Kate Bridges - The Proposition

Sliding out from her covers, she tugged her boots over her stocking feet. She bunched her nightgown in one hand above the ivory pants she’d decided to sleep in—tomorrow she’d try sleeping in her blouse, too, but for tonight she was already changed—then heaved to her feet. Her pack was still resting beneath the pine tree, ten feet away. She’d be back before he realized she was gone.

Kneeling, she undid the bulging side pouch, rifling through her journal, her pencils, her money, her papers, until her fingers touched soft flannel. With a gentle smile, she pulled it out, held it to her face and inhaled the calming scent of clean fabric. Perhaps it was superstitious of her, but she’d never be able to fall asleep if she left her infant’s nightgown alone in the cold. She would tuck it beneath her pillow.

She worked with speed to retie her side pocket.

There were three things in her pack she had no intention of telling Travis about. Three secrets. He’d already seen this one when he’d helped her pack at the fort, and had tried to make her toss it out.

Pivoting with the soft flannel concealed beneath her own nightgown, she remembered what he’d yelled this morning when he’d seen it. “No gifts!”

She didn’t have many gifts she could offer her son when she found him, but a simple nightshirt from his mother surely wouldn’t intrude on Travis’s time or space.

When she wheeled around, Travis was standing in front of her.

She riveted in alarm. “Why’d you scare me like that?”

“What are you doing?”

Breathless, she was hit by a cold pang of loneliness. Loneliness that she was in dark, unfamiliar territory, that she was a mother without her child, that she had to constantly defend herself to this man.

“I’m a little cold. I got another piece of clothing.”

He crossed his bulging arms over his chest and continued to block her path. When he looked lower to the flannel cloth she was clutching, her grip tightened.

She knew as they neared Devil’s Gorge and Dr. Finch, she’d have to tell Travis something more. Something about her missing child.

So far he hadn’t given her one reason why she should trust him. If she divulged her secrets, he might tell her the accusations against Dr. Finch were preposterous, that her secrets nullified any agreement he had with the commander to escort her. Travis was so harsh toward her he might say he didn’t care about her problems and demand she and her butler return to Calgary. Tomorrow evening they’d be passing through a village—maybe he’d order them to stay behind there.

She couldn’t divulge anything until it was safe to do so, until they were beyond the point of no return.

But glaring at the uncompromising cut of his profile, she realized she was tackling more than she could handle.

“Are you warmer now?”

“Yes, I am.”

Darkness wove an unwanted air of sensuality between them. Only a nightgown separated her skin from his. But this time, there was no fire behind her and she knew he couldn’t see her naked figure through the sheer cloth. He took a deep breath, though, and she felt as if the oxygen around her was being sucked away.

The scent of ferns mingled with the scent of his skin. Above them, moonlight rippled through a canopy of branches. Circular swirls of light softened the steel-hard cut of his jaw and sharp black brows. She caught the deep glimmer in his eyes as they searched her face. Cool, clean air filtered up her gown and over her bare flesh. Tiny hairs bristled on her skin; her breasts felt heavy. That lonely ache throbbed inside of her.

She remembered the last wedding reception they had attended, each with their families, years ago before the rivalry with Caroline had begun. And before the mayor and Caroline’s father had declared war on each other. Travis’s kiss on her cheek had been soft and smooth because he’d just shaved; his kiss now would be rough.

Roughrider.

She had an urge, a need, to be touched. Her body flushed with heat, her heart pounded as she imagined his hands sliding along her skin.

But he’d been nothing but rude and miserable to her since this started.

“Good night.” She stepped around him and left him staring after her, a solitary figure in the dark.

The second day passed in misery. Travis knew he urgently needed to do something to shake her out of his mind. He’d spent a restless night watching the stars, analyzing sounds in the cool wind for indications of trouble, but mostly trying not to breathe the same air as the provocative woman sleeping three feet away perpendicular to him.

In the morning they arose with the rising sun. The more he ignored Jessica, the more he craved to look at her. She tumbled out of bed, her cheeks creased with the lines of her bedding, cheerfully hauling water from the river to boil coffee, asking Merriweather how he felt, timidly making her way to the horses to say hello.

Hello to the horses!

Later astride his horse, while he led them through rolling hills and thicker trees, Travis assured himself his craving had nothing to do with disloyalty to Caroline. Caroline may have understood it, for she’d always raised her eyebrows at the frequency of his desire. He was taken by surprise by his physical sensations whenever Jessica brushed by. His skin bristled, he inhaled deeply, his pulse stopped for a beat and he avoided eye contact. He kicked himself every time it happened.

He’d seen that need in animals, a physical alertness of the male to the female species. But for cripe’s sake, he wasn’t an animal and should be thinking more with his brain than his urges. One year had passed since he’d even noticed another woman. Was his body making up for lost time?

Behind him on the trail, Merriweather hollered in a weary voice. “Shall we stop here for our midday rest?”

Adjusting his hat, Travis slowed his gelding and peered through a ring of firs to a clearing beyond the river’s curve. He knew he’d been pushing the other two hard. It seemed the more irritable Travis got, the harder he worked them. This was taking its toll on the butler.

“It looks fine. We’ll stop for two hours.”

“Can you see anyone behind us on the trail today? Anyone following?”

“No sign of them,” said Travis. “I’ll take a closer look while we’re resting.”

They dismounted. Where the sunlight penetrated the forest, wildflowers grew in abandon—lady’s slipper, Indian paintbrush, and a variety of heathers.

Merriweather limped through the trees to the river, five hundred feet to the west. While Travis untied his saddle, he watched the old man then shook his head in sympathy and concern. Jessica was also watching. When Travis turned his head to locate her, their eyes met above the saddle. He looked away but she walked away.

With ease, he slid the saddle off the first horse, then the second, then the third. He didn’t expect any help from Jessica or her butler; he was grateful if they would only keep out of his way. As he slid the saddle from the last horse, he heard Independence whinny. Turning toward the sound, he noticed Jessica had led her to a tree twenty yards away.

His heart plunged. He dropped his saddle and ran. “No! Stop!”

Jessica lunged out of his path. He slammed past her to the reins and yanked Independence from the shrubs. “Never, ever, ever, let her eat that plant. It’s yew and it can kill her. A mouthful can stop her heart!” His own heart bounded in leaps.

Her hand flew to her brown hat. “She didn’t touch it. She’d didn’t take one bite!”

He was standing next to her again, the last place he wanted to be. He felt the movement of her breathing and the maddening rush of his own. He said nothing but shook his head in disapproval.