“You walk,” Roman declared. “Better yet, run.”
Anger scoring their faces, they began to ascend the slope, Roman right behind them. Only when they’d reached the far side of the field and disappeared behind the woods that surrounded the river did he take Secret’s reins and return to Theodosia. “You aren’t hurt or anything, are you?”
Theodosia climbed into the wagon and took the reins. “Other than feeling overcome with consternation, I am quite well. And you?” She examined him with her eyes. “Are you all right, Mr. Montana?”
Her question gave him pause. No one had ever asked him such a thing before. It had never made much difference to anyone whether he was all right or not.
And dammit, it probably didn’t matter much to her, either. She just needed him to be all right so he could continue escorting her to Templeton. “I’m fine.”
He snarled the words at her, forcing her to wonder what she’d done to anger him so. “How did you know those men were—”
“They’ve been following you since you left Oates’ Junction. I told you not to flash your gold around.” Deftly, he tied two of the outlaws’ horses to the back of the wagon. He would lead the third himself and sell all three in Templeton for a tidy sum.
“You knew they were following me, and you didn’t tell me?”
For a moment, he watched two sparrows. They flew low, skimming very close to the ground. He listened. The noises he heard were louder than usual and sounded closer than they actually were. And he could smell the river and the cedar thicket as if he were standing near them.
He mounted, keeping tight hold of the reins of the third horse. “I don’t deal with tears well, Miss Worth.”
“But why would I have wept? I wouldn’t have been afraid.”
He smirked. “No? Well, let me tell you something. You might know a dozen foreign languages. You might know all that psychology stuff. You might be a walking dictionary of big words, and you might know the name of every blasted star in the damned sky. But you don’t have theordinarysense to be afraid of three armed outlaws following you.”
His retort hurt. “I wouldn’t have been afraid, Mr. Montana,” she said softly, “because you are with me. If you believe I have failed to pay heed to your skills, then you are mistaken. My regard for you is very real, and I speak the truth when I say I feel safe with you.”
He searched her face intently, finding her faith in him echoed in the depths of her whiskey eyes. She barely knew him, but she trusted him.
She was the first woman who ever had. Something tender tried to come to him, but then a sudden thought erased it. “Well, if you’ve got so much confidence in me, why’d you think you had to come help me with the thieves? Didn’t you think I could handle them by myself?”
“I did see them race into the field, but I thought little of it. As you told me to do, I continued to wait in the woods. After a while, I became quite tense, and I mounted your stallion. It was my intention to walk him through the forest, but in a matter of seconds he sprang into a full gallop and ran into the meadow. I am an accomplished horsewoman, but I have never ridden a steed like yours. He is as rugged as the mustang you had me purchase in Oates’ Junction, but he possesses all the speed and grace of a Thoroughbred. What can you tell me about his bloodlines?”
“Nothing,” he replied, not about to reveal the precious secret. And damn her for coming so close to guessing at it! “Let’s go. We can cover at least five or six more miles before the rain starts.”
“Rain?” Theodosia peered at the sky. “It is not going to rain. Those are cirrostratus clouds and indicate fair weather.”
He urged Secret and the third horse up the slope. She certainly had lost her faith in him quickly, he mused. “It doesn’t make any difference what kind of clouds you see, Miss Worth. It’s going to rain.”
She smiled indulgently. It was not going to rain, but further arguing over the matter was futile.
The stubborn man would just have to realize his error himself.
Theodosia stood beside the wagon,the rim of her bonnet drooping over her forehead, her hair plastered to the sides of her face, neck, and shoulders. Cold, pelting rain drenched her clothes, seeped into her shoes, and sent shivers coursing through her. Flashes of distant lightning forced her to close her eyes.
Lightning.For years she had tried to rid herself of her fear of it. She could not. The mere mention of it brought back the day she’d seen it kill her parents. “Miss Worth?” Though dusk had settled over the windswept land, there remained sufficient light for Roman to see the expression on her face. It went beyond apprehension.
Terror gripped her.
He didn’t like seeing her afraid, and the fact that he didn’t confused him. Why should he care if she was scared?
He didn’t. It was just that—well, she might start crying, he convinced himself.
He secured the horses to the branches of a bluewood tree that had fallen into the rocky ravine, and ambled toward her, noticing she’d tossed several burlap sacks over her parrot’s cage. Calmly, he placed the cage on the ground beneath the wagon bed.
The bird taken care of, he tried to decide what he was supposed to do with Theodosia. The only fears he’d ever soothed before had belonged to horses.
Wondering if a calm attitude would be contagious, he leaned against the wagon, folded his arms across his chest, and caught raindrops on his tongue. “Have you ever done this, Miss Worth?”
She watched rain splash onto his outstretched tongue, and shook her head.
