Guarding the Mountain Man’s Secret (Brothers of Sapphire Ranch #7)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

M iles led Clara through the knee-high snow to the shed. He fumbled along until he found the door. He undid the latch, then gave it a hard pull. He had to yank once more before it gave, pushing against the piled snow.

He ushered her inside and slammed the door behind them. The only light filtered in through the cracks between boards.

The sudden absence of wind was almost disorienting. His ears rang in the relative silence.

"Th-thank the L-lord." Clara’s teeth chattered violently. "I d-didn't know if w-we would m-make it."

"I didn't either for a minute." The activity had warmed him a little. He looked around the small space, illuminated only by the pale light filtering in through the cracks in the walls. Four crates were lined up against the far wall—what remained of their sapphires after Mick’s team had stolen the rest. Lord, don’t let Clara ask what’s in them.

"Wait here a moment." He kept his voice low in the heavy stillness. "I’m going back to get the blankets and food and my tinderbox so we can try to build a fire." Thank the Lord they’d added a metal vent hole in the ceiling so they could build a fire to warm up out of the wind when they worked here in the winter.

"All right." Her words came as a mere wisp of sound.

Back in the wind, he squinted against the stinging ice, feeling his way to the sleigh, every movement awkward as his frozen body protested. By touch, he located his sack in the back of the sleigh, then the basket of what remained of their lunch. He grabbed them and the blankets.

Once inside, he pulled the door closed. The silence wrapped around him again, and he exhaled. Now, for a fire.

He handed the blankets to Clara and motioned to the crates. “You can sit there until I get us some warmth.”

She did, and he crouched down and rummaged over the debris on the ground to gather fuel—twigs, bits of wood, leaves, pine needles. Anything that would burn.

He found his tinderbox in the possibles sack he’d tucked in the sleigh and set to work creating a spark to light the wool he carried in the case. After a few minutes, he managed to coax a tiny flame to life among the pine needles. It sputtered and danced, so fragile, but finally, it held. He fed in more twigs and needles. The little blaze grew slowly until he dared to add slightly larger sticks.

Clara was huddled on the crate, the blankets wrapped around her, staring at the small fire as if willing it to grow.

"Come closer. You'll warm up faster."

She rose and shuffled toward him, sinking down to sit cross-legged by the growing flames. She held out her gloved hands, letting the heat seep into her frozen fingers. "Thank you." At least her teeth had stopped chattering. Her eyes glimmered gold in the firelight as she looked up at him. "For getting us here safely."

"You're welcome." His voice came out gruff. Maybe cold-roughened, or maybe from the knot in his throat. He should have turned them back sooner, the first minute the wind blew stronger. Once more God had protected someone he cared about from the result of his actions.

He looked away, focusing on building up the fire. "I need to get more wood so we can keep this going a while."

Fear sparked in her eyes. “But…it’s dangerous out there.”

He laid a gloved hand on her arm. “I’m not going far, just around the side of the building. I’ll come back. I promise.”

He made his way to the door and slipped outside.

The wind slammed into him, stealing his breath. Snow pelted his face as he felt along the side of the shed, digging through the thick cover to find the driest branches buried beneath. The shed was tucked at the edge of the clearing, so trees lined the back of it.

His hands ached with cold as he snapped off dead limbs, tucking them under his arm. It would take a while for these to dry out enough to catch, but it wasn’t as if he had another option.

Back inside, he arranged the branches near the fire, close enough to feel the heat but not so near they would smother the flames. “I think one more load will be enough.” The dead wood he’d already found should catch quicker, but it would burn too fast. He needed some greener logs to keep the blaze going a while.

“Can I come help?” Clara’s voice sounded small from the back of the shed, but at least her teeth weren’t still chattering.

He shook his head as he moved to the door. “We only need the one load.”

Once more, he ducked back out into the howling storm, wrenching the door tight behind him. There had to be branches, something he could use to build up the fire.

The wind snatched at his clothes with icy fingers, and he squinted against the swirling snow. He kept one hand on the rough wall of the shed, feeling his way around to the back. Finding larger logs took much longer, but at last he stumbled on a fallen tree that yielded what they’d need for now. He dragged two long pieces back with him.

When he finally stepped back into the shed and secured the door, he dropped the logs and stomped the snow from his boots. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimness after the blinding white outside. But when his gaze found Clara, he froze.

She knelt beside the crates, her eyes wide, her face even paler than before.

A sick feeling twisted in his gut. Had she opened…?

"Clara?" He crossed to her in two strides, kneeling before her. "What is it? What's happened?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came. Just a shaky exhale that clouded the air between them.

Dread pooled heavy in his belly as he glanced at the crates, the unmarked lids slightly askew. He looked back at Clara, searching her stricken face. "Did you...did you look inside them?"

A jerky nod. "I'm sorry." Her voice came barely more than a whisper. "You said you stored supplies. I didn't mean to snoop. I just thought…I thought there might be something to help with the fire. Or extra food." Her hands twisted in her lap, knuckles white. "I shouldn't have…"

Miles closed his eyes. This was it. The moment he'd tried not to think about.

If there were any chance Clara could be a permanent part of his life, he would have found the right time to tell her.

But she would be moving on. He’d not intended to let her know about his family's carefully guarded secret.

"It's all right," he heard himself say, his voice distant to his own ears. "You don't have to apologize." He shucked his gloves and reached for her hand, breathing a sigh of relief when she let him enfold her icy fingers in his own. She must have removed her own gloves to open the crates.

He met her gaze, steadying himself with a deep breath. There was no going back now.

"My family… We mine sapphires." The words felt heavy on his tongue. "It's how we've survived out here. We keep it secret because if word got out, there'd be a mad rush to our land and the surrounding wilderness. Miners and prospectors from all over, stripping the slopes bare. We couldn't risk that."

Her brow furrowed as she absorbed his words. "So these crates..."

"Packed with raw sapphires to be shipped back east."

She gave a slow nod, the worry in her brow only intensifying. “This is how you support yourselves. Such a large group wouldn’t be able to survive on ranching alone.” Her voice began to drop off with those last words, as though she were talking to herself. But then she kept on in that low tone. “This land, it’s invaluable to you. This particular land. You couldn’t just move to another claim.”

What was she talking about? Did she expect him to respond to that? He needed to make sure she understood how important it was to keep this secret.

He took her other hand, which refocused her attention on his face. “Clara, I need you to understand how crucial it is that no one else finds out about this. If word spread, it could mean disaster for my family. For our entire way of life here." He searched her eyes, silently pleading for her understanding. For her promise of secrecy.

She held his gaze, and slowly, slowly, the worry lines began to smooth from her brow, though a hint of concern still lingered in her eyes. "Of course. I won’t tell anyone." She gripped his hand tighter. "I promise."

The band around his chest eased, and he exhaled. "Thank you." The words felt inadequate for the wave of relief washing through him, but they were all he had.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the pop and hiss of the fire. Miles knew he should rise, add more wood to build up the blaze. But he couldn't seem to make himself move from this spot, kneeling before her, her hands in his.

Clara's tongue darted out to wet her lips, drawing his gaze. "Miles, I..." She faltered, her voice barely a whisper.

His pulse picked up speed. The cold had turned her lips a bright red, especially against the pallor her face still held. They looked a little chapped from the wind. He could soothe them. Warm them. Warm her .

His gaze lifted back to her eyes. Did she want the kiss as much as he did? Kneeling here, her hands in his, so distant from anyone else, it felt impossible not to kiss her. He was drawn to so much more than her looks. Her mind, her kindness, her wit, her spirit.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, his first realization that he’d leaned in. So close.

He released one of her hands and lifted his to cup her cheek. Her eyelids flicked open. He must have startled her, his skin too icy.

“My hands are cold.” Yet this gave him access to lose himself in her eyes, those rich green orbs.

Her mouth parted, and her voice came out breathy. “I don’t mind.”

She was talking about his frozen touch, yet it seemed like she meant more than that. Like she meant the idea of him kissing her.

He closed the last bit of distance, brushing his lips over hers in the gentlest of caresses. She was a treasure, one he wanted to savor.

A sigh slipped from her, a sound that warmed his blood. He returned for more, and she kissed him back this time.

His heart pumped faster as she leaned into him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. He angled to deepen the kiss. His hand slid into her hair, cradling the back of her head.

This kiss, this embrace—it felt like coming home. Like everything he never knew he needed.

The heat of her was thawing him from the inside, spreading through his veins like warm honey. He needed to slow things down.

And take a breath.

He gave her mouth a final aching caress, one that nearly drew him back for more. Yet he forced himself to pull back, to rest his forehead against hers. Their heavy breaths mingled in a fog between them, like that in his mind.

Her eyes blinked open, hazy and unfocused. A look so adorable, he couldn't help but brush another quick kiss. Her tiny whimper made him smile.

He sucked in a gulp of air. He needed to speak. Needed her to know he didn’t take what they’d done lightly.

"Clara." Her name came out in a reverent whisper, a reflection of how he felt about her. "You’re…special."

Her eyes glistened in the firelight. "I feel the same way about you." Her voice trembled a little. "I never expected…never dreamed I would find someone like you out here."

He knew exactly what she meant. From the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, riding in the midst of that group of men, she had captivated him. Her spirit, her strength, her compassion—she was a rare treasure. One he couldn't help yearning for.

Reluctantly, he released her and tended to the fire, adding more branches to coax the flames higher. They needed the warmth, and he needed a moment to collect himself before he said or did something he shouldn't. Not yet, anyway. Not until he was certain of her feelings.

When he turned back to her, she had rearranged the blankets into a makeshift pallet and was unpacking the basket of food. The domesticity of it, of her, struck him deep in the chest. What would it be like to come home to her every night? To share a life, a love, with her?

But she didn't belong here. She had grand adventures ahead of her, a bright future far away from this untamed land. He couldn't ask her to give that up, to tie herself to a hardscrabble life on a remote sapphire mine.

But maybe, for this one stolen moment, he could pretend. Pretend that she was his and this cozy little haven was theirs. Just for a little while.

He lowered himself to sit beside her on the blankets. Outside, the wind howled and moaned, but in here, in their tiny bubble of firelight and shared secrets, none of that mattered. They were warm and safe and together.

And for now, that was enough.