Just as that thought came to her, Buttercup stumbled and fell to her knees. Almost before she realized what was happening, Bethany flew forward, then landed with a splat in the middle of the road. The air whooshed from her lungs, and pain exploded in her head. She rolled onto her back, dragging in gulps of air as she wiped her face. After giving her breathing time to steady, she rose to her feet, her mud-sodden skirts pulling at her.

“Look at me,” she muttered, shaking her hands to fling away the clinging sludge.

She turned toward her horse and forgot her complaints. The mare’s head hung low and she held her right front hoof off the ground.

“Oh, Buttercup. You’re hurt.”

The earth sucked at her boots as she moved toward the injured animal. She ran her hand over the knee, cannon, and fetlock. Nothing appeared to be broken. She was thankful for that.

“We need to get you back to the livery, girl.”

Bethany picked up the dragging reins and tried to coax the horse forward. Buttercup refused to budge.

“You win. I’ll go for help.” She slipped the bridle off the horse’s head as she spoke. “I guess you’ll be all right until I get back.”

What a sight Bethany made, trudging and slipping her way toward town, her dress burdened with the clinging wet soil. Hawk had found her horse a little ways back and was concerned until he saw her. Now that he could tell she wasn’t hurt, he relaxed.

His mouth twitched. While in prayer that morning, he’d realized why Bethany refused to stay with him when he’d asked her. It was as if God opened his eyes, everything made clear. He had to throw pride to the wind and tell her he loved her. Whether or not she loved him in return.

She must have heard something, for she stopped and turned. Her cheeks were smudged with dried mud and her hat was askew.

“Nice day for a walk.” He grinned.

“My horse took a spill.”

“I know. I found her.” He nudged his gelding forward. “Need a ride?” There was still a trace of humor in his voice.

“No, thank you. It isn’t much farther to town.”

“Far enough.”

She turned and resumed walking.

“I’ve told you before you shouldn’t ride alone.”

“I know.”

“So why don’t you listen to me?”

“Because you never say anything I want to hear.”

He swallowed a laugh. It wasn’t fair of him to tease her right now. She’d taken a fall and was covered with mud. That would put anyone in a bad mood. He was about to apologize when he saw her stagger to one side and then crumple to the ground. He vaulted from the saddle and ran to her side.

She’d never seen anything more exciting. Hawk rode the black stallion, his right arm flung high as the horse bucked and twisted beneath him. They were wild and wonderful, the two of them, fighting to see who would conquer and who would be conquered. She wanted to be a part of it. She wanted to —“Bethany?”

“Mmm?”

Fingers tapped her cheek. “Bethany?”

She opened her eyes. It really was him. Had she been at the ranch? Was he breaking that horse again?

Concern furrowed his brow. “You dropped like a rock.”

“I what?”

“You fainted.” He stood, lifting her with him. “I’m taking you to see the doctor. You must’ve hit your head when your horse threw you.”

Her thoughts began to clear. “Buttercup didn’t throw me. She stumbled and fell.”

“Well, whatever the cause, you fainted just now.”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t need Doc Wilton.”

“You’re going to see him anyway.”

“Hawk — ”

“We’re not arguing about this.” His gaze was uncompromising. “You’re going to do what I say this time.”

Funny. She couldn’t keep arguing even if she wanted to. All the fight had gone out of her.

He carried her to his horse and stepped into the saddle, still cradling her in his arms. Once settled, he commanded her to put her arms around his neck. “Hold on to me. I don’t want you taking another tumble.”

Again she obeyed, this time quite happily.

As far as Bethany was concerned, they were much too close to town. Once they arrived at the house, she would have to move her head from Hawk’s shoulder and unclasp her hands from around his neck. She didn’t want to let go. She wanted to hold on to him forever.

If she weren’t so stubborn, she could be with him all the time. He’d asked her to stay a week ago, and she’d refused. But he hadn’t wanted her to stay for the right reasons.

“How does it feel to be in love, Mother?”
She remembered the night she’d asked that question, and she could still hear her mother’s reply:
“Quite wonderful, Bethany. And sometimes quite awful.”