Rocky Mountain Wild (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 6) Page 8

  “Calum,” she said, and his attention snapped to her. She’d never used his first name before. Flushing, she soldiered on. “Mrs. Martin said you’ve always been alone here. Why did you never marry?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” He met her wide-eyed gaze with his cool, grey one, then rose. “I’ll be back. Going to take a walk, look at the moon.”

  It bothered Phoebe as she cleared the dishes. He seemed so uncomfortable with the subject, but a man like him shouldn’t be alone. He was too handsome. And kind.

  She hummed as she sewed, imaging his great muscular form working in the yard, stopping only to push his hair back from his brow and wipe the sweat from his chest…

  A thought struck her and her humming stopped. She was in love with her Mr. MacDonnell.

  Her sewing things fell to her lap as she raised hands to bright red cheeks. The embarrassment was too hideous for words. A housekeeper in love with her employer! How pathetic.

  He couldn’t possibly ever love her. Yes, she knew she was comely, but her bent foot was a mark against her, a blight. No man would ever want to marry her, even if they could get past their disgust enough to lie with her. Certainly no man would want to sire her child.

  Best for her to live as a crippled spinster, serving her Mr. MacDonnell as long as he needed, living in the shadows until he took a wife, then leaving for another position so the memory of her would rightly fade…

  Her thoughts tortured her, and even turning in Mrs. Martin’s sewing order and watching the happy matron praise each item couldn’t cheer her, though she did her best to fake a smile.

  “I’m so glad you came in today. I was just going to send Mr. Martin on with a letter that came for you.”

  “For me?” A ripple of fear went through her before she cast it away. Mrs. Covey had promised to write.

  But as soon as she saw the thick scrawl on the page, she knew it wasn’t her kind old employer. It was from her family, as she feared, and laced with the usual insults and demands for money. This time, they had a new threat.

  Send the sum to us, the letter said, or we’ll send someone to get you home.

  They couldn’t reach her from this far away? But Phoebe knew they could. It was too easy to find a thin girl with a pretty face and a limp. Even Mrs. Covey hadn’t been able to hide her forever.

  “Are you all right, girl? You’ve gone as white as a sheet.”

  “I’m fine, Mrs. Martin.”

  “Well, see that you don’t strain yourself getting home. My husband has already carried out your packages, and put them in your saddlebags, but you’re not to walk home. I know Mr. MacDonnell got that mule for transport, but there’s plenty of room on its back for his supplies and a little thing like you.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Martin.” Phoebe forced herself to nod and accept the extra parcel the shopkeeper handed to her. From the weight and bulk, it held some fine thread and a jar of preserves—Mrs. Martin still wanted to treat her, or fatten her up.

  “Say hello to Mac for me, and you tell him not to work you to the bone.” Mrs. Martin shook a finger at her, and Phoebe would’ve smiled if she wasn’t still reeling from the letter. Mrs. Martin was as protective of Phoebe as Mrs. Covey had been.

  But neither could save her from her family. It was only a matter of time before her grandfather sent her uncle and cousins to drag her back. That was the main reason Phoebe had looked for a homestead, far, far away, and though she didn’t like it, even Mrs. Covey had agreed.

  “There’s something wrong with that family of yours. I’ve held them off as long as I could, but it’s only a matter of time.”

  Mrs. Covey didn’t know the half of it. Ever since they’d first found her, Phoebe had been forced to send them money to keep them from dragging her back. Somehow, they’d traced her to Colorado, and were demanding payment again, but this time, Phoebe didn’t have anything to send.

  There was a large, hollow pit inside her as she rode the little mule home. Once she was out of town and on the secluded forest path, she slipped off the animal’s back and walked slowly beside it. Mrs. Martin wouldn’t approve, but Phoebe couldn’t bear to face Mr. MacDonnell. He would know something was wrong, and question her and…

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Phoebe began to shake with the effort not to cry. She’d have to leave him, and go far away, beyond where her family could ever find her. She’d already run away twice, but Calum’s lodge was the best home she’d ever known. Her employer’s kindness and protection had almost, almost erased her fears, but now her hiding place was discovered, and she couldn’t bring trouble to his doorstep. She cared for him too much for that, though the thought of leaving him forever was so horrible it left her numb.

  He wasn’t home when she got there, and she unloaded the packages and put them away, including Mrs. Martin’s gift. The thread was a fine dark blue and the jam was blackberry. As she set them on the shelf, Phoebe felt like crying all over again. Instead, she went to her room and gathered up her things, wondering how she could leave town quickly.

  She had a little money—not enough to pay her family, but whatever wages Calum insisted on paying her outside of what he applied to the purchase of her land. She’d meant to give it back, seeing as he was providing room and board, but hadn’t yet. Now she would use it to escape again.

  And go where? California was the only place beyond her family’s reach, but it was on the other side of a brutal mountain range. It was late September, too late for her to get a ride now. All the gold miners headed through the pass as early as they could, to avoid the deadly snows.

  She would have to find a way to stall them.

  Grabbing a pot to cook dinner in, she heard a familiar clink. Reaching behind the extra tin cups, she felt for the source, almost hoping it wouldn’t be there. It was, and she drew it out; a little bag of gold, a hidden stash Calum must have put away and forgotten about. Hating herself, Phoebe opened the string and counted the coins with trembling hands.

  It was almost too easy. She had enough payment to send to her family, to keep them at bay another season while she worked and stored up wages and energy to escape. Perhaps by the time spring came she could attempt the journey to California.

  “Ho, Phoebe,” Calum’s voice sounded in the yard. She jumped, and automatically pocketed the gold bag. Immediately she felt sick, and her hand reached into her apron flap to take it up again and put it back.

  “There you are, lass. Look what I got for our dinner.”

  He left the door open, expecting her to follow. She did, but stayed on the porch, angling her body to hide the bulge in her pocket. Calum had bagged a large buck. It was too big to carry, so he’d quartered it and lashed the pieces to a travois.

  “You know what this means? I’ll smoke it along with the beef, and we’ll have enough food for winter, even if you eat twice as much as you usually do.”

  Phoebe could barely bring herself to nod, but Calum’s excitement was enough for the both of them.

  “I’ll slice some steaks for us, if you’ll help me carry them inside.”

  She watched as he did what he said, but when she came down off the porch slowly to get the fresh meat, he frowned. “You’re limping worse than usual, lass. Where’s your walking stick?”

  “I must have left it in town,” she said.

  “You didn’t walk from there, did you?” When she didn’t answer, he scolded, “I told you to always ride the mule. What am I to do with you? Promise me you’ll ride him every time.”

  Biting her lip, she nodded, and retreated into the lodge to cook dinner. When Calum finished up with the buck and came in, she kept busy over the hearth, refusing to turn and look at him, even when the smoke stung her eyes.

  “I’m sorry I scolded you,” he said. “It’s only you make things so hard for yourself. You deserve so much more.”

  It was too much, and Phoebe found herself shaking her head wildly, staring at the fire, her body stiff, except her shoulders, which jerked with sobs.

 
“Phoebe? You’re crying? Oh, lass, I didn’t mean to be so harsh.” Murmuring sweet things, he pulled her to him, guiding her close as he sat on a chair. She resisted.

  “No, no.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her whole body was in the throes of sorrow; she couldn’t talk for the great gulping sobs.

  “Oh, lassie. Come tell my why you’re crying, there’s my good lass.”

  “No, no,” she said, still pulling away when he would wrap her in his great arms. “Don’t call me that.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not good,” she cried. “I’m horrible, a wicked, wicked person.”

  “Phoebe…”

  With an anguished sound, she took out the bag of gold. She tried to hand it to him, but when he wouldn’t take it, she let it fall.

  “I don’t understand.” He stooped and picked it up, and then realization dawned.

  “I took it. Just now. I found it and I needed it, so I was going to steal from you.” Looking into his shocked face, she’d never felt so wretched in her life.

  “Why do you need it?”

  She scrubbed a hand across her face. “It doesn’t matter.” Her sobs were dying down now, leaving her voice broken but coherent. “I’m a horrible person. I deserve to be beaten and then sent away.”

  “Hold out your hand, Phoebe.”

  She obeyed, trembling a little. One of his large paws engulfed hers, and turning her hand over, the other set the bag of gold in her palm.

  “It’s yours, Phoebe. You need it more than I.”

  Her head shook violently. “I’m a wicked woman.”

  He drew her between his knees, and this time she couldn’t resist. “No, you’re not, little bird. You’re just lost, and scared. I wish you’d let me help you.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t deserve it.”

  “Oh, lass. That’s where you’re wrong. I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more. Let me give this to you, Phoebe. Let me be the one who gives you everything you need.” His hands were at her hips, keeping her caged in the circle of his limbs. Feeling the heat of his body, she could think of nothing she’d like better than to curl up in his lap. She’d be safe there, forever, and never have to leave him, no matter what.

  The bag of gold fell from her hand as she acted on her instincts. Cupping his bristled face in her hands, she pressed her lips to his and kissed him.

  A second later, his arms clamped around her, pulling her into a closer embrace. She had no choice but to fall into his lap, her arms now twining around the back of his head as their lips sought to devour each others. It was her first kiss, and it went on and on.

  Even when it ended, she didn’t want to leave the warm circle of his arms. So she did what she’d wanted to do since she’d met her handsome employer for the first time: hugged her arms around his strong body, laid her head on his hard chest, and sighed. She relaxed there, safe and sound, feeling the weight disappear from her own chest. Even her leg felt better, as if he’d taken on her burden, and all her pain with it. She felt like she could go right to sleep.

  One of his hands came up to tease her hair out of her face, then dropped to her hip and tucked her against him more firmly.

  She remembered herself. Her horrible family was after her; they would come for her and maybe hurt him if they thought he would stand in their way. She couldn’t possibly ask him for help.

  Calum squeezed her tighter, as if he could feel the stiffness return to her body, and wanted to stop it, but when she raised herself up, he let her go.

  His cool, grey eyes regarded her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  A bemused smile appeared. “For what?”

  “For… everything.” She started to push away and get down.

  “Not so fast, lassie. You can’t just kiss me like that and leave me hanging.”

  She froze, and he sighed.

  “I didn’t mean it like that, lass.” Lifting her by her hips, he helped her to get to her feet in front of him, but kept his hands at her waist, holding her between his legs. “I only want to help you. I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she said automatically, and his eyes narrowed.

  “Now, see that’s a lie. Telling tales gets wee lassies spanked.”

  “I’m not lying.” She crossed her arms in front of her, even though there wasn’t much space for her to do it. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Wrong again. It became my business the minute you climbed into my lap and sought comfort.” She squirmed, and he held her still. “It’s my pleasure to help you. So tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I got a letter from home.”

  “Mrs. Covey?”

  “My family.”

  His eyes narrowed. “The clan?”

  She nodded.

  “Your grandfather wrote to you? The one who called you cursed?”

  “The letter was written by my uncle, but yes, my grandfather is behind it.” She stopped but he didn’t let her go. Instead, he drew her up onto his lap again, and she went willingly, relishing the feel of his strong body cradling hers.

  “Now, Phoebe, tell me it all.”

  Safe in his arms, Phoebe couldn’t resist anymore.

  “I was born cursed. My grandfather said it was because my father and mother went against his wishes and joined without his permission. He sent her away, and made my father marry another.”

  She fell silent, feeling his hand curl down her back, playing with her hair.

  “Did they mistreat you?”

  “Not my father and stepmother. They had a few more children, and most of them died. My father passed with sickness too, and my stepmother was forced to marry my uncle. He was cruel to me.”

  “Your stepmother married your father’s brother? She was forced—by your grandfather?”

  “Yes. My family all must marry within the clan, and by my grandfather’s direction. Tis the only way to avoid corrupting the blood line. Except for me. I was corrupted already.”

  “Phoebe…”

  “My foot was only the first sign of the curse. After I was born, many children were stillborn or were born disfigured and didn’t live long. They wanted to send me away.”

  “Did they?”

  “They just treated me worse than a dog. I waited as long as I could and ran away.”

  “And went to work for Mrs. Covey.”

  She nodded. “I was safe there, but then my grandfather found me and demanded I come back and marry.”

  “Let me guess… your cousin.”

  “How did you know?”

  Calum just shook his head. “Never mind. Is that when you came here?”

  “No, I was only sixteen when my uncle first came to collect me. I convinced them it would be better if I worked and sent money. They said as long as I did that, I could keep my freedom.”

  Her head bent to her lap, studying her hands as they clutched one of Calum’s, holding on as if he might pull her from a pit. As if he could help her.

  “Keep talking, Phoebe. What did you do next?”

  “For the next few years I worked and sent money. I always sent what they asked, but my grandfather would send my cousins or uncle sometimes to get more. That’s when I learned to sell the things I sew.”

  “Did Mrs. Covey help you at all?”

  “She did what she could. After the first couple of times my family visited, she made me tell her what was going on. But she could not stand against them. No one can.”

  “I can,” Calum said. Phoebe raised her head, opening her mouth to protest, but he’d cut her off. “When did you decide to leave?”

  “The last time I sent them money, and they wrote to tell me they’d picked out a husband for me, and would make me return home. My grandfather liked my looks, and thought, with enough hard work, I could repay them all for the curse.”

  A low sound rumbled in Calum’s che
st. Wolfie raised his head, recognizing his master’s growl. But Calum’s hand on her hair was gentle.

  “And so I looked for a way out. Mrs. Covey promised to help me find a new position. She read your advertisement and thought it would be perfect.” Her body felt cold, remembering the horrible months of searching, praying each morning that the day wouldn’t bring her cousins in a wagon to drag her home. Calum’s advertisement had been a light shining in a dark tunnel. She had so hoped it would mean a new start, and a new life free from threat.

  “It is perfect.” He had that strange look on his face, the one that made her insides flutter. Soft and intense, fierce and adoring, all at the same time. “It led you to me.”

  “But now I have to leave.” Phoebe didn’t realize she was crying until a tear slid down her cheek, and Calum’s thumb brushed it away. His hand cupped her chin.

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “What?” she sniffled. “But my family will come—”

  “Let them come.” Calum shifted under her restlessly, and anger rolled over his expression. Phoebe recognized it, but wasn’t afraid. It wasn’t directed at her.

  “But they’ll hurt you.”

  “They’ll try. I honestly hope they do,” he said fiercely. Wolfie sat up and woofed. “I’ll string them up and take a horsewhip to them.”

  “My uncle and cousins are very strong.”

  “They will be no match for me. You think I would let them take you from me? Phoebe, hear me now. No one is going to force you to do anything against your will again.”

  Phoebe sagged against him as if a weight had lifted off her.

  “I’m going to take care of you,” Calum continued. “You’ve struggled long enough. You need someone to guard and protect you. I’ll do that, and take care of you besides.”

  “But how?”

  “From this moment on, I’m your guardian. I’ll write to your family and tell them they’re never to threaten you again.”

  Phoebe jerked up in his lap, but he held her in his strong, careful grip, speaking firmly. “I’ll give you all the gold you need to buy clothes and thread and pretty things, but never to them. You don’t have to speak or write to them again, unless you want to.”