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Garrett knew he’d placed himself in jeopardy defending her. He’d embarrassed and humiliated Ketchum. Scores of Colored men had been beaten and killed for less. Should he have chosen caution and waited for one of the other men in the room to shut Ketchum’s vile mouth? And if none had, then what? Was he supposed to ignore it and pretend the verbal taunting was deserved? Spring admitted to being gossiped about; even the sheriff said she’d been no angel back then. However, that didn’t give Ketchum the right to speak to her so disrespectfully. Garrett expected Ketchum to seek revenge but when the time came, he’d not go down without a fight.
Now, though, Spring had invited him home. Since their time together during the blizzard he’d sensed a mutual attraction. He hadn’t expected such a bold offer though. He glanced over at her in the moonlight and wondered if she’d be as fiery in bed as she was in life. The brief kiss they’d shared gave him a taste of the passionate woman hidden beneath her tough exterior, and he was anxious to explore her fully and without interruption.
Once they arrived at her property, he watched while she swapped her fancy slippers for a pair of serviceable boots she retrieved from the buggy’s backseat. “I have to unhitch the mare from the buggy and with the ground being so soft, I don’t want these shoes ruined. You can go inside and start a fire. I’ll join you as soon as I’m done.”
He countered, “How about I be the partner we spoke of and help with the buggy?”
“What about your hand?”
“It’s sore but not so much that I can’t assist you.”
He sensed she wanted to argue but seemed to think better of it and surrendered. “Okay.”
Once the mare was bedded down and the other horses seen to, they let the moonlight guide them to the house.
The interior was as cold as it was outside. While he started a fire, she pulled her shawl closer and lit a few lamps. “I’ll get the ice.”
She returned with a small metal bucket. Seated on her sofa, he stuck his hand into it and hissed as the cold settled into his skin. After a few moments he lifted the hand free. He repeated the process a few more times before flexing the hand and wincing a bit.
“How’s it feel?” she asked.
“It’s so cold it’s hard to tell, but I’m sure this is helping. I’ll know better in the morning.”
“I can make you some bark tea if you’d like.”
“Maybe later.”
An awkward silence rose. It was as if neither of them knew how or where to begin their night together, so he opted for small talk, hoping that might help. “Do you get your ice from an icehouse?”
“No. I have some stored underground inside one of my outbuildings.”
She must’ve seen his confusion. “Once the rivers freeze, we harvest it, so to speak, by chopping out big pieces and hauling them home. They’re put underground in a large hole and covered with straw. In a good winter we can store enough to last until mid-June, depending on how fast the temperatures rise in the spring.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“It’s pretty common here.”
He withdrew his hand from the ice one last time and dried it with the towel she’d given him earlier. He flexed his fingers again. “I think that’s enough for now.”
She took the bucket. “I’m going to set this outside. Depending on how cold it gets it might be still usable in the morning if you need it.”
When she returned the parlor was a bit warmer, thanks to the fire. She took him in, then looked away, saying, “I should get a fire started in my room. Come join me?”
He studied her silently in the wavering light of the flames. “You can still change your mind, Spring.”
“I know,” she said quietly, “but I won’t.”
“Okay, then.” He rose to his feet and followed her.
Spring lit the small lamp on the nightstand by her bed and turned it low. Shivering from the chill, she made a fire and watched while the flames grew. Across the room Garrett stood silently, framed by the doorway and the shadows. She drew in a deep breath to calm her uncharacteristic jitters. “Are you coming in or planning on standing over there all night?” she asked, attempting a light tone.
He closed the door, crossed the distance between them, and stopped behind her. Gently caging her with his arms, he nuzzled the edge of her hair. Her eyes closed as sensation flared. “Come sit with me while the room warms up,” he invited.
He placed one of her upholstered chairs close to the blazing fire then sat. Spring could count on two, maybe three fingers the number of times she’d sat on a man’s lap.
As she hesitated, he lightly took her hand and asked, “No?”
“Just unexpected.”
