Revealed (40 page)

Two brothers, so very different, yet so similar. Just like her feelings for them both.

Matthew rose at her approach and moved toward her, his back to the fire, his face cast in shadows.

She realized then what it was she’d been looking forward to about tonight. What it was she’d been anticipating. It wasn’t the music or the fireworks or the food. It had been about being with
him,
and enjoying those things together.

‘‘How’s Sadie feeling?’’

He glanced back at the wagon. ‘‘She’s fine. She’s inside, asleep.’’

‘‘Have you just been sitting here all this time, by yourself?’’

He nodded. ‘‘Feeling guilty?’’

His voice held a smile and prompted one from her. ‘‘Maybe a little,’’ she admitted.

‘‘Sadie and I talked for a while. Then once she went to sleep I settled in here, enjoying the quiet and waiting for you.’’

Annabelle held up a hand, not sure she’d heard correctly. ‘‘You and Sadie
talked
?’’

‘‘For a while.’’

‘‘Really?’’

He nodded again. ‘‘Did you have a nice time at the dance?’’

She didn’t want to complain, especially since he’d missed it.

‘‘Yes, it was very nice.’’

He tilted his head in the direction where Brennan had just walked. ‘‘I should probably go talk with him about Sadie. Let him know who might be following us, just in case. I won’t be long.’’ He started in that direction.

As he passed her, Annabelle touched his arm and he stopped.

‘‘I already told Mr. Brennan about all that, just now, as he walked me back.’’ Guilt trickled through her at the lie, and she wished
her
face was shadowed instead of his. ‘‘I thought it would be best if he knew . . . just in case something happened, like you said.’’

Matthew nodded as though he understood the situation, which she knew he didn’t. She needed to tell him the truth. She wanted to. She just didn’t know how to go about it yet.

‘‘Thank you for taking care of that.’’

‘‘You’re welcome,’’ she whispered, surprised when he stepped closer. And even more so when he reached for her hand.

Caught off guard, she watched, speechless, as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her open palm. Once, twice.

A tremble moved through her.

He shifted, and the glow of firelight fell across his face. ‘‘You don’t have to be nervous around me, Annabelle.’’

‘‘I . . . I’m not nervous.’’ She just couldn’t breathe, that’s all.

His slow smile said he begged to differ. ‘‘You’re trembling.’’

She shook her head. ‘‘I’m . . . just chilled.’’

‘‘Really?’’ With his other hand he touched her cheek. ‘‘You feel a mite warm to me.’’

She attempted a laugh, but it came out strangled-sounding. She would have thought her previous experiences with men would have dulled her to the shiver working its way up from somewhere deep inside her. She’d always been in control. Shielded. Detached. As though watching from a distance. But now . . .

She gently pulled her hand away and took a step back.

‘‘What’s wrong?’’

‘‘Nothing’s wrong, Matthew. I just . . .’’ How could she explain this hesitance inside her? For anyone familiar with her past, it would be laughable. Yet humor was the furthest thing from her mind.

‘‘Just what?’’ he asked after a moment, his smile gradually reaching his eyes.

If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought he was toying with her. But she
did
know better. She knew
him
. And yet she also knew that if Matthew hadn’t made up his mind by now to stay in Idaho, then he hadn’t grown to care for her as much as she’d hoped. And she already cared for him far too deeply.

He moved toward her. ‘‘Annabelle, I—’’

Again she put distance between them.

‘‘Why do you keep moving away from me?’’ His quiet voice held only question—not accusation.

She looked everywhere but at him. ‘‘I’m not moving away.

I’m . . . giving us space.’’

‘‘What if I said I don’t want that much space between us? Not anymore.’’ He took a step closer. ‘‘And what if I were to say I don’t think you want that either?’’

Her mouth slipped open. She promptly closed it, wondering what had gotten into this man. Whatever it was, she needed to stop it before it went any further. ‘‘Then I’d say I think you’ve been into the whiskey again, Matthew Taylor. And with no wound to blame it on this time.’’

He laughed, and the sound of it suddenly allowed her to breathe again.

A resounding boom echoed from the opposite side of camp, and seconds later, the night sky lit with bursts of red and white. Another pop sounded and a streak of blue shot straight up into the darkness, exploding into a thousand specks of color. The specks rained down toward the plains, never quite completing their trek.

Cheers could be heard from across the camp.

Annabelle watched the fireworks, while also keeping an eye on Matthew. He hadn’t moved. Neither had she.

A final burst of color filled the sky, followed by more cheers, and then the night fell quiet around them once more.

‘‘Did you enjoy the dancing tonight?’’

She looked over at him, thankful for the momentary reprieve in which to gather her wits. ‘‘You asked me that earlier.’’

‘‘No. Before, I asked you if you had a nice time
at
the dance.’’

She laughed softly, both confused and curious. ‘‘Surely you don’t think I actually danced with anyone, Matthew.’’

‘‘Just answer the question, Annabelle. Please,’’ he added more softly.

She bowed her head for a moment. ‘‘No, I didn’t really enjoy it. The music was nice, people spoke to me. . . . They were all very pleasant, but . . . the dancing wasn’t my favorite part.’’ She gave a slight shrug. ‘‘This evening just didn’t turn out like I’d hoped.’’

A moment passed.

He extended a hand. ‘‘Would you give me a chance to change that?’’

She looked at his outstretched hand, then at him as his question became clearer.

‘‘If it helps, you know we would’ve danced with each other at your wedding, Mrs. McCutchens.
If
we’d been on speaking terms at the time.’’

That coaxed the tiniest laugh from her, but still, she knew she probably shouldn’t. She looked around to see who might be watching or if others were walking back from the celebration. But she and Matthew were quite alone.

He cleared his throat. ‘‘Annabelle, I’m asking you to dance, not marry me.’’

The subtle sarcasm in his voice set her at ease. This was the Matthew she knew and was comfortable with. ‘‘Do you even know how to dance?’’

‘‘Can’t say that I do.’’ He brushed a finger across the top of her hands clasped at her waist and winked. ‘‘I’ll make you a deal. . . . If I miss a step, I’ll let you teach me.’’

Her mouth went dry at the look in his eyes.

She slipped her hand into his, and Annabelle quickly discovered this man didn’t need any lessons. He might not have been the smoothest dancer, but Matthew Taylor knew exactly what he was doing.

Swaying in rhythm to a nonexistent tune, she followed his lead, her hand on his shoulder, his hand pressed against the small of her back.

After a while—she wasn’t sure how long—he stopped, and she drew back slightly so she could see him. He seemed to want to say something, but no words came. Instead, he slowly traced his thumb along the curve of her lower lip. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth, and his silent question was unmistakable. He was asking for her permission.

She wanted to answer, but the hesitance inside her wouldn’t allow it.

Apparently, he interpreted her lack of response as her answer and drew her close to dance once again. He didn’t loosen his hold from before or distance himself. And when he looked down at her again, the intensity in his eyes hadn’t faded. Quite the contrary.

‘‘I can wait,’’ he whispered.

Searching his face, she knew with calming certainty that he meant it. He pulled her closer, and with the crackle of the fire as the only accompaniment, they danced.

What was it about Matthew that touched a place inside her that no other man ever had? Not even Jonathan. And how could she be standing here now, feeling for Matthew what she should have felt for his brother? She half expected a sense of betrayal to accompany the thought. But it didn’t.

She remembered telling Jonathan, just before he died, that if given the opportunity, she would have spent the rest of her life learning to love him the way she wished she could have. And she’d meant it.

‘‘A person can’t give what they haven’t got.’’

Tears rose to her eyes as she remembered what he’d said. She’d given Jonathan all she had to give, at the time. For any other man that wouldn’t have been enough. But it had been for him. And though he never saw the fruit of it, he’d planted within her heart the very thing she lacked in order to love him. Through his unconditional acceptance of her, through his loving her despite her weaknesses and brokenness, he’d taught her how to love.

She stopped dancing and drew back to look at Matthew again.

She laid a tentative hand to his chest. ‘‘Is there any way you’d consider asking me that question again?’’

Matthew’s expression clouded. ‘‘I wish I could, but . . .’’ Barely above a whisper, his voice convinced her she’d missed her chance.

‘‘I just can’t remember the question.’’

She watched a smile inch its way across his mouth. She should have known better than to have left herself open like that. A look of anticipation moved over his face that warmed her, head to toe.

He traced another path—similar to his first, feather light— across her lips. And this time, she answered without hesitation.

He kissed her, gently at first. After a moment, she couldn’t help but smile, and she felt him do the same.

He pulled back slightly. ‘‘Did I miss a step somewhere?’’

‘‘Not at all,’’ she answered softly. ‘‘I’d just like to change my answer to your earlier question. You asked me if I enjoyed the dancing tonight, and I said it wasn’t my favorite part. . . . I was wrong.’’

Satisfaction slipped into his eyes, leaving no doubt he knew what she meant.

‘‘It
has
been my favorite part.’’ She pursed her lips. ‘‘Next to the spiced cider, of course.’’

His arms tightened around her. ‘‘Well, that’s real good to know, ma’am. I’ve always been partial to a good cup of cider myself.’’

Then he cradled the back of her neck and kissed her again, more thoroughly.

CHAPTER | THIRTY - THREE

M
ATTHEW
WATCHED AS
J
ACK
B
RENNAN
made his way through the crowd and toward the wagon that would serve as a makeshift platform. The distant outskirts of Boise City made a welcome backdrop. Nearly two weeks had passed since they’d met up with Brennan’s group, and together, the closeknit community had endured their share of struggles along the way. The steep ascent and even more difficult descent of Big Hill had been a challenge. They’d lost two wagons when the rigging gave way and the ropes snapped, sending two wagons plunging downhill. Thankfully, no one had been seriously hurt in the accident. Though they’d still had time to travel a couple more miles that day, Brennan had insisted they camp there for the night.

Matthew saw several men stop Brennan as he approached the platform, shaking his hand or clapping him on the back. Women reached out and touched his arm, conveying their thanks.

His esteem for Brennan had steadily grown over the past couple of weeks, despite his hasty opinion formed on their first meeting. It had caught him off guard to discover that he and Brennan were so close in age. He’d expected a man with Brennan’s trail experience to be a person of greater years. Someone more like Bertram Colby. And he’d have been embarrassed to admit it to anyone, but having misconstrued Brennan’s initial concern for Annabelle hadn’t helped his opinion of the man either. But even from that, something good had come. It had spurred him to act when he might not have.

‘‘And just what is that smirk for?’’ Annabelle asked, standing beside him.

‘‘I’m not smirking. I was . . . contemplating.’’

‘‘You were too smirking.’’ She turned to Sadie. ‘‘Wasn’t he smirking?’’

The barest hint of a smile touched Sadie’s mouth. ‘‘Yes, Mr.

Taylor, you were.’’

Annabelle grinned at him, giving Sadie a sideways hug. ‘‘See, I told you!’’

Matthew scoffed playfully. ‘‘Ganging up on me again.’’

He and Annabelle had spent a lot of time together over the past few days but none of it alone. Not like the night of the dance. He remembered every detail of their kiss that night. Some days he could think of little else.

Cheers went up as Jack Brennan gained the platform. He raised his hands to quiet the crowd. But instead of growing hushed, the people cheered and clapped all the more. Brennan shook his head and laughed. He waited a moment and tried again. This time, the crowd complied with his wishes.

‘‘Several of our number will be leaving us tomorrow, so this being our last night with all of us together, I thought I’d share a few words.’’

‘‘Only a few, Jack?’’ came a voice from somewhere near the back.

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

‘‘Watch out, Harley. It’s not too late for me to lose you somewhere across Oregon.’’

That drew even more laughter, and Matthew was again impressed by the sense of community that had developed among these people and how easily Brennan fostered it. In a way, he would miss the camaraderie once they branched off tomorrow and headed farther north toward Johnny’s ranch. His anticipation at seeing the land was both exciting and painfully bittersweet.

Brennan started speaking, and the quiet chatter ceased. ‘‘I appreciate each one of the families represented in this gathering tonight. You men and women . . . and children,’’ he added, winking at someone in the front, ‘‘have done well in this journey. You’ve got iron in your souls and determination in your hearts.’’ His deep voice carried over the hushed crowd. He spoke for several minutes, recalling humorous incidents that had happened along the way, reliving memorable moments, and good-naturedly ribbing a few men who tried to heckle him.