She stared at her stew, determined not to look up again. “What was it like, growing up with three brothers?”
“Fun—usually. The old feud we have with the Warrens, neighboring ranchers, led to all sorts of mischief, since they have three boys near our ages.”
“What sort of feud? The killing kind?”
He snorted. “No—least, not in our day, though it might’ve led to that if a truce hadn’t been arranged years ago by Mrs. Warren with the offer of a marriage to her only daughter, who was still a baby at the time. The peacekeeping wedding is to happen sometime this summer. It could be over with, for all I know—or called off, if Hunter backed out of it. He sure wasn’t happy about our parents volunteering him just because he’s the oldest, without his having any say about it, and to a filly he’s never met. The Warren daughter was raised back east for some reason. Never did find out why. But if that wedding doesn’t happen, then there might end up being bloodshed.”
“So you don’t really know what you’ll be going home to, when you get around to it?”
“I’ll likely know. My ma writes me here and keeps me apprised of what’s happening at home. There are probably a few letters waiting for me in town that I didn’t pick up this last trip.”
Because of her. Because he got the wrong idea about her, got mad about it, and arbitrarily abducted her instead of simply knocking on her door at the hotel and asking her why she was looking for him. But she wasn’t going to open that can of worms, as he would say.
So she only said primly, “Feuds are archaic. No one in the civilized world has them anymore.”
He laughed at the remark. “Want to bet? They might not label them feuds where you come from, but there will always be neighbors who can’t get along, grudges that escalate, and the more common revenge motives that can affect whole families. Emotions that start disputes like that can arise anywhere, in any country. In your civilized world, it might even be labeled war.”
She blushed slightly, forced to allow, “I cede to your reasoning.”
“Well, that’s a surprise.”
She made a face and stood up to go outside. She wasn’t going to embarrass herself by saying why. He followed her out, but when she glanced back she saw him heading to the pasture to check on the horses. Now that there were two extra ones, she supposed she could offer to help him. After all, she did know how to saddle and unsaddle a horse; she’d just never had a reason to tell him that. Would he still lock Caesar in his mine now that the claim jumpers were no longer a threat? Probably.
Drowsy after that filling meal, she was extra careful with her steps on the way back to the cabin, now that it was mostly dark. The moon wasn’t up yet, but she could see well enough with the streaks of the sunset in the sky. She wanted a bath, a real one, craved it, but her mind balked at cold stream water tonight, and the thought of going to bed with wet hair was just as abhorrent, so a bath would have to wait until morning.
Returning to the cabin, she found Morgan putting the dinner bowls away, his back to her. And it was close enough to the time they usually went to sleep, so she said, “Good night.”
He turned. She was immediately arrested again by the new him, the too-handsome version. She ended up standing there like a bedazzled loon, which allowed him to reach her and put his arms around her before she even thought about retreating out of his way.
The hug was gentle, the kiss somewhat brief, before he said with a smile, “Sweet dreams, Thorny Violet.”
But he didn’t let go of her, and she felt the urge to hug him back. She resisted, turned away, although she no longer felt the least bit tired. And suddenly she stopped resisting. She turned back, put her arms around his neck, and whispered, “Morgan...” Then led him to her bed.
Chapter Thirty-One
VIOLET WAS ALONE INher bed when she awoke—and naked. The skin on her face felt a little chafed. She recalled Morgan kissing her and her kissing him during the night. But in the cold light of morning, she remembered everything else that had happened last night, and was mortified by what she’d done.
At least he’d hooked up her screen when he left her bed. To save her embarrassment? Nothing could. But she quickly reached for the clothes that had been laid over the crates at the foot of her bed and dressed, hoping he wasn’t still in the cabin.
He was. Stepping out from behind the screen, she saw him fully dressed and sitting at the table drinking coffee. She paused to ask, “We slept together all night?” Then she blushed furiously again.
Morgan raised a brow. “The sleeping part is all you remember?”
“We shan’t talk about it,” she said as she sat down at the table.
“If you say so.”
“I do. Nor shall it happen again.”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it.”
“I simply don’t want to raise expectations.”
“Consider them not raised.” But then he said, “You know, you don’t have to be beyond-the-pale polite with me—did I use that phrase right?”
“Not really, but I caught the drift. However, I will always be polite, no matter whom I’m talking to.”
“Always?” He grinned.
