Chapter 12
Charlotte was more relieved than she’d admit at the sight of Joshua, though he looked more like a grumpy bear than a knight coming to her rescue. She held up the turkey. How’s this for skill and concentration, Mr. Robertson?
But the turkey didn’t seem to impress him. Instead, his frown deepened. “You were hunting. By yourself.” His tone was flat, but it didn’t hide the anger building behind his words.
“I suppose you think only men can hunt.”
“Of course I don’t think that. I’m not a simpleton.
” He whirled around, stomping back toward the cabin.
She forced her feet to move faster to keep up with him.
“You don’t know these woods.” He stopped and turned back so suddenly that she almost ran into him.
His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “Anything could have happened to you.”
He was right on that count, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. “It’s a good thing I didn’t listen to you.” She lifted the turkey high once again, though it felt like her arm would buckle under the weight. “Or we wouldn’t have dinner.”
“I call that lucky,” he said. “Here, let me carry it.” He grabbed it from her hand, and she was too relieved to argue. He grunted, his arm dipping momentarily with its unexpected weight, forcing him to adjust his grip. Lifting the bird, he tested its heft. “Very lucky, I’d say.”
He turned back to the path, apparently unaware of the sparks her eyes shot his way. Would it have hurt him to admit it had been skill, not luck?
Her irritation faded as they walked, the cold seeping past the layers of her clothing and sapping her strength.
She was soon too exhausted to waste energy being annoyed by the great lumbering ox at her side.
Did nothing tire him? She forced herself to keep up, though it took every bit of her will to move her frozen feet.
Her steps dragged. A root, invisible in the growing twilight, caught her toe and made her stumble.
She cried out and would have fallen, but a powerful arm came out and caught her, a hand warm and steady at her back.
Her face rested on a broad shoulder, and she let herself relax.
Weariness overwhelmed her and she leaned against him, borrowing from his strength.
No man had ever held her like this. It felt strange and .
. . wonderful. A warmth that had nothing to do with temperature flowed through her veins, breathing new life into her body.
She inhaled the scent of damp wool and the outdoors along with a trace of the lye soap he’d washed with earlier.
The unwieldy blend ought not to smell good, but she breathed it in as if it were a fresh pot of tea.
Joshua pulled back to cup her shoulder and set her away from him. She raised her eyes to meet his in wonder at the strange feelings zipping through her veins. His gaze was wide with concern. “Charlotte? Are you all right?”
She was more than all right. She felt safe. Secure. She almost opened her mouth to tell him so, before the impropriety of her behavior sealed her lips and made her drop her head. What had come over her, leaning against him so shamelessly? The cold must be affecting her judgment.
“I’m sorry,” she said, staring at the ground. “I’m just a little tired.”
“Why didn’t you tell me to slow down?” His harsh words woke her from the lingering effects of his nearness like a splash of cold water in the face. “We can stop to rest. I’m not an ogre, you know.”
“I . . . I know.” She drew in a shuddering breath, glad to have the excuse of exhaustion to explain her uncharacteristic actions. “I feel better now. Let’s go.”
He hesitated, putting a hand on her shoulder to stall her movement. She stifled the longing to curl back into the warmth of his body. This was madness.
“Let’s sit for a moment.” Joshua gestured to a log a few feet away.
“No.” She shook her head. The sooner they were back to the bright fire of the cabin, the sooner she could set aside this wild tumult and be herself again. The sooner they’d be warm again, too. She started out, hoping he would follow.
He caught up to her in two strides. His hand gripped her arm, sending tingles down to her fingertips. She jerked away from his grasp. “I’m fine now.”
“You won’t be fine if you head in that direction, Miss Fulton.” He steered her to the path, nearly invisible in the growing darkness.
Charlotte was glad to hear the irritated formality back in his voice. His warm concern played havoc with her emotions. This aggravated impatience she could resist.
Joshua didn’t understand her. She was wealthy, an heiress no doubt, yet she didn’t hesitate to hunt her supper. She was a proper lady, yet she was strong enough to keep up despite being nearly dead on her feet.
She was hard and sharp, yet she melted in his arms.
He’d only reached out to keep her from falling, yet he hadn’t wanted to let her go. Heat surged, as though his body had come alive. He’d felt peace, too, as though he’d finally come to a place of rest.
The more he thought about that moment, the more the contradictions multiplied until his head spun. Charlotte’s steps faltered again, and he was glad to have something tangible to focus on. He slowed and held out an arm in case she needed it. “Sure you don’t want to rest?”
She shook her head and trudged past him. He could see the effort it took every time she lifted her feet.
He wished she’d lean close again so he could put an arm around her and shield her from the driving wind.
Instead, he angled his body, trying to take the brunt of the icy blast. If this continued all night, maybe they’d have the freeze they needed by morning.
He grimaced at the strange disappointment that shot through him at the thought.
Finally, the outline of the cabin came into view, illuminated by a clear sky and a rising gibbous moon. He hustled Charlotte inside with a gentle hand on her back and stoked the fire while she stood, still and quiet, holding her hands toward the blaze.
“Here, sit.” He motioned toward the chair. “Warm up.”
“I’m fine.” She sat with a thump.
“I don’t think you’re fine.”
Her head whipped around to stare. “How would you know?”
He was relieved to see the return of her spark. “For one thing, I’ve never seen you so quiet.” He accompanied his words with a grin, and she smiled back, easing his worry still more. She must be all right to smile like that.
“Where’s my turkey?” She looked around the room.
He jerked his head toward the door. “Left him outside.”
“I best get him cleaned and ready to roast.” She rose out of the chair, but Joshua stayed her with a hand to her shoulder.
“I’ll do it. You should rest.”
If she had a grain of sense, she’d be grateful for his offer. Instead, his words seemed to offend, for her spine stiffened. “I can handle it.” She made to rise again.
“So can I,” he retorted. “And you’ll be much more use after a few minutes in front of the fire. The last thing I need is a sick woman on my hands.”
He regretted his harsh words as soon as they left his mouth, but they seemed to do the trick.
She subsided with a smoldering glare, and he was free to make his way to the barn to check on Bess.
His horse was happy to see him, and Joshua could tell by the toss of her head she wanted to get on the road.
He broke the thin film of ice in her water bucket. A hard freeze was coming.
He rounded the corner to the cabin and stopped dead. Charlotte stood in the yard, plucking feathers from the turkey he’d strung up in the tree. He hung back to watch her practiced movements. Feathers fluttered in all directions. She’d done this before.
Shaking his head, he gave up the battle to make her rest. There was a force in her that reminded him of Mrs. Norris. The determination of a woman who’d faced hardship and persevered. “Nice work, Miss Fulton.”
She stiffened at his voice, shooting him a suspicious glance as though she doubted his sincerity. He held up the lantern. “Need some light?” He hung the lantern from a branch and joined her in plucking.
“It would be a lot easier if we had a big kettle,” Charlotte said. “A good dunk in boiling water usually does the trick.”
She knew how to pluck a bird. He added this to the growing list of unexplained facts about Miss Charlotte Fulton. “We’re too hungry to aim for perfection.”
“Hmmm, true.” She sent him a rueful smile that warmed him to his frozen toes.
Once the bird was clean, he slid his knife from his belt and prepared to gut the turkey. Ordering her to stay inside clearly didn’t work, so he tried coaxing instead.
“There’s only one knife,” he began. “Why don’t you let me finish.” She hesitated, but he caught her longing glance at the cabin and pushed his advantage. “Maybe you could stoke the fire.”
“I’m capable of more than stoking a fire.” Her hands were on her hips. She didn’t like being underestimated.
“I can see you are.” He worked to keep his tone mild. “But that doesn’t mean you have to do everything. It’s no crime to accept a little help.”
She seemed taken aback by his words, as though she’d never considered the possibility. “If you cut it into smaller pieces, it will roast faster.”
He’d already thought of that but decided against admitting it. “Good idea,” he said instead.
Charlotte turned to head inside. She paused at the door. “Do you think it’s getting colder?”
He studied her, trying to understand the emotion in her voice. Was she relieved . . . or did she regret that their time together would soon be over? “I do. Might be able to leave come morning.”
She nodded. “Oh. Good. That’s good.”
Joshua turned his attention back to the turkey. It would be good if they left in the morning. He had a man to track down and the hope of freeing Henry to push him forward. So why didn’t the thought make him happy?