Bound For Eden (42 page)

‘Blackie?' the scruffy mountain man rumbled, his bushy eyebrows drawing together.

‘The horse,' she stammered, blushing more than ever. Oh God, he'd told them everything; she just knew he'd told them everything. ‘The Arab.'

‘The Arab?' The one who looked the most like Luke fixed her with his intense eyes. Eyes that were green, she noticed with surprise, and not like Luke's at all.

‘Who
are
you?' he asked.

‘Alexandra,' she said through numb lips. ‘Alexandra Barratt.' She could tell by their faces that they had no idea who she was. Alex wanted to sink through the floorboards of the porch. This was worse than if he'd told them everything. Luke hadn't mentioned her at all. She'd ceased to exist for him.

‘Alex!' Stephen's voice rang across the yard. ‘I found him!'

Forgetting about the Slater brothers, Alex tore down the steps and across the yard. Her bonnet flew from her head and they watched her gold-streaked curls bounce as she ran.

‘Who
is
she?' Matt asked admiringly.

‘I saw her first!' Tom was off the paint in a second.

‘Hell, you did!' Matt was close on his heels.

When they burst into the barn they found her wrapped around a large youth. A large youth who was wrapped around Luke's Arab. Next to them stood a thin, ascetic-looking man, who was pulling nervously on a narrow moustache.

‘Don't you ever do that again!' the beauty was shouting, as she rained kisses on the squirming youth.

‘Go away!' the youth bellowed. ‘I'm staying here with Luke. I'm going to help him with his horses.'

‘You know Luke?' Tom blurted, his heart sinking. Hell. There went his chances with her.

But the beauty was too busy shouting to notice him. ‘Luke said no,' she was yelling.

‘I'm dreadfully sorry,' the nervous man apologised, approaching the Slater brothers. They eyed him. He couldn't be her husband, surely? ‘I'm afraid she was very upset when Adam disappeared.'

‘And you are?' Tom asked.

‘Stephen Sparrow,' he said, extending his hand. ‘I'm a pastor. From Amory.'

‘Amory? Never heard of it.' Sparrow. She'd said her name was Barratt. So he wasn't her husband. Tom brightened and shook his hand enthusiastically.

‘It's just up the valley, north of Oregon City.' The pastor wilted a little. ‘I'm afraid it hasn't turned out quite as I expected. I only have a congregation of two, sometimes not even that if they decide to go trapping.' He sighed. ‘I'm afraid my sisters were awfully disappointed. They seem to have their hearts set on somewhere a little more civilised.'

Sisters! So there was another one somewhere. Tom's green eyes gleamed as he imagined finding a way to foist the sister on Matt so he could have the beauty all to himself. ‘You know,' he said thoughtfully, ‘we don't have a real preacher around here. Our mayor does a reading on Sundays. That's where we've come from. You'd be a mighty welcome addition to Utopia.'

While Tom was busy with the preacher Matt took the opportunity to approach Alexandra. ‘I'm staying!' Adam was still bellowing as Alex tried to pry him away from the Arab.

‘You can't.'

‘I will!'

‘You won't!'

‘You know,' Matt interrupted them, ‘that horse ain't had his oats yet. I reckon your shouting might be making him hungry.'

Alex jumped, embarrassed, and turned to find herself staring into a pair of golden-brown eyes. She was astonished that such an unattractive man could have such beautiful eyes.

‘Why don't you let the boy feed him, and we can go in the house and talk this over?' Matt's voice was warm and friendly. ‘We'd be mighty pleased to have you join us for Sunday dinner.'

‘Oh, we couldn't,' Alex protested.

‘Sure you could,' the man with the beautiful eyes insisted.

‘No, really. There are too many of us.'

‘Three extra mouths won't be any trouble.'

‘Eight,' Alex mumbled.

‘Pardon?'

‘There are five more in the covered wagon by your porch,' she said sheepishly.

‘The more the merrier.'

‘Right,' Tom announced, clapping his hands and approaching them. ‘I've settled it with Pastor Sparrow here. You'll stay with us until you get some land of your own.'

‘What?' Alex gasped, appalled.

‘We need a pastor, and he tells me that you and your lovely sister were unhappy in the wilderness. Utopia isn't quite Oregon City, but we're growing fast. We have a store and a mill, and our own newspaper. We have a congregation even, although we have no minister.'

Alex was speechless. She turned huge eyes on her brother, but Stephen looked almost as bewildered as she felt. He wasn't quite sure what had happened, but somehow in the course of the conversation he'd been employed as the town minister. He'd even shaken hands on it.

‘I'm afraid we don't have a hotel,' Tom was plowing on, ‘or even a boarding house, but we'd be thrilled to have you stay with us. Wouldn't we, Matt?'

‘Thrilled,' Matt agreed, his eyes twinkling at the thought of spending the winter under the same roof as Miss Barratt.

‘We won't be able to start building you your own place until the snows melt next spring,' Tom said apologetically, ‘but as you can see it's a big house, so we should manage here just fine for the winter.'

‘Our brother plans to fill it with kids,' Matt added. ‘He built six bedrooms.'

‘If Matt and I move up to the attic we should all fit quite comfortably. And respectably,' he qualified, ‘as your brothers can chaperone you.'

Alex stared into the beaming faces of Luke's brothers and felt her stomach twist. Oh, heavens . . . ‘We can't,' she blurted, at the exact moment that Adam yelled, ‘We'd love to!'

‘There you go,' Tom said, clapping his hands again. ‘It's settled. How about we welcome our new pastor with a nice Sunday roast? I put the joint on before we left this morning and there should be enough.'

Alex let herself be herded up the stairs, her head spinning. What had just happened?

Thirty-Eight

Luke endured the service on the loveseat by Amelia's side. He sat a while on the porch with her afterwards, sipping her mother's too-sweet lemonade. He sat opposite her at her parents' lace-covered dining table. And he took her on a brief stroll around the garden before he left.

He had every opportunity in the world to ask her to marry him. But he didn't. There were times when the moment was right, when she seemed to pause as though expecting it, but he stayed silent. And when he left he didn't even try to kiss her. He simply tipped his hat, mounted Isis, and left. He tried not to think about why this was.

By the time he arrived home, the sun had dropped behind the ranges to the west and the valley was blue and shadowed. The leaves were in colour, glowing like orange and gold coals in the twilight, and the air had a chill. Soon it would snow and he would be facing another long winter, alone in his cold bed. He needed a wife.

Next Sunday, he decided, he would ask her next Sunday.

He took his time with Isis, giving her a thorough grooming, not looking forward to going inside and facing Tom's teasing. He noticed regretfully that his brothers had already fed the horses. He wished he could have had the excuse to linger outside a little longer. On his way out of the barn he noticed the oxen and mules. He frowned.

When he emerged he saw the O'Brien wagon, parked beneath the big old beech tree. He felt a wave of relief. Thank God, Ned was here . . . that should keep his brothers from needling him about Amelia.

As he approached the house he noticed Matt at the woodpile, gathering an armful of wood for the stove. Luke stopped dead, his mouth open in shock. ‘What happened to you?' Luke didn't remember the last time he'd seen Matt without his beard. Actually, he had a funny feeling that Matt had never shaved; from the minute his whiskers grew he just let them keep on growing. Staring at the smooth planes of his little brother's clean-shaven face, Luke was astonished. He'd had no idea Matt was so handsome. He looked like their father – the same long straight nose, the same hollow cheeks, the same cupid's-bow mouth. Now that he'd shaved, even his longish hair didn't look so bad. Partly because it was clean, Luke thought, with another shock. So clean it shone in the lamplight falling through the windows.

‘What do you mean?' Matt replied with studied nonchalance.

Luke approached him, unable to tear his eyes away. ‘I mean, what the hell happened?'

‘I shaved,' Matt snapped, flushing.

‘Why?'

‘Felt like it.'

The sound of laughter drifted through the partly-open kitchen door and Luke remembered Ned. ‘You've been taking care of the O'Briens?'

‘They had dinner with us,' Matt said, grinning.

Luke blinked. He didn't remember the last time his little brother had grinned at him either. His teeth were straight and white. Luke felt disoriented. What on earth had happened around here in the last few hours?

Luke pushed the door open.

And felt time stop.

His kitchen was crammed with people, but he only saw one clearly. She was sitting by the stove, her face flushed from the heat, her eyes sparkling. Her still-short hair curled around her face and shone with golden lights. She was wearing that dress, the gray one, the one that made her skin look like fresh cream and her eyes glow, the one that clung to the curves of her breasts and hugged her small waist. She was laughing. He'd never seen her laugh. Not like this. He'd seen the boy-Alex laugh, but he'd never seen this woman laugh. The sound was low and husky and sent shivers down his spine.

His gaze charged the air between them like a lightning storm and she lifted her eyes. Luke felt his stomach drop, like he was falling from a great height. Her eyes were like rain, like thunderclouds, like floodwater, like smoke. They were every shade of gray in creation.

One by one they fell silent as they noticed Luke in the doorway. ‘Luke,' Tom greeted him jovially, ‘some friends of yours dropped by.'

‘So I see.'

Alex winced and looked away. She felt sick to her stomach. He didn't look happy to see her. She'd known he wouldn't be, but some fool part of her had hoped . . . dear Lord, how would he react when he found out she was going to be
living
with him? He might well kill her, she thought nervously.

‘How did it go with Amelia?' Tom's voice cut through her thoughts like a knife through butter. Her gaze flew back to Luke. Had he finally asked Aurelia Hardwig to marry him? Had she said yes?

‘Excuse me,' she muttered, rising from the table, pretending she needed the conveniences. She couldn't sit here and listen to him talk about Arnelle. She was grateful for the cold air on her burning skin as she stepped outside. She took a deep breath.

For the sake of appearances, she made for the outhouse that was hidden among a small cluster of juniper bushes. She walked around in circles for a while, not wanting to go back inside. The daylight had faded and the blue twilight was becoming purple night. Squares of yellow light fell through the windows onto the porch. It was such a beautiful house. Homely. Welcoming. Built for another woman. Alex sighed. She supposed she couldn't stay out here forever.

She heard the click of a door and jumped. Someone was coming. She darted around to the front of the house, thinking to enter through the parlour door, in order to avoid whoever it was. She had a horrible feeling it might be Luke coming to wring her neck.

She flew up the stairs. And straight into a dreadfully familiar wall of muscle.

Luke had left through the front door. He was too furious to speak and didn't want to run into the witch on her way back from the outhouse. He had every intention of saddling Isis and making for the saloon in town.

But the minute he opened the door he was hit by an armful of soft, trembling female. Once again, he made the mistake of looking into her eyes. He thought he'd learned not to do that on the torturous trip from Three Island Crossing to Oregon City. The minute he met her swirling gray eyes he was witless. When she'd careened into him his natural impulse had been to grab hold of her, and now he found his hands cupped around her shoulders, his thumbs mere inches from the swell of her breasts. He could feel her legs and thighs brush against him as she jerked sharply backwards. His hands tightened on her shoulders. He could smell soap, something light and floral, and, underneath, a scent that was uniquely hers.

He might have had the strength to push her away if she hadn't parted her lips and given a small gasp. The action caused his gaze to drop to that ripe strawberry mouth; that slick ripe strawberry mouth that haunted his dreams.

With a hopeless, helpless groan, Luke crushed her to him. His mouth descended to plunder hers, rough and demanding, full of the longing and confusion that had plagued him for all these months. One hand moved to grasp the back of her head, and the other dropped to the hollow of her back, pressing her to the hard length of him. It was a punishing, bruising kiss; a hungry kiss, meant to devour her.

It was only when she surrendered, threading her fingers through his shortened hair, that he came to his senses.

He shoved her away. Would he
never
learn? Look at the way she swayed towards him, lips parted. She was practically begging him to kiss her. He'd never met such a calculating, manipulative woman in his life. Luke was glad it was too dark for her to see the colour rise in his face. Once again, he'd been made a fool, grabbing for her like a callow youth. ‘Stay away from me,' he snarled, stamping off towards the barn.

Alex stared after him in shock. She struggled to regain her composure. Eventually, when she thought her heartbeat had quieted, she slid into the parlour. Matt Slater was standing in the dark, an enigmatic smile playing around his sharply bowed lips. Alex stopped dead in horror. Had he seen? She knew by the look in his eyes that he had. She was mortified. What must he think of her? And how much worse would it be when Luke told him the whole story?