Chapter Six

“Stop.”

Nick ignored Caroline’s command and continued his trek down the mountain with her and Jasper hot on his heels. She had to be the most bull-headed female he’d ever met. Self-assurance was one thing, but she carried it to the point of irrationality. He’d been pretty sure she would follow when he marched off, but what if she hadn’t? Edwards had appeared to be unarmed, but Nick had noticed a long holstered Colt under Harlow’s coat. Caroline might be confident he wouldn’t shoot an unarmed woman, but Nick wasn’t.

A silky muzzle nudged his cheek, and Jasper snorted mule breath in his ear. Son of a seasick sailor!

“Are you planning to walk all the way back to the cabin?” Caroline demanded.

He didn’t stop or turn around. “Maybe.” He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to ride behind her, holding tight to her waist the whole way.

“Don’t be an idiot. It must be at least ninety degrees out here, and it’s more than two miles back to the cabin.”

Jasper nudged him again. Nick was beginning to suspect the mule wasn’t acting entirely on his own. “If you don’t keep that mule away from me, I’m going to punch him in the nose,” he growled.

“You’d be sorry. Jasper doesn’t have my even temper; he bites.”

He halted and spun around, bumping Jasper with his shoulder. “Even-tempered! You’re about as even-tempered as an Atlantic squall in January.”

“Nonsense. I am a scientist and, as such, calm and rational at all times. And in my scientific judgment, we need to get you out of the sun as quickly as possible.”

He glanced around at the treeless, windswept hillside. “How do you plan to do that? I don’t see any shade, and that mule doesn’t walk any faster than I do.”

“Jasper can move quickly with proper encouragement. Now, will you be reasonable and climb up here?”

Nick stood his ground and glared at her. She could look as peeved as she wanted. He was tired of taking orders.

“Fine. At least put this on.” She tossed the faded sunbonnet at him.

“I am not wearing that damned bonnet.”

Caroline huffed. “I’ll give you my hat then. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I found you unconscious and had to stitch a great gash on your head. If you faint from heat exhaustion, I won’t be able to get you to the travois to haul your sorry carcass back to the cabin.”

“I am not going to faint.”

At that moment, his head began to spin and black spots appeared before his eyes. He staggered and grasped Jasper’s mane in an attempt to keep his footing. The mule brayed and snapped his teeth.

“Jasper, behave,” Caroline ordered, jerking the reins to keep the mule from taking a chunk out of Nick’s shoulder. She hopped down and grabbed his arm as he swayed. “Can you mount by yourself, or do you need help?”

Nick closed his eyes, but that only made the dizziness worse. “I can do it.” He reached for the pommel and managed to sling himself into the saddle.

Caroline climbed on behind him and slid her arms beneath his to take the reins. “Lean against me.”

He didn’t want to; she was so much smaller. Then his stomach lurched, and he swallowed hard. Now was not the best time for an argument. He gave in without another word and settled back, closing his eyes again. Her soft breasts cradled his body, and her arms held his sides snugly.

The next thing he knew, someone was shaking him awake.

“You have to get down,” Caroline said.

He opened one eye and squinted against the blazing sun. “Mmmmph?”

“I need your help. You’ll land on your head if I have to drag you off this mule by myself.”

He half-fell off the mule into her waiting arms. She draped his left arm across her shoulders and slid her right arm around his waist. “It’s back to bed with you.”

He offered no argument. His head and stomach hadn’t felt like this since the time he’d closed down the last waterfront bar in Liverpool. He leaned on Caroline, and together they stumbled into the cabin where he collapsed on the bed. He tried to help remove his boots but couldn’t find the strength. When she placed a cool, wet cloth on his forehead, he sighed and closed his eyes.

The next time he awoke, the cabin was dark except for the yellow glow of a kerosene lantern, and the sound of soft humming wafted in from the main room. He pushed himself up on his elbows and rejoiced when the walls and floor remained stationary. His head felt better, too, and his hollow stomach growled.

He swung his legs off the bed and slowly rose to his feet. No dizziness. He took a couple of cautious steps. So far, so good. When he stepped through the open doorway, he spied Caroline sitting on a folding stool reading a book with her elbow balanced on her knee and her chin resting on her palm. She straightened and rubbed her lower back.

“You’re awake,” she said. “You probably shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“I’m feeling much better; besides, I’m starving.”

Her expression eased into a smile, and he felt that little flutter in his chest again. What magic did this woman possess that turned him into a twelve-year-old schoolboy every time she smiled?

“That’s a good sign,” she said.

He rubbed his bristled jaw. “How long did I sleep?”

“More than eight hours. I must have checked a dozen times to make sure you were still breathing.” She set her book on the small wooden table. “You can sit here while I fix you something to eat, but first I need to examine you.”

His body stirred—a sure sign his condition was improving. He sat on the stool and tried to muster his wickedest grin. “Are you going to take my clothes off again?”

Caroline pursed her lips. “You must be feeling better, but no, this time I just want to check your eyes. Hold still.”

Using a thumb and forefinger, she held the lids wide and peered into each eye in turn. “Your pupils look normal.” She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, avoiding the cut. “And you don’t seem to have a fever.”

Nick held her sky-blue gaze and inhaled. Mmm, warm honey. How did she manage to smell so sweet after a day in the hot sun and dust? He was almost embarrassed to stand close to her. She gave no sign, but he knew he must stink like a Turkish goat. “I don’t suppose you have a bathtub around here.”

She stepped back and sized him up. “I doubt you’d fit in the tin tub I use, but you’re welcome to try. I can drag it outside and fill it for you.”

He cocked a brow. “You don’t want me bathing in your front room?”

“If you take a bath, one of us is going outside, and I have better things to do than sit around in the dark waiting for you to finish.” She stepped into the tiny bedroom and pulled the worn quilt off the bed. “Here, you can wrap up in this, and I’ll wash your clothes while you bathe. They should dry overnight.”

“Thanks.” He accepted the quilt. “That’s very thoughtful of you.” He hadn’t been looking forward to putting dirty clothes back on a clean body.

She smiled and her dimples amplified the mischievous glint in her eyes. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m mainly thinking of myself.”

Guess she’s not that fond of goat smell after all.

Half an hour later, Nick was tucked back in bed, naked under the quilt, and feeling much fresher. The night was so beautiful, with a full, bright moon and cooling breeze, he’d been tempted to sleep outdoors. However, when Caroline had called out a warning about rattlesnakes, he’d abandoned the tub and scooted inside. He should have given her back her bed, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Maybe tomorrow. At least he was clean.

****

Caroline stood in the doorway to the lean-to bedroom with Nick’s clothes piled in her arms, watching him sleep. He lay sprawled on his back with the quilt barely covering his essential parts and one arm thrown over his head—the picture of pure masculine abandon. Her gaze followed the rise and fall of his firmly muscled chest. He was a fine specimen, well-formed and healthy, so healthy, in fact, there was no longer any reason for him to stay. He didn’t need her nursing; he was ready to return to his loved ones.

She sighed, and he stirred, turning his head. One blue eye opened, then the other.

“Good morning,” she said. “I’ve brought your clothes.”

“Thanks.”

His morning-gruff voice stirred the tingle again, and she stiffened. Drat! Why couldn’t she remember to keep her guard up? A few more days of this would turn her into a gibbering fool. It was a good thing he’d be leaving soon.

“Here, put these on while I fix breakfast.” She thrust the pile toward him.

Nick’s hand shot out and encircled her wrist in a firm grip. Without thinking, she abandoned her burden, and his clothes fell to the floor. With slow, lazy pressure, he pulled her toward him. Her brain shouted “no,” but her body responded to the irresistible invitation in his eyes.

When her gaze dropped to his mouth, his lips parted and all thought fled. As he tugged with one hand, his other slid into her hair and guided her toward him until their lips met. Caroline was conscious of the strength of his hand holding her head still while his lips plundered her mouth. The hot flutter that had started somewhere in her middle rushed toward her limbs. His scorching tongue touched her lips, and she was lost. Her hands smoothed the muscles of his shoulders as she leaned into him and followed his lead with blind obedience. She barely noticed when he released her wrist, but then his free hand cupped her breast and reality came crashing back.

She jerked from his grasp, embarrassed and horrified at what she’d done, what she’d felt.

“I am not Lucinda,” she stammered.

Nick’s eyes flared when he reached for her wrist again. “No, you’re not. You’re nothing like her.”

“Is that why you kissed me?”

“That’s part of it. Now come back here, and we’ll see if we can figure out the rest.”

She slapped his hand away. “I refuse to be a party to your infidelity.”

“Infidelity?” His brow furrowed, and he looked genuinely confused.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest as if to protect herself from his charm. “Yes. I will not help you be unfaithful to your wife.”

“I’m not married.”

A tiny flame sparked in her breast, but she doused it. He was splitting hairs. “Your fiancée, then.”

His eyes narrowed as suspicion overtook confusion. “What makes you think Lucinda is my fiancée? And how do you know about Lucinda, anyway?”

Caroline’s pulse pounded in her throat like a rabbit cornered by a fox. What could she say? “You called me Lucinda when you first regained consciousness.” Her gaze slipped away to study the squares of red calico in the quilt. “Right before you kissed me. I just assumed.”

“I don’t think so.” His voice had a hard edge now. “You say you’re a scientist. Scientists don’t make assumptions. They operate off evidence and facts.”

Sometimes she wished she were a more accomplished liar, but she’d always been miserable at it. When she was a girl, Arthur had berated her every time they’d gotten in trouble because of her inability to tell Mrs. O’Rourke a convincing tale.

“All right, I saw your letter,” she admitted.

“You read my letter, you mean. You searched my personal papers.”

Caroline pursed her lips. He didn’t have to be so blunt. She’d acted with the best of motives. “I was only trying to find out who you were, in case you died, so I could notify your family.”

Nick’s expression dripped with skepticism. “You could have left that to the sheriff.”

“I suppose I could have...but I didn’t.”

“So, what did you learn about me with your snooping?”

She lifted her chin. “From the evidence, I deduced your name is Nicholas Bancroft, you recently lived in San Francisco, and you have a fiancée or wife named Lucinda who loves you very much.”

Nick snorted. “You’re correct on the first two counts, but you couldn’t be more wrong on the last.”