She reached for the chair, righted it, and sank into its solid seat. Someone had angrily trashed the cabin. No, searched it. But why? "Were they looking for gold?"
"Count on it." He marched straight to the stove and kicked it, furious at the mess. "Some people will kill unarmed men just to get their hands on it."
"Is it safe here?" She had never considered bandits might loot a person's home. Or perhaps take more than their gold. How terrifying.
"Safe enough." A muscle jumped in his tensed jaw, but the steady confidence in his gaze told her he would always be there to protect her.
"Is there a lot of murder around here?"
"Enough to make a man cautious, but no more. The town is very peaceable. Probably because the claims just aren't panning out."
"You mean there isn't enough gold to steal? But I found that nugget when we were at the creek. Aren't all the claims like that?"
"Staking out a claim is a gamble." He set the table back on its legs. "Not many claims pay out, or some men simply don't have the patience to work the land."
She bent to salvage enough clean bedding for the night, although some of it had lain directly on the muddy floor and would need to be washed. Some of the clothes were salvageable as well. She joined Wyatt in the silent task of righting the foodstuffs.
"What the hell is this?" His angry curse boomed through the silence. "That no good thief took all my whiskey bottles."
The destruction of their home left her feeling vulnerable. Garnet knelt before the stove and stacked the kindling. What truly mattered was that they were safe, that they hadn't been harmed in a robbery. And Wyatt's stolen gold, which was obviously what the trespasser had been looking for, could be replaced.
"The fire will soon be hot enough to boil coffee," she promised. "Looks like the thief left Mr. Carson's chocolates alone."
Wyatt set the grinder on the table, his eyes troubled, his powerful muscles tensed.
"We'll make it right, don't worry." She laid her hand on his and wished she could fix everything that had ever hurt him. Or ever would.
"I'm not worried, Garnet. I just want to know who did this." A deep worry furrowed his brow.
"It doesn't matter. Let them have all your gold. We have everything we need."
And it was true, she realized. All she would ever need to be happy was this one magnificent man.
* * *
There was so much sympathy in her jeweled blue eyes that Wyatt simply couldn't tell her the truth. Not when they shared a cup of coffee, not later when they finished straightening up the cabin, and not at supper when they enjoyed Garnet's delicious pancakes.
All he had to say was that he'd lied to her. That he wasn't a miner. That the thief was a murderer and was still looking for all of Ben's gold . . . and hadn't found it. He was more concerned the killer had discovered his true profession.
Yes, that was a real worry. He'd been able to conduct his investigation leisurely, watching those who never suspected he wasn't what he claimed to be. Maybe it had been a bad call that he'd left his marshal's badge in the far corner of the straw tick because he didn't want to take it with him. He didn't want to risk Garnet finding it.
And while he'd found his badge safe and sound in the tick where he'd left it, he couldn't be certain his identity was still a secret. Had the killer discovered it? Probably not, but the possibility troubled him.
They ate together as the night deepened and the snow on the canvas roof overhead stopped dripping and began to freeze. Then they did the dishes together. He dried while she washed. They talked over their home improvement plans. Garnet spoke knowledgeably of carpentry and wanted to help him with the roof. She would like a wood floor, she added. Dirt was cool in summer, but she wasn't overly fond of mud.
"Wait until it freezes," he teased.
She swatted him with soap bubbles and they laughed. She wanted a few windows, too. She'd noticed glass panes in Carson's general store. They weren't too expensive and would let in warmth from the winter sun. It would save on firewood, wood he would have to chop.
Wyatt emptied the wash basins for her. She liked a man who didn't mind domestic tasks. A warm feeling glowed in her chest from their closeness. It was nice sharing worries and work and plans. Very nice.
"It's getting late and we should get a good night's sleep." She dried her hands on a towel and granted him a shy smile.
"Do you think we can both fit in that small bed?" His wicked grin didn't fool her.
"Maybe if we cuddle really close."
"Let's find out." The air was so cold even in the cabin, his breath came out in great clouds. But his kiss was hot against her mouth and soon she was warm everywhere.
He turned down the lantern's wick so only a faint light brushed across the bed. He scooped her up in his arms and laid her across the mattress. He took off her shoes and tickled her toes. Laughing, he fell across her.
When his mouth found hers, Garnet's giggling was replaced by a throaty moan. She surrendered to him completely, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around his neck. Sweet minutes passed while he kissed her. Already she was breathing fast and hard, knowing what was to come. His hand explored the sensitive skin of her neck, tracing a line from chin to collar. Then his lips followed, trailing delightful kisses down her throat.
"How do I get inside this dress?" he whispered.
"The buttons." She twisted away from him to reveal the small gray pearls marching up her back.
"I'm in the shadows. I can't see them."
"Then you'll have to go by feel," she teased.
The small bed was cramped. He jabbed her in the ribs accidentally with his elbow, then kissed the spot to make it better. She felt butterfly tugs at her buttons and desire curling around her spine. Cool air breezed across her back as the dress fell loose about her shoulders.
She rolled over and watched his gaze fall to her chemise-covered breasts.
"There's more clothing," he observed.
All she wanted was his hands and his mouth on her breasts. "Help me out of my chemise."
His hands fumbled with the wide muslin straps at her shoulders. The garment came away, exposing her red winter underwear. He groaned, then helped her remove that article of clothing, only to discover more.
"How many layers are you wearing?" he demanded, staring at her muslin-covered corset.
"You look completely shocked. Surely you've seen a simple corset before."
"Not in all my memory," he admitted, staring at the stiff, awkward garment that more closely resembled armor than underclothes. He didn't see the need to explain he'd never undressed Amelia, who was not happy to perform her wifely duties and, well, he just lacked experience with such mechanical-looking clothing. "How do I get it off? Do I need a wrench or a saw blade?"
She leaned on her side. "Try untying the laces."
"I think we ought to start a new rule." He pressed a moist kiss between her shoulder blades.
"What rule?"
"You are not allowed to wear these unbreachable undergarments." He tugged on the laces and they gave. "I need easier access."
Laughing, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in the clean scent of his half-unbuttoned shirt. He smelled deliciously male, like freshly sawed wood, winter air and horses. She breathed in, memorizing his scent. She couldn't get enough, touch enough, remember enough. Winter would end, like her stay here, and she wanted to tuck each precious moment into her heart to warm the cold, lonely evenings in Willow Hollow.
Her bared breasts, freed from the unending layers of clothing, firmed in the cool brush of the night air. Wind rustled overhead, and Wyatt ran his fingers along the outside curve of one breast.
Everywhere he touched her, she burned. The more he touched her, the more she wanted him. She ran her hands across his chest, down his abdomen and lower. Desire coiled tight in her belly. How she wanted him, how she craved the feel of him pumping and pulsing inside her.
Finally he moved between her thighs and sheathed his hot length inside her. She wrapped her body around his and gave herself up to the heat and the passion. It was more than physical joining, more than two individual people, greater than anything she had ever known. Her release crashed over her, rippling in great breathless waves.
When they were spent, Wyatt spooned his body around hers and tucked the muslin sheets and heavy wool blankets around them. Her head fit beneath his chin and his hand lay between her breasts, right over her heart.
Sleep came slowly, but it was the sweetest slumber she had ever known.
Chapter Fourteen
Garnet had never felt so invigorated. Perhaps it was the frosted morning air that greeted her, rousing her blood. Or perhaps it was this land itself, rugged and vital. But as she heated her wash water on the stove, she knew there was another reason.
The passionate night spent in Wyatt's arms.
She heard his hammer outside, ringing with each precise stroke. After her morning's work, she had agreed to join him up on the roof. He would need help laying the boards and sealing them with pitch. Tomorrow they could nail on the shingles. Already she could see how pleasant this cabin would be, just the two of them cuddling close through the long winter.
Contented with those romantic daydreams, Garnet gathered up the lye, her brush, her towels, and her bucket and headed outside. She had been up early cleaning what she could of the cabin. Now, all she had to do was her weekly outhouse cleaning, and then she could start on the laundry. Sweet Katy would soon be arriving to help out.
Snow had just started to fall in crisp, delicate flakes that stuck to her eyelashes and clung faithfully to the frozen ground. Wyatt was high up on the ladder, replacing a cracked board. He waved down to her, a smile bright on his cold-reddened face. "More cleaning?"
"Just getting the chores done. When you see Katy coming from town, let me know. I'll put on some water to boil. She's going to be helping me with the business."
"Where are you headed with that bucket of lye water? You'd better leave my stable alone."
"Really, clean a stable? Who ever heard of such a thing?" She tightened her hold on her scrub brush. "I am going to clean the privy."
"The outhouse?" He tipped his head back and laughed. "Really, Garnet, you've gone too far."
"I'm sure you've never cleaned one," she retorted, not at all surprised. "If you scrub it clean and add lye weekly, then it stays fresh-smelling and pleasant."
"Think of you to find a way to make the outhouse smell good." Wyatt laughed harder.
Well, who wouldn't clean a privy? Garnet flung open the outhouse door and lowered the bucket to the floor. She dunked her brush into the steaming lye water, knelt before the board seat and scrubbed with all her strength. The wooden bench wobbled, loosening more with each brush stroke.
How handy. She could slip the entire flat board off its wooden supports and take it outside. Then she could really get down on her knees and get the thing clean. There would be no awkward bending and no twisting to get into those dark corners.
Garnet set down her brush and began to tug. Finally it came loose, and she tipped the seat sideways to slip it out through the door.
But a shape in the shadows drew her back. Vermin? Stifling a scream, she picked up her brush. Then she realized the shadows between the boards didn't move.
What on earth? She leaned closer. Why, those lumps were little bags. She brushed one with her finger. She felt the rough edges beneath the burlap. She grabbed one sack and tugged the drawstrings open.
Yes, it was gold. By her estimation, the nuggets looked to be the same size as the one Wyatt had given her that day at the creek. And there were five sacks of them!
"Garnet?" Wyatt's voice. "I can see someone coming from town. I think it's Katy."
She couldn't speak. She could only stare at the sack in her hand, heavy and bulky, as Wyatt approached.
"Damn." His curse sounded like regret. "You found my stash of gold."
"This is what the thief was looking for," she choked. "You might have told me you hadn't lost your gold."
"I'm not certain that is what he wanted." Wyatt laid a hand on her shoulder.
"What else could he want? You have a fortune hidden away in the privy, of all places."
"It's not all my gold."
His confession startled her. She looked up at him, trying to measure the troubled shadows in his eyes. He lifted the burlap sack from her hands.
"Much of this was my brother's gold. This was his claim. He was killed in a violent struggle this past summer. From what I could tell someone tortured him trying to make him reveal where he hid his gold."
"And he never told?"
"Never."
Her hands trembled. Her knees felt weak. The safe winter world she'd dreamed of sharing with Wyatt faded. "Will the same thing happen to you?"
What would she do without him? The thought of losing him tore through her heart. She watched him replace the bag of gold with the others. Grim and silent, he nailed the board seat into place.
It occurred to her then that he'd lied. About his claim, about his gold. She could understand it; he didn't want anyone to know. What happened to his brother could happen to them. He wanted to protect her.
