“Now, tell me what you’re doing here.”
“We were concerned when you didn’t return on Sunday.”
“I told you not to worry if I didn’t get back then.”
“I know, but…” She set the cup on the table.
“Well, I thought…” Her gaze dropped to her lap.
“What was it you thought, Rachel?”
“I was afraid.. . I was afraid I was the reason you were staying away. The girls need you. If I’m the reason you’re staying away from them, I’ll leave.” Her words came faster as she spoke.
“I know you never wanted Dru to hire me as the children’s governess. I’d hoped… Well, I’ll understand if you’d prefer that I go.” Her voice faded. Gavin rose slowly from the cot. Three strides was all it took to carry him to her. He reached down, taking her gloved hands into his, and pulled her to her feet. He knew there was some reason he shouldn’t take her in his arms, but at the moment, he was damned if he could remember what it was. He kissed her, lightly at first. She tasted fresh and sweet—and just a little like coffee. He felt the captured-bird pulse beat in her throat as his hands cradled her face. The kiss changed, deepened, set fire to his blood. He removed her hat, just as he’d imagined doing. He freed her hair from its twist and ran his fingers through it as it tumbled free, over her shoulders and down her back. His hands followed the hair, drifting over her coat until he found the small of her back. He drew her closer, but not close enough to satisfy the building fury. She didn’t protest. Her arms remained at her sides, neither pulling him closer nor pushing him away. Encouraged, he moved his right hand to the clasps of her cloak. Slowly, carefully, he released each one, then pushed the heavy garment from her shoulders, allowing it to drop to the floor around her feet. Once again, he drew her body close against his. How perfectly she fit
in his arms. She seemed to belong there, seemed to have been made for him. But he wanted to feel her without all the trappings between them. He wanted to run his hands over her fair skin. He wanted to look at her breasts. He wanted… He broke the kiss, resting his cheek against her head near her ear. Rachel, he mouthed, but no sound came out.
“When you kiss me,” she whispered, “when you touch me… I can’t think. I can’t remember…” She ended with a sigh. His lips brushed her hair.
“Can’t remember what?” Her voice seemed small and far away.
“When I’m near you, I can’t remember why I must marry Patrick. Gavin, I…” He could have put his hands around her throat and squeezed the life from her. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead, he claimed her mouth in another kiss, punishing her the only way he knew how for her cruelty. That she should be here in his arms, returning his kisses, and still speak of Patrick. He should hate her. Damn it! He would hate her. If his mouth hadn’t covered hers, she would have told him she loved him. She would have told him she couldn’t marry Patrick after all. She would have told him she would die without him.
But he was kissing her again with renewed fury, and she couldn’t break away. She would tell him later. For now, she would enjoy the feel of his lips against hers. The sudden cry of the dogs broke them apart. Gavin shoved her aside and grabbed his rifle.
“Stay put,” he ordered as he eased open the door. Rachel could scarcely breathe. Whether from sudden fear or from his kisses, she wasn’t sure. Gavin let the door swing wide.
“You’d better fix your hair and straighten your clothes, Rachel. Your fiance and Stubs are here.” Then he stepped outside, closing the door behind him. She stood riveted to the floor, feeling a coldness seeping through her. She’d thought… She forced her hands to move, twisting her hair back in place. She leaned down and retrieved her hat, then pulled it over her hair. She could hear voices outside as she picked up her cloak and slipped into it. He would know. Patrick would know just by looking at her. She felt feverish. Her lips were swollen. Her skin tingled. Her knees felt weak. Surely he would look at her and know what had been happening just before he arrived. What had been happening? she wondered as she fastened the top clasp of her cloak. Would she have allowed more than his kisses? She steadied herself with a hand on the table as the answer came to her. Yes! Yes, she would have allowed more. She’d wanted more. She’d wanted him to teach her everything about the intimacies between a man and a woman. God forgive her, she’d wanted it all, and Gavin despised her because of it. She drew a deep breath and stepped toward the cabin door, pulling it open with more courage than she felt. It wasn’t just the loathing she’d heard in Gavin’s voice that made her reluctant to go out. She knew she was in for a scolding from Stubs. And Patrick? She wasn’t sure what Patrick would say or do. The moment he saw her, Patrick skirted around Gavin and strode quickly toward the door. In an instant, he had her in his arms, lifting her feet off the ground.
“Sure but you scared the living daylights out o’ me, lass.
“Tis a fool thing you did.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t think. I .. .”
“I’ll not be havin’ my wife doin’ such things. You may as well make up your mind to it now, my lovely.”
“Patrick…” His kiss silenced her. It wasn’t until he released her and she turned to meet Gavin’s gaze that she knew what a devastating kiss it had been.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Stubs? May I talk to you?” He set the horse’s hoof down and peered up at Rachel from beneath the wide brim of his hat.
“What’s on your mind, Miss Harris?” She glanced over her shoulder toward the house, then closed the barn door. As she walked toward the grizzled cowhand, he leaned against the stall gate and pushed his battered hat back on his head. She stopped, made all the more nervous by the way he was watching her, as if he already knew why she was there.
“Stubs, I.. . I’m not quite sure how to start,” she said when she reached the stall.
“Beginnin’s always a good place.”
“Yes.” She inhaled deeply, then let the air out slowly.
“I… I want to ask you about Gavin.” An eyebrow lifted.
“What about him?”
This was harder than she’d thought it would be.
“I … I’m not sure. Dru told me to ask you. She told me to have you tell me everything about Gavin, about the things she never knew.” Now he was frowning.
“What for?”
“I don’t know. It… just seemed important to her.” Stubs pulled open the gate and stepped out of the stall, then turned and slipped the rope noose over the corner post to fasten the gate closed.
“What about you, Rachel?” he asked as he turned around.
“Is it important to you?” She wished she could say no. Her life would be so much simpler if it wasn’t important, if he wasn’t important.
“Yes,” she answered in a small voice, her gaze dropping to the straw-covered floor. The silence seemed interminable. Rachel didn’t dare look at the cowboy. She was afraid he’d guessed too much already.
“Let’s go up to the bunkhouse. It’s warmer there, an’ we won’t be bothered by anybody. Jess went into town. Probably won’t be back ‘til tomorrow some time.” He took hold of her elbow and steered her out of the barn. A cold wind whipped at her skirts as she walked beside Stubs across the yard, sending a chill up her spine and along her arms. She was afraid to glance toward the house, afraid she would see Gavin watching what she was doing. He would be furious if he knew she was asking his old friend about him, about his past. While she took a seat on the bench near the table in the center of the bunkhouse, Stubs stoked the fire in the pot-bellied stove.