Spring Blossom (19 page)

She almost giggled at that. “We can’t stay
up here.” With something akin to regret, she sat up. “I refuse to
sleep on anything higher than a bed.”

“You won’t be sleeping in a bed tonight,” he
murmured, getting to his feet and helping her to stand beside
him.

“I’ll sleep in the wagon."

Hunter bent to retrieve the tin cup. “You’d
best sleep next to the fire, beside me.” He took her hand then and
began cautiously leading the way down the rock face. “It gets cold
out here at night even with a fire nearby.”

She didn’t like the idea of sleeping on the
ground, particularly beside him. “I’ll sleep in the wagon,” she
insisted.

Hunter grinned in the darkness. “Fine,” he
drawled. “It may be a bit crowded for two, however.” The prospect
did hold some merit; for him.

“I didn’t say I wanted company,” she pointed
out, as they climbed down the last of the rocks.

“Maggie,” he said, turning to face her in
the faint light of the half-moon. “Things sometimes go bump in the
night, and you should sleep within sight and sound of me. I’m the
one with the rifle,” he added, turning to lead the way back to
their camp.

That gave her something new to think about.
“What kind of things might go bump in the night?”

He smiled when he realized she was sticking
close to his heels. “Four-legged things. Things that prowl around
looking for food.”

“You’re just trying to frighten me,” she
accused.

“Regardless,” he said, “you’ll sleep where I
can make certain you’re safe.”

She thought about that for a moment and then
grumbled under her breath. Why did he always, eventually, make
sense?

CHAPTER 14

Margaret’s first night of sleeping under the
stars made a lasting impression. Her bones ached from lying on the
hard, cold ground on just a thin blanket. At some point during the
long night she started to tremble with the cold, despite the
fire.

She had laid out her bedroll across the fire
from where Hunter had chosen to sleep, but each time she awoke, he
was alerted by her shifting around in her attempts to find comfort.
Eventually, noticing that she was huddled under her single blanket,
he rose, taking his blankets with him, and moved around behind
her.

Maggie was fully awake, and her head
swiveled as she followed his path. “What are you doing?” she asked
at last as he spread one blanket beside hers.

“I’m going to keep you warm,” he muttered.
“Perhaps then we will both get some sleep.”

“If you would let me sleep in the…”

“Forget it, Maggie. You’re not sleeping in
the wagon.” He spread the second blanket so that it partially
covered her, leaving a little for himself. “Besides, it’s even
colder there.”

But as he stretched out behind her, Margaret
sat up and twisted around. “I don’t want you here.”

“That’s too damn bad,” he mumbled wearily
and, placing a hand firmly on her shoulder, forced her to lie back.
He lay on his side, waiting for her to accept the fact that he was
not moving, nor would he allow her to move. “Face the fire,” he
said firmly.

“There you go,” she hissed, “ordering me
around.”

“I’ll do more than order you around, foolish
one,” he said. “Now turn over and let me get some sleep.”

She did so, angrily, catching the baggy
sleeve of her shirt under her and almost wrenching her arm as she
tried to raise it. Rearing up, Maggie muttered an unintelligible
curse.

He smiled at her back, watching her
performance. “Are you settled now?” as he moved closer to her.

“Back off,” she commanded and started to
roll toward the fire without thinking, intending only to get away
from him.

Suddenly a firm hand landed squarely on her
rump, and when she started to get up, a heavy arm fell over her
shoulder, pinning her down. “Stop this nonsense!” he growled and
Maggie immediately fell still. “I haven’t made a threatening move
toward you, and you needn’t fear that I will, so don’t insist on
becoming a human candle. Now settle down and go to sleep.”

There was little she could do but lie there
with his arm over her, weighing her down, but sleep she would not.
And then, to further distract her, Hunter’s hand covered one of
hers and tucked it against her chest. His thumb lightly stroked her
from wrist to fingers, and warm tingling sensations darted the
entire length of her arm. It was unsettling, what he was doing. Yet
it was comforting. And there was consolation, she had to admit; she
was warm.

*

All through the following morning, as she
rode beside Hunter on the high wagon seat, she was mortified each
time she thought of how she had turned to him in her sleep and
awakened with his arms around her, holding her against his chest.
It was the closest she had ever been to any human being.

Thoughts of how his nearness had disturbed
her brought back older, more ancient memories…of a mother tenderly
hugging a daughter, of parents caressing each other, even in view
of their children. It reminded her that a hug could give one a
sense of security, of calmness, and of being loved. Oh, she could
not extend this last to Hunter, for surely he did not love her. But
her instincts and his behavior of the past few days allowed her to
suspect that he harbored some affection for her. Certainly that was
more than she had ever hoped to attain, and she was amazed to find
that receiving affection matter to her…mattered deeply. And she
cautioned herself against becoming too comfortable with his small
signs of affection.

With these thoughts came a desire to end the
long silence that had fallen between them. She remembered the he
enjoyed quiet moments, even when others were about, but Maggie was
not yet comfortable enough in his presence to feel safe with those
silences.

“What’s your home like?” she asked.

He smiled thoughtfully at her before
returning his attention to the road ahead. “It’s a farm like any
other, I suppose. Not so old or as grand as Treemont. But the house
is warm in winter and the land supports us well.”

“Us?” she questioned, surprised. “I
understood you didn’t have any family.”

“I have friends who live and work with me,”
he said warmly. “And now I have you.”

The intensity of the gaze he had turned on
her again made Maggie uncomfortable; she looked away, searching her
mind for another topic. “How many friends will live with us?”

Hunter wondered briefly at the direction her
questions were taking. “Only Jason will live in the main house with
us. Jeffrey and his wife have a cottage of their own.”

“Jason?”

“An old friend of my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

Hunter frowned at her as he asked, “What
does ‘oh’ mean?”

In fact it meant a great deal in her own
mind, but Margaret didn’t think he would appreciate the conclusions
to which she had jumped. “Nothing,” she said, shrugging casually.
“Another woman lives there?”

Hunter grunted, as if her lack of response
to his question was disappointing. He assumed she had decided that
his mother and Jason had been lovers, and he wouldn’t be surprised
if that had been fact, so he let it go. “Marie-Louise and Jeffrey
are newly wedded,” he responded. “Jason and I have been most happy
to have her around; she’s a terrific cook.”

“That’s good,” she muttered. “At least we
won’t starve.”

Hunter laughed, returning his attention to
the team.

“Anna hated having anyone in her kitchen,”
she explained, “except to do menial chores. That’s why I never
learned to cook.”

“Why doesn’t Anna’s attitude surprise me?”
he said wryly.

“Will Marie-Louise and I get on, do you
think?”

He nodded his head. “You’re about the same
age,” he told her. “I think you’ll be good company for each other.
She can be outspoken but she’s very sweet. She’s a strong girl and
certainly a willing worker.”

Having another woman around would be a
comfort, Margaret decided; she would dearly miss her sisters.

“I think we should stop for the day,” Hunter
said after a time as he examined the sky, determining the time. “We
should reach home in decent time tomorrow and this appears to be a
good spot." He motioned beyond the brush at the edge of the
clearing. “I suspect we’ll find water over there, but let me check
to be certain.”

When he returned, Hunter reached up a hand
to help her down, but Margaret had found new freedom in her boyish
clothes and smiled as she took his hand and proceeded to jump from
the wagon seat. Going to the back of the wagon, she began to unload
some of the things they would need for the night as Hunter stared
at her in surprised silence. But when she reached for the heavy
sack containing the cooking and eating utensils, he stopped her.
“I’ll carry the heavy things, Maggie, in a moment.”

She looked over her shoulder, nodded, and
reached for the two bedrolls in lieu of the sack. Once she had
dropped the bundles in a place she considered suitable for a fire,
she returned to the wagon and stood by patiently while Hunter
unharnessed the bays.

He knew she was there, just behind him, and
he was pleased…but he was also a little stunned by this change in
her, this willingness to help, and he could only wonder what had
brought it about literally overnight.

He clipped a lead rope to each of the
halters and handed both to her. Before she could turn away from
him, Hunter reached out and gently touched her cheek with the backs
of his fingers. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and watched a look of
confusion steal across her face.

Margaret stood there for a brief moment,
distracted by the thought that his touch had been warm and gentle
and she had liked it. She had actually enjoyed his touch!

She raised her eyes to his briefly, the lead
ropes draping across her thighs as she dropped her hands to her
sides. “How is it that you can confuse me so easily?” she asked and
then turned on her heel and clicked the bays into action.

Hunter watched her go, smiling happily. “A
little confusion is good,” he murmured

Together they set up camp and Hunter had
begun to prepare a stew when he heard horses approaching from
beyond the bend in the road. “Two riders are coming,” he said as he
casually reached for the rifle he kept near at hand. “Stay close
behind me until we determine who these people are,” he said
lightly.

Margaret needed no second coaxing; she was
on her feet and moving around the fire before he had finished
speaking.

Hunter stood with the rifle bore pointing
toward the ground while Maggie peered around his shoulder at the
two men who came into view. From a distance they appeared to be
gentlemen, but on closer inspection she saw they were men of meager
means.

The younger of the two was Hunter’s age, she
guessed. He was a man of firm build, and although his clothes were
relatively clean, his coat and trousers had seen better days. What
disconcerted her most about him was the cruelty of his eyes…eyes
that looked directly into hers.

The second man was somewhat older, of
slovenly appearance and with several broken teeth. He seemed
primarily interested in expanding his paunch, as his attention was
immediately directed to their supper simmering in the black iron
pot. But his foolish gaping grin unsettled her.

And she was furious when Hunter invited them
to join their camp that night. Her heart pounding with fear, her
mind exploding with rage, Margaret stomped off in Hunter’s wake
when he went to the stream to fetch more water.

“What on earth possessed you to invite
those…those men to stay?” she demanded as she ducked and skirted
under branches and around trees.

In a few short moments they emerged from the
stand of trees beside a slow-moving stream. Hunter knelt on the
bank and lowered a wooden pail into the water. “I’m only
demonstrating polite hospitality,” he told her. “Don’t worry about
them.”

“But they’re evil, Hunter. I can feel it.
They’ll rob us and…and…”

“And worse,” he murmured, knowing full well
her thoughts. He set the bucket on the bank and straightened,
staring back in the direction of their camp. “I agree.”

“Then why?” she cried. “Please send them
away.”

Hunter crossed his arms over his chest and
looked down at her, his dark brows drawn together in serious
thought. “Maggie, if you knew there was a bobcat in the area would
you prefer to have it skulking at your back in the dark of night or
within the light of your campfire?”

She stared up at him in confusion for a
moment and then responded with a simple, quiet, “Oh.”

He nodded his head when he saw that she had
understood his meaning. “I want them where I can see them.”

Deferring now to his judgment, she silently
acknowledged his wisdom before turning to proceed him through the
dense trees, retracing their path. They were approaching their
campsite when Margaret suddenly stopped short, and Hunter found
himself close to sending her sprawling before he could reverse his
forward momentum and stop directly behind her. He opened his mouth
to admonish her as water from the pail sloshed down the leg of his
hide trousers. And then he noticed the reason for her action. Their
friend with the paunch was grinning at Maggie, unconcerned that he
was unfastening his trousers.

Margaret had already turned her back on the
man and Hunter put his free arm around her shoulders, drawing her
close as he frowned at the man.

“Stay here while I have a word with
him.”

She immediately grasped the front of his
white cotton shirt with both hands. “Don’t leave me,” she pleaded,
frantic.

“I’ll be back for you in a moment,” he said
quietly, bending to leave the bucket beside her. “Just stand where
you are.” He removed her hands and stepped around her, placing a
reassuring hand on her shoulder before he moved away.