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Alex didn’t respond. Laurent would find out soon enough that he hadn’t sought out Evelyn’s bed with the intent to truly claim her as his wife. What he had done instead was make a big mistake, something he seemed to be doing a lot lately where Evie was concerned. Communicating with her proved to be more difficult than trying to barter with a tribe of Indians whose language he hadn’t mastered. At least with the Indians, hand gestures and signs were sufficient means of getting a point across. Every time he spoke to Evelyn he seemed to make matters worse.
She was already skittish as a flighty deer whenever he came near her, and last night she had thought he’d come to her with the intent to force himself on her. Alex tossed the stick into the fire, sending up glowing orange embers. His coffee spilled onto his britches, and he jumped to his feet.
“Damn it all,” he growled, and tossed the remaining contents of his cup over the flames. The fire hissed, and a thick gray smoke plume rose in the air.
“She did not please you, Walker?” Laurent stared up at him, fanning his hand in front of his face. “Perhaps in time, she will learn how –”
“She pleases me just fine.” Alex glared at Laurent, and gritted his teeth. “It’s me who can’t do anything right for her. I’ve told you before, I ain’t no good for her.” He tossed his cup to the ground, and crossed his hands over his chest. Staring into the nearby woods, he cursed under his breath.
Laurent grunted and pushed himself up off the ground. He shook his head, and patted Alex on the shoulder. “I hope for your sake you will regain your sight soon, my friend.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“She is your wife. A woman, a wife, requires her husband’s attention.”
“Evelyn is my wife in appearance only. She and I both agreed to that. I promised to protect her until I can take her back to St. Louis, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” Alex glared at his friend. Laurent cast him a perplexed look. He shook his head and turned, reached for his rifle lying on the ground by his bedroll, and headed into the woods.
“How the hell am I supposed to talk to her?” Alex called after the Frenchman, throwing his arms up in the air. “Every time I try, she gets her feathers ruffled.” Laurent kept walking. He raised his arm and waved in a gesture of dismissal. Alex scoffed and turned back to the dying campfire.
Women! How the hell was a man supposed to communicate with them? He threw some more wood on the fire, and glared at Yancey’s bedroll.
The greenhorn was still sound asleep. Alex envied the man. Sleep didn’t come easy for him lately. He hadn’t had a good night’s rest since arriving at rendezvous, since Evelyn became his responsibility. Thoughts of her consumed him day and night. Evie Lewis, his childhood friend’s baby sister, the woman who stood out among all others the day he arrived in St. Charles, and who had become his wife against her will. The woman he couldn’t touch. He had never been so aware of another person as he was of her. By the law of the land, she was his, yet he couldn’t have her.
Watching her laugh and smile with Laurent during supper the night before, he’d nearly lost his mind. If he had any sense at all, he would set a course for St. Louis rather than head further into the wilds. Better yet, he should ask Laurent to take her back, then he could push forward with his plans to build his cabin in the remote valley at the base of the Teewinots. That had been his intent for almost a year. He craved the solitude. A woman had never been part of his plans.
“Alex?” A soft voice called from behind him.
He spun around on his heels. How had Evie approached him without his notice? If he didn’t start thinking straight, and paid more attention to his surroundings, someone was likely to get killed. These woods were teeming with hostile Blackfeet, eager to add the scalps of white trappers to their belts.
“Good morning,” she said tentatively, smiling softly at him. She stood close enough to touch, close enough for him to catch the scent of the soap she used to wash with every day. The flowery fragrance had filled his senses throughout his sleepless night. His heart rate quickened in his chest, and he braced himself for her sharp words that were sure to come, reprimanding him for invading her privacy. Telling him what a varmint he was.
“Mornin’.” He cleared his throat and stooped over to pick up the tin cup he had tossed to the ground earlier. “There’s coffee.” Alex gritted his teeth. What a stupid thing to say! Evie hadn’t touched a drop of the bitter brew. He knew she didn’t drink the stuff.
“Would you like me to fix some food?” she asked, and stepped closer. Alex straightened to his full height. Her head reached just past his shoulders. Threads of her braided hair fluttered loosely around her face, and he gripped the cup tightly to keep from reaching out and swiping the strands away from her cheek. Her eyes shimmered up at him with expectation. What was different about her today?
