Chapter Seven

“Who is Lucinda, then?” Caroline demanded.

“A woman I used to know.”

Her stomach tightened. How easily he dismissed a woman who claimed to love him. “That letter was written only four months ago. She seemed to know you quite well at the time.”

Nick sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, shoving it out of his face. “You’re going to shake this to death like a rat terrier, aren’t you?”

“If necessary, yes. A scientist is persistent in the quest for knowledge.”

“Even when it’s none of her business?”

Her face flushed as if she’d been slapped. “Very well. You don’t owe me an explanation. In fact, you don’t owe me a thing. I simply dragged your ungrateful carcass back here, stitched your wound, and cared for you until you were well enough to attempt to assault me.”

“Assault you? I’ve been a perfect gentleman.”

“I don’t know about San Francisco, but in New York, gentlemen do not force their affections on unwilling ladies.”

Nick lunged from the bed, clutching the quilt around his hips in one fist. His eyes blazed, and a muscle in his black-whiskered jaw twitched. Instinctively, Caroline stepped back two paces to maintain the distance between them. His whole body radiated fury.

“If you want to tell yourself you were unwilling, go ahead and enjoy the delusion, but I know a willing woman when I kiss one.” His cold, controlled tone belied the raging emotion in his eyes. “You could have stopped me with one word, but you didn’t.”

To her shame, he was right. She was at least partly to blame. Her acquiescence to his kiss had led him to believe she would welcome even bolder advances. Her brother and his friends had an ugly word for women like that.

She smoothed her damp hands down the front of her skirt. “Well, I’ve stopped you now. I have no intention of being swept up in a moment of passion and ending up abandoned like Lucinda.”

“What makes you think I abandoned her?”

“In her letter, she said she ‘longed for the day your hearts would be joined as one.’ Now you talk about her as if she’s a two-headed monster.”

“Two-faced is more like it. If you want the story, I’ll tell you the whole truth.”

“That isn’t nec—”

“Too late,” he interrupted with a wave of his hand. “You’re going to hear it.”

“In that case, I believe I’ll sit.” She walked into the main room and sat as gracefully as she could on the wobbly three-legged stool.

“You might want to put your pants on.” She pointed to the quilt.

Nick glanced down. “If it bothers you, I can always take it off.”

She shrugged and offered a bland smile. “If it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me.” He had to be bluffing. But if he wasn’t, she would simply avert her eyes. She refused to be intimidated by the threat of a blatant display of masculine attributes.

He ran his hand through his hair again and started pacing the tiny room, still gripping the quilt in his left hand. “Her name is Lucinda Adams, and I was engaged to marry her.”

“I presumed as much.”

“I’ve known Lucinda since we were children, and for as long as I can remember, our families assumed we’d get married one day. I guess I assumed it, too.”

“Did you love her?”

He halted and turned. The morning light cast his features in sharp relief, and the muscle in his jaw twitched again. “I thought so.”

“Did she love you?”

“She led me to believe she did. You read the letter.”

She had, and the writer had sounded sincere. “What happened?”

“Two months after she wrote that letter, she married my older brother, Nathaniel.”

Caroline’s eyes widened. She couldn’t imagine a worse betrayal than one by two people who were supposed to love you. No wonder Nick was bitter. “How did that happen? Where were you?”

“At the precise moment of the wedding, I was half-way to China. I had planned to bring back crates of porcelains and silks as a wedding gift.” He let out a short, harsh bark of a laugh. “I never dreamed the wedding would be Lucinda and Nate’s.”

“So you were a sailor.”

“To my father’s unending dismay. I was never much of a scholar—couldn’t stand being cooped up indoors long enough. When I was fourteen, I went to sea on one of my grandfather’s ships. I was captain by twenty-two.”

“How exciting! You must have seen some fabulous places.”

He nodded. “And some ugly ones, too.” He walked over to the doorway and stared out at the sunlight gilding the peaks of the barren ridge. “Lucinda never understood. She wanted me to stay home after we married, so I promised to go to work in my father’s bank after one last voyage.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper. “What a fool I was. I gave up everything—my commission, my ship, my dreams.”

Caroline fought the temptation to go to him, to try to ease his loss. “After what she did, I can’t help but wonder why you keep her letter.”

“As a warning to myself and a reminder not to believe everything I’m told, especially by a beautiful woman.” The anger in his tone was still raw, as if it might break through the thin scab and bleed anew at the slightest provocation.

“Did she offer any explanation for her actions?” Caroline asked.

He turned, his expression unreadable. “She said she realized while I was gone that I’d never be happy at the bank and Nate suited her better.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. She did me a favor.”

It was an odd favor that cut a man’s heart out and offered it to him on a platter. Nick might want to pretend his fiancée’s defection hadn’t hurt, but the slight waver in his voice gave him away. Caroline decided to move the conversation in a different direction. “So what brought you to Wyoming?”

“I came for the silver.”

A sense of foreboding filled her. “What silver?”

He didn’t seem to notice her reticence. “Right after I returned home, I read about a big strike in the newspaper. There was nothing for me in San Francisco, so I decided to try my hand at prospecting. They say out here a man can make his fortune and never look back.”

She hated to be the source of further disappointment, but she couldn’t let him waste his time and energy on a fruitless treasure hunt. “There’s no silver here. It was proven months ago that the unscrupulous owners salted the mine in order to trick the tinhorns. I hope you didn’t give them any money.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “No, I still have my cash, and it looks like I’m going to need it. I can’t go back to San Francisco.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and a flush rose up his neck. “I...uh...may have said something to my father about working in his bank being the equivalent of a living death. At any rate, I don’t want to sponge off him the rest of my life. I need to make something of myself on my own.”

“That’s an admirable ambition.”

“Maybe I’ll go to South America. I heard about a big emerald find in the Amazon.”

Caroline’s chest tightened at the thought of him leaving for the Amazon. “That’s not a very practical plan. You might travel all that way only to find emeralds as scarce as silver is here.”

He shrugged and the quilt slipped a breath-stealing inch. He appeared not to notice, but she struggled to keep her eyes on his face and her attention on his words.

“Then I’ll go somewhere else,” he said. “Practicality is overrated.”

The kernel of an idea sprouted in her mind, but she squashed it before it could grow and bloom. Nick would never, could never, stay here. He’d seemed interested in her work, but paleontology was slow, painstaking, and difficult. He’d been happy sailing the world from Canton to Tripoli. He’d never find the patience to become a scientist. The sooner he moved on, the better for both of them. Even after such a short time, she was beginning to grow accustomed to his presence.

Her decision made, she stood so abruptly the stool teetered. “Since you’re feeling better and have decided on a course of action, there’s no reason to waste more time here. As soon as you get dressed and eat, I’ll take you to town. You can catch the next train to Denver and be on your way.”

He froze and the quilt slowly slipped from his hand. For a split second, Caroline glimpsed long bare legs and a flash of something extra before quickly turning her back. Behind her, Nick swore, and she heard the sounds of footsteps pounding across the floor boards heading for the bedroom.

Oh, my. Fine beads of sweat popped out on her face and neck, and she blotted them with her sleeve. She could have done without that extra stimulation on an already hot morning. She busied herself cooking breakfast and tried to keep her mind off the image of a perfectly formed, stark naked man standing in her doorway haloed by the sun, but it wasn’t easy.

“I’m leaving.”

His voice startled her, and she dropped the cast iron skillet, dumping the eggs on the floor. “Drat!” She spun around and pointed her big spoon at his face. “Look what you made me do. Now I have to start over.”

He stood before her fully dressed, icy blue eyes peering out of a face that could have been carved from stone. “Don’t bother on my account. You’ve made it clear you’re ready to be rid of me, so I’ll be on my way.”

Caroline brushed her wrist across her forehead. “Don’t be silly. You can’t leave without breakfast.”

“I’ve imposed on you long enough.” He turned and strode toward the door.

“Are you planning to walk?”

“I don’t have a horse.”

She untied her apron and smoothed her hair. “For heaven’s sake, if you wait a few minutes, I’ll take you on Jasper. I’m running short on supplies, so I need the travois.”

“I can walk.”

He stepped outside, and she followed. “You don’t even know where the town is.”

“I’ll find it. There must be some kind of trail.”

“Stop being so stubborn. You’re a sailor, not an Indian scout.”

“I’m exceptionally skilled at navigation,” he replied without turning his head.

She stared at his back as he marched off in the opposite direction from Como Bluff. “On the sea, maybe.”

Nick’s behavior baffled her. He’d announced his intentions, and she’d tried to make his departure easier. He should be grateful. Instead, he acted like she’d thrown him out for buzzard bait. She frowned at his receding silhouette. “The Amazon was your idea, you big galoot.” she muttered.