Stetsons, Spring and Wedding Rings: Rocky Mountain Courtship / Courting Miss Perfect / Courted by the Cowboy
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He stood his ground. “It might be frozen. Let me get it started for you.”
“It does seem to be stuck.” Her words sounded strained.
Strained or affected? He had to find out. He pressed closer to her until her shoulder blades brushed his chest. The luxury of her hair tickled the underside of his jaw. Please feel what I do, he wished, gathering up all the forces of his soul. Please want me the way I want you.
Was it his imagination or had her fingers nudged his? He relaxed his hand, waiting spellbound and breathless for the smallest movement. It came quietly and sweetly, the tiniest acquiescence as her fingers widened to allow his to entwine with them. His breath caught and held, his heart tumbling irrevocably. In the kiss of moonshine, she was exposed. Wideeyed, she watched him with both fear and hope, emotions he could feel hovering in the crisp air between them and with his every breath.
“Joseph, the water?” A shiver rolled through her, and he could feel every nuance, every worry and wish.
With her fingers between his, he put some muscle into it, and the pump handle gave. Water splashed, drumming into the tin pail as he savored her summery scent. He fought the need to press against her more tightly, enfold her in his arms and never let her go. For whatever reason, she affected him deeply and he was grateful. He’d taken to her from first glance, but every time they met his affections for her expanded like stars in the night sky.
“I’ve got it now,” her gentle alto reminded him, but instead of notes of censure in her voice, there was something hidden.
Something only his heart heard. He did not move. “Maybe I want to help you, Clara.”
“Maybe you are trying to charm me again.”
“Charm you…no longer. My aim is to show you the man I am.” The pail was full, and it was like dying a little to release the handle and take his hand from hers. To step away from her softness when every instinct he owned shouted at him to get closer until there was no way to know where he ended and she began.
“Joseph, surely you know we cannot be friends.” Her plea sounded frail on the inclement wind, as fragile as the ice forming at his feet, cracking beneath his boot as he took a step.
“I do not wish to be friends, pretty lady. Wait here.” He took the pail from her, tossed her a grin and left her standing alone in the star shine. The world around her transformed. Ice crusted the snow and shone like diamond dust. Icicles dangled overhead as he hurried up the icy path to leave the water bucket on the top porch step. He would take it inside later. But for now, he had more information to gather. Did he have a chance? Was he right, did she have hopes and feelings for him, too?
As predicted, she did not wait as he’d asked. She followed him as far as the trail’s fork, one leading to the stables and the other to the maid’s quarters. “I never asked what brought you out in the cold this time of evening.”
“I intended to pay Don Quixote a visit. He and I haven’t gotten in as much talking as we usually do.” All he could see was her. The swish of her skirt. The sway of her hips. The pearled light on her skin. “I was also thinking of sledding.”
“You? Aren’t you too old to play in the snow?”
“Playing in the snow is ageless.” He matched her pace, taking the unbroken edge of the trail and leaving her the cleared pathway. “Surely even a lady as proper as you, Miss Clara, knows that.”
“I’ve rarely indulged in such silliness.” She tried to hold back a smile and failed. “The truth is, I’ve never had much time for play.”
“You have always had a serious life?”
“I ran errands for several businesses in town, swept store floors and boardwalks and cleared snow for most of the day when I was a child.”
“What about school?”
“I never made it past the third grade. I was kept out, to help make what living I could. But one of the hurdy-gurdy dancers at one of the saloons liked to read and taught me what she could. I doubt you can understand how I was brought up.”
“With little to hope for, so it seems to me. With a ma you couldn’t count on, a pa who’d abandoned his responsibilities. I can see why you don’t believe in me, Clara.” His hand settled on her shoulder, drawing her around. He towered over her, both a stranger she did not know and a dream she’d never been brave enough to wish for, all at once. His thumb brushed the dip in her chin. “But you will.”
How did she tell him she was beginning to believe? She felt dazzled by his caring gaze, captivated by his branding touch. This man could enchant her, when no one ever had. His fingers blazed on her skin like the first star in a winter sky, bright enough to light her way. His gaze settled on her mouth and lingered, and the contours of his rugged face changed. His mouth softened. His eyes darkened.
Alarm tripped through her veins. She bit her bottom lip, afraid in a way she didn’t understand. Surely he wasn’t thinking about kissing her. She steeled her spine, gathering up her will. How easy it would be to throw off caution and lean ever so slightly toward him, let her eyes drift shut and know the feel of his kiss.
The wind gusted hard, slicing through her layers of clothing like a blade. Her head cleared. You do not know this man enough. You have not seen enough of his character. The commonsense reminder whispered through her mind, giving voice to her doubts, which life had reinforced. Men did not stay. And if they did, they did not stay for her.
Again she withdrew from his touch and the allure of his intent gaze. Whatever he was asking, she could not agree to. Something deeper than disappointment and darker than regret slammed against her rib cage, but she ignored it. “If you will excuse me, it’s time I went home.”
“Your workday is done?”
“Yes, although there is much to be done in the cabin.” Minor things, like refilling the kerosene lamps and darning her socks, which had worn through again. But he did not need to know that. Let him think she had pressing tasks that could not wait. It would be best for both of them, best for her heart. Her shoes slipped a bit on the icy path, and the crunch of her footsteps echoed in the great hush of the night.
“Are you settled in all right?” His question followed her when he did not. “Are you liking the place?”
“Liking is too small a word.” Her confession rose across the platinum span of snow separating them. Heat flooded her face and embarrassment across her heart, for she was not only speaking of the cabin. Afraid he knew that, too, she continued on, walking as fast as she dared until the shadows surrounding the garden hid her from his sight.
Chapter Six
“I‘m tellin’ you, I think she just might like me more than a little.” Joseph’s steps echoed in the stable as he wrestled his sled out from behind Gabriel’s collection of saddles. “She had a look on her pretty face, one I’ve seen before. Back before Savannah married Nate and she was sweet on him and didn’t want him to know it. That was the same look Clara had tonight.”
Don Quixote inhaled the last granules of grain from his trough, swiveling his ears as if he were listening intently. He whinnied his opinion low in his throat.
“I’m glad you think so, too.” He dragged the old sled out of the tack room and squinted at it.
Don Quixote lifted his head from the grain box and did the same.
“Not too impressive, all covered in hay dust like that.” He hadn’t reckoned on their boyhood sled looking neglected and battered, but the runners were in fair repair. “Good thing it’s dark out. With a lick of luck, she won’t be able to tell.”
Don Quixote whinnied with a shake of his head, sending his sleek black mane swinging. It was plain to see the stallion didn’t agree.
“It’s the only plan I’ve got. If you have a better one, speak up.” Joseph stopped to run his hand down the horse’s nose. “You and I have a trip to make into town tomorrow. Things ought to get interesting with the snow melting, so rest up. You might need all your energy. Then there’s always the Johnsons’ filly in town to impress. Either way, it’s bound to be a big day.”
He intended to time things right so he could volunteer to escort Clara on her first drive to town. Whistling, he yanked the sled by its rope out into the night. Don Quixote nickered a cozy good-night. He closed the doors tight against the cold wind and high-mountain predators.
Clara’s light drew him across the hillside, with heart pounding and his palms damp beneath his gloves. Dang, but he was nervous. Courting a woman was sure tough on a man. By the time he got up the courage to rap his knuckles on her front door, his nerves were atumble. He could hardly suck in enough air waiting for her to answer. A thousand rejections took form in his imagination. Clara saying a fast and very adamant “No!” Clara slamming the door in his face. Clara looking horrified at the thought of spending time with him. Clara laughing in mirth at his tender assumptions.
His knees were knocking as he waited. He knew down deep that she would never treat him that way, but what a man knew and what he feared were two different things. A wolf howled in the nearby forest and others answered, echoing across the mountaintops, nearly masking the sound of the door opening. Lamplight spilled over him like hope, and she looked beautiful as always with her braids uncoiled and without her proper white apron. He couldn’t help but notice how her green calico dress made her look like summer in full bloom, lush and ripe and tempting.
“I know you said you had things to do,” he began, trying to banish the nervousness plaguing him. “But I thought you might like to try your hand at sledding.”
“How did you know I’ve never been?”
“Just a guess, from what you said.” It stood to reason. She’d worked as a child, instead of learning to read and cipher at school, and hadn’t had much time for play. “It’s a lot of fun.”
“More so than sleigh riding?”
“I promise you the time of your life.” Was that interest sizzling in the blue of her eyes? He surely hoped so.
“The time of my life? My, that is a big promise.”
“One I intend to keep.” He unhooked her coat from the peg by the door. “This might be your last chance until snow flies again, probably in October. That’s a long spell to wait for some of the best fun you will ever have on a downhill slope.”
“You are outrageous, Joseph, claiming such things. I have a suspicion you are not only speaking of sledding.”
“It takes one to know one.” He held out the garment for her. A challenge dazzled in his eyes along with something else, something far too serious and too frightening to believe in. So why was her arm sliding into her coat sleeve as if of its own accord?
“And what if my sledding experience is not as stellar as you claim?”
“Life’s experiences come with no guarantees,” he answered smoothly, easing her coat over her shoulders. So close, she inhaled the fresh air, hay and his pleasant male scent. Awareness tingled through her. His lips brushed her hair as he spoke. “But you will never know if you don’t give it a try.”
Why did it feel as if he were no longer talking of the act of sliding down a hillside in the dark, but something much more perilous? When he circled around to catch her top button in his callused, working-man hands, his humor was gone. His easy-going friendliness vanished. The lamplight found and caressed the intensely masculine muscular curve of his shoulders bulging beneath his coat. She felt every inch of his power to protect, to defend and to provide. She recognized an immeasurable tenderness as he worked the first button through the buttonhole, his knuckles grazing her chin.
Her body betrayed her, her heart hammering fast and hard, her breath coming in shallow, quick puffs. Could he feel her reaction as he drew the coat over her breasts and secured the button? His touch felt shocking, for all its properness and the layers of clothing separating her skin from his touch. She felt as vulnerable as if she stood naked before him. What was happening to her?
“You’ll need your muffler and hat.” He stole both from the wall pegs and draped the length of knit wool around her neck. His smile had changed. No longer jovial, intensely serious, it emphasized the sharp planes of his face, his high cheekbones and the firm square cut of his jaw. He plopped the knit cap on her head, and her hands caught his of their own volition, feeling the hard ridge of muscle and bone beneath his smooth, hot skin.
Little fires flared through her, an awakening of both body and spirit. A stirring of heat and gentle feelings she’d never known before. This is not love, she told herself, stubbornly willing it to be so. She defiantly fought down the strange new affections. But they were so overwhelming, she might as well have been butter melting on a hot stove.
“Will you come with me?” He held out his hand, palm up, waiting. His question rang low with a deeper meaning. A meaning that made her soul shiver and private places within her come alive. His baritone dipped, unfailingly intimate. “The night is waiting.”
This is not love, she repeated, caught between wanting to stay safe alone in her cabin and needing to find out what awaited her on the starlit snow and in the chambers of Joseph’s heart. How did she choose? Both were perilous. Both would end in heartache. She bit her bottom lip, aware that it drew his gaze there. Was he thinking to kiss her? Her stomach dropped at the notion of kissing him back. Her lips tingled, craving something she did not know.
Did she stay here and always wonder what if? To spend her days never sure what would have happened it she had accepted his offer? Or did she go with him, fearing it could not last? Did she seize what time she could, stealing happiness beneath the light of the moon?
She didn’t know what came over her. “Let’s not keep the night waiting,” she said, and took his hand.
Joseph steadied the sled at the crest of the slope, quaking in a way he never had before. Clara noted his every move. He could sense her gaze on him like a touch to his shoulders, to his back and to the side of his face. That she agreed to come was a hopeful sign. Kneeling down, he held the sled steady. “All aboard.”
“The hill looks steeper than I remember.” Her skirts swished against his knee. “And far too rugged. Are you sure we won’t crash like a runaway train?”
“No, I’m not sure at all. Crashing is a risk we are both going to have to take.” He took her hand, savoring the smile curving her mouth. “Sit right here. Feet forward, and hold on to the side here.”
“This can’t be comfortable. I’ll fall off.”
“I’ll hold you so you won’t.” He eased behind her, doing his best to keep the sled steady. “Are you starting to see how this goes?”
“You’re going to put your arms around me, aren’t you?”
“As long as you don’t object.” Sure, he could have let her slide down the hill all by herself, but how was he going to get closer to her that way? His legs embraced hers as he cradled her between his thighs. More intimate than on their horse ride the first evening they had met, and he couldn’t complain about that. No, not one bit. Her rosewater-and-soft-woman scent tantalized him as he wrapped one arm around her waist. The underside of her breasts rested against his forearm.
You’re a gentleman, Joseph, he reminded himself, but his blood heated anyway. He might be refusing to imagine having the right to unbutton her dress and worship her breasts, but his body responded anyway with a desire so strong, his vision blurred. All common sense fled.
“Are you ready?” he murmured against her ear. The silk of her hair and the satin of her skin captured him like a spell, binding him to her with a tie so fierce it could never be broken.
“You’ll hold on tight to me?”
“I won’t let go.” He pushed off with his free hand, and the sled bumped over sharp rises and dips before hovering on the brink of the hill’s edge.
“Maybe I’m thinking to change my mind about this.” She gripped the worn wooden sides tighter. “Could you stop?”
“I could, but then you would miss this.” His words puffed against the side of her face, intimate and tantalizing. “Look up.”
Silvered light drew a path down the hillside, making the snow gleam like a dark opal. Shades of navy blue and purple made the shadows mysterious and beautiful, transforming the landscape. Joseph’s arms around her could not be the reason she felt as if she’d walked into a fairy tale. Her world had never been so beautiful. Dark stands of snow-capped trees towered like watchful sentries as the sled dipped downward, gathering speed. Time paused right along with her heartbeat as the sled bumped upward and took flight.
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