Spring Blossom Read online

  She looked over her shoulder, nodded, and reached for the two bedrolls in lieu of the sack. Once she had dropped the bundles in a place she considered suitable for a fire, she returned to the wagon and stood by patiently while Hunter unharnessed the bays.

  He knew she was there, just behind him, and he was pleased…but he was also a little stunned by this change in her, this willingness to help, and he could only wonder what had brought it about literally overnight.

  He clipped a lead rope to each of the halters and handed both to her. Before she could turn away from him, Hunter reached out and gently touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and watched a look of confusion steal across her face.

  Margaret stood there for a brief moment, distracted by the thought that his touch had been warm and gentle and she had liked it. She had actually enjoyed his touch!

  She raised her eyes to his briefly, the lead ropes draping across her thighs as she dropped her hands to her sides. “How is it that you can confuse me so easily?” she asked and then turned on her heel and clicked the bays into action.

  Hunter watched her go, smiling happily. “A little confusion is good,” he murmured

  Together they set up camp and Hunter had begun to prepare a stew when he heard horses approaching from beyond the bend in the road. “Two riders are coming,” he said as he casually reached for the rifle he kept near at hand. “Stay close behind me until we determine who these people are,” he said lightly.

  Margaret needed no second coaxing; she was on her feet and moving around the fire before he had finished speaking.

  Hunter stood with the rifle bore pointing toward the ground while Maggie peered around his shoulder at the two men who came into view. From a distance they appeared to be gentlemen, but on closer inspection she saw they were men of meager means.

  The younger of the two was Hunter’s age, she guessed. He was a man of firm build, and although his clothes were relatively clean, his coat and trousers had seen better days. What disconcerted her most about him was the cruelty of his eyes…eyes that looked directly into hers.

  The second man was somewhat older, of slovenly appearance and with several broken teeth. He seemed primarily interested in expanding his paunch, as his attention was immediately directed to their supper simmering in the black iron pot. But his foolish gaping grin unsettled her.

  And she was furious when Hunter invited them to join their camp that night. Her heart pounding with fear, her mind exploding with rage, Margaret stomped off in Hunter’s wake when he went to the stream to fetch more water.

  “What on earth possessed you to invite those…those men to stay?” she demanded as she ducked and skirted under branches and around trees.

  In a few short moments they emerged from the stand of trees beside a slow-moving stream. Hunter knelt on the bank and lowered a wooden pail into the water. “I’m only demonstrating polite hospitality,” he told her. “Don’t worry about them.”

  “But they’re evil, Hunter. I can feel it. They’ll rob us and…and…”

  “And worse,” he murmured, knowing full well her thoughts. He set the bucket on the bank and straightened, staring back in the direction of their camp. “I agree.”

  “Then why?” she cried. “Please send them away.”

  Hunter crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her, his dark brows drawn together in serious thought. “Maggie, if you knew there was a bobcat in the area would you prefer to have it skulking at your back in the dark of night or within the light of your campfire?”

  She stared up at him in confusion for a moment and then responded with a simple, quiet, “Oh.”

  He nodded his head when he saw that she had understood his meaning. “I want them where I can see them.”

  Deferring now to his judgment, she silently acknowledged his wisdom before turning to proceed him through the dense trees, retracing their path. They were approaching their campsite when Margaret suddenly stopped short, and Hunter found himself close to sending her sprawling before he could reverse his forward momentum and stop directly behind her. He opened his mouth to admonish her as water from the pail sloshed down the leg of his hide trousers. And then he noticed the reason for her action. Their friend with the paunch was grinning at Maggie, unconcerned that he was unfastening his trousers.

  Margaret had already turned her back on the man and Hunter put his free arm around her shoulders, drawing her close as he frowned at the man.

  “Stay here while I have a word with him.”

  She immediately grasped the front of his white cotton shirt with both hands. “Don’t leave me,” she pleaded, frantic.

  “I’ll be back for you in a moment,” he said quietly, bending to leave the bucket beside her. “Just stand where you are.” He removed her hands and stepped around her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder before he moved away.

  Hunter approached as the man was refastening his trousers, longing to wipe the grin off the filthy face.

  “A mite flighty, that girl of yours,” said the man with the paunch, still grinning.

  “That girl is a lady, and don’t you forget it,” Hunter ground out.

  “Bit hard to tell, appears to me, bein’ she wears pants ‘n’ all.”

  “Regardless of what she is wearing, she is a lady. If you upset her again, you and I will do more than discuss the matter.”

  Suddenly the grin disappeared. “Hey, friend,” the stranger cajoled. “I was just answerin’ the call of nature.”

  “Next time answer the call far away from the lady,” he returned angrily. “Do you understand?”

  “Sure. Sure!”

  “Good. And you might also warn you friend.”

  “Sure. Sure,” he grumbled again and hastily ambled toward camp.

  When Hunter returned to her, Margaret had not moved except to clasp her hands in front of her. “He’ll behave in a more gentlemanly fashion in the future,” he said matter-of-factly as he bent to pick up the bucket.

  Margaret looked away, mortified. It seemed to make matters worse that such a thing had happened while she was in Hunter’s presence. A perplexing thought, since she was also intensely grateful that she had not been alone.

  Suddenly she felt gentle fingers under her chin and Hunter was forcing her head around as he frowned with concern. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t have you subjected to such performances. He and his friend have been fairly warned,” he added in a deadly voice that sent a shiver up her spine.

  She was grateful for this display of protectiveness, but she sensed a violence in him that frightened her. Instinctively she tried to lighten the moment. “I’m being a child, Hunter. The man posed no real threat to me, after all.”

  “But this incident has raised another issue,” he returned firmly, taking her arm and leading her back through the trees. “Something is sadly lacking in your education, my love, and I intend to correct that.”

  Margaret merely frowned at him, clearly puzzled.

  Hunter was silent for a long moment as he mentally chastised himself for not having seen the problem before now. Maggie had every right to fear men, and her fears could only be magnified by her sense of vulnerability. And she was vulnerable because she did not know how to defend herself in situations where she felt threatened. “Tomorrow your lessons begin, little one,” he said softly. “Tomorrow you will learn how to take control.”

  *

  She helped Hunter prepare supper and was rewarded with frequent understanding smiles form him. She stayed very close to his side, and he, in turn, kept a close eye on her as she moved about the camp.

  As Margaret served the food, Hunter passed the heaping plates to the two men, then sat close beside her while he ate. When she washed the plates he had collected, he sat directly behind her, his back supported by a boulder, one leg stretched out before and the other drawn up, supporting his forearm. He casually held a cup of coffee in that hand, allowing it to cool while his eyes and ears
took in everything around him.

  The washing up was almost completed as she listened intently to the conversation of the men, when the younger of the two guests spoke.

  “Good coffee,” he drawled. “Mind if I have another cup?” His question might have been directed to Hunter but his eyes were fixed on Margaret.

  Nevertheless, Hunter responded. “Help yourself.”

  The man smiled, the action seeming to make his chin disappear and his eyes grow even more fierce. “The lady is right there.”

  “The lady has had a long day,” Hunter returned evenly. “You are welcome to all the coffee you wish, but service is not included in the offer.”

  Glaring gray eyes remained transfixed by Hunter’s dark ones. The suddenly false smiles appeared on their faces.

  “Of course,” the stranger said carelessly. “You’ve been more than generous already.” As he moved toward the fire, Margaret backed away from the vicinity of the coffee pot.

  “Come here, Maggie,” she heard Hunter whisper, and she scurried backward, dragging the seat of her britches in the dirt.

  Hunter had spread his legs father apart and, when she reached him, he pulled her back gently to lean against his chest. His entire body seemed to envelop hers like a strong cocoon, and Margaret did not miss the message he was conveying; she was safe.

  “You appear most protective of the lady, sir,” the younger man said as he concentrated on pouring his coffee.

  Hunter smiled with just the needed degree of menace. “My lady, sir,” he said. “My wife. Does that explain the matter to you?” He waited for a protest from Margaret, but realized she was too frightened to disagree with anything he said. When he felt her shudder, his free hand went to her upper arm, even as he took a sip of his coffee, and gave her a small, reassuring squeeze.

  The man placed the coffee pot back in its nesting spot at the edge of the fire and eyed her again.

  Hunter glared as the man ogled Maggie. Eyes narrowed, he asked in a controlled but meaningful voice, “You do understand, sir?”

  “Of course,” came the hasty reply, “of course, my friend, I have no desire to cause undue…strain upon you or your lady.”

  Tensions eased as a polite conversation followed, and eventually those around the fire began to relax as the men discussed topics of general interest.

  Margaret didn’t speak a word the entire evening and moved only once, to refill Hunter’s cup and pour some coffee for herself. Then she immediately returned to the shelter of Hunter.

  As for Hunter, he was enjoying the nearness of her, of her willingness to allow his touch. Although he did not delude himself as to her reasons for staying close, he was content to have her there, nestled between his thighs and resting back against his chest as he sensed her becoming weary.

  Eventually he moved away, after telling her he would spread their bedrolls, but as Margaret’s gaze moved from one stranger to the other across the flames, she lost what little courage she thought she possessed and jumped up to follow.

  “I need some privacy,” she told him.

  Hunter laughed softly as he dropped a blanket in a heap at his feet. “You won’t find it with me, will you?” he teased, but he touched her cheek lightly with his strong, warm fingers. “Come along then, love. I’ll wait for you by the wagon.”

  When they returned to camp Margaret spread her blankets as close as possible to Hunter’s, across the fire from the two men.

  He laughed softly when he saw her ploy and whispered, “Better the devil you know…”

  She smiled coyly. “I don’t wish to disturb your sleep again when I feel cold in the night.”

  After removing her boots, she crawled, fully clothed, beneath her blanket.

  Hunter placed the rifle on the edge of his blanket before removing his shirt and boots, all the time aware of the movements of their guests. He did not really believe they would attempt anything foolish, but one could never be certain what went through the minds of scavengers such as these.

  He pulled his blanket to his waist as he lay on his side facing the fire, their guests and Maggie’s back. “Maggie?” he whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “Turn to me.”

  “No.”

  He placed one hand on her shoulder and rolled her onto her back.

  Looking up at him she said with quiet earnestness. “I want them where I can see them.”

  He laughed a rich, husky laugh. “You just leave them to me, my fractious filly. Turn and face this way or you won’t close your eyes all night. I know you at least that well.”

  She conceded his statement to be true and turned, settling herself once again.

  But she found it somewhat disconcerting to be staring at his naked chest.

  *

  Hunter awoke well before dawn, with the first whisper of movement from their visitors. He lay perfectly still holding Maggie against him with his right arm under her shoulder and curled around her back, while he lowered his left arm between them until he could wrap his fingers around the butt of his rifle.

  The two men gathered only their own belongings however, knowing their host was not congenial toward them. Also, having seen the weapon he kept within his reach, neither wanted any truck with Hunter Maguire.

  As the two strangers buzzed back and forth quietly on the far side of the embers of a dying fire, Maggie stirred, rubbing her cheek against Hunter’s arm and raising one leg between them.

  “Easy, my pet,” he breathed. “Sleep on.” He did not want the distraction of her awaking disoriented or alarmed.

  But Maggie slept on, sleeping the sleep of one exhausted and well protected, as Hunter eyed the two men until they had saddled their own horses and ridden away.

  Hunter slowly moved the rifle out from between their bodies and laid it along the backs of his legs, then used his left arm to enfold Maggie and draw her deeper into the possessive, protective curve of his body.

  If only he could hold her whenever he wished. Although lying with her like this did have its drawbacks. Certain parts of his anatomy had awakened long ago, and it was disconcerting to say the least to find his britches painfully snug while knowing there was little he could do to relieve his discomfort.

  He wanted her more than he had ever desired any woman, but he wanted her not for an evening, not for one brief moment of release, but for an eternity. And achieving such an end would require his forbearance now.

  She awoke slowly, groaning softly against the aches the hard ground had caused in her body, stretching delicately like a soft, warm cat within the shelter of his arms. Her nose bumped his chin when she arched her head back, and he smiled with the pleasure of it while lying perfectly still for fear of ending the pure joy of the moment.

  Suddenly Margaret seemed very alert, her body stiffening with something that plagued her as she whispered against his shoulder, “The two men…?”

  “They’ve gone, sweet,” he murmured. “And, good morning,” he added lightly.

  Margaret’s lips tilted upward against his arm in response to the smile in his voice. “Good morning,” she returned quietly and found, to her surprise, that she was loath to move away from his warmth. Daring to snuggle closer, arms and elbows bent between them, she asked sleepily, “Will we be home today, Hunter?”

  Hunter’s heart vaulted in his chest with the velvet texture of her voice…her use of the word “home” and the whispered sound of his name on her lips. Perhaps, he hoped, just perhaps, she had begun to soften toward him. “Yes, we’ll be home today,” he said warmly.

  “Must I get up now?”

  He chuckled deep within his chest. “Slugabed,” he teased. “We won’t be home in time for supper at this rate.”

  “You’re not moving too quickly,” she accused.

  “I don’t want to get up either,” he admitted. And why should he; it may be a very long before she allowed him to get this close again.

  Margaret stretched out fully then, her toes point north and her arms reaching abov
e her head as she rolled away from him. And just as quickly, she was curling up against him again. “I seem to want to stay here,” she murmured as his arms went around her again. “Is that bad of me?”

  Hunter shook his head against the rolled blanket he had used as a pillow. “It’s not bad of you, Maggie,” he breathed. Then he spoke again, just as softly, against the silky hair that so enthralled him. “Don’t you know that this is a natural place for you to be?”

  She was silent for a time, breathing in the heady scent of him, as she woke more fully. She had to admit she liked being close to him. It seemed as if all her childish dreams of him had suddenly grown up and come to life. But they had matured ahead of her, and Margaret did not think herself capable of seeing those old dreams through to their natural conclusion.

  She felt his lips lightly brush her brow and Margaret tugged back against his hold. “You kissed me,” she accused.

  “Guilty,” he returned easily, and when she tried to move farther away, Hunter refused to release her. “It was just a simple kiss.”

  “There is nothing simple about a kiss,” she returned, pushing against his chest with both hands in order to be free of him.

  “That one was simple, don’t you think?”

  The pressure she was exerting slackened for a moment as she stared at him in confusion. “Why did you do that?” she asked, wondering why he had bothered if that was all he intended to do. And it had alerted her to watch carefully for his true intentions.

  Hunter removed his right arm from beneath her and propped his head on his hand. “I kissed you because I wanted to,” he said simply, and watched her frown deepen as her thoughts whirled around in her head. “You should try it sometime,” he added. “It’s a small, rather pleasant sign of affection.”

  Her ice-blue eyes turned wary. Margaret knew a trap when she saw one. “You feel affection for me?” she asked, while still wondering about his next move.

  “Of course,” he said, amazed. “Why else would I have married you?”

  Her eyes roamed over his face, searching his eyes, as she tried to determine the truth of his words. Why indeed? She was no longer pretty and she had resisted him at every turn. So why had he married her? Failing to find answers to her own questions, Margaret set up her protective walls again. “Well, I hold none for you,” she said spitefully. That, she thought, should put an end to it.