Chapter 20
Twenty
W earily, Sage brought her horse to a halt beside Jackson’s on the high mountain road.
She drew in a sharp breath at the sight of the bridge ahead, half of it suspended above the river far below and the other half gone, the jagged edges the reminder of what had once been whole and complete and solid.
In the fading evening shadows, the skeleton was dark and eerie. The area was empty and deserted since most of the other travelers on the mountain road were already making camp in the river valley below. Hopefully Augusta and her captor were also camped someplace nearby, perhaps hidden or just tucked away for the night.
Sage’s thighs were chafed from the saddle, and her backside felt permanently bruised. But she’d insisted on continuing to the bridge, even though Jackson had suggested stopping a couple of hours ago.
With each passing day, the urgency to find Augusta kept growing. The dear woman had been a captive for at least five full days—one while Sage and Jackson had been on Salt Spring Island, the day of their traveling to Centreville, the next day in Hope, then one making their way to Yale, and finally today—the fifth day journeying on the horses Jackson had paid to use.
Sage had only ever ridden a horse once when she’d visited the Lancashire countryside, where her mum had grown up. Otherwise, she’d never had need to ride, especially since arriving in Victoria, where she and Augusta had used hired carriage drivers for their transportation needs.
When their traveling party had started out from Yale shortly after dawn, Jackson had been a patient teacher with her, had even held her reins and directed her horse during the sections of the trail that had been narrow and more dangerous. She’d thankfully caught on quickly and had been able to manage her horse for most of the journey.
The October weather in the higher elevations had been steadily growing colder, and all day Sage had struggled to stay warm. Even now, as she shifted on her mount, the cool evening breeze slithered inside her cloak and down her backbone, making her shudder.
“We’d do best to head down before it gets any darker.” Pastor Abe pointed toward the river bottoms below. The three businessmen who were also a part of their caravan had already started down the narrow switchbacks that led to the river.
The businessmen heading up to Williamsville weren’t very friendly, especially because Jackson had acted like a beast to them all day, cutting off any attempts at dialogue and practically snarling at them if they even briefly spoke with her.
The gruffness had only gotten worse the longer they’d been on the trail and the closer they’d come to the bridge. She suspected revisiting the site of the accident was difficult for Jackson, possibly something he hadn’t done since the accident.
But Pastor Abe hadn’t been put off by the beast Jackson had unleashed for the day. The young pastor who ran an orphanage in Yale had joined the group, apparently on a mission to rescue an orphan in one of the mining camps. Tall with fair hair and blue eyes, the reverend had spoken fondly of his wife Zoe, who had been on the bride ship the Robert Lowe with Willow.
Sage had enjoyed hearing Pastor Abe’s tale of how he and Zoe had formed a marriage of convenience to provide a home to an orphan baby. While the marriage had started as an arrangement to benefit them both, it was obvious from the love shining from Pastor Abe’s eyes that he adored his wife.
Now, as Pastor Abe nudged his horse toward the trail that led down to the river, Jackson only frowned at the man’s broad back, but he didn’t protest, likely realizing the need to wait until morning to search more for Augusta.
Sage had appreciated Pastor Abe’s kindness throughout the day. If only her guilt hadn’t continued to surface every time she referred to Jackson as her husband. She and Jackson had kept up the pretense in both Hope and Yale, but at least their hotel rooms in both towns had been large enough that Jackson had made his bed on the floor each night, insisting she take the bed.
She wasn’t sure how she would have handled another night together in the same bed as him. One night had been brazen enough, and she still dreamt about having his arms around her. She still dreamt about his kisses too. But they hadn’t kissed again. She’d been determined not to let it happen, and he’d seemed that way too.
Even with a strange, sizzling tension between them, she’d loved spending every minute of every day with him. The time getting to know him better had made her appreciate even more his brilliant mind, his deep thoughts, and his passion for things he cared about.
“Ready?” She reached across the distance between their horses and grazed Jackson’s arm. She wasn’t sure when she’d grown so familiar with him, but at some point over the past few days, she’d started touching him without really thinking about it.
He never seemed to mind the physical contact. There had even been a few times when he’d initiated brushing against her—at least, she’d assumed the touches hadn’t been accidental.
Except for the muscles flexing in his jaw, he stared at the bridge, unmoving. After so many days of no shaving, he was reverting back to the rugged man she’d first met. He wasn’t as unkempt and did take time to do some grooming, but having a clean-shaven face was obviously low on the priority list for most men out in the mountains.
If it was possible, that dark layer of stubble had only made him more handsome. Even now as he straddled his horse and peered into the distance, the sight of him made her stomach flutter, especially with the brim of his hat pulled low and lending him an even darker appeal.
It wasn’t fair that he just kept getting more attractive the longer she knew him—both his outward and inward qualities. Perhaps the more she understood the complex but compassionate man he was inside, the more she was drawn to him.
He slid a sideways glance at her and arched one of his dark brows almost as if he’d heard all of her thoughts and knew the power he had over her.
She tore her attention from him and fixed it on Pastor Abe as he began to descend the switchbacks. Had the intuitive reverend sensed the marriage charade? While he hadn’t questioned their claim to be married, he had watched them curiously a time or two, as if he didn’t quite believe them.
Jackson didn’t say anything, but he nudged his horse forward and waited politely until she trotted ahead of him before he took a protective position behind her. As she descended the steep mountainside, she wanted to ask Jackson more about the bridge—why he’d picked this particular spot for it, where they’d gotten supplies for building it, how he’d managed living in the wilderness.
Even though she sensed it would be healthy for him to discuss more of what had happened that fateful day, she also didn’t want to push him to share if he wasn’t ready.
She was learning for herself that healing took time and couldn’t be rushed. She’d had to put months and an ocean between her and her hurts with David before they’d started to go away. Maybe meeting Jackson had helped to make her forget about David too.
Regardless, she couldn’t expect Jackson to so easily put his past to rest and move on into a new future. Yes, he had mentioned that they should have gotten married before leaving Victoria. She suspected that he’d only been referencing an in-name-only marriage for the sake of the journey. But a tiny part of her wished he’d meant more by it.
As they reached the bottom of the switchbacks and arrived at a grassy area along the river, there were more groups camping than she’d realized. Some were still setting up tents. Others were cooking over campfires. A few were fishing along the river. At her arrival, their gazes locked in on her.
She didn’t like drawing so much notice, but she was growing accustomed to it and learning to ignore the staring.
If only Jackson would ignore it too. But as he reached the level area where Pastor Abe and the businessmen had dismounted, his scowl was firmly in place and directed at the other campers.
He hopped down and was at the side of her horse before she could swing her leg over. He reached up and settled both hands on her waist. His eyes were dark and as fiercely intense as always, and his forehead was creased and his jaw taut.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as he lifted her down.
An angry growl rumbled in his chest. “I don’t like the way those men are staring at you.”
“I don’t mind?—”
“I mind.” Instead of setting her on her feet, he brought her flush against him.
Her body made firm contact with his, sending a cascade of sparks shooting along every nerve and skittering over her skin.
He angled his head, his gaze dropping to her lips. The desire there was stark and raw and unfiltered. He wanted to kiss her.
The soft fluttering in her stomach turned into a hard flapping. If he wanted to steal one from her in front of their onlookers, she would be helpless to stop him.
She lifted her face, offering her lips, offering herself. She could feel the hard thudding of his heart and knew that whatever this was happening between them was real and wasn’t just a show for the men.
His focus was directly upon her mouth. But just as his lips brushed her cheek, he shifted and buried his face against her ear.
He held her tighter, nearly cutting off her air. But she didn’t care. She savored the feeling of being so close and of having his strong body pressed to hers. His breathing against her ear was labored. And in the next instant, his mouth touched her ear.
The sensation of his lips and warmth grazing her ear was so sensual, she couldn’t hold back a gasp.
He kissed her ear again, this time harder and longer, the desire achingly sweet so that she wrapped her fingers into his cloak to keep herself from buckling and sliding to the ground in a melted heap.
How was it possible that he could render her useless in just seconds?
“There.” His voice was gravelly against her ear. “Now there’s no question in anyone’s mind that you are mine.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, he released her as suddenly as he’d held her. He turned to his horse and began to unstrap a bundle of supplies.
Her knees were wobbly and her head dizzy and her body filled with a need she didn’t understand. She had to grab on to the horse’s halter in order to keep from collapsing.
She wanted to tug Jackson back toward her so that this time she could wrap her arms around him and kiss him right. But as she leaned closer, she glimpsed Pastor Abe casting glances their way as he knelt by a bundle of kindling and attempted to light a fire with a flint.
Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly backed away, putting sufficient distance from Jackson and grasping the bundle on the back of her horse.
Jackson had a powerful influence over her emotions and body—more so than she’d realized. How easy it was for her to fall into his arms, to fall against his body, and to fall in love with him.
Yes, it was the truth. She was falling in love with him.
Oh my. Her fingers trembled against the rope holding the bag in place.
She couldn’t be in love yet, could she?
Even as her mind attempted to deny it, her heart thudded with the realization that she’d allowed herself to fall helplessly and hopelessly in love with Jackson Lennox.
She shouldn’t have done it. She knew what it was like to be rejected by a man—how painful and devastating and life-changing it had been. She didn’t want to suffer through that again.
A part of her wanted to believe Jackson was different, that their circumstances were different, that she was different. But Jackson had never given her a reason to believe he wanted a future with her, not even with his offhand comment about how they should have gotten married in Victoria.
Besides, even if maybe he thought he wanted more, he would learn she wasn’t perfect enough for him. He could find someone so much better than her—a woman of his class who would be able to join his social circles and not be an embarrassment to him.
Even though he claimed she was more than just a lady’s maid, the reality was that she was only a simple mill girl from Manchester. She had a family there who was counting on her help. She had Augusta who also still needed her.
Yes, she was living in a fantasy world to think that a man like Jackson could ever truly be interested in a woman like her. Of course he was attracted to her like the other men were. But that wasn’t enough.
She simply wasn’t enough. She hadn’t been for David. What made her believe she ever would be for Jackson?