If he could hog-tie a powerful steer that quickly, how long would it take him to overpower her?
“Eden, look at me.”
She hadn’t realized until then that she’d squeezed her eyes closed. She pried them open and stared at him through a blur of tears.
“You’re wearing the Colts,” he reminded her. “If I take liberties, you can shoot me.”
It was true. She was armed. The stiffness drained from her spine. “Don’t be silly, Matthew. I would never shoot you.”
“That’s good to know. I’ve never trifled with a lady who might put a bullet between my eyes.”
Eden couldn’t help but smile. He was trying to help her relax, and she appreciated that more than he could know. “How very wise of you.”
As Matthew circled her, pulling the cloth tight over her ribs, he whistled a familiar tune under his breath, but she was too rattled to remember its title. As promised, he finished binding her ribs quickly, and Eden could finally breathe again without feeling faint.
He stepped back and held up his hands as if she had a gun aimed at him. “Am I safe now?”
She knew he meant it as a joke, and she was supposed to laugh, but she was so touched by his kindness that she found herself staring at him through another rush of tears. His smile faded, and his eyes darkened with emotions she couldn’t name.
When he spoke, his voice had grown husky. “I think I’ll mosey down to the creek and grab a quick bath now. Can you keep an eye on the beans while I’m gone?”
“Sure.”
Loosening the knot beneath her breasts, she quickly covered herself, then gazed after him as he walked away.
Matthew muttered curses under his breath as he waded buck-naked into the water and began lathering his skin with soap. Honey? What the hell had he been thinking to call her that? It had alarmed her. He’d seen it in her eyes. What was the matter with him that he couldn’t control his own tongue? It was no excuse that he’d been raised by a father who used endearments with all females, young or old, whether they were members of the family or not. It had been a stupid and thoughtless slip of the tongue. No more endearments, period, and no more locking gazes with her, either. What was that all about, anyway?
Matthew was still upset with himself when he got dressed a few minutes later and crouched by the water to shave. With the first pass of the straight blade, he cut himself and let fly with another curse. As the word left his mouth and rang in the air around him, he resigned himself to the fact that he’d never be fit company for a lady again. He had a filthy mouth. He still wasn’t remembering to say please, thank you, or excuse me. He needed a complete overhaul—that was what he needed.
The beans still weren’t done when Matthew got back to camp. After hanging his wet clothes beside Eden’s on the rack, he went to search through his packs. When he found what he needed and returned to the fire, Eden’s gaze immediately caught on the silver instrument in his hand.
“A harmonica?”
Matthew nodded and crouched at the opposite side of the flames. The Sebastians were too far away for the sound of the instrument to carry to them, so he felt it was safe to provide her with some entertainment. “I’m a little rusty, but last night you said you enjoy music, so I thought I’d give it a whirl.”
He blotted his lips on the back of his wrist, cupped his hands around the harmonica, and began playing “Oh! Susanna.” Eden listened for a moment and then began singing along, her voice as light and sweet as a songbird’s.
“‘It rained all night the day I left, the weather it was dry, the sun so hot I froze to death, Susanna, don’t you cry!’” She beamed a glad smile at him. “‘Oh, Susanna, don’t you cry for me! I come from Alabama with my banjo on my knee!’”
Matthew broke off to catch his breath. Her smile was infectious, and he found himself grinning. He also caught himself gazing deeply into her lovely blue eyes again and immediately put the harmonica back to his lips, this time to play “Beautiful Dreamer.” Again, Eden knew the lyrics and trilled along with the music, the words immediately making him wish he’d chosen another melody.
“‘Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me, starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee. Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day, lulled by the moonlight have all passed away.’”
She truly was beautiful, Matthew thought, as he watched her over his cupped hands. And it had been much too long since he’d eased his physical needs with a sporting woman.
“‘Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song, list while I woo thee with soft melody.’”
Was that his plan, to woo her with music? The thought spurred Matthew into abruptly changing the tune to “Camptown Races.”
Eden grinned impishly, began tapping out the lively rhythm on her knee, and gaily sang, “‘Doo-da, doo-da! The Camptown racetrack’s five miles long, oh, de doo-da day!’”
Safer ground. Matthew played that tune in its entirety.
When the song ended, Eden smiled at him across the flames, her eyes shimmering. “Thank you, Matthew. That was lovely.”
He tucked the harmonica in his jacket pocket. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He checked the beans. “For now, though, supper’s done, and then it’ll be time for you to rest.”
Eden had always loved beans. When she’d been a girl, legumes had been one of the main staples of her family’s diet.
“You fix beans almost the same way Mama does. We ate them a lot when I was little, and she always added onion for flavoring, too. Meat as well, if we had any.” She took a big bite and dimpled her cheek at him. “These are delicious.”
He took a bite, too, and smiled. “Thank you.”
“One time, David got a huge ham bone from the butcher shop, and Mama cooked it in our beans. Those were the best ever. She made corn bread to go with them, and we had a veritable feast.”
As much as Eden was enjoying the meal, her appetite soon dimmed, and she had to set her plate aside half-finished.
“You didn’t eat much,” Matthew observed. “You’re not feeling sick, I hope.”
“No, just worn-out.”
He finished his meal, and then went to get the bedroll. After spreading the pallet and blankets on the ground near the fire, he said, “In you go.”
“But we haven’t done the dishes yet.”
“I’ll do them. You get a head start on a good night’s rest.”
Eden sighed and handed him her plate. “I hate being a burden. I should be doing my fair share.”
“Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight. You’re too tuckered out.”
As reluctant as Eden was to let him do all the work, she nearly groaned with relief when she lay down. Tuckered didn’t begin to describe how weary she was. She dozed while Matthew washed the dishes, but a bit later, when he joined her on the pallet, she came wide-awake.
As if he sensed her uneasiness, he lay on his back instead of turning to put an arm around her. Gaze fixed on the starlit sky, he said, “Those mountains never fail to awe me when I look at them. They’re so massive and intimidating, yet beautiful.”
“The sky is amazing, too. Just look at all those stars. There must be thousands of them.”
He joined her in admiring the sparkly patterns for a moment. “According to Shoshone legend, the Milky Way was created by a huge grizzly bear.”
“Really?” Eden searched for the constellation. When she found it, she asked, “How does the legend go?”
“The grizzly climbed high into the mountains, getting clumps of ice and snow on its feet. As it crossed the sky, bits of white fell away from its paws, creating the Milky Way.”
Eden gazed thoughtfully at the stars. “That’s a cute story. Who told it to you?”
“I fell in with an old Shoshone named Two Dogs who’d escaped a reservation. He rode the trail with me for about a month.”
“Was he good company?”
“Like me, he wasn’t much of a talker, but he did like to tell stories by the fire at night.”
“I like to do that, to
o. On hunting forays with my brothers when I was young, I always begged for stories after supper. Joseph liked to tell spooky ones and scare me half-silly.” Gaze still fixed on the Milky Way, Eden asked, “What happened to him? To Two Dogs, I mean.”
“He just up and left one day. Said he needed to take a spirit walk.”
“A spirit walk?”
“Yeah,” Matthew said softly. “He never explained what a spirit walk is, but I’m guessing it’s a prayerful time, maybe similar to a vision quest.”
Eden’s uneasiness had abated. Was that why Matthew had chosen to talk, because he’d sensed her nervousness? “Do you know any other Indian stories about the stars?”
“No, but Two Dogs did tell me that his people call the Little Dipper by another name, Little Bear.”
Eden turned onto her side to face him. In the firelight, his chiseled profile looked as if it had been carved from polished teak. “I wonder why bears play such a large role in their lore.”
He shifted onto his side as well. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because bears are so big and strong. Most Plains Indians revere the buffalo, too, probably for the same reason. They’re mighty powerful beasts.”
Eden searched his gaze until he lightly touched a fingertip to each of her eyelids to urge them closed. “Go to sleep, Eden. You need the rest.” He trailed the fingertip down the bridge of her nose, the caress so light that she wondered if she imagined it. “Sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams,” she murmured.
As Eden slipped away into the blackness of sleep, she felt Matthew curl his arm around her, and this time she didn’t find it alarming.
Matthew lay awake long after Eden fell asleep, his thoughts in a tangle. Eden. She was so damned beautiful with that flame-colored hair and those gorgeous blue eyes, and he was finding it increasingly difficult not to be aware of that every time he looked at her. When he’d returned to camp earlier, he had been bound and determined not to lock gazes with her again, but he had. Something about the girl turned his brains to mush.
When he tried to think of something he didn’t like about her, he came up blank. She was spirited, brave, and sweet, and he enjoyed her company far more than he should. Before meeting her, it had been so long since he’d laughed that he’d thought he might never want to again. Now he found himself smiling more times than not, talking more than he’d believed himself capable of, and searching for ways to distract her so she wouldn’t feel nervous around him.
“Beautiful Dreamer.” What had he been thinking to play that tune? When she’d sung the lyrics, he’d looked across the fire at her and thought, Awake unto me.
No more, he told himself firmly. He’d made a vow over Livvy’s grave to find her killers and punish them, and even though he could no longer conjure up a clear image of her face, that was a promise he was honor-bound to keep. Perhaps, he thought groggily, Livvy had become less a real person to him than she was an idea that kept him going. Was that why he felt the need to draw his watch from his pocket occasionally, to strengthen his fading sense of connection to her? Without that sense of connection, was he afraid he would give up and go back on his promise to find her killers?
Matthew could no longer define his feelings for Livvy. He only knew she’d once been his whole world, and he felt obligated to continue tracking the Sebastians until he either killed them or died trying. He was almost asleep when Eden suddenly jerked and mewled in her sleep. He cracked open an eye, wondering if the weight of his arm was hurting her ribs.
“No!” she cried. “No!”
Matthew pushed up on an elbow and grasped her shoulder. “Eden? You need to wake up. It’s a bad dream, only a bad dream.”
She came awake with a vengeance, her hands clenched. Matthew didn’t see the punch coming, and she nailed him right in the eye. Luckily the blow didn’t blind him, and he was able to grab her wrists to stop her from hitting him again.
“Eden! It’s me, Matthew. It’s only a bad dream!”
She shrieked and tried to twist away from him. “Don’t touch me. Get your filthy hands off me!”
She was thrashing so violently that Matthew feared she might do further injury to her ribs. To hold her still, he pinned her arms above her head and anchored her legs with his thigh.
“Eden, look at me. You’re safe. It’s me, Matthew. I’m not going to hurt you.”
A breath hitched in her throat, and she gazed up at him, her eyes glassy with terror. He knew the instant when recognition began to dawn. The tension drained from her body, and with a tortured gasp, she burst into tears.
“M-Matthew?” she sobbed. “Oh, God. I’m s-sorry, so s-sorry. I hit you. I’m s-so sorry.”
Matthew released his hold on her wrists, eased his weight off her, and drew her into his arms. “Shhh,” he whispered. “Don’t. I’m fine. It barely hurt.”
She made tight fists on the front of his jacket and buried her face against the side of his neck. “The Sebastians. I dreamed they had me again.”
Matthew curled a hand over the back of her head, threading his fingers through her thick, curly hair. “I know,” he said softly. “I know. But it was only a terrible dream. You’re with me now, and I’ll never let them touch you again as long as I draw breath.”
Her slender body jerked with the force of her sobs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him almost frantically. “It was s-so aw-awful. Th-the things they d-did to me were so awful!”
“It’s over now, Eden. It’s over.”
“N-not in my dr-dream. It f-felt so real, Matthew. I c-could feel their h-hands on me.”
Matthew tightened his hold. He’d seen the things they’d done to her, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say that might make her feel better. So he simply held her.
Later, Matthew couldn’t say how long she cried. He knew only that when she finally fell into an exhausted sleep, her lush body was pressed snugly against him. The front of her jacket had fallen open and so had his. The tips of her breasts felt like hot embers burning holes in his chest. He tried to ignore it, but the softness of her felt so damned good that he couldn’t. The next thing he knew, nature paid a call, and he had an erection throbbing against the fly of his britches. All he could do was clench his teeth and pray it would go away.
No such luck. At times like this, that part of his body seemed to be disconnected from his brain. He ached for release and yearned to find it in the hot, wet recesses of her body. But he knew it was madness even to think about it. When he could tolerate the torture no longer, he slipped cautiously from the bed, trying not to wake her. Then he grabbed his gun belt and the towel and headed for the creek, hoping the ice-cold water would cool his ardor so he could think straight again.
When Matthew returned to bed an hour later, his skin was as wrinkled as a dried grape, and he was chilled to the bone. He didn’t know what idiot had come up with an ice-cold bath as a cure for male arousal. It had worked—eventually. But it wasn’t something he looked forward to doing again. If he didn’t catch pneumonia, it would be a miracle.
As he drew back the blanket and joined Eden on the pallet, she murmured something in her sleep and gravitated toward him. A warning bell jangled at the back of his mind. He was only human, and it had been several months since he’d scratched his itch with a woman. But when she snuggled close, he didn’t have the heart to push her away. Instead he pressed his face against her hair and held her, hoping a certain part of his body would behave itself.
It was not his lucky night.
Matthew seemed out of sorts the next morning. Recalling her nightmare, Eden wondered if he was miffed at her for slugging him. She hadn’t meant to. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d meant to hit him, but only because she’d believed he was someone else.
As they sipped coffee together in silence, the sun rose higher in the sky, and the birds started to sing. Eden listened to them for a moment and then said, “Isn’t that a beautiful sound?”
Matthew scowled. “It’s only a
bunch of birds, Eden. You hear them every day.”
She considered his disgruntled countenance. “Matthew, are you angry with me about last night?”
He gave her a sharp look. “What about last night?”
“About . . . well, you know . . . when I hit you. I never meant to. Honestly, I didn’t. When I woke up from the dream, it took me a moment to realize where I was and who I was with.”
His expression softened. “Of course I’m not angry with you. I knew when it happened that you didn’t know who you were swinging at.”
Eden let that stand for a moment. Then, unable to let it go, she asked, “What are you angry with me about, then?”
“I’m not angry with you about anything.” He leaned forward to slosh more coffee into his cup. “I’m just grappling with a personal problem.”
“Oh.” Eden poured herself more coffee, too. “Would you like to talk about it? Sometimes that helps—getting another person’s perspective, I mean.”
His incredibly blue eyes lighted with what looked like amusement, and he appeared to be biting back a smile. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think talking it over will help me out.”
Eden set aside her cup to serve them each a plate of leftover beans, which they’d reheated for breakfast. As they ate, she said, “You’ve been such a good listener and have helped me so much. If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to let me know. That’s what friends are for, to listen and try to think of solutions.”
Matthew regarded Eden with a confusing blend of amusement and alarm. She was not only coming to trust him, but now considered him her friend? When he searched her blue eyes, he saw no wariness, only a heartfelt desire to help him deal with a personal problem. She’d probably drop over in a dead faint if he told her what was wrong—namely that he no longer felt certain he could trust himself to sleep with her.
Matthew tried to tuck into his breakfast with enthusiasm, but his appetite was off, and he knew the reason was sitting across the fire from him. How in the hell was he going to get through another several days with her in his care? They had only one bedroll, and she shivered from the cold all night if he didn’t join her in it. Until last night, he’d been okay with that, but now he felt like a short-fused stick of dynamite lying perilously close to a lit lucifer.