Lonesome Bride Page 8

  Caite stared at him, mischief glinting in her eyes. Then, amazingly, she opened her mouth and let fly a reverberating, earsplitting blast that seemed to come from her toes.

  "Top that,” she said smugly.

  Jed looked at the woman before him in admiration. “That's a challenge, Caite."

  "Don't feel bad if you can't match it,” Caite consoled teasingly.

  She should not have been so confident. Jed blasted her right back with a double-barreled belch that nearly knocked her over. Caite dissolved into giggles, and after a moment, Jed joined her.

  "You must think I have no manners at all!” she managed to gasp after a while.

  "Not a one,” Jed agreed. He could not believe he had found her gross behavior so refreshing, but he had. Of course he had heard a woman belch before, but those were tavern slatterns, uneducated, slothful and frowzy. He had never heard a proper young lady let loose with such abandon. But then, he reflected, it seemed Caitleen O'Neal did everything with abandon.

  Caite did blush then. She shrugged. “I have no excuse for my behavior. I grew up with an Irish drunk of a father. He had no manners either. I just forgot myself for a minute, Jed. I feel comfortable with you."

  Jed was pleased and could not help smiling at her. “If you belch like that on hotel food, I can't wait to see what you come up with from Cooky's grub."

  Caite laughed. “I can not wait to see if you're correct."

  Jed thought of Heatherfield, his father and the household staff. What would they make of a red-haired, green-eyed woman who belched? He smiled to himself. In a short time, he'd find out.

  "Hey,” he said suddenly, clapping his hands to his knees. “I happen to know there's a box of checkers on the shelf over there. What say we have a game?"

  "That sounds lovely. How do you play?"

  "I'll show you,” Jed answered, glad to have a pastime handy. A different pastime. “And, I'll beat you."

  "We shall see about that.” Caite chortled. “While you set up the game, I believe I shall get dressed. I've been an awful laze-about, still wearing my nightgown."

  Jed placed his hand on her arm so she was unable to get to her feet. “Don't,” he said.

  "What?"

  "Don't get dressed, Caite. Let's just stay the way we are, the whole day."

  Caite looked at him, puzzled. “But Jed..."

  "Please?” Jed could not find the words to explain to her that he did not want the reality of their situation to intrude. He wanted to revel in this brief time they were sharing. He wanted to play checkers with her, talk about her past, make love to her in front of the fire. He wanted to forget they would ever have to leave, and things would have to change.

  "All right, if that is what you wish,” said Caite quietly. She pressed her hand to his cheek. “If it pleases you, Jed."

  Jed kissed her fingertips, then jumped to his feet to retrieve the game from the shelf. Teaching Caitleen the rules was easy, he soon discovered. She learned quickly, and soon was beating him at least one out of three games. He was tempted to let her win more often, just so he could enjoy the delight on her face when she triumphed. He correctly suspected, however, that Caite would take no joy in winning by default, so he played to beat her.

  The day and evening wore on. They left the checkers and moved again to the bed, this time just to cuddle close against the damp chill still in the air. Every hour that passed wrenched at Jed's heart because he knew they were growing ever closer to the time they would have to leave.

  "I'm surprised it's so cold,” Caite remarked, warming her icy toes between his calves. “The days were so hot."

  "Night and the rain can change the temperature drastically. You never know what's going to happen next."

  "Like you,” said Caite.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I never know what you'll say or do next,” she said, peering up at him through a fringe of auburn silk. “We didn't start out to be the best of friends, you know."

  "And now?” It seemed suddenly important to him how she felt about him. Even if her feelings would hardly matter after tonight.

  "I would say we are more than friends,” she said softly, planting a light kiss on his shoulder.

  Jed was quiet.

  "Tell me more about yourself,” Caite urged. She ran her fingers through the crisp, curling hairs of his chest almost absentmindedly. “Tell me about Heatherfield. Tell me about this cabin."

  He looked at her in surprise. “You want to know about the cabin?"

  "It seems too well-stocked not to be used frequently,” she noted. “I was just wondering why."

  "It's a convenient stopping point from Lonesome. We keep it stocked so when we have to stay over, we don't starve.” He was suddenly, inexplicably, reluctant to tell her this was his land and cabin. His plans to move out here and start his own stable seemed all at once unappealing compared to staying at Heatherfield where he could be near her. He wasn't lying anyway. They did use the cabin as a stopover. His answer seemed to satisfy her.

  "How do you manage with Heatherfield so far away from everything?” Caite asked next. “How do you do your shopping, or get letters? How did you get the telegram I was coming?"

  "We're pretty far from Lonesome,” Jed told her. “But on the other side of Heatherfield, it's only a few hours ride to the trading post in Staghorn. I got your telegram in Lonesome because me and Shorty happened to be there for a few days.” Carousing, he did not bother to add.

  "Shorty?” Caite looked up at him, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

  "He's a ranch hand,” Jed told her. “Don't make fun of his name. He's likely to take a switch to that behind of yours."

  Caite laughed. “Why did he not come back with us?"

  "I sent him on ahead to let everyone at home know to expect you."

  "Oh.” She was silent for a minute. “How did you know when I would get there?"

  "I just waited until an unattended woman showed up at the station ... Look Caite,” Jed said impatiently. “Why all the questions?"

  She sighed wistfully before she replied. “I just like hearing you talk, Jed. Your voice is so soothing."

  They both fell silent, feeling the upcoming journey weighing on them. Then, wordlessly, Jed rolled her into his arms and began to take advantage of the short time they had left. When they had finished making love, each fell into a satisfied, dreamless sleep.

  * * * *

  Jed rose before Caitleen again the next morning. He had woken just before dawn, his heart pounding anxiously as if he had been having a nightmare. In a way, he was. Today they would leave this idyllic cabin and head for home. All of this would have to remain a memory.

  Jed slipped away from the still-dreaming Caite. She murmured a low sound of protest, but did not stir. He left the cabin to relieve his bladder, staring up a sky just beginning to blush as pink as a baby's cheeks. There was no way around it. The sky was clear, the sun would be hot, and by this afternoon, they could be home. He grimaced. Already he was in a bad mood.

  "Jed?” Caite was standing in the doorway, still clad in the now rumpled nightshift. She had thrown a quilt over her shoulders. Her hair tumbled about her face as she rubbed sleepy eyes. “You woke so early."

  "Nothing ever gets done by being lazy,” he replied too curtly. She flinched, and his heart twinged. Well, no time to waste on sentiment. If things were going to change, they might as well start right now.

  "I see,” said Caite quietly, pulling the quilt closer around her. Jed saw her back stiffen almost imperceptibly. “Well, then just let me get washed and dressed, and I'll be right out to help."

  She disappeared back into the cabin. Remorse flooded Jed. He wanted to go after her, even if it was only to explain himself. The sun grew higher in the sky while he warred with himself. Finally, his emotions won him over, and he sought her out.

  Caitleen had already dressed and washed her face by the time Jed found her. He looked at her closely, but if he had brought her to tears, she had alre
ady scrubbed them away. She had busied herself with tidying the small mess they had created. As he entered, she was facing away from him. Again her back stiffened when she heard him behind her.

  "Caite,” Jed said quietly, touching her shoulder. She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “Caite, I'm sorry."

  "You do not need to apologize,” Caite replied. “I believe I have told you that once before."

  Her cold expression was more than he could bear. Cursing the circumstances that had brought them together, Jed gathered her into his arms. Closing his eyes, he pressed a fervent kiss to her temple.

  "Jed, please tell me what troubles you.” Her voice was soft, like her skin, like her hair. He heard the concern in her voice, and something tore inside him at the injustice of their situation.

  "I don't want to return to Heatherfield,” Jed whispered into Caite's hair.

  She pulled back from him, her lovely eyes searching his. “Why ever not?"

  "Things will have to change then,” spoke Jed earnestly. “After the wedding, I mean. Everything will change."

  Caite frowned, a furrow creasing the perfection of her brow. “Why should things change, Jed?"

  Jed felt his stomach tilt. Surely she could not expect that after the wedding they would continue to act as they had these past days? Grasping her carefully by the shoulders, he peered into her face, searching for some sign that what she had said was a joke. He saw none, only confusion dawning on her lovely features.

  "You must be joking,” he said unevenly.

  "Joking? Why? I do not understand, Jed. Please explain yourself."

  "You are immoral,” Jed managed to breathe. Sudden loathing filled him. He had risked the love of his father, the respect of his community, for this? This woman who had given her body to a man she had not even married?

  Caite gasped as if he had slapped her. Pulling herself out of his embrace, she took several steps away from him. “So we are back to that old story?” she asked, her voice low and furious.

  "I reckon we are,” Jed retorted. Helplessly, he ran his fingers through his dark hair. He began pace the cabin, gathering items and setting them by the door to be packed into the wagon. His mind was whirling with self-disgust. No matter her morals, or lack of them, she had a hold on him. A hold he did not want her to have.

  "You are an insufferable, arrogant bastard,” Caite hissed. Her fists were clenched so tightly at her sides, Jed would not have been surprised to see blood seeping from between her fingers.

  Her words shocked him, not only because of the language, but because of the force behind them. What right, he reminded himself angrily, does she have to judge me? She had sinned, just as he had.

  "If I'm a bastard, what does that make you?” he simply asked. He could not enjoy the expression on her face. Instead, he stormed from the cabin that had just hours before been such a haven for the two of them.

  It did not take him long to load the wagon and hitch the horses. They had not unpacked much, and his fury fueled him so he moved swiftly. When he had tied everything down securely, he turned to yell for his red-haired passenger. Caite, however, had anticipated his call, and was already standing beside the wagon.

  "I don't understand you,” she said with quiet dignity.

  Jed stayed quiet. He was afraid what words or accusations would rise from his lips should he dare open them to speak. He did not want to risk saying something that would later come back to haunt him. He had already spoken too much.

  "I thought you cared about me,” Caite continued. “I suppose I was wrong."

  "Caring for you has nothing to do with it,” Jed replied. Her quiet accusations were making him more uncomfortable than if she had called him names, or struck him.

  "I see.” She seemed to sag a little before standing ramrod straight again. “Then what does it have to do with?"

  "If I have to explain it to you,” Jed said heavily, “then I don't reckon it's worth explaining."

  "You told me you were not out to hurt anybody,” said Caite. “If that was true, Mr. Peters, than I'm sorry to say you've failed."

  As she boarded the high wagon once more by herself, Jed felt rather than heard the dull crack of the wooden bench settling under her. Or, more likely, he reflected, the sound wasn't from the bench at all. It was the sound of his heart beginning to break.

  CHAPTER 6

  They really should have waited several hours before trying to travel again, Caite thought as the ponderous wagon wheels caught in the mire again. It was the third time since morning that they had bogged down. Each time, Jed had climbed down from the bench amid muttered curses and low-spoken oaths. Each time, she had remained in the wagon, silent, until he had cleared the muck away from the wheels and they could progress again.

  Now, although the sun had risen high and hot in the afternoon sky, their buckboard had managed to find one of the last few soggy spots remaining on the trail. Caite could no longer restrain an irritable sigh as Jed was forced to rein in Nutmeg and Ginger once more. She did not know what would be worse, actually reaching Heatherfield with the man who had so humiliated her this morning, or these interminable delays.

  "I'm not stopping the wagon on purpose,” Jed remarked from beside her, his first words to her since they had gotten underway.

  His voice was boon and bane to Caitleen's ears. Could this be the man whose voice had so soothed her only a short time before? She gritted her teeth, not favoring him with a look. “I never suggested you were."

  "You didn't have to,” Jed replied.

  "I hardly believe you would stoop to such measures,” Caite remarked evenly.

  "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

  He was angry. Caite lifted her chin, then threw him a glance. Jed was staring at her, the reins loose in his hands. She was secretly pleased to see him frowning. She had been put out of sorts, and so should he.

  "I mean I can not believe you'd stoop to such ridiculous measures as deliberately forcing the wagon wheels into muddy patches. Despite what you said earlier, I believe you must be eager to return home. I wish I could share your enthusiasm."

  Jed blinked at her slowly. “You don't want to go to the ranch?"

  Caite returned his stare, fighting back the waves of emotion threatening to spill from her eyes and out her mouth. “Would you, if you were me?"

  At least he had the decency to look away, almost as if he was ashamed. “I reckon not."

  Caite turned forward again and smoothed her skirts over her lap. “Unless you want to sit in this hot sun all day, Jed, I suggest you free that wheel."

  Fortunately, the patch of mud holding them was not deep. A few well-placed handfuls of grass and twigs and a hearty shove from Jed, and they were freed. None too soon either, Caitleen thought. The sun was beginning to give her a headache. The steady throbbing rose behind her eyes and threatened to turn to nausea should they not start moving soon.

  "Are you satisfied, now, Caite?” Jed asked, swinging back onto the seat.

  An angry retort rushed to her lips. She bit it back and instead smiled vacantly and serenely at him. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am."

  Once the horses picked up speed, the cool breeze fanning her face was a welcome relief from the noonday sun. Her head still throbbed, but the pain there was nothing compared to the ache in her heart. Why did Jed insist on treating her so harshly? As the wagon hit a rut, Caite and Jed were jostled momentarily together. Each pulled away as if they had laid their hands on shards of glass.

  "How much longer?” Caite finally asked. She had no desire to make idle conversation, but the thought of another night spent by Jed's side was unendurable. The memories of their lovemaking would continue to haunt her the longer they were alone. She wanted—no, needed—other people around to lessen the effect his nearness had upon her.

  "A few more hours,” Jed replied. “We're making good time."

  "Praise be,” Caite murmured. She hoped that would be the last of the conversation until they reached Heatherfi
eld. Her hopes were immediately dashed.

  "I'm just as ashamed as you are about what happened between us, Caite,” Jed said. “We just have to forget about what happened and get on with our lives."

  His words sliced her to her very soul. Caite spun to look at him, dismay surging in her throat like nausea. Colored spots danced hazily in her vision, and for a moment she feared she would faint.

  "Ashamed!” she cried. “Why should I be ashamed?"

  His eyes narrowed. “What we did was wrong. You know it, and so do I. Don't play the injured miss with me, Caitleen."

  "If you feel shame about what we did, then that is your burden to bear, Jed,” Caite said in a low, dangerous voice. She felt dangerous now. “Not mine. I chose to lay with you. I will not dishonor myself, or you, or what we shared by regretting that choice."

  Jed snorted. “There was nothing honorable about what we did, Caitleen, so you can't dishonor it."

  Contempt dripped from his words like honey from a comb. Would that they be as sweet, Caite thought. Hot tears fought to spill from her eyes, but she forced them back. Only by imagining her hurt and anger as squares of muslin was she able to fold up her emotions and tuck them away where they could not show.

  "Why did you make love to me, Jed, if you felt it was so wrong?” she asked finally, relieved to hear her voice did not tremble. She did not sound lighthearted and carefree, not by any stretch of the imagination, but she at least did not sound as distraught as she felt.

  "Blast it all, woman!” Jed spluttered. “You tempted me!"

  The blood drained from her cheeks, and her fingers strained against the cloth of her skirt as she struggled not to throttle the insufferable bastard beside her. “I tempted you!"

  "Yes, with your flirting and your sweet talk,” Jed spat.

  "I was merely trying to please you!” Caite exclaimed. Her former resolve to remain calm melted away under this new flood of insults.

  "Well, I reckon you pleased me about as much as a woman can,” Jed snarled, clucking to the horses to make them go faster.

  Her heart pounded. Never had anyone sent her into so blind a rage as this man had just now, not even her father. Jed had taunted her, berated her, then made love to her. And now it was supposed to be her fault? Because she tempted him? Sweet Lord, if he thought making love to be a sin, what would he think if he knew I was contemplating murder?