My goodness, she had to get ahold of herself while she had any sense left. The best thing she could do would be to act as if nothing had happened between them. Like trying to contain the banks of a river after a hard spring rain.
Ben sipped his soup. Cora had butchered a chicken in his honor. The steaming broth soothed his unsettled stomach and fortified his battered body. Chunks of carrot, rutabaga, noodles, and chicken bobbed in his bowl.
A fresh breeze wafted in the open kitchen window, offering relief from the heat of the day and the cook fire that simmered in the hearth.
Cora swiped a thin line of sweat from her brow as she settled down in the chair across from him. “Would you like some cider?” She raised a pitcher.
“Yes, please.” He held up his porcelain cup.
She’d avoided eye contact and kept him at a pole distance all day long. Any trace of a smile had been so muted that one might almost need a magnifying glass to detect the upturn of her lips. Yet she’d sent Charlie to him with wet cloths, and poultices and salves for his facial wounds and the bruises along his ribs. She’d even sliced a slab of smoked venison for him to lay across his eye. In addition, she’d cooked a delicious meal and served it in a porcelain bowl instead of tin.
As she poured the cool tan liquid into his cup, the sweet apple scent mixed with the savory aroma of the soup. His stomach rumbled for more.
Her gaze flickered away from his as she plunged her spoon into her soup. Did she regret their unguarded moments of comfort and cuddling in the hallway last night, or was she merely shy and embarrassed? The woman was a myriad of palisade walls more impenetrable than oak, but she’d gifted him a step inside the gate last night. He would find his way in again.
“The soup is delicious.” He swallowed another bite. “Thank you. It’s just what I needed.”
“You’re welcome.” She nudged a strand of hair from her forehead. The silky knot at the back of her head had loosened over the course of the day. A couple ribbons of chestnut tresses framed her face. Where was the comb he’d given her?
Charlie’s spoon clunked against his bowl. “She wants to feed you well and get you strong because you’re our protector.”
Cora squirmed in her chair. “That’s not exactly what I said.”
A smile tickled the left corner of Ben’s mouth. “What did she say, Charlie?”
“Never you mind.” She narrowed her eyes at Ben, but nothing could hide the rosy pink that blossomed across her cheeks. “And Charlie, you need to finish your dinner so you can go take care of the horses.”
Charlie swallowed a bite. “And I’ll lock the stable. Ben’s going to sleep inside with us tonight, isn’t he?”
Ben tipped his spoon toward the boy. “I’m double-checking the locks on everything before I turn in. I’ll be fine in my loft tonight.”
Charlie’s countenance sank. “Please sleep in the house. I don’t want you hurt.”
Ben glanced at Cora. “I’ll just be across the yard.”
“But what if we need you here?” Charlie’s voice faltered.
Cora stirred her soup. “You’re welcome to sleep in the parlor again tonight. I’ll be in my room, and Charlie in his. I know the sofa or the floor isn’t as comfortable?—”
“He can have my bed, and I’ll take the floor.” Charlie beamed.
“I’m not taking anyone’s bed.” Ben fingered the edge of the table. They were shaken from last night. He couldn’t blame them, but how in the world was he supposed to leave on a cattle drive in a few days?
“I’d be fine on the floor.” Charlie stood. “I want you to get better.”
“Sit.” Cora pointed to the boy, then turned to Ben. “It won’t hurt Charlie to sleep on the floor one more night. Your poor ribs could use a mattress beneath them.”
His living in the loft was one thing, but staying in the house was far from proper. There were probably already rumors going around town. He scrubbed his hand over his jaw.
Cora gnawed her lip, her doe eyes speaking what her tongue would not.
A man had been shot in their yard last night. It could have been one of them. They were his family to protect. “Who am I to argue with the two of you and my ribs?”
“Wise man.” She smiled.
The best medicine she’d given him all day. If only his thumping heart could take it as it was likely meant, relief tohave a protector in the house, not ashow can we arrange an accidental meeting in the foyer after Charlie’s asleep?
The way Cora had melted against him last night as he’d drawn her into his arms, surely, even for her, their embrace had been about more than fear and protection.
