Weathered Too Young (16 page)

Lark tried to break free when Slater caught up with her, taking hold of her arm. “Settle yourself down, Lark,” he growled.

Lark sobbed once—knowing Slater Evans would never call her baby again.

“Settle down.”

Unwillingly, Lark turned to face him
,
awash with humiliation—and anger.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asked quietly.

Lark was awestruck by concern she saw in his expression.
He was no longer angry—she was certain of it—only concerned.
She swallowed the
lump of fear and disappointment
that had gathered in her throat—tried to choke back any more tears demanding escape.
“People think badly of orphans…in case you weren’t aware of it,” she told him.
“And besides, you and Tom needed a housekeeper and cook
.
I needed employment. What does it matter how old I am or if I ran away from an orphanage?”

Slater’s eyes narrowed again.
He said nothing for a moment—seemed to be pondering all she had revealed to him.
Lark held her breath and tried not to think of the approach of winter, tried not to think of how her heart was aching at having disappointed him.

“You still need a coat,” he said at last.

Lark frowned, bewildered by what he’d said.
She’d confessed
,
told him everything—well
,
nearly everything.
And yet his only response was that she still needed a coat?

“Like I said,” he began, “I’m goin’ into town tomorrow.
I can pick one up for ya…or you can come with me and get one yourself.”
He raised a scolding index finger and added, “And I’ll see to it you’re paid up beforehand.”

“You’re letting me stay?” she asked in a whisper.

He frowned.
“Of course,” he growled as if she’d offended him somehow in asking.
He seemed to force a smile, however
,
and added, “As long as you made them cookies I asked for earlier.”

Lark nodded, still bewildered, still uncertain.
“I-I did.”

Slater grinned and unexpectedly slapped her on the back a little too soundly.
“Good,” he said.
“I’ll help Tom with the horses
,
and we’ll be in for supper.”

“Yes, sir,” Lark mumbled.

Slater raised an eyebrow, however.
“Oh, we’re back to that
,
are we?” he asked.
He feigned a thoughtful expression for a moment.
“Hmm
. K
eep that up, baby…and I might have to think of somethin’ that’ll make us more…intimate acquaintances.”

As Lark’s eyes widened, Slater chuckled.

“A good game of
p
oker might be just the thing,” he said.
“Always helps new cowboys to gettin’ along better with the old ones.”

“Oh!
Oh…I’m certain of that,” Lark stammered.

Slater nodded.
“We’ll be in shortly then.”

“All right,” Lark managed as he turned to go.

She watched him stride across the room and exit the house through the back door.
He hadn’t sent her away!
He hadn’t!
The truth of it was, he seemed little affected by her story—other than the fact she hadn’t told him the truth before.

Lark glanced to the warm fire in the hearth in the parlor.
She’d be warm for winter—all winter.
Her body would be warm—as well as her heart.



“I
told you she was hidin’ somethin’.
Didn’t I?” Slater quietly mumbled to Tom as they sat in the parlor some time after supper.

Tom chuckled, amused by his brother’s ability to determine a person’s secrets.
“Yes…you did,” Tom said.
“Still, it ain’t no big deal. She didn’t run away from a lunatic asylum or nothin’ the like…and there ain’t nobody lookin’ for her.
She’s just an orphan
.
I guess me and you are orphans in a manner if ya think about it
…
and it don’t matter with her bein’ as old as she is anyway.
”

“Still…I was right, all the same.”

“Yes, you were right,” Tom mumbled, rolling his eyes with exasperation. “You been readin’ folks ever since I can remember. I’m a bit surprised about her age though. She looks a might older.”

“Mm-hmm,” Slater agreed. “I thought she was tellin’ the truth
’
bout her age at least.”
Slater shook his head, still disbelieving
,
and added, “Imagine
…
not even ownin’ a coat. I wonder what she was plannin’ on doin’ to keep warm all winter
.
”

Tom smiled as mischief entered his mind—and he couldn’t help himself.
“Maybe she was plannin’ on wearing you,” he chuckled.

Slater frowned and glared at Tom with his usual scolding expression, wagging a likewise scolding index finger at him.
“That ain’t funny
,
and you know it,” Slater growled.

“But you wouldn’t mind…now would ya, Slater?” Tom teased.
“You wouldn’t mind keepin’ Lark warm all winter…now would ya?”

Tom chuckled as an impish smile spread over Slater’s face.

“I wouldn’t mind it in the least, brother,” Slater chuckled.
“But if you point me out a man who wouldn’t want to warm that little wounded sparrow up a bit…I’ll eat my hat.”

“If it’s all right, I think I’ll retire for the evening,” Lark said, stepping into the parlor unexpectedly.

Tom smiled
,
for Slater looked like he’d gotten caught stealing sugar from the sugar tin.

“That’s fine,” Slater said, nodding to Lark.
“And that was a mighty fine supper.
Mighty fine!
I thank you for it.”

Lark smiled at Slater
,
and Tom felt warmed and contented inside.
He’d grown to understand how Lark treasured reassurance—reassurance that she was earning her keep.

“Yep,” Tom said.
“You’re even better at fixin’ vittles than ya are at brandin’ bulls.”

Lark sighed with exasperation as Slater chuckled.
The Evans brothers had been merciless at supper
,
endlessly teasing her about the branding incident.
Tom claimed Eldon Pickering had been forced to his knees with laughing so hard when he’d seen Black-Eyed Sue’s new brand—Grady and Ralston too.

“You’ll thank me one day,” Lark sparred.
“One day when Slater has the best Black Angus herd around…you’ll both thank me.”

“I don’t doubt it a minute,” Tom said, winking at her.

“You gonna be warm enough in your room, baby?” Slater asked.

Lark nodded.
“I’m sure I will be.”

“’Cause we can stoke yer fire for ya a bit before ya turn in.”

“Yes,” Tom said.
“We want to be sure yer comfortable.”
Tom’s smile broadened as he added, “And ol’ Slater here…he worries about ya bein’ warm enough.
Why
,
just a minute ago he offered to
—
”

“I’ll come stoke that fire for ya,” Slater interrupted, fairly pouncing from his chair.

Tom chuckled—but Tom always chuckled—so Lark shrugged and said, “Good night, Tom.”

“Good night, honey,” he said, still chuckling.



Slater had stoked the fire in Lark’s room.
He opened her window just a hair too, telling her
the evening breeze would comple
ment the warmth of the room and keep her comfortable through the night.

As Lark lay in her warm, cozy bed
,
she breathed the aromatic scent of burning cedar and early autumn air.
She sighed as she closed her eyes—as Slater’s image moved through her mind—his tall, muscular frame
,
his tawny and dark hair
,
his handsome face.
The crackle of the fire mingled with the soothing noises of cat
tle lowing in the distance
,
and
Lark fancied she’d never known a more tranquilly serene moment.

Even though she was very
tired, even
though the warmth of the room and the comfort of her bed were nearly
intoxicating, Lark
had neglected to change her day dress for her night one.
With a heavy sigh, she tossed the blankets aside and stood.
She’d never sleep well if she kept her day cloth
e
s on.
They were dusted with flour from cooking—not to mention that her body was begging her to relieve it of her corset.

Standing before the fire, Lark began to fumble with the small buttons at the back of her shirtwaist collar, but her fingers were tired and would not cooperate.

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” she whined,
frustrated, pulling
her hair aside in an endeavor to make the small buttons more manageable.
Still, it was as if her fingers had forgotten how to accomplish the task
,
and she stomped her foot with annoyance.

“Here, baby…let me help ya,” came a low whisper from behind her.

Startled, Lark spun around to see Slater was standing just inside her bedroom.
He was bare from the waist
up, wearing
only his underwear.
His hair was tousled in the manner Lark had come to prefer—for it fell over his forehead, lightly brushing his dark brows.
His eyes were warm
,
a smoldering sort of brown
,
and the smile on his face was likewise the one she preferred—the one that hinted at mischief.

“Did you want something?” she asked in a whisper as he slowly strode toward her.

“Just turn around,” he gently
commanded.

Lark
smiled as he reached out, taking her by the shoulders and turning her away from
him. She
felt his fingers at the back of her neck as he fumbled with her collar buttons. His touch sent a fiery excitement racing through her—sent her arms and legs to sprinkling with goose bumps.
She felt her collar loosen
,
yet her eyes widened as she felt his hands at the middle of her back
.
She realized then that he hadn’t unfastened
simply
the buttons at her col
la
r but several more down her back!

Lark was unable to move—unable to speak.
It was highly inappropriate that he should be taking such a liberty
,
yet the river of delight racing through her found her unable to react.
She gasped then—held breathless as the warmth of his mouth softly pressed the flesh on her neck.

“S-Slater?” she stammered, knowing she should move away from him. Yet as she turned to face him, he caught her in his arms, drawing her body against his.

Slater Evans smiled
,
winked at Lark as his head descended—and she gasped once more as his mouth found her throat.

“Please…please don’t tease me!” she cried in a whisper.

“I’m not,” he said.
He took hold of her hand
,
sliding it over the chiseled contours of his chest to rest just over his heart. His skin was smooth and hot
,
and Lark did not attempt to remove her hand from where he placed it.

“You want me to kiss you, don’t you?” he asked, placing a light kiss to her bruised cheek.

Lark couldn’t believe Slater was holding her—teasing her—asking her if she wanted his kiss! Of course she wanted it!
She’d wanted Slater Evans to kiss her nearly from the moment she’d first seen him
.
Yet the moment was surreal—overwhelming—wonderful!
She thought her heart might leap from her bosom—that her knees
,
gone so weak from his caressive attentions
,
might not continue to support the weight of her body.

Oh, she well knew he was taunting her
. Y
et as he kissed her other cheek softly and then the corner of her mouth
,
she
knew
his next intention was her lips.
She tried to draw a steady breath—swallowed the excess moisture of desire gathering in her mouth.

“Slater,” she breathed as his head descended.