Expedition of Love (27 page)

Mr. Walters grinned. “Are you sure? It would be no trouble to help you across the compound."

"I'm quite sure."

"I see. However, I do have something I'd like to discuss with you. Our moonlit walk seems to be somewhat impossible with your injury. I thought perhaps we could devise some other assignation."

"There will be no other anything. I will not be meeting with you now or ever."

They turned at the sound of a wagon. She instantly found Stephen sitting atop the bench, the reins clutched in his capable hands. He struck such a breathtaking pose her heart fluttered wildly, pleading with her mind to reconsider his proposal. But her infallible logic quickly dismissed the suggestion. She did not need a man in her life to protect her or otherwise.

"I'm sorry to hear that,” Mr. Walters said. “It would seem that Doctor Baxter has superseded me, and yet—” He moved closer, lowering his head near hers. “I wonder if the old boy was able to satisfy you."

Kristina pulled back and slapped him soundly across the face.

Cupping his cheek, he sneered at her through narrowed eyes. “You'll regret that, Kristina."

"What I regret is ever making your acquaintance."

"What in blazes is going on here?” Edwin bellowed, as he stormed up beside them.

"Nothing's going on, Papa. Nothing of any consequence."

Stephen appeared, and she clearly saw the glint of murder in his eyes.

Lowering his hand from his cheek, Mr. Walters’ lips pulled into a grin “On the contrary, Miss Peterson.” He turned toward her father. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, sir, but it would seem your daughter has been compromised."

"How dare you cast such lies? I'll not stand for it!"

"I'm afraid it's the truth, sir. I witnessed her in the arms of—one of the team.” He cut his eyes at Stephen.

Would Mr. Walters spread vicious rumors about Stephen? Would he try and damage his reputation, his career with this ridiculous need for revenge?

"Kristina, what do you have to say to this accusation?” her father asked.

She looked at Stephen, his gaze still murderously focused on Mr. Walters, then looked at her father. They were both strong men, with a good bit of power in the academic world, but would it be enough to take care of any vile rumors this detestable man started? She could only hope, because she refused to be bullied into marriage by anyone.

"It's no one's blasted business,” she snapped through clenched teeth.

Pushing through the small group, she hobbled toward the cook tent with her back rigidly straight. Men and their ridiculous notions of what a woman should and shouldn't do. It was quite all right for them to do as they pleased with whomever they pleased, but the woman was always scorned and ridiculed.

"What twaddle,” she grumbled. She refused to accept their rules. Let Mr. Walters say whatever he liked. She knew who she was, and if the world couldn't learn to live with that, then too bad. She refused to change because of some silly notions about propriety. Her private life was no one's business but her own.

Stephen relaxed his clenched fists as he watched her make her way across camp. She was an absolute wonder. Stubborn, willful, intelligent, beautiful, and he loved her with every piece of his heart and soul. And it was killing him.

"I suggest you keep your observations regarding my daughter to yourself from now on, young man.” Edwin's comment brought him back to the distasteful situation.

"But, sir, I'm only telling you what I saw. Surely you wouldn't want anything unfortunate to happen that might damage her reputation."

"The only damage I'm concerned with is to your health. I would hate for Kristina to find it necessary to use that derringer she carries.” Edwin turned with a firm frown and walked away.

Stephen feared his friend didn't fully realize the threat young Walters was issuing behind his words. He had to do something to guarantee that Kristina's reputation would remain intact.

"Whatever you think you saw, Mr. Walters, I suggest you forget it entirely. Miss Peterson is a lady, and has behaved as such the entire expedition."

The man sniffed. “A lady? Really, Doctor, I know call girls who behave with more decorum than Kristina Peterson. I was merely trying to obtain some of what she so obviously gifted you."

Stephen couldn't help himself. It simply had to be done. With one powerful blow, the young man lay sprawled out on the ground with a busted nose.

Edwin reappeared and grabbed hold of him before he could pounce on the snake. “Stephen, what's come over you?"

"Leave off, Edwin! I'm not through with him."

"It's all right, Professor,” Walters said as he got to his feet, dabbing at his bloody nose. “If Doctor Baxter wishes to have blows, then I shall be most obliging."

It wasn't long before the entire team surrounded them, Kristina included.

"This is ridiculous. I'll not stand by while you and this foolhardy boy box each other's ears,” Edwin fumed.

Stephen jerked away from his hold. “Then don't watch."

Chapter Fifteen

Lunging toward his opponent, Stephen failed to see the fist coming up to meet his chin.

Kristina's hands flew to her face, covering her eyes against the sight. She cringed at the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Poor Stephen.

Slowly, she parted her fingers and peered between them, watching as they pummeled one another to the excited shouts of the others. Even her father urged them on. Men could be so barbaric.

After nearly bringing down one of the tents, the group followed the battling pair back into the center of camp. With a brutal blow from Mr. Walters, Stephen landed squarely on a small empty crate turning it into a pile of kindling. She didn't know how much longer she could bare to watch. She could feel every blow he received.

Climbing to his feet, he swiped at his chin with the back of his hand and came away with blood. All in all, he looked a good deal better off than Mr. Walters. His broken nose made a rather large mess of his shirt.

Dodging a swing with more agility and speed than she thought left in him, Stephen got in one more powerful hit. Mr. Walters dropped to the ground with a solid thud, out cold. A second later, Stephen fell to his knees beside him panting.

Kristina took a deep breath, easing the dizziness from holding it for so long. More than anything she wanted to run to him, tend his wounds, and cradle his battered face in her hands. She didn't know what words they'd exchanged, but she knew he had defended her honor.

"Why do I feel this is because of you, Little Mule?” Antonio said.

She spun around with a wince, forgetting her injured ankle. “Where've you been?"

"In town seeing that our friends will not be stealing or kidnapping anyone again any time soon. But you are not well, Chica.” He scooped her up, and carried her to a chair. “What is wrong? Are you ill from the sight of all the blood?"

"No, no. I twisted my ankle yesterday.” Her gaze flew back to Stephen, remembering how he took care of her, made love to her, and how he had fought for her. She should never have given in to her attraction. He needed someone to love him. Someone to be his friend, his lover, his confidant—his wife. She could never be all those things to him.

Antonio lifted his hand and swiped the stray tears from her cheek. “Why do you weep, Little Mule? Your love has won, has he not?"

Her love? No, she couldn't love him. She wouldn't love him.

Rubbing her face dry with a soft sniffle, she turned away. “I'm not crying. They stirred up a great deal of dust and it blew into my eyes."

"Ah, yes. The dust can be most irritating, but not nearly as unpleasant as a broken heart."

"You're talking nonsense again, Antonio."

He tsked and shook his head. “Poor, Chica. To refuse your heart's desire makes for a lonely life."

"My life is fine the way it is, thank you. Now, would you please help me over there so I can repair the damage those two fools have caused to one another?"

She stood on shaky legs. Antonio quickly put his arm around her for support. Chuckling heartily, he helped her to the center of the scene.

"A good fight, Doctor,” he said to Stephen as they drew near.

Rising off his knees, Stephen nodded, biting back the urge to snatch Antonio's arm from around Kristina's waist. He knew after the gaucho's parting words the day before that he wasn't in love with her. If he were, he wouldn't have left her to his care and covered up the reason for their absence, but that didn't stop Stephen from being jealous.

"Good heavens,” she breathed, drawing his attention.

Antonio lowered her to a log as she scanned his battered face, then the rest of his body. With her lingering perusal, thoughts of his wounds and Antonio's irritating attentions to her, fled his mind.

"Mr. Anderson, fetch the medical kit,” she called. “Mr. Thomas, you and Antonio carry Mr. Walters to his tent. Papa, I suggest you see to him. Frankly, I'm liable to do more harm than good at the moment. And you, Doctor, have a seat beside me so I can see to those abrasions."

Stephen opened his mouth to object, afraid he wouldn't be able to stand the torture of her touch, her nearness, without pulling her into his arms, but found his jaw didn't seem to be working properly.

"I think you should do as she says, Doctor. She has a mean temper, that one.” Antonio chuckled and turned to help with Walters.

The men disappeared into the tent carrying his assistant's bleeding, unconscious body, while one of the others appeared with the medical kit.

"Thank you, Mr. Anderson,” Kristina said. “Come along, Doctor. The sooner I see to those abrasions the better."

With leaden feet, he sat down beside her.

Removing the items she needed from the medical kit, she returned the box to Mr. Anderson and sent him off to tend his opponent, leaving them alone for a few minutes.

Stephen speculated on what they could do with their few moments of privacy. Should he use the time to try and convince her to marry him, or just take her in his arms and kiss her senseless? Or should he simply sit there and do nothing?

She lifted his hands and gently placed them in her lap. His gaze roamed over her tearstained face as she examined his knuckles. He would never tire of looking at her. Her long cinnamon hair no longer whipped about in the breeze, but a few stray tendrils fluttered around her face, touching her throat.

He longed to press his lips to the pulsing hollow at the base of her neck, to hear the soft mewing noises she made as he worked his way down to her lush breasts. He sucked in a breath as alcohol came in contact with his battered knuckles, putting a distinct damper on his libidinous thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I know this stings,” she said. “But you really should've thought of that before you decided to behave like a barbarian."

His anger surged up in his throat. “He deserved it,” he growled.

She lifted her warm brown gaze to his. “What did he say to provoke you so terribly?"

Stephen remained silent, unwilling to repeat any of the young man's remarks.

"I see. I'm still the fragile female to you. You think my delicate ears will be offended.” She carefully cupped his chin, and dabbed at the cut on his lip with the sterilized cloth. “I can guess what he said. It isn't as if I haven't heard it all before. Surprisingly enough, women have been the cruelest. They don't seem to be able to adjust to a woman working in a male-dominated profession."

She moved to tend the cut at his brow, bringing her face closer to his, driving the sting of alcohol away.

Dropping the cloth, she examined his face and gently probed with her fingers. “It looks as if you're going to have a black eye and a bruised jaw, but at least your nose isn't broken.” She paused and stared deeply into his eyes. “Although you shouldn't have done it, thank you for defending my honor."

He clasped her hand and held it to his cheek. Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers, savoring her sweetness. Her breath quickened and her hand trembled in his. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Why couldn't she see how good they would be together?

Someone cleared their throat and rather noisily.

Jerking apart, they lifted their heads to find Edwin standing beside them, grinning wider than a child on Christmas morning.

"Now, Papa, it's not what you think,” Kristina said hurriedly.

Stephen's heart chilled at her words. Trying to convince her to marry him was a mistake. He would never be the kind of man she deserved, the sort of man she could love. No matter how much he wanted her, loved her, it would never be enough.

Hanging his thumbs in his suspenders, Edwin rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Oh? And what is it I'm thinking, my dear?"

She stood, her head twisting back and forth between her father and him. “It was—we were—I don't—"

Stephen stood beside her. He had to make the matter clear to Edwin, now that it was perfectly clear to him. “A thank you kiss for defending her honor, Edwin. That's all.” His chest constricted with the false words.

For her it was an experiment in lust, for him it was true, undying love, but for the rest of the world it would have to be nothing more than an innocent kiss of gratitude.

He quickly changed the subject to one less painful. “How is Mr. Walters?"

Edwin's brow creased like a canyon, obviously confused about what was going on between him and his daughter. “Hmm, well, it seems the lad will recover.” He looked at Kristina, now sitting once again on the log, her head bowed.

Stephen glanced at the top of her head, wishing he could reach out and touch her sun-drenched crown. He knew the smell of jasmine would linger in the air from the simple stirring of her tresses, but he would never touch her again.

"I think it would be best,” Edwin continued, “if we sent the boy home, considering the circumstances."

"I quite agree, Edwin. I'm sure he wouldn't wish to stay after this, at any rate. The question now, is how to go about it."

"I can help you with that, Doctor,” Antonio said as he appeared beside them. “When he is fit enough to travel, I can take him to Confluencia on one of your wagons and place him on the train. That way you would be able to continue your work."