Taming Talia (18 page)

But such blissful rest wasn’t what the new day held. Her stomach growled, reminding her of the animals in the stable. They hadn’t eaten either. And there was the cow to be milked.

Dress. Brave the icy wind and snow. Feed the animals. Muck the stable. Bring in more wood. Back to the ranch house. Fix breakfast. See to Jared’s injured leg.

Dios
, the cold and the never-ending work was wearing her down. Her feet felt rooted to the floor. Slowly, she slid down the wall until…

She shook herself awake and stiffened her legs and back.
No, keep moving. Don’t give in.
Trudging into the kitchen, she grabbed a slice of bread from the keeper. She buttered it, even opened her mouth to bite into the yeasty goodness—

No. She shook her head and carried the bread to Jared, who looked up from fumbling with the cold pack on his leg. “This should hold you until I get back from the stable; then I’ll—”

“Forget about me. Talia, you’re pale. Dammit, you’re on the verge of collapse.” He swung his good leg off the chaise and set it on the floor. “Where’s the cane? I’ve lain around here long enough.” He threw the melted pack on the floor and, using both hands, gingerly lifted his injured leg off the chaise. “The cane?”

“No!” Did he think she couldn’t cope with a little extra work? “You need another day with that leg elevated. I’ll take care of the animals, fix breakfast, and then I’ll lie down for a while.”

He shook his head. “No. I can hobble around with the cane.” He looked from side to side, his gaze darting around the room. “Where’d you hide the damned thing?”

Natalia rolled her eyes. Honestly, men… “Under the chaise, next to your left foot. If it were a rattler, you’d be dead now.”

A little sheepishly, he grinned up at her. “So I see.” He bent over, snatched the ebony cane and gave it a twirl. “Very distinguished,” he said, then stroked his mustache with a dramatic flourish.

Stubborn oaf, yet charming. She couldn’t help but smile at his antics. “All right. If you insist on getting up, maybe you could manage breakfast while I’m outside?”

He raised his chin and glanced down his nose in a haughty manner. “I’ll have you know that on my travels, I’ve cooked over an open fire many a time.”

She set her hands on her hips. “Well, I hope you’re not planning on starting an open fire in my home, Pinkerton.”

“Gah! There you go,
Pinkerton
again.”

“It’s what you are.” Best not forget it, either—no matter how boyish and charming he was.

“It’s true. I came here under false pretenses. But I don’t believe for a minute you had your husband murdered.” His gaze held hers. For once, his expression was unclouded by any attempt to dissemble. “For the life of me, can’t think why you didn’t. Men have been murdered for less.”

His words touched and chilled her at the same time. “Purely and simply, I’m not a murderer. If I were, I would’ve already gotten rid of you.”

“May not be so easy to get rid of, Talia.” He burst out laughing; then his features contorted.

“You’re still in pain, aren’t you?”

“Not like I was yesterday. A shot of whiskey wouldn’t go amiss though.”

Grinning, Natalia shoved the bread in his face. “Eat this first. I’d hate to have a drunk set my kitchen on fire.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took the bread from her and took the first bite. With his mouth still full, he mumbled, “This is the best bread I’ve ever eaten.”

She laughed. “You’re just hungry.” Heading toward the door, she stopped sharply and turned. In as innocent a tone as she could muster, she asked, “Do you need my assistance in the water closet?”

An expression of horror crossed his handsome face. “No!”

She chuckled, having just made the suggestion in the hopes of being rewarded with such a reaction. “All right, then. I’ll leave you to your morning ablutions with your modesty intact.” Served him right for being such a prude about his bodily needs when he was anything but a prude in bed.

Back to the kitchen, where she sliced another piece of bread and buttered it. She groaned with pleasure when she took a bite. Quickly, she finished breaking her fast. It would have to do for now.

Unable to avoid going outside any longer, she pulled the heavy overcoat from the hook by the door and shoved a Stetson on her head. On opening the door, she found a very different landscape. Snow had stopped falling, and the sun shone with a blinding brilliance across the fields. Melting ice steadily dripped from the edges of the tile roof. Wind blew from the south. Just maybe the snow would melt before winter set in for good.

But then Jared would leave.

As much as he’d angered her with his deception, she would miss his company. Miss arguing with him. Miss joking with him. And especially having him in her bed. What a revelation it was to have a lover who knew how to pleasure a woman when she’d had so little in her marriage. Hah! She’d experienced none there at all.

While she had trusted him with her body, trusting him with her heart was another matter. Did she dare take his words about working the ranch alongside her seriously? Could she trust him to keep his word and not abandon her if he grew tired of a rancher’s life?

Crossing the courtyard, she easily made her way through the trench to the stable. Outside the stable door, she could hear the fretful lowing of the milk cow and impatient neighing of the two horses. Poor creatures needed exercise. But that could wait.

Chapter Fourteen

Before tackling breakfast on the cookstove, Jared washed his face and cast a long glance at Montrose’s straight razor, then finger-combed his hair and headed to the kitchen.

Leaning on the serpent-headed cane in front of the cookstove, he shook his head and frowned. “Dang.” Building a fire was simple enough, but regulating it so that it would cook the food and not burn it was another issue. An open campfire was much less complicated.

He opened the iron door. “No time like the present.” He pulled wood from the basket by the cookstove and thrust it inside. Using a safety match, he lit a twisted piece of newspaper and set the wood alight. He waited until the fire was established, then shut and secured the door.

By poking around the icebox and the pantry, he located eggs, bacon and a heavy iron skillet. He placed bacon in the skillet and set it on the stove plate. While he waited for the bacon to fry, he found a bowl and broke five eggs into it with only a minimum of shell. He yanked open several drawers before he found a fork to whip the eggs.

Yeah, he could do a fine breakfast. Biscuits surely would be nice, but he didn’t have a clue how to bake anything like that. There was still half a loaf of bread in the keeper. That would have to do.

Trying to ignore the pain in his leg, he hummed while he whipped the eggs and listened to the sizzling and popping of the bacon while it cooked. He nosed over the skillet. Time to flip. Now where— Hell, he’d just use the fork.

Bacon was about to burn. Stove was too hot. He reached for the skillet to pull it off the stove. “Damn!” Should’ve wrapped the handle with a towel. Close call. He almost dropped their breakfast. Now his hand was burnt. Great. Fucking great.

Carefully, he grabbed a towel and folded it, then set the skillet to the side and turned the strips over. Grease popped on the back of his hand, and he almost dropped half their breakfast again. “Crap!” He sucked the burned spot. Ought to put some butter on it, but he was pulled in too many directions. Time to take up the bacon. By now it was—um, crisp.

Still edible. He’d eaten worse.

He found a clean dishtowel and set the bacon on it to drain. When Talia returned from the stable, he’d cook the eggs. No point in serving his hostess burnt bacon
and
rubbery eggs. She made cooking breakfast look simple as could be. Well, it wasn’t—not by a long shot—not on an unfamiliar cooking implement and with a bum leg to boot.

He limped over to a chair and sat, then pulled another chair around to face him, using it to prop his bad leg. “Whew.” He could take it easy until Talia returned. Now where was—

In his poking around, he hadn’t discovered Montrose’s liquor stash, and he could really use a pick-me-up. Then he spied the coffeepot on the back of the stove. Coffee. Yeah, coffee would do. Talia would appreciate a hot cup when she returned from the stable where she was doing the chores he ought to be doing.

He moved his bad leg from the chair and hobbled over to the stove. The heat from the stove lent the kitchen a homey atmosphere. Spending the rest of his life here with Talia didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Using water from the snow Talia had melted, he dipped the coffee pot into the large copper kettle.

Now where was the coffee? Damn. Why couldn’t anything be easy? He limped into the pantry and inspected several containers. Finally he found the coffee. Now at least he could brew her a cup of coffee and earn his keep while she was outside doing a man’s work. No matter what she said about her strength and ability to stand alongside any man, he’d clearly seen how exhausted she was from watching over him all night.

Not since his mother had anyone shown him as much care as Talia had. Talia, the wild, temperamental and passionate woman he’d always dreamed of but never thought existed.

After setting the coffeepot onto the stove, he shuffled back to his chair, leaned back and waited for the coffee to percolate.

His eyelids grew heavy. About to nod off, he shook himself awake in time to see Talia dragging a load of firewood across the courtyard. He got to his feet to open the door and motioned with a come-here gesture. “Let me. Nothing wrong with my arms.”

She shot him a grateful smile but shook her head. “Wait until I get to the door; otherwise you might slip.”

He nodded but chafed at watching her small frame tugging the heavy load of firewood. “It’s stopped snowing,” he said, amazed he hadn’t noticed earlier.

“
Sí
. The wind has died down, and the sun is out, and it’s melting ice and snow off the roof.”

Was it possible the weather would improve enough for him to get back to town? Damn. He didn’t want to leave her, and just how much he didn’t want that shook him. “But there’s still no way to travel safely. I don’t know the area well enough to risk endangering my horse.”

“No.” Talia gave a quick shake of her head. “It wouldn’t be safe. Not yet. Not at all.”

Jared shouldered the firewood and deposited several logs into the basket beside the stove. He carried the rest to the bedroom, then limped back to the kitchen to cook breakfast. Surely he couldn’t muck up a simple meal.

Natalia headed for the water closet. Freshening her appearance and getting rid of the stable smell would do a lot to improve her mood. After removing her odorous outer garments, she splashed cold water on her face. From Reginald’s chifforobe she pulled out a clean flannel shirt and a pair of denim trousers. They would do until the weather moderated. Then back to her bedroom, where she ran a brush through her hair, twisting it into a low knot on her neck and securing it with hairpins.

Heading back to the kitchen, she inhaled the aromas of coffee and burnt bacon. Even so, her stomach growled and her mouth watered. No matter how bad Jared’s cooking, she was starved and wouldn’t say a word about his skills.

“Now you sit,” she ordered. “I’ll pour the coffee and put the food on the table. It smells wonderful.”

Jared snorted. “You must be starving. I have to warn you the bacon’s on the crisp side, but I managed to keep it from scorching completely by picking up the skillet and burning my hand instead.”

“Oh no. Let me see.”

He held out his hand, palm up. A blister had already formed. “It’s not so bad,” he said, wincing.

“Ice.” Natalia turned, intending to scoop up some ice or snow from the courtyard.

He snatched her wrist, stopping her forward movement. “Is your intention to pack my entire body in ice?”

“Don’t be absurd.” She gave him a teasing smile. “Just the injured parts.”

“All right. More ice. But how I’m going to get around with a burnt hand and a broken leg…” He shrugged, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Never fear, Pinkerton.” She stroked his cheek. “I’ll see to your needs.”

His dark brows rose. “To which needs might you be referring?”

“Why, your health needs, of course. Speaking of which, it’s time for another dose of willow-bark tea.”

He frowned, reminding her again of the little boy she’d watched over last night. “Nasty stuff. Won’t it ruin my appetite?”

Laughing, she turned to go to the pantry. “Nothing’s going to ruin your appetite.” Not if she could help it. She located the second dose of the medicinal tea on the table where she’d left it to steep. Might as well prepare the next dose now.

She returned. “Dose number two. Drink it all. And don’t complain.”

He frowned, but took the cup, swallowed the contents, then grimaced. “Gah! Awful.”

She set a cup of fresh coffee before him. “Wash it down with this.” Then she placed a plateful of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

After sitting, she bit into a piece of burnt bacon and chewed the crunchy meat. Putting on her best smile, she said, “This is really good.”

“Cut the crap, Talia. I know it’s bad. But I’ve eaten worse. At least the eggs turned out all right.”