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“Damn, damn, damn,” she swore under her breath, getting tangled in the long skirts when she tried to stand up.
“Are you hurt?” Bull Giles crouched in front of her and reached forward to grip the upper part of her arms.
“I’m fine. I just tripped.” Lorna kept her gaze down as he helped her up.
“You’re trembling,” he accused, and Lorna realized she was vibrating with a mixture of anger and hurt.
“I’m okay, really,” she insisted.
“You’d better let me help you to the cabin.” Bull started to put his arm around her shoulders for support, but Lorna spread her hands across his broad chest to stop him.
“No really …” Her protest died when she lifted her head and saw the undemanding adoration burning in his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, Bull,” Lorna whispered.
“It was seein’ Benteen in there with her, wasn’t it?” he guessed. “The man’s a fool. If you ever want to leave him, Lorna, just say the word and I’ll take you and the boys anywhere you want to go. I’ll look after you. You know that.”
“Don’t.” She shook her head. “I could never leave him.”
His big callused hand brushed the side of her face in an involuntary caress. The deep, gentle longing was there in his eyes for her to see. It changed the harshness of his blunted features into vulnerability. There was a faint noise, but it didn’t have any significance to Lorna until she heard the savage bite of Benteen’s voice. “Get your hands off my wife!”
Lorna whirled around to face him. He towered above them on the steps. She whitened when she saw his hand on the butt of his gun. Suddenly a woman’s hand closed around his wrist to check any attempt to draw it from the holster.
Benteen’s hot gaze shifted to the woman at his side. “Get him out of here before I kill him.”
Lorna’s feet seemed to be rooted to the ground as Lady Crawford descended the steps with an unhurried grace. Lorna stared at Benteen, feeling the violence that emanated from him like a living thing.
“Help me into the buggy, Mr. Giles,” Lady Crawford ordered calmly.
Lorna hardly noticed her two small sons hurry over to stand beside her and wave to Bull as the buggy rolled away. When Benteen turned on his heel to stride into the house, a shudder racked through her body.
“What’s the matter, Mommy?” Webb asked.
“Nothing, dear,” she lied. “Let’s go back to the cabin, shall we?”
The silence at the supper table that night was so heavy it nearly suffocated Lorna. Benteen had barely said one word to the boys, and less than that to her. The food was tasteless. She ended up pushing it around on her plate without eating it.
After the table was cleared, Benteen spread his paperwork on it and turned up the lamp. It seemed impossible, but the tension increased. Lorna put the boys to bed earlier than usual, but a day of hard play had them quickly falling asleep. There was mending to be done, but Lorna couldn’t tolerate the thought of sitting in the chair near Benteen to share the light of his lamp.
Sleep was the farthest thing from her mind, but she went behind the canvas wall and began undressing for bed. At least the cloth might serve as a barrier to block out the tension that filled the rest of the cabin.
Her dress was lying across the top of the trunk. As Lorna stepped out of her long slip, the curtain was yanked back. She stiffened at the cold look on Benteen’s face.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
“I’m tired and I’m going to bed.” She tossed the slip on top of the plain calico dress.
“And do what? Dream about running away with Bull Giles?” Benteen challenged.
Lorna was startled by his question. “Did you hear him say that?” She blurted out the question because she hadn’t thought he had come outside in time to overhear their conversation.
“It was just a guess.” His lips were pulled back to show the even
row of white teeth ground together. “But an accurate one.”
“Not really, since it was Bull who—”
“‘Bull,’ is it?” He seized on her familiarity. “Not ‘Mr. Giles’ anymore.”
“Stop it, Benteen,” she protested irritably, and half-turned, not wishing to continue this embittered argument.
