Spring Blossom (20 page)

Hunter approached as the man was refastening
his trousers, longing to wipe the grin off the filthy face.

“A mite flighty, that girl of yours,” said
the man with the paunch, still grinning.

“That girl is a lady, and don’t you forget
it,” Hunter ground out.

“Bit hard to tell, appears to me, bein’ she
wears pants ‘n’ all.”

“Regardless of what she is wearing, she is a
lady. If you upset her again, you and I will do more than discuss
the matter.”

Suddenly the grin disappeared. “Hey,
friend,” the stranger cajoled. “I was just answerin’ the call of
nature.”

“Next time answer the call far away from the
lady,” he returned angrily. “Do you understand?”

“Sure. Sure!”

“Good. And you might also warn you
friend.”

“Sure. Sure,” he grumbled again and hastily
ambled toward camp.

When Hunter returned to her, Margaret had
not moved except to clasp her hands in front of her. “He’ll behave
in a more gentlemanly fashion in the future,” he said
matter-of-factly as he bent to pick up the bucket.

Margaret looked away, mortified. It seemed
to make matters worse that such a thing had happened while she was
in Hunter’s presence. A perplexing thought, since she was also
intensely grateful that she had not been alone.

Suddenly she felt gentle fingers under her
chin and Hunter was forcing her head around as he frowned with
concern. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t have you subjected to
such performances. He and his friend have been fairly warned,” he
added in a deadly voice that sent a shiver up her spine.

She was grateful for this display of
protectiveness, but she sensed a violence in him that frightened
her. Instinctively she tried to lighten the moment. “I’m being a
child, Hunter. The man posed no real threat to me, after all.”

“But this incident has raised another
issue,” he returned firmly, taking her arm and leading her back
through the trees. “Something is sadly lacking in your education,
my love, and I intend to correct that.”

Margaret merely frowned at him, clearly
puzzled.

Hunter was silent for a long moment as he
mentally chastised himself for not having seen the problem before
now. Maggie had every right to fear men, and her fears could only
be magnified by her sense of vulnerability. And she was vulnerable
because she did not know how to defend herself in situations where
she felt threatened. “Tomorrow your lessons begin, little one,” he
said softly. “Tomorrow you will learn how to take control.”

*

She helped Hunter prepare supper and was
rewarded with frequent understanding smiles form him. She stayed
very close to his side, and he, in turn, kept a close eye on her as
she moved about the camp.

As Margaret served the food, Hunter passed
the heaping plates to the two men, then sat close beside her while
he ate. When she washed the plates he had collected, he sat
directly behind her, his back supported by a boulder, one leg
stretched out before and the other drawn up, supporting his
forearm. He casually held a cup of coffee in that hand, allowing it
to cool while his eyes and ears took in everything around him.

The washing up was almost completed as she
listened intently to the conversation of the men, when the younger
of the two guests spoke.

“Good coffee,” he drawled. “Mind if I have
another cup?” His question might have been directed to Hunter but
his eyes were fixed on Margaret.

Nevertheless, Hunter responded. “Help
yourself.”

The man smiled, the action seeming to make
his chin disappear and his eyes grow even more fierce. “The lady is
right there.”

“The lady has had a long day,” Hunter
returned evenly. “You are welcome to all the coffee you wish, but
service is not included in the offer.”

Glaring gray eyes remained transfixed by
Hunter’s dark ones. The suddenly false smiles appeared on their
faces.

“Of course,” the stranger said carelessly.
“You’ve been more than generous already.” As he moved toward the
fire, Margaret backed away from the vicinity of the coffee pot.

“Come here, Maggie,” she heard Hunter
whisper, and she scurried backward, dragging the seat of her
britches in the dirt.

Hunter had spread his legs father apart and,
when she reached him, he pulled her back gently to lean against his
chest. His entire body seemed to envelop hers like a strong cocoon,
and Margaret did not miss the message he was conveying; she was
safe.

“You appear most protective of the lady,
sir,” the younger man said as he concentrated on pouring his
coffee.

Hunter smiled with just the needed degree of
menace. “My lady, sir,” he said. “My wife. Does that explain the
matter to you?” He waited for a protest from Margaret, but realized
she was too frightened to disagree with anything he said. When he
felt her shudder, his free hand went to her upper arm, even as he
took a sip of his coffee, and gave her a small, reassuring
squeeze.

The man placed the coffee pot back in its
nesting spot at the edge of the fire and eyed her again.

Hunter glared as the man ogled Maggie. Eyes
narrowed, he asked in a controlled but meaningful voice, “You do
understand, sir?”

“Of course,” came the hasty reply, “of
course, my friend, I have no desire to cause undue…strain upon you
or your lady.”

Tensions eased as a polite conversation
followed, and eventually those around the fire began to relax as
the men discussed topics of general interest.

Margaret didn’t speak a word the entire
evening and moved only once, to refill Hunter’s cup and pour some
coffee for herself. Then she immediately returned to the shelter of
Hunter.

As for Hunter, he was enjoying the nearness
of her, of her willingness to allow his touch. Although he did not
delude himself as to her reasons for staying close, he was content
to have her there, nestled between his thighs and resting back
against his chest as he sensed her becoming weary.

Eventually he moved away, after telling her
he would spread their bedrolls, but as Margaret’s gaze moved from
one stranger to the other across the flames, she lost what little
courage she thought she possessed and jumped up to follow.

“I need some privacy,” she told him.

Hunter laughed softly as he dropped a
blanket in a heap at his feet. “You won’t find it with me, will
you?” he teased, but he touched her cheek lightly with his strong,
warm fingers. “Come along then, love. I’ll wait for you by the
wagon.”

When they returned to camp Margaret spread
her blankets as close as possible to Hunter’s, across the fire from
the two men.

He laughed softly when he saw her ploy and
whispered, “Better the devil you know…”

She smiled coyly. “I don’t wish to disturb
your sleep again when I feel cold in the night.”

After removing her boots, she crawled, fully
clothed, beneath her blanket.

Hunter placed the rifle on the edge of his
blanket before removing his shirt and boots, all the time aware of
the movements of their guests. He did not really believe they would
attempt anything foolish, but one could never be certain what went
through the minds of scavengers such as these.

He pulled his blanket to his waist as he lay
on his side facing the fire, their guests and Maggie’s back.
“Maggie?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“Turn to me.”

“No.”

He placed one hand on her shoulder and
rolled her onto her back.

Looking up at him she said with quiet
earnestness. “I want them where I can see them.”

He laughed a rich, husky laugh. “You just
leave them to me, my fractious filly. Turn and face this way or you
won’t close your eyes all night. I know you at least that
well.”

She conceded his statement to be true and
turned, settling herself once again.

But she found it somewhat disconcerting to
be staring at his naked chest.

*

Hunter awoke well before dawn, with the
first whisper of movement from their visitors. He lay perfectly
still holding Maggie against him with his right arm under her
shoulder and curled around her back, while he lowered his left arm
between them until he could wrap his fingers around the butt of his
rifle.

The two men gathered only their own
belongings however, knowing their host was not congenial toward
them. Also, having seen the weapon he kept within his reach,
neither wanted any truck with Hunter Maguire.

As the two strangers buzzed back and forth
quietly on the far side of the embers of a dying fire, Maggie
stirred, rubbing her cheek against Hunter’s arm and raising one leg
between them.

“Easy, my pet,” he breathed. “Sleep on.” He
did not want the distraction of her awaking disoriented or
alarmed.

But Maggie slept on, sleeping the sleep of
one exhausted and well protected, as Hunter eyed the two men until
they had saddled their own horses and ridden away.

Hunter slowly moved the rifle out from
between their bodies and laid it along the backs of his legs, then
used his left arm to enfold Maggie and draw her deeper into the
possessive, protective curve of his body.

If only he could hold her whenever he
wished. Although lying with her like this did have its drawbacks.
Certain parts of his anatomy had awakened long ago, and it was
disconcerting to say the least to find his britches painfully snug
while knowing there was little he could do to relieve his
discomfort.

He wanted her more than he had ever desired
any woman, but he wanted her not for an evening, not for one brief
moment of release, but for an eternity. And achieving such an end
would require his forbearance now.

She awoke slowly, groaning softly against
the aches the hard ground had caused in her body, stretching
delicately like a soft, warm cat within the shelter of his arms.
Her nose bumped his chin when she arched her head back, and he
smiled with the pleasure of it while lying perfectly still for fear
of ending the pure joy of the moment.

Suddenly Margaret seemed very alert, her
body stiffening with something that plagued her as she whispered
against his shoulder, “The two men…?”

“They’ve gone, sweet,” he murmured. “And,
good morning,” he added lightly.

Margaret’s lips tilted upward against his
arm in response to the smile in his voice. “Good morning,” she
returned quietly and found, to her surprise, that she was loath to
move away from his warmth. Daring to snuggle closer, arms and
elbows bent between them, she asked sleepily, “Will we be home
today, Hunter?”

Hunter’s heart vaulted in his chest with the
velvet texture of her voice…her use of the word “home” and the
whispered sound of his name on her lips. Perhaps, he hoped, just
perhaps, she had begun to soften toward him. “Yes, we’ll be home
today,” he said warmly.

“Must I get up now?”

He chuckled deep within his chest.
“Slugabed,” he teased. “We won’t be home in time for supper at this
rate.”

“You’re not moving too quickly,” she
accused.

“I don’t want to get up either,” he
admitted. And why should he; it may be a very long before she
allowed him to get this close again.

Margaret stretched out fully then, her toes
point north and her arms reaching above her head as she rolled away
from him. And just as quickly, she was curling up against him
again. “I seem to want to stay here,” she murmured as his arms went
around her again. “Is that bad of me?”

Hunter shook his head against the rolled
blanket he had used as a pillow. “It’s not bad of you, Maggie,” he
breathed. Then he spoke again, just as softly, against the silky
hair that so enthralled him. “Don’t you know that this is a natural
place for you to be?”

She was silent for a time, breathing in the
heady scent of him, as she woke more fully. She had to admit she
liked being close to him. It seemed as if all her childish dreams
of him had suddenly grown up and come to life. But they had matured
ahead of her, and Margaret did not think herself capable of seeing
those old dreams through to their natural conclusion.

She felt his lips lightly brush her brow and
Margaret tugged back against his hold. “You kissed me,” she
accused.

“Guilty,” he returned easily, and when she
tried to move farther away, Hunter refused to release her. “It was
just a simple kiss.”

“There is nothing simple about a kiss,” she
returned, pushing against his chest with both hands in order to be
free of him.

“That one was simple, don’t you think?”

The pressure she was exerting slackened for
a moment as she stared at him in confusion. “Why did you do that?”
she asked, wondering why he had bothered if that was all he
intended to do. And it had alerted her to watch carefully for his
true intentions.

Hunter removed his right arm from beneath
her and propped his head on his hand. “I kissed you because I
wanted to,” he said simply, and watched her frown deepen as her
thoughts whirled around in her head. “You should try it sometime,”
he added. “It’s a small, rather pleasant sign of affection.”

Her ice-blue eyes turned wary. Margaret knew
a trap when she saw one. “You feel affection for me?” she asked,
while still wondering about his next move.

“Of course,” he said, amazed. “Why else
would I have married you?”

Her eyes roamed over his face, searching his
eyes, as she tried to determine the truth of his words. Why indeed?
She was no longer pretty and she had resisted him at every turn. So
why had he married her? Failing to find answers to her own
questions, Margaret set up her protective walls again. “Well, I
hold none for you,” she said spitefully. That, she thought, should
put an end to it.

“You don’t?”

By his tone, he obviously doubted the truth
of her statement, confusing her yet again, setting her own words
against her and making her head spin with questions.