Karen Kirst - Married by Christmas

Sliding the bowl and spoon onto the bedside table, she jammed her fists on her waist. “You’re not ready to travel, Caleb.”

“How’s it look outside?” He gestured to the windows.

“It hasn’t snowed since Sunday, but the days have been overcast and the temperature hasn’t risen above freezing. The snow hasn’t had a chance to melt.”

“Rebel could make it to town.”

“Yes, I’m certain he could. You, however, haven’t eaten solid food in days, and I have a feeling you’re not taking into account what riding astride would cost you.”

The logic rankled. “Tell me, Becca, just how long are you planning on holding my pants—and effectively me—hostage?” he drawled.

Her eyes flared. Spinning about on her heel, she stormed to the corner where she’d stowed the bags and, digging through his things without a care for his privacy, retrieved said trousers and dumped them on the bed.

“There—” she jerked a hand toward the door “—you’re free to go. Happy now?” Her chest heaved with indignation.

He sighed. “Look—”

Amy chose that moment to barrel inside, stomping on the rug to rid her boots of wet clumps of snow. “Mr. Harper is here....” She trailed off as her gaze landed on him. “You’re awake.” She stared wide-eyed at her sister. “He’s awake.”

“Yes, so he is.”

Head bent, seeming to take an inordinate amount of interest in the floorboards, Becca refused to look at him. No doubt his determination to reach town in spite of his injuries struck her as reckless and foolish. Her fear was not unfounded—it wasn’t without risk. What she failed to realize was that their well-being took precedence over his own.

“Hello, Amy.” He nodded, inwardly wincing as fatigue washed over him. “Thanks for letting me borrow your bed.”

She paused in the unbuttoning of her purple coat, a shy smile appearing. “It was nothing.”

Becca’s little sister had experienced a growth spurt since he’d seen her last. Her hair was longer and darker, her elfin face had thinned out and, while taller than before, she hadn’t developed the grace and confidence that came with young adulthood. He supposed she’d put away her dolls for more worthwhile pursuits. Adam had teased him mercilessly for indulging the girl.

Hooking the coat collar on the one-inch prong, she approached with her hands clasped behind her. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. We prayed for you.”

We? Did that we include Becca? He found that difficult to believe.

“Mr. Harper.” Becca went to greet their neighbor coming through the doorway. “Good news. Your medicine worked. His fever broke this morning.”

“Praise God.” Louis Harper’s astute gaze raked Caleb from head to toe. “Your folks will be relieved.”

His eyes squeezed shut. His folks. He hadn’t thought of them since the night he was shot, uncertain whether or not he would make it. Here he was again, about to cause them more grief.

“I’ll be happy to take them a message for you.” Harper’s no-nonsense voice held a note of sympathy. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to know you’re all right.”

All right? That was up for debate.

* * *

“Let’s go outside for a minute.”

A serious-bordering-on-stern man, the disquiet stamped in Louis’s round, fleshy face made Rebecca uneasy. What was bothering him? What couldn’t he say in front of Caleb and Amy?

Emerging from her room, where she and Amy had waited while Louis helped Caleb get cleaned up, her gaze immediately sought out the bed on the far side of the room. Her patient lay with his head turned to the log-and-chinking wall. She could see the damp sheen in his gorgeous black locks, the clean shirt the color of rich buttermilk encasing his lean torso and impossibly broad shoulders. The hands folded atop his chest struck her as strangely vulnerable and, as it had since the moment she’d turned him over in the snow, compassion warred mightily with long-nursed resentment.

On the porch, Rebecca wound the striped wool scarf that had once belonged to her father about her neck. For a moment, Louis’s gaze snagged on it, and he heaved a heavy sigh. She imagined his thoughts ran along the same line as hers—what would her father say about the predicament she found herself in?

“Caleb told me what happened,” Louis said. “He’s worried about you. I reminded him not to underestimate your strength. You’ve got a level head on your shoulders, just like your ma.”

Rebecca blinked fast. The kind words were a rare gift. Her parents had doled out praise for both their daughters on a regular basis. Guess she’d taken it for granted. Only now that she’d lived without it for so long did she realize how much their support and approval had meant to her.

“He’s bound and determined to leave, despite the fact he’d be risking a relapse.”

“He calmed a bit when I offered to fetch Timmons myself. Since he’s not fit to travel, I’ll bring the sheriff to him.”

Their words were loud in the hushed stillness cloaking the cove, the thick blanket of snow sponging up sounds.

“Thank you for your help today.”

His expression altered into a reluctance to voice unpleasant things. Uh-oh.

“Rebecca...you realize what your tending to Caleb means for your future, don’t you? When the town leaders discover how much time you’ve spent together without a chaperone, they will no doubt expect you to marry.”

Restless with indignation, she stalked to the nearest post and wrapped her arm about it, careful to avoid the glistening icicle suspended from the roof.

“There was a time in my life when I would’ve caved to such expectations. Not anymore. I will not marry him.”

“If you were my own daughter, I’d insist on it.” Compassion marked his voice. “This situation has gone way beyond propriety.”

“We’re innocent of any wrongdoing,” she forced out. “The man almost died, Louis.”

“I know you’re innocent. But it’s the appearance of wrongdoing that will spur the leaders to action. I just want you to be prepared.” Navigating the snow-encrusted steps, he made his way to his waiting team. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”

“You’ll bring Doc, too, right?” She couldn’t be confident Caleb was on the mend until the doctor evaluated him. Hopefully Doc would deem him well enough to be moved. Whether he went to his folks’ or to Doc’s didn’t matter to her just as long as he left.

Lifting a hand in acknowledgment of her question, his wool cap bobbed, a spot of charcoal-gray against the blinding white landscape.

The sound of bells jingling in her ears, she reluctantly went inside and removed her scarf and coat. The bowl on the bedside table sat empty. When she neared his bed, the pleasant scent of clean and soapy male tickled her nose. Don’t be awake, she silently ordered, but his thick, black lashes fluttered upward and dark brown eyes focused on her.

“Harper leave already?” he asked with a grunt, shifting upward on the mound of pillows.

“Just a minute ago.” She twisted the folds of her skirt. “I’m hoping he’ll return with Doc.”

That beautiful mouth flattened. “I asked him to bring Shane.”

“And I asked him to bring Doc.”

Unsettled by the clarity in his shrewd gaze, Rebecca started to turn away. Dealing with him while he was ill was quite a different reality than when he was in complete possession of his senses. The dangerous edge was front and center once more, calling to her even as it repelled.

His fingers closed over her wrist, stalling her. “What’s wrong?”

Turning back, she cocked a you-can’t-be-serious brow, ordering herself to shake free of his hold. But she didn’t. The strong, masculine touch felt amazing. For a millisecond, she reveled in the prickly tingles fanning up her arm, the tug of want and need overruling the voice screaming at her to remember it was her enemy touching her.