The Beloved Woman (26 page)

Her martyred attitude infuriated him. Back in Gold Ridge he’d seen the fire in her too often to believe that she didn’t want him as a lover. “You’re a mite dangerous right now,” he said blithely. “I wouldn’t want to jab myself on your hipbones. I’ll wait.”

“Thank you.”

She said it without sarcasm, as if she’d taken his words
seriously. He gazed at her in dismay as she slid farther under the covers and snuggled her head into a huge feather pillow. Shutting her eyes, she grew very still.

He couldn’t stay angry with her, not when sadness shimmered around her like a dark aura. It hurt that she expected him to use her like a piece of property. It hurt even more that she thought he’d thrust himself into that frail, tired body of hers without a bit of guilt. He
did
crave her, and if she had wanted him in return, he’d have loved her with all the gentleness in his soul. But she didn’t want him—or anything, really, except to sleep, eat, or stare into space.

Justis stood up and looked at her, frowning. “I’ve got to go see about the horses. You rest good, you hear?”

She was already asleep. He reached out and touched the back of her hand where it lay atop the covers, the fingers unfurled as if there were no fight left in them.

M
RS. MARTIN LOOKED
upset as she pulled Justis out of his room. Katherine had just fallen asleep after gazing dully at several nightgowns and other articles he had purchased for her.

“She’s lost her heart, Mr. Gallatin,” Mrs. Martin said. “I’ve seen it before. My sister got that way after measles took her family. Her spirit died, and she followed.”

“My wife’s not gonna die! She just needs to rest!”

“You let her sleep that way all the time and she’ll rest permanently.”

Justis paced the hall, jamming his hands through his hair. He didn’t believe that Katie’s invincible spirit was gone. He
wouldn’t
believe that her listless sorrow came from dreading their future together. Not entirely, anyhow.

Had she been raped on the trail? Had she fallen in love with some man from her own people and then lost him to sickness? Had someone hurt her some other way? Every
question tore at him, mingling protectiveness with jealousy and anger because she wouldn’t let him inside her private, grief-filled world.

What would make her happy? He halted, gazing at Mrs. Martin thoughtfully. “You got any books to read, ma’am?”

“Sure do. All sorts.”

“Can I borrow a stack of ’em?”

“Certainly. I’ll send one of the boys up with them. But, Mr. Gallatin, how is that going to help your wife if she refuses to read them?”

Justis smiled wickedly. “She’ll read.”

CHAPTER 12

K
ATHERINE
frowned as sleep gave way to a dull headache. Her muscles ached from staying in bed so much, but she couldn’t think of any reason to get up. Justis left her alone except when it was time to eat, and then he watched her carefully until he decided she had swallowed a hearty amount of Mrs. Martin’s food.

A blunt finger poked her in the shoulder. She woke enough to realize Justis was propped up in bed beside her. “Sleepy,” she protested. “Don’t.”

“I’m gonna read to you.”

“No.”

“Wake up. I’m damned tired of sitting downstairs playing cards and drinkin’ while you snore.”

“I do not snore.”

He cleared his throat. “ ‘Love, whose month is ever May, Speed a bloosum passing far—’ ”

“Stop.” She groaned in weary dismay. “What book are you trying to massacre?”

“It’s a Shakespeare.
Love’s La-bour’s Lost.
”

Katherine turned over and looked up at him. He sat on top of the covers, fully dressed, and he had a cigar tucked above one ear. His eyes met hers solemnly. “I’m not embarrassed to sound dumb as a jackass in front of you, gal.”

Her heart melted. “You don’t sound dumb. Would you like some assistance with your reading?”

“Yeah. If you feel like it.”

She pushed herself upward. He planted the pillow behind her, then casually draped his arm around her shoulders. Even in her lethargic state Katherine enjoyed being close to him more than she’d ever admit. He didn’t know that she watched him every time he moved around their room, or that she often lay awake at night, contentedly admiring him.

“Warm enough?” he asked.

“Yes, thanks.”

She glanced around. He’d built a fire and lit a lamp beside the bed. Outside, a snowstorm was already dimming the day’s light. The room was a cozy, cheerful haven. She settled closer to his side. “Why don’t you begin the passage again?”

“Sure.” He held the book up rigidly. “ ‘Love, whose month is ever May, Speed—’ ”

“Spied.”

“ ‘Spied a bloosum—’ ”

“Blossom.”

“ ‘Spied a blossom passing far—’ ”

“Fair.”

He put the book down and sighed. “I’m glad we got lots of time to practice this while you stay in bed. I really want you to learn me—I mean, teach me to read better.”

“I’m afraid I’m still too tired to do much.”

“That’s fine. I’ll read to you and you don’t have to say a thing.” Placing the book where she didn’t have to look at it unless she wanted to, he continued. “ ‘A blossom passin’ fair, playin’ in the one-ton—’ ”

“Oh, I can’t help myself. It is
wanton
, not
one-ton.
”

“ ‘Wanton are—’ ”

“Air.”

“ ‘Wanton air. Through the vel-vet lives—’ ”

“Velvet leaves.”

“ ‘Velvet leaves the wind, all insane—’ ”

“
Unseen
. Justis?”

“Hmmm?”

“Would you mind if we did this later? I’d like to change into one of my new nightgowns and brush my hair. Afterward, perhaps you’d enjoy it if I read to
you
for a little while.”

“You feeling better, gal?”

“Yes, I believe so.”
Anything to escape this reading lesson
.

She looked at him. He grinned and stuck his cigar between his teeth at a cocky angle, almost as if he were pleased with himself.

F
ROM THEN ON
it was read or be read to, and the former was less tiring than the latter. So over the next few days Katherine found herself dressing in her robe and sitting in a chair by the fireplace, a book in her lap, while Justis sat cross-legged on the hearth by her feet.

At first Katherine barely paid attention to the words she spoke; her mind was dull and preoccupied, though she tried to concentrate. Images from the trail kept haunting her, and she used much of her strength to suppress the emotions they fostered. But as time passed, the reading forced her to concentrate. It guided her mind into soothing channels, and she began to look forward to it.

Justis sat utterly still at her feet for hours at a time, his droopy green eyes hardly ever looking away from her. His devotion gave her quiet hope. If he enjoyed even these simple, unexciting pastimes with her, perhaps he cared about her in a deeper way than she expected.

“I will trim your hair if you like,” she announced one morning in an attempt to be friendly.

“You feelin’ that much better?”

“Yes, I am. Reading to you has been good for my attitude.”

He grinned and gave her a lopsided squint, looking self-satisfied for some reason she couldn’t fathom. He ran a hand over his shaggy locks, which were beginning to curl luxuriously on his shoulders. “All right, I’ll take a trim. Not too short. I don’t wanta look like a sheared stallion.”

Mrs. Martin sent up a comb, scissors, and a mirror. Justis sat on a stool by the fireplace. Katherine stood behind him and speared her fingers into his burnished hair. “There’s enough mane here for two stallions, sir.”

“Don’t turn into a savage and try to steal my purty scalp.”

“Oh, it’s much handsomer attached to its owner than it would be hanging from my war lance.”

She started at his temples and stroked her fingers down through the curls to untangle them, brushing her fingertips along his neck as she did. The intimacy of it surprised her. She hadn’t thought such an ordinary contact would make desire wind through her veins. She hadn’t thought anything could make her feel human and female again.

The skin of her hands, now well healed, seemed alive with sensation. She loved the caress of his silky hair as she combed her fingers through it again and studied the longest strands, trying to decide how best to cut them, debating the wisdom of curling herself around him for a kiss. She warned herself to be patient, that she still didn’t have the strength or the beauty to please him in bed.

Breath feathering in her throat, she moved in front of him. “I’m trying to see how the hair wants to fall,” she explained. “ ’Tis best to cut it that way.”

“Hmmm.”

Her belly tightened at the low erotic pleasure in his tone. She was suddenly aware that she had stepped between his casually spread legs and that her knee was brushing the inside of his thigh. He sighed deeply, and his breath stirred a bit of decorative ribbon on her robe, directly over her breasts.

She glanced down and saw that his face was nearly touching her. His eyes were half shut, but there was no doubt that he was admiring the view in front of him. And no doubt that her breasts ached for a repeat of the gentle sucking he’d given them that tempestuous night, so many months before, at Mrs. Albert’s house.

Her hands shaking, Katherine stepped back to collect herself. “Perhaps I should trim your mustache first.”

“Nah, I’ll do it myself, thanks.”

The sensual languor in his expression made her knees weak. She laughed softly, the sound strained. “You are always so protective of it. I truly like the furry thing, Justis. I won’t damage it, I promise.”

“You like it?” he echoed in amazement.

The surprise and delight in his gaze nearly undid all her caution. She sidled around behind him to escape the compelling sight. “Yes. I can’t imagine you without it.” She sighed. “But I warn you—if you want to look more gentlemanly, you ought to shave it off.”

“I’ll just have to look less gentlemanly, then.” He reached back and grasped her hand, then brought it to his mouth. “Feel.”

Her stomach dropped as he guided the tip of one finger under his mustache. Again, an ordinary contact created an extraordinary reaction in her pulse. He drew her finger along the firm swell of his upper lip, then to the coarse ridge running parallel above it. “A
scar
?” she exclaimed.

“Yep. Got it in a knife fight.” He slowly pushed her hand away. “Guess it’s kind of a brand. I like to hide it.”

“A brand? How do you mean?”

“It tells the world that I’m no good, that I grew up fightin’ with trash and won’t ever be anything but trash myself.”

She exhaled raggedly and slid her arms around his neck. Pressing her cheek lightly to the top of his head, she murmured, “You are a hellion, a rogue, and quite often the most infuriating man I ever hope to know. But you are also the finest kind of gentleman.”

“Aw,” he said gruffly, and added a less polite word.

She kissed his hair. “Give me that hand mirror before you fumble it onto the floor.” She took the mirror and started to lay it on the washstand behind her, but caught a glimpse of herself and froze. “Dear God,” she whispered, and hurriedly turned the mirror facedown on the stand.

“Katie?”

Justis followed her as she stumbled to the bed, hugging herself. She curled up on her side. When he sat down and bent across her, she shut her eyes. “What is it?” he demanded urgently. “You upset because you look so thin? Hell, you look wonderful compared to how you were two weeks ago. And in another two weeks you’ll be beautiful again.”

“I never realized how everything that happened to me shows on my face,” she said in a small, choked voice. “I knew that others on the trail had an awful look of horror in their eyes, but I thought I could hide my own torments.”

He gripped one of her hands. “Tell me what happened to you.”

“I can’t … nothing. The way to fight your troubles is to push them out of your mind. If you act as if you’re strong, you
will
be strong.”

“Or you’ll sleep all the time to keep from thinkin’ how much you hurt inside,” he rebuked her gently.