A Love Forbidden (16 page)

So, Shiloh had managed to find help. He smiled. When she set her mind to something, there seemed nothing she couldn’t accomplish.

He levered himself to one elbow, and the sudden pain in his right side made him wince. Flipping back the colorful quilt covering him, he noted the neat, clean bandages covering his wound. Jesse wondered if Shiloh had done that, or someone else.

Now that he considered it further, where
was
Shiloh? He pushed to a sitting position, his legs dangling from the side of the bed, and noted he no longer wore his buckskin leggings and breechcloth. Instead, a pair of long woolen drawers covered the lower half of his body.

Briefly, as he sat up, his head spun. The feeling, however, soon passed. Just as he was leaning forward to touch the floor with one foot, the door opened and Shiloh walked in with a tray in her hands. Jesse quickly sat back on the bed and flipped the quilt over to cover his lap.

She almost dropped the tray as she turned from closing the bedroom door and saw him sitting up.

“J-Jesse! You’re awake.”

“Yes,” he said, stifling a smile, “it appears I am. How long have I been asleep?”

Walking over, she laid the tray on the bedside table. “Nearly a day and a half. Since we got to Carbonville, I mean, and Doc Michaels took you in and treated you. Your fever took a while to beat, but it broke late last night. Then I finally knew you were going to make it.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear I’m going to make it,” Jesse replied after a moment of contemplating the possible contents of the covered bowl on the tray, “because I sure am hungry.”

Shiloh grinned and uncovered the bowl with a flourish. “Then our timing’s perfect. Harriet, Doc Michaels’s wife, and I were debating when you’d wake, and we decided to go ahead and make a nice pot of chicken soup for you.” She waved her hand over the soup, coaxing the scent of the steaming liquid toward him. “Doesn’t it smell wonderful?”

He inhaled deeply and nodded. “Yes, it does. Are you going to let me have some or just torture me with the smell?”

She paused, giving him a considering look. “Next time, maybe we can get you up in a chair to eat, but for the first time, let’s have you do it in bed, okay? You’re bound to be pretty weak, after the fever and not eating anything for over two days.”

The idea of eating in bed didn’t sit well with Jesse, but he decided Shiloh was probably right. Better to suffer one meal as an invalid than risk staggering over to the chair in those ridiculous drawers, and maybe even falling. That possibility was more humiliating than remaining bedridden awhile longer.

“Fine with me,” he said as he swung his legs up and beneath the covers. “But just this one time. I plan to be out of bed and walking just as soon as I can.”

“Then the sooner you start getting some food into you on a regular basis”—as she spoke, Shiloh picked up the tray and placed it on his lap, then leaned over to prop his pillows farther up behind him—“the sooner you’ll regain the strength you need for walking.”

The few seconds she had bent close to him sent Jesse’s heart to thudding. He’d felt her warmth, smelled her delicate scent, and if not for the tray of food on his lap, he thought he might have pulled her close. Which, on second thought, was an absurd idea. Besides upsetting the tray, he’d likely have hurt his side in the doing. And that was in addition to the fact that Shiloh would probably have taken offense.

His cheeks flushed warm, but Jesse doubted it was from the return of his fever. He hid his embarrassment by fumbling with the spoon and finally dipping it into the soup.

“Here, wait a minute.” She grabbed the big cloth napkin from the tray and laid it across his bare chest. “Just in case the soup gets messy.”

She didn’t lean quite as close this time, but it was all Jesse could do to suppress a groan. What was the matter with him? Had his injury and subsequent infection weakened more than just his body? Had all the defenses he’d put up against her been burned away in the heat of his fever?

All he knew, as he watched her pull over the chair and sit beside him, was he wanted, needed her, and the intensity of his desire all but unmanned him. If only he could take her into his arms and hold her close, brush his lips against the smooth, rose-tinted skin of her cheek, rest his face on her silky, red curls . . .

With a savage jerk of his thoughts back to the reality of the moment, Jesse picked up his spoon and forced his trembling hand to steady as he scooped up some of the soup. The flavor was delicious and the liquid the perfect temperature as it slid down his parched throat. He took another spoonful and momentarily savored the tender morsels of chicken and noodles before swallowing.

“This is the best chicken soup I’ve ever had,” he said, finally daring to meet Shiloh’s expectant gaze. “Would you please thank Mrs. Michaels for me?”

She smiled in joyous relief. “Oh, I will. I’m just so glad to see you awake and eating. If you only knew how worried sick I was . . .”

Shiloh turned away, but not before Jesse noted the suspicious brightness and moisture in her eyes. Did she care so much for him that the thought he might die had affected her so strongly? Though he knew he shouldn’t let it, the thought gladdened him more than he cared to admit.

“Well, you needn’t worry or make yourself sick over me anymore,” he growled, the anger at his weakness making his voice take on a harshness he hadn’t intended. “I’m going to be all right.”

Her head jerked back around, and Jesse could tell from her pained expression that he had hurt her. Silently, he cursed himself for his insensitive words.

“Look,” he said as he scooped up another spoonful of soup, “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful for all you’ve done. I guess I just . . . just have a hard time depending on someone else or being in their debt. So, I get angry and take it out on the other person, when it’s really myself I’m angry at. For being so weak and all . . .”

The look she sent him was reproachful. “I don’t like feeling weak and helpless either, but I don’t take it out on others.”

He swallowed the soup he’d just ladled into his mouth before replying. “Well, maybe that’s because you’re a fine, upstanding human being, and I’m not.”

It took her a moment to catch the teasing look he sent her, and then she relaxed and laughed. “You’re probably right about that.” Shiloh waved toward his bowl of soup. “Now, no more talk. Finish your soup while you still have the energy. Because if I don’t miss my guess, you won’t have it for long.”

Though he was tempted to dispute her claim that he wouldn’t hold up, by the time Jesse got to the last few spoonfuls of chicken soup, he had to admit she’d been right. The spoon seemed to weigh several pounds, and the effort it took for him to wield it was almost more than he could manage. Finally, in exasperation, he laid down the spoon, grabbed the bowl, and emptied it.

“There,” he said, falling back against the pillows, “I finished the soup. What do you have planned for me next? A walk outside? Splitting some firewood?”

“Oh, most certainly,” she said, chuckling as she stood up, took a step toward the bed, and retrieved the tray. “Just as soon as you take a nice long nap. Then we’ll discuss the chores I’ve got lined up for you.”

Jesse managed a wan smile. “You’re a hard woman, Shiloh Wainwright. But I always knew that about you.”

“Did you now?” She laid the tray on the bedside table, then moved back beside him to take away one of the extra pillows that had helped prop him up. After putting it down in the chair, she turned to him. “Then I guess you know all my secrets.”

He gave a disbelieving snort. “As if any man ever knows all of a woman’s secrets.”

“Well, then it’ll give you something to think on until you fall asleep.” She leaned down as if to give him a comforting kiss on the cheek.

In that instant, all the frustrating emotions he’d barely been holding in check seemed to burst past his iron control. Jesse reached up, gently caught her chin, and turned her face to his. Before she could react or he could reconsider, he kissed her.

Shiloh froze. She thought she must be dreaming. Jesse Blackwater was kissing her? Had she lost her balance when she’d bent down to give him a quick, friendly peck on the cheek, and inadvertently hit his lips instead?

But no, she thought as the initial shock wore off,
he
had taken her by the chin and kissed
her
. And, as his warm lips slanted softly, tenderly over hers without ever pulling back, she realized Jesse had intended—wanted—to kiss her. The realization filled her with a swift, soaring joy, and she sank to sit on the edge of his bed and ardently returned his kiss.

Long seconds passed and Shiloh thought she’d never felt or tasted anything as wonderful as Jesse. She moaned, the sound rising from deep within her. A sound full of yearning, pleasure, and warm, womanly satisfaction.

Jesse released her chin and jerked away. She sat back, confused.

“What . . . ? D-did I hurt you, Jesse?” Even as she spoke, the traitorous warmth rushed to her face.

He wouldn’t look at her. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She reached toward him, touched his shoulder. He shrugged her hand away.

“Don’t.”

His command stabbed through her, and into the gaping wound rushed an agonized shame. Shiloh pulled back her hand.

“I’m sorry too,” she forced herself to choke out the words. “I thought you wanted to kiss me, liked kissing me.”

“Of course I liked kissing you!” Jesse whirled around to face her and, at the sudden movement, he caught at his side and grimaced in pain.

Instinctively, Shiloh reached toward him.

“I said don’t!” He halted her with his free hand outstretched before him. “Please, don’t make this any worse than it already is. You and I know there’s no hope of any good coming from . . . from . . .”

Anger began to smolder within her. “From what?” she demanded. “From letting ourselves care for each other? For opening our hearts to love?”

His eyes widened. He dragged in a deep breath, which made him wince. Then his jaw went taut, his lips tight, and he managed a harsh laugh.

“Who was talking about love?”

She stared at him, her thoughts colliding with her chaotic emotions. “But you kissed me! What else would I be thinking but that—”

At the sordid implications that flashed through her mind, Shiloh leaped from the bed. “You didn’t mean . . . you wouldn’t do such a thing!”

“In case you haven’t figured it out yet,” Jesse said as he gingerly lay back on the bed, “you’re a beautiful, desirable woman. And I’m a normal man. But I also intend to be a man of honor and deliver you home in the same condition you left the Agency. So, let’s forget what just happened. Because it never would have if I’d been right in my mind and body.”

She wanted to cry and at the same time was so furious she could hardly think straight. She wanted to slap him senseless as much as she wanted to fling herself on him and beg him to hold her, kiss her, and tell her he truly and deeply loved her. Because she, Shiloh realized with a sudden piercing insight, truly and deeply loved him.

But had she ever known who Jesse Blackwater really was? She wondered. One thing was certain. Right about now she certainly didn’t like him.

“Well, please let me know when you’re back in your right mind and body then,” she said with no small amount of sarcasm. “Because until then, I won’t force myself on you in any way. Mrs. Michaels can see to your care. And when you deem yourself fit enough to resume our journey, I’ll be sure to avoid any further sort of behavior that might besmirch your blasted honor!”

10

Though she had taken great offense at the mixed messages Jesse had sent with his kiss, Shiloh couldn’t long hold a grudge. Well, she quickly amended, at least not with anyone other than her sister. Besides the fact they still had a three- or four-day’s journey ahead of them, there was the reality he had saved her life at great risk to his own.

For those reasons, and no others, she kept trying to convince herself she owed him civil if not compassionate behavior. Well, perhaps just
one
other reason, she thought two days later as she knocked on his bedroom door, a breakfast tray in her hand. Her Christian conduct toward him had been sorely lacking of late. She must amend that for the love of her Lord, if not so much for any charitable feelings for Jesse.

“Come in,” a deep voice responded from the other side of the door.

Shiloh inhaled a fortifying breath, lifted a quick prayer for strength, and pressed down on the door handle. As she entered, Jesse, seated in a chair near the window, looked up from a book he was reading.

He was dressed once more in his leggings and breechcloth, moccasins on his feet. Instead of his buckskin shirt, however, he wore a softly faded, red flannel shirt that she ventured to guess was one of Doc Michaels’s. The color only served to enhance his darkly handsome good looks, and for an instant, Shiloh forgot her resolve not to allow her emotions regarding Jesse Blackwater to get the best of her again.

“Mrs. Michaels was busy,” she said, forcing a smile, “so I offered to help her by bringing you your breakfast.”

His glance lowered back to the page he was reading. “That’s very kind of you. Especially since you must loathe being in my presence these days.”

So, he wasn’t going to pretend to a tenuous truce. But then, she supposed she deserved that, and the responsibility to be the first to extend a peace offering would have to fall to her. She was, after all, the one who claimed to be the Christian.

“You’d be wrong if you thought that,” Shiloh said as she walked across the room and set his tray on the bedside table. “I might get angry at you and think you’re a low-down, no-account varmint at times, but I don’t—and haven’t ever—loathed you.”

“Really?” Jesse lifted his gaze from his book and impaled her with a disbelieving look. “Then, Miss Wainwright, you’re either a very sweet liar, or you’re denying what you truly feel. Because I have been a low-down, no-account varmint. And, for that, I beg your forgiveness.”

She stared back at him, struck speechless by his unexpected apology. She had taken two days to work through her anger at him and had come to the acceptance that she must be the one to turn the other cheek. Well, figuratively anyway, because she didn’t plan to get close enough to him to offer her cheek or anything else.

“Generally,” Jesse offered dryly, “when someone apologizes, the other person is supposed to be gracious enough to accept it. Even if they don’t really mean it.”

Shiloh jerked her attention back to him. Irritation flared. Why did it seem that Jesse was always one step ahead of her?

“It’s not that. That I don’t want to accept your apology,” she quickly amended. “It’s just that I came to ask
your
forgiveness, even if you refused to claim any responsibility for . . . for what happened the other day.”

“And I beat you to it, is that it?”

“Well, yes . . . so to speak, anyway.”

His mouth quirked. “I’ll bet that makes you mad.”

“What?” She blinked, trying to break through the fog of confusion swirling about her. “What do you mean? Why would I be mad that you apologized?”

He shrugged. “Because I come out the better person, yet again?”

Her gaze narrowed. Jesse was toying with her, but for what reason? Why did he sometimes seem so warm toward her, while other times . . .

A sudden realization struck her. His actions were so contradictory because his feelings for her confused him as much as her feelings for him confused her. And he did have feelings for her. As much as he might have wished it hadn’t happened, he’d revealed what he really felt in that kiss. A kiss he had turned from a friendly peck on the cheek into one far more ardent.

Though Shiloh didn’t know from where the certainty came, her instinct on this was sound and sure. And with it came a confidence she’d never before experienced.

“And you
are
the better person,” she said with a smile that only widened more at his look of utter surprise, “for your courage in daring to step forward and apologize. Especially considering how terribly rude and angry I was the other day. But I promise to do better in the future.”

“So, you’re accepting my apology?” Jesse looked like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“But of course,” Shiloh replied with a firm nod. “And I humbly ask your forgiveness in turn.”

He rubbed his chin. “Apology accepted,” he mumbled finally, sounding less than sincere. Or maybe, she thought on second consideration, sounding even more confused and disgruntled. Like somehow his plan to keep her off balance and at arm’s length had been thwarted.

“Well, good.” She gestured to the breakfast tray. “Better eat this while it’s hot. Mrs. Michaels made flapjacks with maple syrup, bacon, and a nice strong cup of coffee. I already ate, and it’s as delicious as always.”

Jesse laid aside his book and rose. Shiloh watched him make his way over to sit on the side of the bed and begin uncovering the plate of food. He still moved stiffly, but he appeared remarkably stronger than two days ago when she’d last brought him a meal. And knowing Jesse, just as soon as he could mount a horse, they’d be resuming their trip.

But that wouldn’t happen for at least a few more days. Time enough to get the lay of the land when it came to him and his feelings for her. Because of this much she was certain: the terrain of their relationship had changed with just a simple kiss.

They left Carbonville early one morning just before dawn, a little over a week after they’d first arrived. After saying their good-byes and reiterating their deepest thanks to Doc Michaels and his wife yet one more time, Shiloh and Jesse headed down to the livery to fetch their horses. Several days before, Shiloh had disassembled the travois, leaving the poles to be cut into firewood and retrieving the blankets to add to the rest of the ones they’d need for the trip ahead. It took only a short time to bridle and saddle their horses, then mount and ride from town.

They soon reached the Roaring Fork River valley and began their trek down it. Eventually, though, they had to divert off to some smaller creeks that crept through side valleys more tightly surrounded by mountains, some of which soared high into the heavens. Snow still capped the tallest peaks, piercing the sky with majestic grandeur.

Jesse tried to ride until near sunset each day, and though he didn’t meet that goal the first day, each day of travel increased the amount of distance they covered. He wasn’t up to any hunting or spearfishing, however, and they had to suffice with the food they’d brought with them, supplemented by freshly made bannocks and hot tea each evening.

Shiloh didn’t talk much, save to garner information or discuss what he’d like at mealtimes. For that, Jesse was grateful. He didn’t quite know how to approach her these days, leastwise not since that morning she’d decided to heal the breach caused by his ill-advised kiss by graciously accepting his apology.

Ever since then, there had been something different about her. She appeared calmer, more confident, and nothing he could say seemed to rile her. It was almost . . . almost as if she possessed some secret knowledge. Some knowledge that had leveled the playing field between them.

He was no longer an adult male dealing with a young, inexperienced girl. Almost overnight, it seemed, Shiloh had turned into a woman. And that both worried and enthralled him.

Best that he safely deposit her at the front steps of Castle Mountain’s main ranch house, then turn and hightail it out of there, Jesse decided the day they hit the top of the last hill separating them from view of the ranch. He caught himself in midthought.

Hightail it out of there . . .

Exactly how many times, since Shiloh had come back into his life, had he told himself he needed to run as fast and as far away from her as he could get? However many times it had been, it was too many. When he had finally decided to put down roots with the People, he had vowed never to run from anything again, be it man, battle, or any hardship that could befall him. Yet now a pretty young redhead threatened to send him scurrying away with his tail tucked between his legs.

Or rather, Jesse quickly amended, not Shiloh actually but his chaotic mess of feelings for her. It was one thing to fight some enemy that originated from outside yourself. But how did you fight your own heart?

Shiloh abruptly reined in her horse. Bemused, Jesse did the same.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, glancing at her curiously.

Her lips tight, her shoulders rigid, she stared straight ahead and shook her head. “No. I just . . .” She inhaled a ragged breath. “Yes, there
is
something wrong.”

Turning in her saddle to face him, Shiloh met his concerned gaze. “I’m afraid, Jesse,” she softly said. “I’m afraid that we didn’t get here in time, and Jordan’s already . . .”

Tears filled her eyes, and she swallowed hard. “I’m afraid she’s already—”

“Already dead?” Jesse cut in, saying the words she couldn’t find the heart to say.

She nodded. “I-I don’t know if I could bear it. We’ve . . . never gotten on since . . . since that day.”

What Shiloh had left unspoken, Jesse well knew, was the fact that she hadn’t made her peace with Jordan. And, if Jordan was now dead, Shiloh would never be able to do so. Living with such guilt could suck the life out of you, even before you were dead.

But what could he possibly say to comfort her, to make things right? Jesse hated seeing Shiloh so miserable, so fearful. If it was within his power, he’d gladly protect her from that pain. Still, though he wondered if Jordan was truly worthy of Shiloh’s love, she was her sister. And most familial bonds were forged strong and hard.

“We got here as quickly as we could,” he said, thinking even as he spoke how lame his words sounded. “You did your best, Shiloh. You can’t do better than that. And if Jordan didn’t make it, she didn’t die alone or unloved. Her family was with her. I’m sure if there was any way for her to hear it, they told her you were on your way.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She sighed, then wiped away her tears. “Guess I need to go face it, whatever it is. Nothing’s helped by sitting here.”

He managed an encouraging smile. “That’s the spirit. Let’s go get it over with.”

A tender light flared in her eyes. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you? At least for a few days? I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave.”

How could he refuse her, Jesse thought, in her time of need? How could any man deny such a request, couched as it was and falling from such sweet lips? He stifled a silent groan. Yet again, circumstances were drawing him ever closer to her.