Married by Christmas (17 page)

Not possible, Rebecca.

“I’ll be ready.” Shoving her tumultuous feelings into a box and securing the lock, she gathered up the dishes, deliberately not looking his direction.

He left without another word. Within half an hour, they were riding along the forest-edged lane that led to town. Caleb sat rigid and silent on the wagon seat, his gaze constantly on the move, alert for hidden dangers. Rebecca tried to relax and enjoy the outing. It wasn’t easy. Not when memories of Wendell slid through her mind, raising doubts and niggling guilt for pushing Caleb into giving her her way.

By the time they stood ringing the bell on Clawson’s service entrance, she was as rigid as he was, spying potential danger in every corner and behind every tree. When he placed a light hand on her lower back, she jumped.

His lips compressed. “Becca—”

Emmett Moore appeared then and welcomed them inside, seemingly unconcerned that they didn’t have a delivery.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Caleb began, “but we thought it best to come this way.”

“Sheriff warned me about the gang.” He led them past storage shelving and the office. “Worrisome business. Haven’t had any strangers in here lately, thank the Lord. I’ve kept my eyes open.”

“We won’t be long.” Caleb shot her a warning glance as they skirted the long, wooden counters and approached the aisles.

Seeing his cousin tidying bolts of fabric, she told him, “I’ll be over there with Nicole.”

His gaze following hers to the far wall, he reluctantly nodded and pointed to the plate-glass window overlooking Main Street. Dressed in head-to-toe black, his scar giving him an edge, he looked fierce. Menacing. Twin Colts gleamed on his lean hips. “I’ll keep watch.”

Hurrying along, she noticed the other patrons’ appraisals hadn’t ceased with her marriage. Would their interest, their judgment, ever wane?

Nicole looked surprised to see her. “Rebecca.”

“Good morning. Thank you again for the dress.” Immediately following supper on Christmas Day, Nicole and her sisters had called her upstairs to present the dress.

“Have you modeled it for Caleb yet?”

“I’m saving it for a special occasion.” She wasn’t prepared to endure his close inspection. Her stomach fluttered just thinking about it. “Could you point me to the undergarments?”

“Certainly.” Nicole swept farther down the aisle, boots peeking from beneath her ruffled rose-hued skirts.

When Rebecca had made her choice, she thanked the younger girl and made her way to the counter. Caleb appeared at her side, insistent on paying for her purchase. Causing a scene was out of the question, so she waited until they reached the back stairs to vent her opinion.

“I can afford to pay for my own necessities.” Barely, but he didn’t have to know that.

His chin jutted, the brewing storm in his eyes indicative of his lingering ill-humor. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.” She refused to be a burden. Not when he hadn’t willingly taken her and Amy on.

“I’m your husband,” he stated plainly, as if that fact alone justified everything.

Is this the attitude of an irresponsible man?
a small voice prodded.

“Rebecca.” His fingers clamped down on her wrist, and he tugged her close.

Caught off guard, she braced herself with a hand against his chest. “What—”

“Shh.” Beneath his hat’s brim, his gaze was locked on something behind her. The storm in those brown eyes was fully unleashed now. Tension locked his jaw, stiffened his shoulders. Something was very wrong. Approaching voices registered on the road at the bottom of the stairs. Several males. One female.

Her stomach plummeted. “That sounds like Samantha—”

Caleb didn’t speak. He acted. Deftly switching positions so that his back was to the road, he brought his mouth down on hers.

Chapter Twenty-One

H
is lips were fire and heat, driving the threat of danger to the edge of conscious thought. Rebecca understood what this was—a desperate ploy to remain unrecognized—and yet, with his big body sheltering her and his hands heavy, even possessive, on her waist, she struggled to remember that. Heady emotion flooded her soul. Caleb’s kiss made her feel reckless, coaxed her to abandon caution and give this marriage a chance. Give
them
a chance.

She slung an arm about his neck, angling closer, seeking his strength and reassurance. The embrace altered almost imperceptibly. He was holding her as if it would kill him to let her go.

It was in that moment she comprehended how much he’d come to mean to her. Despite everything that had passed between them, the old anger and misplaced blame, Caleb had become necessary. Essential to her happiness.

An act of pure folly on her part, because he would ultimately leave her.

Rebecca wasn’t certain how many minutes had passed when he lifted his head, hooded gaze burning into her. Neither of them moved. The air pulsed with energy and unspoken questions. When the silence at last registered, Rebecca risked a glance around. The lane behind the businesses stood empty.

“We’re alone.” Caleb reached up and, gently dislodging her arm, put distance between them.

Disappointment squeezing her chest, she shoved out, “Did you get a good look at them?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “It was her. I didn’t recognize her at first because she’s chopped off all her hair.” Ignoring Rebecca’s gasp, he seized her arm and urged her down the stairs. “She had four men with her. Too many to confront without putting you at risk.”

Recognizing the determined jut of his chin, she asked, “What are you going to do?”

Handing her up into the wagon, he hurried to the other side and hauled himself up. “I’m gonna get you home. Then I’ll come back and search for them.”

Fear lodged in her throat. “Alone?”

He released the brake. “I’ll alert Timmons.”

Arms hugging her midsection as the wind rushed past her face, she felt colder than she’d ever felt before. When they reached the wooden bridge above Little Pigeon River, she twisted to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“It’s my fault we were almost discovered. If I hadn’t pressured you...”

“None of this is your fault.” He shot her a fierce look. “You were right. I couldn’t keep you prisoner. Besides, we have them in our sights now. We’ll get them this time.”

“I wish you would leave the search to Timmons and his men.”

His gaze fell on the gold band circling her left finger. “They made it personal when they involved you. With my family to keep you safe, I won’t have to worry.”

“What about your leg?”

“Doc cleared me to ride, remember?”

Since he clearly wouldn’t be dissuaded from his course, Rebecca prayed. Begged, in fact, for God to protect her husband and bring him home safe.

* * *

They searched for three days. Seemed as if they were traveling in ever-widening circles about Gatlinburg, each passing hour without results intensifying Caleb’s frustration.

“Something’s not right.” Sitting tall in the saddle, craggy profile washed in moonlight, the sheriff huffed an aggravated sigh. “We should’ve picked up their trail by now.”

“We can’t stop.” Didn’t matter that his leg was one throbbing mass of quivering flesh. Didn’t matter that he was distracted by thoughts of Becca and their life-altering kiss. Finding Samantha and her gang was paramount.

“I think they have someone helping them. Someone in town who’s giving them shelter.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“Could be one of them has relatives in these parts. Or friends.”

“Or they could be threatening someone to hide them.” Caleb’s lip curled in disgust.
God, please, lead us to them. I know I don’t deserve Your help, but my family won’t be safe until these murderers are behind bars. No one in this town will be safe. And Tate’s family deserves to see justice served.

“Let’s head back. We’re low on supplies, and you could use some time out of the saddle.” Timmons nudged his mount into motion.

Caleb reluctantly followed suit, Rebel’s hulking form blending with the dense shadows. “What if they slip through our fingers? What then?”

“I understand your frustration, O’Malley, but staying out here any longer is pointless. Once we get to town, I’m gonna do a little digging. See if I can learn of anyone who’s currently entertaining guests.”

“Need any help with that?” His breath puffed white in the frigid temperatures.

“No.” Blue eyes flashed in his direction. “You’re gonna stay out of sight.” He smiled. “Spend some time with your new wife.”

Becca’s image cemented itself in his mind and refused to budge. Now that his horse was headed toward home, he allowed himself to anticipate their reunion. Would she be angry over his prolonged absence? Worried? She’d been quiet and subdued as he’d packed his gear. Definitely concerned for his safety, which made his chest tighten up. How deep did his wife’s feelings go? For the millionth time, he rehashed every second of that spontaneous kiss.

He’d done it to mask their identity. The outlaws hadn’t gotten close enough to get a good look at either of them. Their position on the top of the stairs helped. He’d counted on Samantha and her gang trying to avoid attracting attention to themselves and moving quickly through town.

But the instant their lips met, everything save for the woman in his arms melted away. Danger was passing within feet of them and still he’d been flung into another world, one where he and Becca were meant for each other, where he was the type of man she’d choose if given the chance.
Fantasy. Pure fantasy, O’Malley.

She hadn’t shoved him away, though, had she? Surely Becca wouldn’t have responded the way she had if she didn’t feel
something
for him. Something good. Something pure.

And what if she did? What would that change? I don’t deserve her. I never will.

By the time his cabin in the woods came into view, his heart was as frozen as his toes and fingers. Uncertain if he possessed the fortitude to interact with another human being, he considered bunking down in the barn loft. But it was nearing midnight and the windows were dark. She would be asleep in her room. The promise of a warm fire and thick quilt beckoned.

He hadn’t counted on finding her on the couch, tucked inside his quilt, fast asleep with her cheek nestled into his pillow. Weak light from the dwindling fire flickered across her face, shimmered in her thick brown hair. Although it hardly seemed possible, she was even more beautiful now than when they were teens. Part of that was due to her newfound spunk—he liked that there was spice beneath the sweet facade. Made life interesting. Difficult, too. Living here with Becca was showing him what life could be like if he let someone else close, was making his decision to live a solitary life less and less appealing.

Shedding himself of his guns and duster, he sank onto the coffee table and placed his hat beside him. He watched her until exhaustion made him light-headed. Too cold to move, he leaned forward and rested his head on the cushion.
Just for a minute,
he told himself.

Minutes—or was it hours?—had passed when her soft cry stirred him to wakefulness. Her fingers combed lightly through his hair.

“You’re home,” she exclaimed, joy and relief evident in her tone. Quilts tumbled to the floor, and she was there beside him on the coffee table, hugging him so tight he could hardly catch a breath. “Are you okay?”

The fact that his stiff muscles ached with lingering cold, and he needed a bath and a shave, and his leg hurt, hardly registered after a greeting such as this. “I take it you’re happy to see me?” He managed a halfhearted smile.

Becca cupped his unshaven cheek. “You’ve no idea how worried I’ve been. H-how worried we’ve all been,” she amended, letting her hand fall to her lap. “Did you find—”

“No.”

Frowning, she pulled the lapels of her housecoat tight at the throat. “You’re freezing. Sit on the couch.” She tugged on his arm, and he had no choice but to do her bidding. She proceeded to wrap him in blankets from his neck to his feet. When she encountered his dirt-flecked boots, she tugged them off despite his protests and encased his stocking feet in the material.

“Stay there.”

As if he could move after she’d trussed him up like a Thanksgiving turkey. He sat still and silent as she took logs from the crate and added them to the fire. Arrayed in a cloud of snowy white, her hair streaming past her shoulders, Becca’s loveliness made him ache for what he couldn’t have. Crossing the wooden floor, she appeared to glide effortlessly, spine straight and head held high.

She lit the stove. “Hot tea will help. Are you hungry? I made sourdough bread this morning. Or I can reheat the beef stew your ma sent home with me. Since you’ve been gone, I’ve been eating my meals with them.”

He and Timmons had barely stopped to eat, making due with jerky and sandwiches. “I can wait until morning to eat.”

Caleb was glad she hadn’t taken her meals alone and that his family was around to keep her company. The heat from the fire and Becca’s cocoon was loosening his limbs. His lids were growing heavy. He settled deeper into the cushions and rested his head against the curved cushion edge.

Almost asleep when she appeared before him with a cup and saucer, it took him a minute to make sense of what he was seeing. Something was missing.

“Did you lose your locket?”

Eyes widening, she pressed slender fingers to her neck. “No.”

“Where is it, then? I haven’t seen you without it since I landed on your doorstep.”

When she hesitated, her eyelashes sweeping down to hide her eyes, he said, “You didn’t sell it to Clawson’s, did you? Because I’ll provide whatever funds you need. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that,” he reiterated, uncertain why he wasn’t rejoicing at its absence. All he knew was that the locket mattered to her.

“I’ve decided not to wear it anymore.”

Caleb floundered for a response. What did that mean? “Why not?”

“Is there anything more that you need?” He could tell by her expression that she wasn’t about to satisfy his curiosity. “Because if not, I think I’ll go ahead and retire.”

“No, nothing.” He wasn’t going to push her on this. Not now. “Sweet dreams, Becca.”

She turned back when she reached the bedroom door. “I’m glad you’re home safe, Caleb.”

* * *

“Mmm.” Across the table, Caleb chewed with his eyes closed. “Don’t tell Ma, but your biscuits and gravy are the best I’ve ever tasted.”

Rebecca smiled and sipped her coffee. When she’d woken before him for a change, she’d eagerly set about fixing him a breakfast fit for a king. His delighted smile as he’d spied the spread had been reward enough, but compliments were nice, too.

His raven hair was mussed, his jaw covered in dark scruff, and he was wearing the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. Not that it mattered. Her husband could be wearing tattered rags and still have a devastating effect on her.

Three days of not knowing whether he lived or died had rendered her a tad desperate to see his face. Certainly her welcome the night before had been unrestrained. She blamed it on the fogginess of sleep.
So why am I considering going over there and throwing my arms around his neck and refusing to let go until the raging fear for his safety recedes?

Above the rim of his coffee mug, he noticed her staring. He lowered it to the table. “What are you thinking, Rebecca?”

Rebecca.
What must he have seen in her eyes to call her that?

Distract him.
Reaching into her apron pocket, she withdrew a slender box and slid it across the table.

“What’s this?” He pushed his plate to the side.

“A late Christmas present.”

His brow furrowed. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. I
wanted
to.”

He lifted the lid. Went still. “A harmonica?”

“I noticed your other one was badly dented,” she rushed to add. “When I was with your parents at Clawson’s, I saw this one and thought you might like it. However, Emmett assured me that you could exchange it for something else if you wish.”

Good thing he wouldn’t recognize her grandmother’s brooch she’d traded in. She’d considered trading in the locket, but while she no longer wished to wear it, she didn’t want her first gift for Caleb to be tied to Adam in any way.

He didn’t say anything as he examined it, shiny metal flashing as he turned it this way and that.

“Please don’t feel obligated to keep it. I won’t be upset if you’d rather have a different gift. It’s just that you have everything you need, and I wanted to give you something you would enjoy.”

“It’s perfect, Becca.” His intent gaze slid to hers and, with a crooked smile, he found her hand on the tabletop and threaded his fingers through hers. “I’ll treasure it.”

A giddy sort of relief expanding through her midsection, she returned the pressure of his fingers, reveling in the slide of his rougher skin against hers. She licked her dry lips, and his gaze caught the unconscious action. Awareness turned his eyes a rich golden hue, like those of a lion. Memories of their recent kiss thickened the air. His hold tightened, and he eased over his plate. She mimicked his movement, uncaring how wrong it was to submit to this magnetic pull between them.

Someone pounded on the door. “Caleb? Rebecca? You in there?”

They both jumped.

“That sounds like Pa.” Disappointment flashed as he nudged his chair out of the way and strode to the door.

Wearing an ear-to-ear smile, Sam stepped over the threshold. “Congratulate me. I’m officially a grandpa,” he told his youngest son. “And you’re an uncle.”

Caleb looked dumbfounded. “What?”

Rebecca threw her napkin on the table and came to stand beside him. “Kate had her baby?”

“Yep. Went into labor last night.” Behind his spectacles, tears of pride gleamed. “Victoria Marie O’Malley was born at five twenty-four this morning.”