Early Dawn (26 page)

“I like snuggling up to you a
lot
better than I do a rock. You’re longer and make me feel warm from head to toe.”

Jesus Christ.
Was she
trying
to push him over the edge? Matthew went back to clenching his teeth, wanting her so badly that he was afraid he might start to shake. What would he do then, tell her he was sick? He was glad she’d come to trust him. He’d worked toward that. But he’d never considered how completely treacherous a beautiful,
trusting
female could be. She wasn’t trying to seduce him. He knew that. But her lush curves were making short work of the task anyway.

When she wiggled her butt closer to his fly, he rolled over onto his back and lifted the blanket. “I’ve gotta go see a man about a dog.”

“Oh. Be careful out there. Away from the fire, you might stumble in the dark.”

The only thing Matthew feared he might trip over was Old Glory. Most men wanted to be hung like a horse. Right then, he would have been happy with a pecker the size of a thimble. As he strode away, he snatched their bathing towel from the rack he had erected, hoping Eden wouldn’t notice. He had a very important meeting with snowmelt.

This time, Matthew stayed in the icy water so long that he figured chunks of his body could be used to make ice cream in a crank machine. When he was forced to get out of the water by convulsive shuddering, he looked down at his totally out-of-control member and cursed. Old Glory was still at half-mast.

As he dressed, he shivered like an aspen tree in a high wind. Then he went off into the bushes to play some five-fingered stud, praying to God that Father O’Flannigan, the parish priest in Crystal Falls, had lied when he’d said that such an activity made some men go stone blind.

Over the next three days, Matthew battled his demons while Eden was apparently conquering hers. She continued to snuggle close to him at night, no longer flinching when he put his arm around her. When he wrapped her ribs, she no longer grew pale and trembled until the task was completed. No more nightmares plagued her, either.

Conversely, with every step Eden took back toward normalcy, Matthew’s problem worsened. It seemed to him that he spent more time in the creek at night than he did in bed. Playing five-fingered stud in the bushes eased the ache in his loins for only about an hour. Then it was back, and so was the erection. It got so bad that he almost wished Father O’Flannigan’s warning had been true. A blind man wouldn’t notice the tantalizing bounce of Eden’s breasts under a wash-worn shirt or the tempting roundness of her posterior in the borrowed blue jeans. He wouldn’t feel as if he were drowning in her beautiful blue eyes, and her radiant smile wouldn’t make him feel as if he were basking in sunshine.

One evening as they returned to camp after laundering their clothes, Eden seemed withdrawn and distant. When Matthew’s arm accidentally brushed against hers as they walked, she put more space between them. Then, back at the fire, she scowled as she stirred the stew she’d put on to cook before they left.

“What deep thoughts are putting that frown on your face?” he asked.

When she glanced up, Matthew leveled a solemn look at her and added, “If you’re thinking about the Sebastians again, get them out of your head. That part of your life is over. Remember?”

Her lovely mouth tightened, and she bent over the pot again. Worried, Matthew sat cross-legged near the fire, rested his forearms on his bent knees, and studied her downturned face. She hadn’t been this quiet and remote for days. Had he said or done something to offend her?

“Eden, can you talk to me? What’s troubling you?”

She finally met his gaze. “I’ve never been one to prevaricate, Matthew. Perhaps you shouldn’t ask that question. You may not like the answer.”

Prevaricate?
There was a word Matthew had never heard, but he got the gist of its meaning. “If I don’t like the answer, I don’t like the answer. Something’s bothering you. Maybe I can help.”

She worried her bottom lip with small, pearl white teeth. “It’s just—” She broke off and went back to stirring again. “I’m worried about the way I’m starting to feel about you.”

“How, exactly, are you starting to feel?”

Clanking the spoon against the pot with each turn, she murmured something he didn’t quite catch.

“Come again? I couldn’t hear you.”

She stopped stirring, met his gaze, and swallowed hard before repeating herself. “I’m starting to feel attracted to you.”

Trying to look perfectly calm and unruffled by her admission, Matthew shifted into a crouch and leaned around the fire to pour himself some coffee. Only he forgot to watch how full the cup was getting, and hot liquid spilled over the rim onto his hand. “Son of a
bitch
!” He dropped the cup, started waving his hand, and barely managed to set the coffeepot back over the flames without upending the whole works.
“Damn.”

Eden had spare water in a pan that she hadn’t needed for the stew. She rushed around the fire. “Here, Matthew, put your hand in this. It’ll lessen the burn.”

He jerked away when she reached for his wrist. “Don’t. I’m fine. My hands are tough as leather.”

 

Eden had felt those hands on her bare skin—their rough texture, their strength and gentleness. Even after what she’d been through with the Sebastians, she couldn’t honestly tell herself that she would dread having him touch her that way again.
Madness
. Deep down, she knew she wasn’t ready for any form of intimacy. But the feelings were still there—and growing stronger. It was as if a tiny leak had sprung in a dike, and no matter how hard she tried to hold back the flow, the feelings seeped into her anyway. She guessed it was because Matthew was so nice. She’d started to think of him as a friend, and she trusted him now almost as much as she did her brothers. Being attracted to him felt right somehow, and natural.

She returned to her place at the opposite side of the fire and crouched back down. “I’ve shocked you. I apologize for that. My brother David says I’m the most plainspoken person he’s ever known, and he doesn’t mean it as a compliment. You asked me a question. I
knew
better than to answer it, but you insisted.”

He rubbed a hand over his face and blinked. She’d seen him do that once before when she’d scolded him for trampling the clematis. She guessed it was a habit of his when something set him off balance.

Matthew surprised her by saying, “You’re not thinking straight right now. That’s all it is.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “It’s clear as rain to me. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, I rescued you, and now your feelings about me are all mixed-up. It used to happen a lot to women taken captive by Indians. After all the mistreatment, they fancied themselves in love with the first brave who showed them any kindness. Sometimes they were so convinced of it that they resented being rescued and didn’t want to be taken home to their families.”

Eden considered that possibility and couldn’t say for certain that he was wrong. Her emotions were in a tangle, no question about it, and she did feel profoundly grateful to Matthew, not only for saving her, but also for his kindness and understanding. When she stepped back from the situation and looked at it rationally, she had to concede that her attraction to him might stem from confusion and fade with time. On the other hand, it felt very real to her right now, and her feelings were her feelings, no matter what caused them.

He studied her for a moment and then drew his watch from his pocket to trace the writing on the back with his thumb. “Don’t take that to mean I’m not flattered,” he told her. “Any man would be. You’re a pretty lady, and I’d have to be blind not to notice that.”

“Thank you.”

He returned the watch to his pocket. “There’s a problem, though. I’m not free to do anything more than look. I swore off marriage after what happened to Livvy. I failed to keep her safe, and if I took another wife, I might not be able to protect her either.” He gestured limply with one hand. “Even if I could get past that, I can’t get involved in another relationship until I’ve caught the Sebastians, and that may never happen.”

Eden had come to understand that about Matthew, and she respected him for it. He’d vowed to love his wife forever, and he was a man of his word. That he’d honored a graveside promise for three long years, no matter how rough the going, was proof of that.

He picked up the dirt-encrusted tin cup and stared at it as if he’d never seen it before. Then he tossed it back on the ground and strode off into the darkness. A moment later, she heard him talking to the animals. She listened to the low thrum of his voice and sighed. Would she never learn to keep her mouth shut? David was right; honesty wasn’t always the best policy. Now Matthew felt uncomfortable around her, and she couldn’t blame him. It had been inappropriate to confess her feelings. When a lady felt attracted to a man, she was supposed to bat her eyelashes, simper, and blush prettily, not come right out with it.

The odor of scorched stew startled her into jerking the pot from the fire. She gave the contents a stir, and then tasted to see how badly it was burned.
Passable
. Maybe if she added more salt, he wouldn’t notice.

He returned to the fire a few minutes later. After rinsing his cup and pouring more coffee, he hunkered down across from her again. Eden had grown accustomed to long silences between them, but this one was different. The air was thick with tension. When she could bear it no longer, she said, “I’m sorry, Matthew. I—”

“Let’s let the subject drop. Okay?”

She glanced up at him. “I was only going to say that I burned the stew.”

He had just taken a sip of coffee and almost choked on it when he laughed. “Oh.”

Pleased that he was smiling again, Eden gave the contents of the pot another stir. “I don’t think it’s too bad. I caught it in the nick of time.”

“I’ve eaten burned stew before. I reckon I’ll survive as long as my belly gets full.”

She moved the bread off the coals and went to the packs to get them each a plate and spoon. Minutes later, they settled down to eat, at first in silence, then with occasional exchanges of impersonal conversation. Eden knew Matthew’s sudden uneasiness was entirely her fault. Down at the creek, they’d laughed and joked while they washed their clothes. Now it was as if he had erected a wall between them.

“I’m sorry for being so forthright about my feelings, Matthew. Truly, I am. I know it was inappropriate. I have a tendency to say whatever’s on my mind. It’s an unbecoming trait, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t find it unbecoming, just a little unsettling.”

Judging by his tense behavior, Eden guessed that was an understatement. They cleaned up after supper and went to bed without speaking. Tonight Matthew didn’t put his arm around her, and Eden fell asleep missing the comforting weight.

 

The following morning, Matthew said very little over breakfast, and whenever Eden tried to meet his gaze, he looked quickly away. While they readied the horses to ride, he avoided touching her. She also noticed that he frequently drew his watch from his pocket to trace the lettering on its back, almost as if it were a talisman to protect him against evil. At first that irritated Eden; then it began to amuse her, and finally, it made her feel sad. Any man who went to so much trouble to hold a woman at arm’s length had to feel threatened by her. Given that Eden lacked the physical strength to overpower him, the only explanation for his wariness was that he must be as attracted to her as she was to him.

Poor Matthew. Living as he did wasn’t natural. Didn’t he realize that he had needs, not only physical ones, but emotional needs as well? He was a caring, gentle person. She had witnessed his kindness with the horses and mule, always putting their welfare before his own. During breaks and at the end of the day, the animals drank, ate, and were rubbed down before Matthew ever saw to his own comforts. He was a man with a deep capacity for love, and he was denying himself that to honor the memory of a wife who probably wept in heaven to see him leading such a lonely and joyless existence.

Midmorning, Matthew suddenly reined Smoky to a stop and then steered the horse sharply to the right before pulling to a halt again. At first Eden thought he meant to give the animals a rest, but when she saw the rigid set of his shoulders, she realized something was wrong.

“Stay back, Eden,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t move and draw attention to yourself. If he leaps, I want him to come for me.”

Eden glanced frantically around, and then she saw the cougar, a huge male, crouched just above Matthew on an outcropping of stone. The cat was tensed to spring. An adult mountain lion had powerful jaws that could snap a man’s spine with one crushing bite at the nape of the neck. It was also capable of disemboweling prey with one swipe of its claws.

Doing as Matthew had told her, she kept her gaze riveted on the cat and didn’t so much as twitch a muscle.
Matthew.
He had moved between her and the lion, and he meant to keep it that way so she wouldn’t get hurt. In that moment, Eden knew she was falling in love with Matthew Coulter—hesitantly and warily, yes, but falling in love, all the same. He was putting his life on the line to protect her from harm.

She held her breath, praying that the creature would back off and leave them alone. Why on earth didn’t Matthew grab his rifle?
The Sebastians
, she realized. He was afraid the sound of a high-powered weapon would carry and lead the gang right to them.

Just then, Herman smelled the cat and let loose with a frightened bray, sidestepping and jerking against the lead rope to get away. The shrill scream of the mule was all it took to spur the feline. A blur of speed, it leaped from the rock at Matthew, knocking him off his horse upon impact. Eden drew both her guns, but man and lion rolled over the ground in such a tangle that she couldn’t fire her weapon.
Oh, God, oh, God
. Matthew was going to be ripped to pieces.