Harris Channing (16 page)

Fetching
the kettle she filled it with water. He needed something to drink other than
alcohol. Coffee. That's what he needed and the stronger the better. While the
water heated, Bobbie fought the nerves that had perspiration dotting her
forehead. What was she supposed to do with a wild, trembling man?

"You
need to sleep, David," she said standing before him. "Will you rest
for me?"

He smiled
up at her, uncertainty marring his countenance. "I never did enough for
you."

She
swallowed hard, hating that she had to pretend to be someone she wasn't. Someone
she could never be. "Well then, it's time to remedy that." She fell
to her knees and began unfastening the laces of his boots. "I want you to
sleep."

"Will
you be here when I wake up?" His expression alarmed her. Gone was the man
she knew to be so rugged. Instead, the large wide eyed stare of a frightened
animal met her worried gaze.

"Of
course," she said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. "I'll
make you a fine meal and when you wake up you'll feel all the better for eating
and sleeping."

He let
out a chuckle of disbelief. "You're going to cook? I don't know if that's
going to help me to feel better or not."

His good
natured jibe startled her. She didn’t believe it! Sarah, not good at something?
Why did his revelation give her a small surge of satisfaction?

With his
boots off, he leaned back on the bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. She
watched him for a moment, anxious just witnessing the way his body convulsed.
It was a bizarre scene and when he moaned, she instinctively went to him. The look
upon his face was beyond frightening. His eyes were wide, his teeth chattering
and despite the chill in the room, sweat poured from his forehead.

"David,"
she whispered his name and bending over him, she placed her hand on his cheek.

With a
singular motion, he grabbed her wrist and with a strength that defied his
current physical state, he sprang to his feet. She stumbled at the sudden,
dizzying shove. He slammed her against the wall, her shoulders aching, the
breath knocked from her lungs. Dear God, what was he doing? Was he trying to
kill her?

"Tell
me, what was he doing here?"

"Who?"
she asked, her heart thundering against her ribs. "David, no one has been
here. What do you mean?"

"Stop
it!" he shouted his breath hot on her cheek, his crazed eyes dancing with
fury. "You're lying to me. I know, because I saw him."

"I
don't understand. No one was here. It's been just you an me s-since we got home
from Mr. Crocker's."

"Crocker,"
he hissed the name through gritted teeth. He narrowed his eyes to slits.
"Tell me, is the babe mine or will he be born with blonde curls?"

Her mind
spun at his question. He seemed to regard the woman so highly and yet in his
deluded state his true feelings sped to the surface. Worry, fear and confusion
settled over her like a sopping cloak. Why did he lie to himself? Certainly the
truth hurt, but what would lead him to drink the way that he did?

"Answer
me, Sarah? I saw you kissing him. Tell me the truth now! I demand it!"

A shiver
ran through her body and despite the pain of his grip, she did not struggle.
Instead, she lifted her chin and stared into his face, her gaze locked upon his
eyes. "I am offended that you would accuse me of such a crime." She
swallowed the fear that clogged her throat and fought the tremor in her jaw.

"I
saw him holding you, kissing you."

"And
you did nothing to stop him? Why?"

A deep
scowl wrinkled his forehead. "Why didn't you?" He leaned in close,
his mouth hovering above hers. "I kept waiting for you to deliver a blow.
To push him away and yet you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him
close."

The calm
in his tone disturbed her more than the passion. There was an eeriness to it, a
seriousness that frightened her and had her wondering just what he was capable
of. "I love you, not Reg." And even though she spoke the words for
Sarah, she knew they came from her trembling heart.

His grip
eased. "Don't speak of love with the same mouth that kissed another."
He pushed away from her, his lips pinched into an angry, bitter line. "I
don't know if I love you, anymore."

"I
know you do. Please, forgive me."

His brows
shot up with his surprise and releasing his hold on her arm, he slipped his
fingers around her neck. The gesture had her clawing at his hands as terror
gripped her. "Forgive you? I could kill you."

He let
go, the angry red tint of his skin blanching to a sickly pale. Stumbling back,
he fell to the bed.

Chapter 13

David
woke. The light from the window blistered his tired eyes and he longed to pull
the dingy blue and white checked curtains closed.

Instead
of venturing to stand, he moaned and closed his eyes, reaching for a pillow to
lie atop his aching head. Sure, he'd felt sick with too much drink before, but
never from a lack of it.

His hand
landed on the solid form that nestled against him. Soft, sweet curves met his
touch and a welcome peace enveloped him. Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled
Bobbie closer, melding her supple curves to his body. Oh, it felt good to hold
a woman again.

"David?"
she said his name, the sound every bit as soothing as the rest of her.
"Can I get you something?" But wait. Why was it her voice called to
him from across the room?

"No,
just stay here. Just let me hold you."

"I'm
over here," she corrected, irritation filling her tone. "I'll get you
some coffee. The water is ready. I've also found some flour, would you like
some biscuits?"

He
groaned and pushed at Alfred, the beast moaning as he jumped from the bed.
"Damnation." He pulled the pillow down over her eyes. "No, I
don't want anything to eat."

"But
you must try," she said.

Peeking
from beneath the white linen pillowcase, he watched her walk away. With her
back to him, he admired the way her skirts shifted and he wondered just what
beauty lay beneath the gray wool. With her hair cascading down her back, he
smiled. The idea of tangling his fingers in her curls offered him great
pleasure.

"Just
the coffee, all right?" The notion of putting anything in his stomach made
him queasy.

"You've
been in and out for two days, David."

"Really,
two days?" Her words should have alarmed him, but he was too tired to
care. Five days without drink, no wonder they were little more than a blur.

"Yes
and I've only been able to get coffee in you. Please eat something for
me."

At the
concern in her voice he conceded and tossed the pillow aside. "We have
oatmeal left?"

"Yes,"
she said, looking over her shoulder. "I'll fetch it for you."

"Thank
you." He ran quaking fingers through his hair and wondered if her offer of
a hair cut still held. God, had he slept with a dozen nesting mice? "I'm
sorry you had to see me like this."

She
didn't answer, but the aroma of strong coffee signaled her presence. The smell
usually enticed but today it had his stomach roiling. Nothing, absolutely
nothing appealed to him, except whiskey. Yet, when she came to him with the
steaming mug, he struggled to sit.

The shift
in position had his head swimming and he set an unsteady hand atop his
forehead. Pain shot through his skull like the hooves of a half dozen runaway
steeds. He let out a low moan and looked at Bobbie through splayed fingers. Her
alarm was visible and was it wrong for him to enjoy the concern that flashed in
her eyes?

"Be
careful now, you're as weak a newborn colt," she said, setting the cup
down and aiding him in his struggle to right himself. His vision blurred and
the world around him seemed to vibrate. Still, her hands on his arm eased his
distress.

"Bobbie…"
he said but the look on her face gave him pause. The expression she offered was
one of confusion, followed by relief as she met his gaze. He swallowed. "I
need a drink."

She
straightened and set her hands upon her hips. Her eyes were droopy from fatigue
and tears, her pale skin almost as white as snow. And although concerned for
her, he was a little afraid she was going to take a razor strap to his hide.
"No, you don't. You want a drink. But you're not getting one. We've nary a
drop in this place, for if we had I would have emptied it in the snow."

Panic
jostled him and had his stomach churning. "I've been without for near five
days--"

"And
if I have my way, you've had your last swallow. I did not go through what I did
to see you fall back into bad habits." Her glower had him wondering what
she meant.

"What
you've been through? Watching me thrash around for a few days was too hard for
you to bear?" And judging by the way his muscles ached, he had done quite
a bit of thrashing.

She
crossed her arms over her chest and continued to grimace. Gone was the softness
that he had grown so accustomed to. No, her features had hardened, her
expression flat and cold.

"Let's
just say, you're not the nicest of men when you don't get what you want."

Lifting
the cup, she offered it to him. "Now, drink this and I'll get you your
food."

His
stomach dipped as if he were in trouble with his Ma. No one could give the evil
eye like Amelia Henderson…no one except Roberta.

"What
did I do?"

She
didn't answer and God help him, he didn't like the silence anymore than he
liked the change in Bobbie. Whatever it was, he was sorry….so very sorry.

***

With
David awake and lucid, she should have been relieved. Instead she was confused.
Should she tell him that he kissed her, called her Sarah and then…

"Bobbie,"
he said to her from bed, his voice so weak that her heart stung. "Please,
tell me what I did."

She
swallowed the lump in her throat and kneeling by the kettle that hung above the
fire, she stirred the oatmeal. Its bland aroma did little to fuel her own
appetite. Melancholy had taken control of her thoughts and despite her desire
to remove the strain from his tone, she was simply too tired to help him
anymore than she already was.

Her
family gone. Her heart broken. Her life in tatters. There was nothing left but
to keep moving or fall down.

"Don't
concern yourself with that," she said, filling a bowl and doctoring it
with a little sugar and cinnamon. She pulled herself to standing, the gesture
taking more out of her than she thought possible. But, there was still work to
be done, wasn't there? That's how she found relief. She busied her body to slow
her erratic thoughts.

She
offered him the bowl and he gazed up at her, his mouth dipping into a frown.
"If I said…did anything, you must know I was out of my mind. I've heard
the devil takes control of a man when he quits drinking."

"Yes,
well, I suppose that's why you shook like a marionette while the devil pulled
your strings."

His eyes
grew wide. "Really?"

She
didn't respond and when he reached up to take the bowl, his fingers grazed hers
and he stilled, his touch lingering. The sweet shiver of contact had her
pressing the dish toward him. "Take this. I need to see to Ned and I'm
sure Alfred would enjoy a romp."

He
accepted the oatmeal and slowly stirred it, a small dot of light from the sun
glinting off the handle of the silver spoon. "If you wait a moment, I'll
come with you." He moved to set the oatmeal on the bedside table but she
shook her head.

"No,
there's no need. I've been keeping up with chores and that's what I intend to
keep doing."

His brows
knitted with obvious concern. "I'm the man--"

"You're
sick. Get well so you can take up the chores and not die in the process of
proving your manliness to me."

Her words
obviously took him aback and he leaned heavily into his pillows. "Don't be
long, all right? It's dangerous out there."

She
shoved her arm into her coat sleeve. "I know that as well as anyone."
How she loathed the hateful tone in her voice. But honestly, she was very angry
and hurt and the sight of him only compounded the sorrow that seemed to
encompass every fiber of her being.

"I
know, but I don't know if I can cope with something happening to you."

He said
the right things now, but she knew just what venom he was capable of.

Pulling
open the door, she left without another word, the silence as harsh as anything
she could say.

Drawing
in a deep breath, she savored the feel of being outside rather than stuck in
the stuffy cabin. Despite the chill, the fresh air pulled at her unsettling
thoughts and cleared the worry from her mind. She knew it would only be a
momentary reprieve, but she accepted it, relishing the quiet moment.