The Barefoot Bride (8 page)

"So there's a bear around here?" Saxon peered into each nearby bush, certain the beast would soon attack.

"One
was
here, but it's gone, and it ain't a-comin' back."

"How do you know that?"

"Look how the mast's all tore up. See how it looks like somebody raked it? A bahr done it. It tuk its paw and went through all this mess a-huntin' fer the nuts."

"But how do you know it's gone and that it isn't coming back?"

"Look what yore steppin' in," she said, a merry twinkle in her eyes.

"Damn!" He stood quickly and wiped his soiled boot on the wildflowers.

"Bahr's don't do that in thur feedin' grounds. They won't foul up the place whar they eat. That mess you stepped in is a shore sign the bahr that was here moved on."

"Some things are better learned by myself, right?" He threw her a crooked grin.

They moved quickly through the dense brush. Saxon examined everything they passed, hoping to pick up signs of a bear. But Chickadee's trained eyes frequently rolled when he showed her something he was certain was evidence of a bear. He soon gave up trying to impress her. This was her territory, her domain, and he let her lead the way.

"Y'got to use yore ears too, Saxon. See how thick that laurel is? Well, you jist cain't believe how fast a bahr can git through it. You can hear it a-goin' at it, but you cain't see it. 'Course, most times Khan can flush one outen thar. 'Cept fer when he don't got no hankerin' to do it. He ain't like no reg'lar dog, y'know."

Saxon glanced at the white wolf. Khan returned the glance with blue-eyed disdain before turning his attention back to Chickadee.

"I don't think Khan likes me, Keely. Every time I try to pat him, he walks away, and he never comes when I call him. He eyes me as if he'd like to rip me to shreds, and though you say he doesn't mind sharing his bearskin during the day, he won't let me near it."

She bent and kissed the top of Khan's head. "Never knowed him to be jealous afore, but I reckon that's what he is. It's usually jist me and him, and he prob'ly ain't a-takin' too kindly to havin' you around. He'll git used to you. Ever'thang takes time, Saxon. I done tole you that afore, but you keep a-rushin' thangs."

"Still, it would be nice if he and I could get along."

She took a moment to think about the problem. "Tell you somethin' about wolves, outlander. In thur minds, they thank they deserve respect. And they do, the way I see it. I been with Khan fer gwine on four years, and I've noticed a lavish o' thangs about him. A-seein' as how yore a lot taller'n he is, he's prob'ly a-thankin' that you believe yore better'n him. Git down on yore knees and make shore yore head's lower'n his. That way, he'll be bigger'n you, and he might see you in a different way."

He looked down, watched the wolf yawn, and thought of Little Red Riding Hood.
My what big teeth you have, Grandmother,
he mused, staring at the inside of Khan's mouth.

"Git on down thar, Saxon."

"He'll probably bite my nose off."

"Yore nose is long. Wouldn't hurt yore looks nary a bit to git a smidgeon of it nipped off."

"Are you saying my nose is ugly?"

"Does it differ? What you got is what you got."

"At least I've
got
a nose. With that tiny thing
you've
got, it's a wonder you can breathe."

"I can breathe jist fine. Now, are you gwine git down thar on the ground with Khan, or are we gwine stand here all day a-talkin' about noses?"

He thought maybe talking about noses was a hell of a lot safer than coming nose to nose with a wolf. Taking a deep breath, he bent to the ground directly in front of Khan. He made sure his head was lower than that of the wolf, and when it was, he raised his eyes to meet Khan's curious gaze.

They stared at each other for several minutes before Khan yawned again and went to relieve himself on a nearby tree.

"Well, reckon that's what he thanks about you, Saxon," Chickadee said.

Still on his hands and knees, Saxon laughed out loud.

As they continued the trek through the woods. Chickadee began walking a bit slower. "It's jist a feelin'. Don't go a-gittin' all excited. I ain't seed or heared nothin yet."

But Saxon
was
excited. He was beginning to understand the thrill hunters experienced tracking wild animals. Risky, to be sure, but when man was pitted against nature, the atmosphere itself took on an air of stimulating expectation.

"Look here, Saxon," Chickadee said in a low voice while she pointed to a rotten stump. "Bahr tracks. This here stump's so soft with rot, the bahr sank right inter it when it got up on it. And look up thar," she said softly, gesturing at a low-hanging branch. "See how them leaves is turned wrong side out? The bahr was a-grabbin' onter that branch when it was up on the stump."

She walked ahead, her keen hunter's eyes noting each thing in her surroundings. Saxon followed closely, his own eyes wide with anticipation.

"It ain't too fur away."

"How do you know? Did you hear it?"

She pointed to some moss on the ground. "Thar's one o' its tracks. See how the moss is all crushed? Well, iffen the bahr was long gone, that moss woulda had time to puff back up agin. But it's still smashed real good."

"Where's the bear though?"

"Yore a-rushin' thangs agin."

They soon came to a gigantic oak tree, and she froze. Absorbed in watching everything around him, Saxon ran right into her.

"Dang it, Saxon!" she whispered loudly. "Are you plumb bereft? Watch whar yore gwine! You ain't never gwine be nothin' but a outlander lessen you pay attention to what yore a-doin'!"

He swallowed his laughter.

But she saw his tight grin. "Somethin' a-ticklin' you real good, ain't it? Well, a-seein' as how you thank all this is real funny, go show that bahr over thar how big you can smile. Maybe you can even git it to smile back."

The smirk on his face faded immediately. He looked all around but didn't see anything.

Chickadee saw how tightly he held his rifle, and it was her turn to grin. "In the tree."

Sure enough, there in the branches of the oak tree a short distance away was a big black bear. "Aren't we going to shoot it?" Saxon asked. "It knows we're here."

"As much racket as you been a-makin', it'd have to be deaf not to know we're here."

The bear moved, and Saxon cocked his rifle.

"Why you gwine shoot it?"

He lowered his rifle. "Wasn't that the reason for this hunting expedition?"

"Naw, we got plenty o' bahr meat at home. I jist wanted to show you how to track one."

"But won't it attack us?"

"Nope. Least not right now."

"How do you know that for certain? We could turn around, and it might jump out of that tree, and it might—"

"When a bahr's up in a tree, watch its head. Iffen it don't look at you, it ain't a-comin' down. But iffen it swangs its head around and looks like it's a-countin' how many hairs you got a-hangin' outen yore nose, then you know it's gwine come down after you."

Saxon noticed the bear wasn't paying them the slightest bit of attention. Damn! His first opportunity to take a shot at one of those vicious beasts, and this one had to be unaggressive!

"I know you was a-itchin' to take a shot at that ole bahr, Saxon," Chickadee said as they returned to the ivy-hedged path. "But she might have babies somewhar. Respect. Ever' plant, stream, rock, and animule here deserves respect. You take what you got to have, but iffen you take more'n that, one day you ain't gwine have nothin'."

Saxon stopped walking, smiled, and ruffled her hair. When he started to take his hand away, the expression in her eyes told him she liked it and hoped he wouldn't stop. Gently, he slipped his fingers through her tangled mane and kept them there, waiting to see what she would do.

His touch sent a ribbon of heat curling through her—as if he were made of fire. Unbidden, the memory of the one kiss T.J. Howe once gave her came to mind. It had been quick and wet, and her and T.J.'s teeth had clinked together. Would it be that way with Saxon? Probably not. Outlanders did everything differently than mountain folks.

"You ever wonder what it'd be like to kiss me, Saxon Blackwell?" Quickly she bent her head. She knew she was too blunt. Betty Jane told her that often. But, well, sometimes being bold was the only way to get what you wanted in this world.

Saxon tilted her chin up. "I've wondered, Keely."

A reply eluded her. Dumbstruck, she could only look at him, her mind whirling with unspoken thoughts, her voice refusing to put sound to them.

But he didn't need to hear them: he could see them. He might not know much about mountain life, but he knew about women, and as he gazed into Chickadee's ever-changing eyes, he realized no matter where or how women lived, most of them had something in common.

Passion.

Some were shy about it, others were quite open. Chickadee was open in many ways, sometimes painfully so. But now, right now, she was timid. This mountain ridge might belong to her, but the invisible aura surrounding them now was
his
dominion, and he knew it well.

He dropped his rifle and slowly pulled her toward him. He saw her swallow and smiled down at her. Tremulously, she smiled back, her slight grin vanishing when she saw his lips descending.

She knew a moment of panic, but some age-old instinct forced her to keep still. Saxon's arms went around her, and once again his touch burned her. His hard chest pressed against her breasts; her nipples hardened. Somewhere, deep within her, a sweet ache began, and of their own accord her arms stole around his waist, her fingers still wrapped around her rifle.

Saxon lowered his mouth to hers. Her inexperience was obvious in the way she kept her lips tightly pursed. He set about correcting that matter immediately. Slowly, gently, his tongue teased her lips open. When they parted, his kiss deepened slightly, and he savored the taste of her. She trembled against him at his unexpected action.

This was nothing like T.J. Howe's kiss. This kiss somehow removed all the bones from her body and left her with nothing but flimsy skin. Indeed, it was an effort to stay standing, and she wondered whether she would fall without Saxon holding her so securely.

Saxon took his time. This was her first real kiss, and he could well remember the feelings that accompanied the first encounter with desire. But as he continued to kiss her, he became a little wobbly-kneed himself. Strange. He liked kissing well enough and most assuredly enjoyed what could follow it, but he'd never reacted this way before. Wanting a stronger dose of the magical essence that could cause such an unusual sensation in him, he deepened the kiss again and enjoyed the warm rush of emotion for a long time before he reluctantly ended it.

But though the kiss was over, the thrill he'd experienced from it remained. He hadn't felt this way over a kiss in years! Maybe it was Chickadee's enthusiasm for life that had affected him, he mused. Her zest was certainly contagious.

He smiled wistfully when he thought about how Desdemona might respond to the cheeky girl in his arms. And his grin split his entire face when he thought of what Araminta's reaction would be.

He stared down into Chickadee's glazed eyes, his own eyes narrowed in sudden excitement. Araminta Blackwell. She undoubtedly had a long list of
suitable-for-marriage
ladies, all refined Boston beauties. Women so completely opposite from Chickadee, that the comparison was absurd.

Absurd? Outmaneuvering Araminta was absurd?

With rising exhilaration, he realized that Araminta had made a grave mistake in her latest scheme. She'd stated nothing in her new will about
whom
he had to marry and had given him leave to choose his own bride.

Chickadee with Araminta. Chickadee with Desdemona.

Chickadee McBride Blackwell.

Saxon's laugh of victory rang out over the smoky blue hills.

Chapter 4

Chickadee pushed him away with all the might she possessed. Saxon, taken off guard, fell to the ground and felt her rifle barrel digging into his chest.

"I know you've kissed girls who kiss back a sight better'n I do, but you ain't got no call to laugh at me. Say yore sorry or I'm gwine shoot that smile plumb offen your face."

Certain she was bluffing, he grinned and reached up to move her gun. A bullet whizzed by his ear.

"Don't thank I'll do it, do you? Say yore sorry."

"I wasn't laughing at you."

"Yore a dang liar. You was—"

"I was laughing at the circumstances. I've never kissed a woman with a wild bear so near by. The thought struck my sense of humor." He pushed her rifle away and got to his feet.

"Oh. Well I'm sorry I got so riled. I didn't hurt you none when I pushed you down, did I?"

His eyes flashed blue fire. "Dammit, Keely, I'm a man! A fall to the ground ain't—isn't going to injure me!" He stepped so close to her she was forced to bend her head way back to see his face looming above her. "I realize you are the way you are because you've had little contact with other people, but there's one thing about the sexes you need to understand. Men are stronger than women. You're capable in many respects, but
I
am a man, and
you
are a woman. There's a big difference. One you'd do well to remember!"