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“What do I do?”
“Pack up and leave would be the best solution.”
She nodded, and tears slipped down her cheeks. “Do you think they will allow me to leave?”
He was silent for a long time. “How much are you worth?”
“The inheritance from my grandmother was fifty thousand pounds. If my father has not disinherited me fully, in four years from now on my twenty fifth birthday and every ten years hence, I will be allotted another ten thousand.”
“Hell!”
They continued in quietness, fording a stream and climbing steadily, the tall pine groves and evergreens blotting out the sky. The air got chillier and she shivered. The path he took was seemingly undisturbed. It was also longer than the route she took from the ranch.
She tensed when he broke the long silence.
“You are willing to leave?”
“Yes,” she conceded painfully. She waited for his response but none came, so she faded back into the muteness of the trek.
The sky cracked a little, and cold steady splats landed on her. For a brief while, Elijah dismounted and she rode alone. They came to a narrow path, where she had to descend and walk through a slab of rocks. They came out in a clearing with about six different trails. They remounted and she was grateful for his calm presence. They rode for a few more hours, steadily climbing and then suddenly the cabin was just there.
He dismounted and faced her. She made to dismount but he rested his hands on her hips and halted her. “Would it be so terrible to go east?”
She forced herself to smile. “No.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do not lie to me, Sheridan. Can you start over?”
“I can start over,” she assured, hating that her voice wobbled.
“But?” he prompted.
The West was a raw country, and the Whispering Creek was her home, but it was not worth his blood. She was not sure how to communicate that. In fact, she was not even sure she wanted him to know.
“Please talk to me, Sheridan.”
“I love the land,” she said. “The wildness of it, the beauty of the mountain, the fierceness of the winds, the cries of the cicadas, and the birds that trill in the mead
ows. Peace seeps inside of me as I stand on the ridge and overlook the prairie. I am home here, Elijah. I am never lonely. To smell the nature and see the great buffalos, what more to life can there be?”
The silence was so profound she was certain he could hear the wild beating of her heart. He grunted and she shifted her eyes to meet his gaze. The smell of rain permeated the earth and its slow drops ran in rivulets down her face and neck.
“I do understand. I was born on the frontier. The land is in my blood. It calls to something inside of me and I cannot imagine myself anywhere else.”
Acting on the need that had been beating in her, she leaned into him sliding off the saddle and pressed her lips to his. He froze and her heart surged wildly. With a groan, he took her lips in an endlessly tender kiss, before her feet even touched the ground.
His lips left her mouth and slid hotly down her neck. Excitement thrummed through her blood when his mouth returned to hers, gently marauding. Hot, shivery sensations shot up her spine and arched her back. Before she could respond he eased away and set her from him.
“What is it?” she breathed, gripping the front of his shirt. “Why did you stop?”
He dropped his forehead to hers. “Go inside the cabin and stay away from me. Just for the night. We will talk tomorrow.”
“I do not understand.”
“I am on edge, Sheridan. Do as I say.”
Her feet seemed rooted to the earth. He seemed so out of sorts, it troubled her. He led Orion toward the barn, and she stood watching as he proceeded to rub him down, watered and fed him. Then Elijah went to the water trough and dipped his head into what must be very cold water. “Elijah?”
He faced her. She could see he was drawn taut, that something vibrated from him. His eyes were dark, and dangerous. She realized he was riding the fine tip of his self-control. How had he disguised it so much on the ride there? Her heart lurched but she did not want to leave. She sauntered over to his side. “How can I help?”
