Without thinking, he turned his head until his lips were nestled in the shimmering softness of her hair. She shifted, leaning against him still more. The movement of her leg being thrown across his middle made him groan. His body burst with rigid awakening, excruciatingly aware of every soft inch that pressed against him. They stayed like that for what seemed to Drake like tormentingly long hours.
“Hope?” His voice was a low, throaty whisper. “Are you asleep?”
A second moan escaped his lips as she shifted her weight, moving against him in a way that was both provocative and innocent. Diligently, he stifled the sound as he willed away the flaming stiffness in his body. Did she know the effect she was having on him? Did she care?
Hope wiped her eyes dry on his shirt, then tipped her chin up. She was instantly captured by his hooded gaze. Frowning in confusion, she pillowed her chin on the hand that lay on his chest. The feel of his heart beating steadily beneath her palm was unnerving in an exciting sort of way.
“No,” she said finally, sniffling. Of its own accord her hand reached out and cupped his cheek. The stubble of whiskers scratched her palm.
His brow knit in concern. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
Her voice was thick with conviction, and Drake wondered if she was trying to convince him, or herself. “You’re sure?”
She nodded, then snuggled her head in his shoulder. “I—I’m sorry about... I didn’t mean to lose control that way.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” He pulled her fingers to his lips, his tongue tasting the tips of each one. “If anyone has a right to cry, it’s you. Tears are nothing to be ashamed of.”
A shiver curled up her spine as she became aware of his tongue against her skin. “I don’t like to cry,” she said simply. She couldn’t say more. It was growing too difficult to think. She waited until her heart had stopped its wild throbbing and her breathing returned to normal, then said, “I’ve been thinking of how nice you’ve been to me.” Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “I’ve been thinking about how you tended me all by yourself. Why didn’t you ask the doctor to stay on?”
“He had places to go.” Drake sighed, as though his efforts toward her recovery were minor. “And I don’t trust doctors.”
“And now?” she pressed. “Why are you here now?”
Drake scowled. “I heard you screaming. You were making an awful ruckus, sunshine, and...” his mind went blank.
“You could’ve waited. The dream would’ve passed.”
He shrugged and she felt a twitch of pain in her shoulder. “I suppose I could have, although I don’t see what good it would have done. I wasn’t about to just sit around twiddling my thumbs and listening to you scream. I had to do something.” He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “You’re my responsibility, Hope, and gentleman or not, I don’t ta
ke my responsibilities lightly.”
Her voice hardened. “I’m my own responsibility, Drake. No one else’s.”
“Fine,” he snapped, his tone equally as cold. Now why had her words angered him so much? They were defensively spoken, yet they grated. “Let’s say tomorrow you start assuming some of that responsibility by riding as scout. And when you’re not doing that, you can fix the meals and scrape the dishes. I’m sure I’ve got some shirts that and trousers that need washing and mending. You can do that in your spare time—if you have any. There, does that make you feel better? More independent?
“If you don’t think I can do it, think again.” Lifting up, Hope met his angry glare. “My mother always said one woman could do as much as any man—and twice as fast—all she had to do was put her mind to it.”
“Is that a fact?” he chuckled sarcastically. “Well, you introduce me to her sometime and I’ll gladly set her straight.”
Hope’s expression fell as she collapsed against the solid chest. The pain in her heart sliced deep. “I can’t. She died five years ago.”
“Oh, damn. Look, I’m sorry, sunshine, I—”
“Sorry?” she asked tightly. “What are you sorry for? You just all but said you wouldn’t have liked my mother even if you’d met her.”
“That isn’t fair, Hope.”
“Isn’t it? Why not? It’s the truth.”
Ignoring the dull throbbing in her shoulder, she pushed away from him. She lay on the mattress, her eyes staring sightlessly at the dark outline of the wagon’s canvas hood. She would have given anything for the strength to climb out of the wagon bed and seek the solitary company of the dusk. Instead, she lay in the quickly diminishing light of day, constantly aware of the warm virility of the man stretched lazily beside her.
The mattress shifted as Drake rolled to his side. Rising himself up, he propped his weight on one elbow. His palm itched to reach out and stroke the creamy cheek playing hide and seek with the shadows. He didn’t dare. “You act as if you are the only person in the world who ever lost someone they loved. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that I might have lost someone, too?” His words were soft, his meaning was not.
Hope turned toward him, squinting into the shadows that sculpted his features. It was almost dark now. “No,” she said frankly, a frown marring her brow. “It never has. I guess I just thought... oh, I don’t know what I thought.” She turned away, then turned back again and continued the thought without being asked. “I never thought men like you had any family to lose.”
“Did you ever stop to think that losing a family might be what it took to make a man like me?”