Page 47 of Short-Straw Bride

She took a step toward him and braced her hands on her hips. “One of these days someone is going to call your bluff, Travis, and you’ll either have to take whatever they dish out or pull that trigger and live with the consequences. I didn’t want today to be that day.

“Moses outweighs you by at least forty pounds.” Meredith eyed him dubiously. Travis straightened to his full height and glared at her. “You might’ve been willing to take him on, but I wasn’t willing to let you try, not when I had the ability to clear up the misunderstanding with a simple explanation. So I did what I had to do. I’m an Archer, remember? We protect our own.”

He wanted to throttle her. He truly did. Throwing his words back in his face as if the crazy woman actually thought he needed her protection. It was his job to protect her, not the other way around. Yet hearing her declare herself an Archer filled him with such satisfaction, he chose not to correct her misguided notions.

For now.

“Just promise me that you won’t put yourself in harm’s way again.”

She lifted her chin. “I promise not to intentionally put myself in harm’s way . . . unless I deem it necessary to protect the well-being of another.”

Did she have to make everything so complicated? Travis bit back a sigh. At least she agreed to comply with his dictate for the most part. That’d have to be good enough. He’d just ignore the obstinate set of her mouth.

Only he couldn’t.

He stared at her lips. Watching them soften as her defiance faded. Imagining the feel of them against his own. Would she welcome a real kiss from him? Not another chaste meeting of lips like at their wedding, but a deep, intimate joining?

Travis jerked his gaze to the sky and flared his nostrils as he strove to subdue the stampede of desire thundering through him. He’d always found his wife attractive, but he’d not been prepared for this sudden ambush of cravings—to kiss her, touch her . . .

Could she read his thoughts? Was he frightening her? ’Cause he was sure as shootin’ scaring himself.

“I don’t mean to make you angry, Travis,” Meredith said, her expression more stubborn than fearful, thank the Lord. “But I can’t promise to do something that may violate my conscience.”

Angry? What was she talking about? “I’m not mad at you, Meri.”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re not? I could have sworn you were counting to ten or something, trying to keep your temper in check.”

Travis nearly laughed aloud. His sweet, innocent wife had no idea what he’d been trying to keep in check. And he wanted to keep it that way. At least until he learned how to control it a little better.

“I promise I’m not m—”

Meredith’s gasp cut him off.

“Oh my stars!” Her panicked eyes darted past him to the house and had him reaching for his rifle to confront the threat. “My cornbread!” She grabbed a fistful of skirt and sprinted down the path and across the yard.

Travis let out a breath and watched her go, propping the unneeded rifle on his shoulder. She sure was a pretty thing. Feisty, too. And even though he hated that she’d put herself in danger, he had to admit that her courage and tender heart were the things he admired most about her.

Perhaps it was time he got serious about courting his wife.

Travis secretly schemed during supper, determined to wait for the right moment. When Meredith cleared away the dessert plates and the empty pie tin that earlier had been filled with sweet, flaky apple goodness, he excused himself to go check on the stock.

If the woman was trying to sweeten him up, she was doing a right fine job of it. He couldn’t remember ever tasting anything as delectable as that apple pie. It only made him more anxious to get his wife alone. When he carried his coffee cup to where she stood washing the dishes, he caught the faint aroma of cinnamon and apples clinging to her even after the pie had been fully consumed. He couldn’t wait to see if the taste lingered on her lips, as well.

After checking that the horses had adequate feed and water for the night, he headed back to the house with Sadie trailing at his heels. The sun had already dipped beneath the horizon, and light quickly faded from the sky. The moon promised to be bright, though—the perfect backdrop for a courting stroll.

He bent to pat Sadie’s head, but the sound of the front door opening urged him back to an upright position. Jim crossed the porch, an unlit lantern in hand.

“Heading to your workshop?” Travis strode forward to meet him at the base of the steps.

“Yep.” Jim halted when he reached the ground and hesitated, as if waiting to see if any other conversation would be necessary.

“Whatcha making this time?”

Jim tipped the brim of his hat back and shrugged. “One of them chests womenfolk like to store blankets and such in.”

“Oak or pine?” Travis asked, not concerned so much with the answer as in keeping the conversation going.

“Oak.”