The Prospect: The Malloy Family, Book 10 (19 page)

“The river is an excellent choice to rid us of the bear as well.” She threw the words over her shoulder.

He nearly stumbled. “The bear is gone.”

“Bears will find a scent and follow it, occasionally outside their general territory. Since I did not see the bear clearly, I am unsure of the exact habits of the creature. However, we should assume it has our scent and may track us.” She used her school-marm voice again. This time he couldn’t help but be shocked and not at all comfortable with her book learning.

“Well, hell, I could’ve gone the rest of my life without knowing that.” He looked behind them expecting to see a lumbering, shaggy beast ready to rip his throat out. All he saw was trees and an annoyed squirrel.

“I thought it was important information to impart. The water will disguise our scent and possibly give us a faster method to reach our goal.” Each word that came out of her mouth was stiffer than the last. Something was bothering her. He didn’t know what, though. He didn’t have enough experience with women—certainly never had a wife—to know even what to ask so he stayed quiet.

They walked for an hour, his nerves on edge. The air grew warm in the summer sun, while bugs swarmed around his head and annoyed the shit out of him. Jo was quiet, studying their surroundings, stopping every fifteen minutes to stare at the ground and touch the leaves on trees. She had so much book learning, there was knowledge exploding out of her head like sparkling lights. This Jo made him as jumpy as the bear. He was dumb as a bag of rocks and she was so smart, it made his head hurt.

A slight noise to the right made him freeze. He hissed at her and she turned, her gaze curious. The silence of the woods was only broken by buzzing bees. Then he heard it again.

Water.

He grinned. “I think you found a river, Jo. Let’s hope it’s the right one.”

Her brows went up and then she scowled at something behind him. “I think we need to run.”

“Run?” He almost didn’t want to look.

“I believe the rustling approximately three hundred yards behind us is enough reason.” She didn’t wait for him to answer. The woman shocked him yet again by sprinting with that lightning speed she showed the night before.

Declan didn’t need a second warning. He knew how to use his feet and had spent much of his life running. Many times in imminent danger. It was the first time in his life he’d had to run from wolves and a bear. The West had taught him there were worse things than Irish thugs.

As they neared the river, his eyes stung as the sunlight glinted off the water. It was at least twenty feet wide with a strong current. He hoped like hell the bear wouldn’t follow them into the water.

Jo jumped into the river, the water up to her hips. “It is rather cold and the bottom is rocky.” She tried to walk, hampered by the weight of her wet clothing. “I neglected to tell you I cannot swim.”

As he digested that information, she disappeared beneath the current.

Chapter Eight

Jo held her breath as the river carried her along. She hoped she would survive. Declan was near her, she could feel him. His hands brushed passed her several times, but the current’s strength was too strong.

She thought of all that had happened in the last two months, her illness, leaving her family, her faux marriage, copulating with Declan, finding out she was stronger than she thought she was, and most of all, loving him. He wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. Far from it, in fact. Look how foolishly she had thrown herself into a dangerous situation when she knew she could drown.

Every second that ticked by was an eternity, her lungs screaming for air. If she could hold on for a few more moments, she might reach the embankment. She whirled down the deepest part of the river, the water clear enough to see she was too far away. Jo didn’t want to die. She had just experienced so many things for the first time. Love, joy, fear, triumph, passion. It was too soon to give all that up.

Jo kicked her feet and tried to use the water to maneuver herself to the right. Sticks and rocks scraped at her, and a buzzing sounded in her ears. She fought for herself, she fought for Declan, she fought for the children she would never have if she gave up. Jo fought until she almost burst from lack of air.

An arm snaked around her waist and forced out the air she’d been holding. Bubbles tickled her face, making her nose itch. River water flooded her mouth and then suddenly she saw sunshine. Blessed air filled her nose. She tried to take a breath but choked on the water. Declan tugged her along, swimming with one arm.

Jo coughed and retched, trying desperately to get past the clog in her throat. Her vision started to blur and black spots danced in front of her eyes.

“Don’t ye dare die on me, lass. I’ll not forgive that.” His brogue was as thick as the water in her mouth.

He reached a fallen tree in the river and snagged a branch, then threw her belly down on it. The force knocked the water from her lungs with a gush. She sucked in air while tears ran down her cheeks. Declan rubbed her back, his big hand warm against her wet, chilled skin.

“You took ten years off me life, Jo.” His voice was rough with emotion.

She turned to look at him, swiping the strands of wet hair from her vision. His eyes told her what his mouth did not. Love, there was love in his gaze. Hope for what they could have replaced the fear she’d been living with.

“I love you too, Declan.”

He didn’t look at her again for an hour. They made it to the river embankment and rescued as many of their things as they could from the water. He was all business, with short clipped words and brusque movements. She told herself she wasn’t hurt. He was reacting to her confession of love as though she’d told him he must walk naked the rest of the day.

It was the first time she had ever told anyone she loved them. Unlike her sisters, Jo wasn’t given to revealing her emotions verbally. She didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t a proverbial door slamming in her face.

Her clothes had nearly dried, but her boots were wet. The wet leather chafed her feet and ankles, but she wasn’t going to complain. Declan stomped along behind her as they followed the path of the river. He had the grace of a bull, making enough noise to alert anyone and anything within a mile of where they were. The trip down the river had apparently taken them two miles farther—the only advantage to the horrific near-death experience.

She focused on walking, her body exhausted and sore. One particular scratch on her neck stung and throbbed as sweat rolled down her skin. She wanted to stop and rest, but there was no time. If they were to reach her sister before those terrible men from the fort, she needed to keep moving no matter her discomfort.

In addition to her physical complaints, her heart hurt. Although she wouldn’t say it aloud, she wanted Declan to admit he loved her. Yet she couldn’t ask him. Although the new Jo was brave, she wasn’t
that
brave. She discovered courage could be finite. What if he didn’t love her and what she saw in his gaze was something else entirely?

The tall grass made her progress difficult as it twisted about her legs and feet. She refused to slow down or even acknowledge she needed to rest. Jo knew she could be stubborn, but she had assured Declan she was fit for travel. She had to keep going, no matter what.

“I need to stop.” Declan’s statement surprised her.

She looked over her shoulder at him. His face was pale, his eyes glassy and his hair plastered to his skull. Concern raced through her. What if Declan had contracted typhoid after all? Jo didn’t remember the incubation period, but he certainly looked sick. She reached for his forehead and he jerked away.

If she thought she’d been hurt an hour earlier, it was nothing compared to the knife that sliced through her at his reaction. She could barely catch her breath.

“I need to get some food in my stomach before I puke.” He sat down abruptly and blew out a breath.

Jo knelt beside him and opened her pack. There were several cans of peaches left and she set out to open one for him. Even if he’d hurt her with his actions, she did love him. Wholly. Completely. Her hands shook as she held to the can to him, a spoon handle sticking up. They had salvaged one spoon and Declan’s knife. No plates, no forks, and most of the perishable food had been ruined or lost.

He nodded and took the can without speaking. While he made quick work of the fruit, Jo studied his pallor, more concerned with each passing moment. He was sick, that much was certain.

“I believe you have a fever.”

He continued eating, ignoring her completely.

“Your skin has a sheen to it and your eyes are glassy. I am not the healer my mother is, nor the assistant Isabelle is, but I can recognize the symptoms of a fever.” She held out the canteen to him. “It is of utmost importance for you to stay hydrated.”

“I kept you alive for three weeks, little one. I know about keeping water in a sick body.” He drank the peach juice from the can, the strong column of his throat moving as he swallowed.

She hadn’t noticed how appealing his throat was. It had been hidden by the thick beard and then by his shirt. But now, with his head back, she could see its appeal. Jo had the absurd notion to kiss it, to taste the salty tang of his skin and feel the rough scratch of his whiskers on her lips.

Oh my.

“I ain’t sick.” He threw the can behind him. “The river water was cold, not to mention the fact you almost died. I’m wet, sweaty and mad as hell.” He leaned in close to her, his brows a dark slash on his forehead.

“I did not mean to nearly drown. You cannot possibly believe I would put myself in danger. I did not know the river was—”

Declan held up his thumb and forefinger. “Right now I am this close to throwing you over my knee and paddling your ass. I’m controlling that urge.”

Jo was nonplussed. She had never been spanked in her life, nor did she anticipate her husband would want to introduce her to the practice. While she still remained concerned over a sickness, she wisely did not push him any further. He would never deliberately hurt her and she wasn’t afraid of him. She was, however, wise enough to know when to hold her words.

They rested in awkward silence for another ten minutes. Jo’s stomach tumbled around, tight with tension. She was exhausted, more so than she’d thought. Her eyes wanted to close and her muscles quivered. It was only through force of will she kept herself upright.

He stood, startling a gasp from her. Declan hefted up the only pack they had left and looked upriver. “It’s time.”

Jo made it to her feet and agony shot through her heels. She hissed in a breath through her teeth and dug deep down inside for the strength to march forward. Declan didn’t appear to notice her distress as he walked away, leaving her to follow.

The trip west from New York had been long, tiring and, at the time, the hardest thing she’d ever done. Now she knew differently. Now she understood what difficult was. Life-threatening danger, wild animals, the fight against the elements and her own body’s limits. It was humbling at the same time it was enlightening.

Josephine Chastain had been a simple governess from New York. Now she was a warrior, a veteran of everything the wild territory had to throw at her. She’d survived, a bit battered and bruised, but she was alive.

Energized by her self-realization, Josephine forced herself to move. She could, and would, muster through.

Declan knew Jo was hurting, but he didn’t know how much and he couldn’t figure out how to ask her. His tongue was in knots, tied by five little words she’d blurted at him hours ago.

I love you, too, Declan
.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t love her. He loved her desperately, but there were things she didn’t know, secrets he hadn’t revealed. Now that they had consummated the farce of marriage and she’d admitting loving him, he was well and truly stuck in a corner. Caught between telling the truth to the woman who owned his heart or keeping her and living a lie.

He pushed both of them farther, harder, as though he could outrun what he’d done. The sun was setting and they had made it at least another ten miles. He hadn’t caught scent or sight of the bear since their mad flight down river. Yet he had no idea how far Malloy’s place was. They could be walking for days while Drummond and Parker continued on their blood hunt. Declan had no wish for Malloy to be hurt—the man was his friend. It was frustrating to have no control. Over anything.

The whinny of a horse had him stopping in his tracks. Jo bumped into his back and, to his surprise, cursed like a sailor.

“Shh…” He whirled and scooped her into his arms. She trembled as he held her, and damned if she felt smaller than when she’d been sick. Her brown eyes were wide behind the glasses. He noticed a crack in the corner of the left lens and knew it was from her frantic death-defying trip down the river. The last thing she needed was broken glasses. “Horses,” he whispered in her ear, pulling in her scent.

She mouthed,
Where?

He shook his head and strained to hear the sounds again. It was more than two horses, that was for certain. He closed his eyes, listening. Jo was still in his arms, her heart thumping madly against his. He’d forgotten how good it was to touch her, her form pressed against his. It was distracting.