He stopped walking and looked down at her face. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That didn’t sound like a nothing kind of response. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we should have devoted more time to choosing better responses when engaging in conversations.”
“Huh,” he said, taking a second to consider the matter before he frowned. “This isn’t one of those hero moments, is it? One where I’ve made a blunder again like I did with Pauline?”
“You already had a hero moment when you tossed me overboard.”
The warmth flowing through him intensified. “I see,” he said before he caught her eye. “I don’t see, though, how I could have chosen a better response to you suggesting that carrying you wasn’t necessary because I truly don’t want you to break a limb.”
She blew out a bit of a sigh. “I’m sure you don’t want me to break a limb, but that was an opening you could have used as a, well, attempt to try your hand at being somewhat of a Casanova type.”
“You were expecting a Casanovian moment from me?”
“I’m not sure I was expecting that, but I wouldn’t have been, ah, opposed to it.”
He pulled her a little closer. “Perhaps I should try again.”
“I think the moment has passed.”
His lips twitched, because she was beginning to sound a little grumpy. “What about if I tell you that carrying you is necessary because it gives me a reason to hold you in my arms?”
Her arms tightened around his neck again. “That’s definitely an improvement.”
“Then what about if I also add that holding you so close gives me a perfect opportunity to set aside all that wondering I’ve been doing and learn for myself what would have happened had we not been interrupted the day of the family reunion?”
She drew in a sharp breath but didn’t say a single thing to that because . . . her gaze was now settled on his mouth.
Not wanting to spend another second wondering what kissing Camilla would be like, Owen lowered his head until he was only an inch away from her lips, freezing on the spot when he heard a rifle being cocked behind him.
“This here be private property,” a man said. “State your business a’fore I decide to shoot.”
“This is some seriously bad timing,” he grumbled before he lifted his head. “There’s no need to shoot, Amos. It’s me, Owen.”
“What in tarnation are you doin’ out here this time of night?” Amos demanded.
Setting Camilla on her feet, Owen turned. “Miss Pierpont and I have run into some trouble, Amos. I was just heading up to your house to see if you could help us.”
“You know you don’t even need to be askin’ that,” Amos said, taking a second to look Owen over before he shook his head. “Seems like the first order of business is to git you two into some dry clothes, and then we’ll see iffen we can sort out whatever trouble done rained down on you.”
Fifteen minutes later, and after he’d explained the basics to Amos and his wife, Cora Beth, Owen was, thankfully, wearing dry clothes, although they were remarkably snug, while Camilla was wearing one of Cora Beth’s housedresses that all but swallowed her up.
After Amos called through the front door that he’d gotten Roscoe hitched up to his wagon, Owen took Camilla’s arm, and after thanking Cora Beth for the clothes, they walked out of the cabin, joining Amos a moment later.
“I sure appreciate this,” Owen said, earning a nod from Amos in return.
“Ain’t no problem,” Amos said. “You’d do the same for me, but you sure it’s wise to have me drive you to the house instead of straight to the police?”
Owen helped Camilla up into the wagon bed. “I’m not sure the police are equipped to deal with the kind of men who are after Camilla, men I would bet are even now scouring the banks of the river for us. I think our safest option is to make a quick stop at my house, grab some necessities, then head out before anyone realizes we were ever there.”
“Where you plannin’ on headin’?” Amos asked.
“It would probably be best if you don’t know in case anyone comes nosing around.”
“Sure ’nough you might be right about that” was all Amos said as Owen climbed into the wagon to join Camilla, then covered them with a blanket as Amos got settled on the seat, clicked his tongue, and the wagon lurched into motion.
