The Tender Vine (Diamond of the Rockies #3)(26)

She flushed, but with Elizabeth there he wouldn’t kiss her. He knew the limits of propriety even if she doubted it. Mae sauntered in from her dining room, which came off the other side of the kitchen. Already she was ladling out stewed beef to her boarders. It had seemed a satisfactory meal to Quillan until he’d tried Carina’s fare.

Mae raised her brows at the two of them but didn’t comment. Her face had a red sheen from the escaping steam as she refilled the serving pot. She grunted, lifting it, then went back out.

Carina started to rise, but Quillan held her in place with his arm across her waist. She turned and met his eyes. Let her see the fire there; he had no need to hide it now. What freedom found in love unveiled that lightens heart and limb; unshackled every hindrance be that burning light could dim. There was nothing dim in him right now, but with an effort, he let her stand up.

Two hours more she stayed on her feet, overseeing now, in both the kitchen and out among the tables. She didn’t stay long in the dining room, though, and Quillan wondered if it was because he waited in the kitchen. He ate the portion she set before him, but the food seemed secondary to her presence, and he guessed more than one man in the dining room felt that way. It didn’t rankle as it had. Maybe the compassion he’d found for Alex Makepeace stretched to the hungry men Carina fed, as well.

He could see she was wearing down before she would admit it. But at last she allowed him to lead her, weary, to her bed. Carina was stronger, but Dr. Felden was right. She was not yet fit. For some reason he thought of his mother, Rose, never recovering from the tragedies of her life. God, don’t let that happen to Carina. But she had strength and a will that had carried her all the way to Crystal. She was not like Rose.

In their room, he watched her undress. He supposed they could hang a curtain to dress behind, taking turns so neither would see the other indecent. But he couldn’t see her as indecent. From the first glimpse he’d had of her shape under the spring at the Gold Creek Mine, he’d been mesmerized.

So he stood now and watched her and made no offer to turn away or leave her. Neither did she ask. She accepted his gaze without embarrassment or umbrage. And when his palm warmed her lower spine, she turned. No poetry could express it.





EIGHT

Majestic are these hills, O Lord, we humbly enter in.

In pine and aspen, creek and lake, your song of praise begin.

Draw nearer to your presence, God, ascend the highest place.

With eagle, bear, and lowly squirrel, we humbly seek your face.

—Quillan

CARINA STARED AT THE CONTRAPTION suspended between Quillan’s blacks, Jack and Jock. He couldn’t be serious, couldn’t really expect her to ride there, lying on the woolen pad like some Egyptian princess.

“Once you’re on, I’ll wrap blankets over you. You’ll be plenty warm.” Quillan cupped her elbow. Sam pushed in between them.

She ignored his tail banging her leg. This was Quillan’s surprise? “You don’t really think—”

“You want to visit the mine, don’t you?” There was no mocking amusement in his eyes. He must mean it.

She threw up her hands. “I will not ride through town like . . . like some invalid with everyone watching and shaking their heads and saying, ‘Poor Carina, she rides in a litter like an old woman, like a—’ ” She couldn’t even think what else they might say.

Quillan hooked his thumbs in his waistband. “Who’d say a word?” Sam nudged Quillan’s palm with his nose.

“To me, no one. To themselves and each other . . .” She waved her hand. “I can’t do it.”

The dog sat on his haunches, grinning.

“Then we won’t go through town. I’ll take you down along the creek.”

“Through all the tents.” She turned that way.

“Hardly a one.”

It was true. There were very few living in tents along the creek anymore. The cold was too bitter. But those who were knew Quillan well. She put her hands on her hips. “I won’t do it.”

Quillan shrugged. “All right.” He walked around Jock with Sam dutiful now at his heels and started unfastening the litter.

“You’ll saddle them now? We’ll ride up together?”

He shot her a look sideways.

“We could both ride Jock, as we did after the flood. Do you remember?”

He walked around Jack and unfastened that side. The foot end of the litter dropped to the ground.

“Or Jack.” She pulled her coat tighter at the neck and met him in front of Jack, halting his progress.

He hung his arm over Jack’s withers and slacked his hip. “No.”

She had a flash of memory; his hat brim shadow hiding his face on the road moments before he dumped her wagon and all her dear things down the slope to destruction. He’d had that same stance, that same stubborn tone.

She thrust her fists at his chest. “I will go. With or without you.”

“Not unless you plan to hoof it.”

She jutted her chin. “I’ll take Daisy.”

He caught her wrist. “Doc said no horseback.”

“That was days ago.”

“I haven’t heard different.” His voice was steady now.

“You’ve made other exceptions.” She tugged against his grip.