“Just where is Lone Pine Gulch?” Jess walked over to the barn door and pointed.
“See that double hump of mountains there? The gulch runs right up between them.”
“It looks a long way off.”
“Not bad. You can get there in a little more’n a half hour with good weather and a fast horse.”
“I see,” she replied thoughtfully, then added, “When you’re through here, come on up to the house. I need your help with something.”
“I’ll be there, Miss Harris.” Her mind was made up before she really knew what she was doing. She hurried into the bedroom she shared with the children and dug out a warm pair of woolen under drawers She shed her light day dress for a black cashmere and moire walking dress, pulling on the under drawers beneath it. She grabbed her fur bonnet but left her muff. She would need gloves to drive the sleigh. She was dressed and ready when Jess knocked on the door.
“Come in, Mr. Chamberlain. I’d like you to stay here in the house until I return.”
“Return? Ma’am—” She slipped into her fur-lined cloak.
“You needn’t worry. The children won’t cause you any trouble. Just keep Pet from doing too much. There’s a hot stew on the stove if they should get hungry. Help yourself. You must be starved.” She pulled on her gloves.
“But, Miss Harris, where are you—”
“If Mr. O’Donnell comes for his sleigh before I return, tell him not to worry. I’ll bring it back without a scratch on it. I’m perfectly capable of handling a horse and buggy and shouldn’t find a sleigh any more difficult.”
“Miss Harris—” She closed the door before he could argue with her. She didn’t have time to waste. She had neither good weather nor a fast horse, and she didn’t know how long it would take her to reach the line shack at Lone Pine Gulch. He thought about his childhood as he lay back on the cot. There hadn’t been much to that farm in Ohio—a few hard scrabble acres, a pigsty, a broken-down team of mules, and a three-room house complete with field mice. His father hadn’t ever had much success at farming. Never had much success at anything, Gavin supposed. But Timothy Blake had loved his wife. Gavin had grown up hearing stories of how he’d seen her when visiting cousins in Pittsburgh and how he’d wooed her and brought her to his farm in Ohio. Gavin was born nine months after the wedding day. His father had always said that his biggest heartache was that Christina was warned by the doctor not to ever have any more children. Gavin would be their only child. Hell, Gavin knew the truth about his mother. She just hadn’t wanted to have any more children by a poor dirt farmer. She’d set her sights elsewhere, and Gavin’s father had been too blinded by love to see it. Gavin sat up on the cot and leaned his head in his hands. Lord, he didn’t want to think about this. It made his gut twist with anger. Anger at his father’s blind foolishness. Anger at his mother’s treachery. As if to further torture him, Rachel’s image reappeared. From almost the first moment he’d seen her, he’d thought she was like his mother. Both of them were blondes. But Rachel’s hair was paler, like a field of wheat. Both of them had eyes of blue. But Rachel’s were lighter, like the blue of a robin’s egg. Both of them. He stopped himself. Was Rachel really anything like his mother? Was she really out to snare a wealthy husband, no matter who it was? He ran his hand over his hair, cursing beneath his breath. He didn’t know. Damn it, he just didn’t know what was what anymore. Duke jumped suddenly to his feet and ambled toward the door. He cocked his square head to one side, then to the other. Finally, he growled low in his throat.
“What is it, boy?” Gavin reached automatically for his rifle as he rose from the cot. Duchess joined her mate by the door, her head low, her ears alert.
“Get back,” Gavin ordered as his hand closed around the latch. The last thing in the world he expected to see when he pulled open the door was Rachel Harris driving up to the shack in O’Donnell’s sleigh—alone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Her heart was racing as he walked toward her, rifle hanging at his side.
“What are you doing here? Is something wrong with the girls?”
“No. I..” Rachel paused, unable to come up with a reply that made sense at the moment. Gavin continued to watch her with dark, stormy eyes.
“We were concerned when you didn’t return,” she finally answered
“Where’s Stubs?” His gaze shifted to the stretch of land behind her. She shivered inside her cloak.
“I think he went down to check the south range.”
“You came up this way alone?” Now there was real anger in his voice. She nodded.
His eyes returned to her. His black brows were drawn together in a scowl, his mouth a thin line of disapproval.
“Get down,” he said at last.
“We’d better get you inside and warm you up.” She tried to say thank you, but the words caught in her throat. She allowed him to take her arm and help her from the sleigh. He didn’t release her immediately. Instead, he steered her forcefully toward the dismal little shack set against the hillside, its roof buried under a thick layer of snow. If she’d thought the exterior dismal, the inside was even more so. There were no windows in the walls of the cabin. A lantern sat on the table, shedding what light it could. The room smelled damp and heavily of wood smoke.
“Here.” Gavin pulled the spindly-looking chair from the table and set it right next to the stove.
“Sit there.” She did as she was told, glad to be off her feet. She seemed to be shaking uncontrollably now. She set her jaw so her teeth wouldn’t chatter and hugged her arms tightly around her chest. Gavin leaned his rifle against the wall near the door before sitting on the cot.
“Are you sure the girls are okay?”
“They’re fine. Jess is with them.”
“He let you come out here in that contraption? Damn it, I’ll-” She spoke in a rush.
“It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have stopped me. I.. I had to talk to you. Gavin’s frown eased a bit, although he didn’t look any more welcoming of her company. Now that she was here, she could see that it had been reckless for her to come alone. Perhaps it had been foolish for her to have come at all. At the moment, she was hard pressed to remember what she’d thought she would say if she found him. That had been her worst fear, of course. That she wouldn’t find him. Or that she would find him injured—or worse. Now that he was here before her, looking strong and handsome and angry, it was easy to guess what he would think of her escapade. Rachel glanced toward the stove.
“Is there any coffee in that pot?”
“Yes.” He crossed the room and reached for a tin cup set on a shelf above the stove. With a towel, he picked up the coffeepot and poured the dark brew into the cup.
“Thank you,” she whispered as he handed it to her. He returned to the cot and sat down again, continuing to watch her as silence filled the room. She looked down at the cup in her hands, then took several sips, choking down the bitter brew. It tasted as if it had been on the stove for several days, but it was hot. And she felt a strong need for something hot to fortify her. She looked as pretty as he’d ever seen her. The black fur hat covered her hair and the tips of her tiny ears. Her cheeks, nose, and chin were as red as apples in autumn. Her blue eyes were positively dazzling, like a piece of clear winter sky. As foolish as it was for her to have come alone, he couldn’t deny that he was glad she had come. Just sitting there, she brightened the lonely little shack. As he watched her sipping her coffee, his anger began to fade. She always did that to him, he realized. She had a way of making him unreasonably angry and then making him forget why he’d been angry as the desire to hold her replaced it. That’s what was happening to him now. He wanted to take her in his arms and warm her with his embrace. He wanted to let his kisses change the bright glitter of her eyes to a sultry gaze. He wanted his breath against her cheeks to make her forget the icy weather outdoors. He wanted to pull that fetching fur bonnet from her head and let her hair cascade over her dark coat. And then he wanted to remove that coat and everything beneath it and feast his eyes upon her. Rachel’s eyes widened a fraction as she looked at him. Her mouth parted, as if to release a sigh, although he heard none. It took almost more strength than he possessed to pull his thoughts back to safety.