Loving Linsey (16 page)

Once more, her attention roamed upward, passing the breadth of his chest to his profile and centering on his lips, pressed in a relaxed line.

What would he taste like? She'd only been kissed once in her whole life, and the experience
still made her queasy. She had a feeling kissing Daniel would be nothing like that invasive slobbering she'd endured from Bishop when she was fifteen. No, Daniel would be assertive but not forceful. His mouth would be soft, yet firm. Perhaps even tasting of the peppermint sticks he kept in his shirt pocket for his young patients. . . .

The treacherous thought flew from her mind when Daniel reached for the pile of furs nearby. Her shoulders tensed. He uncovered the basket she had put together for him and Addie and flipped up the lid. As he pulled out a chunk of bread and a bottle of wine, he asked with a puzzled frown, “Where'd this come from?”

Evasively, she answered, “Someone must have left it here.”

“Never knew Jarvis to be much of a wine-and-cheese man.”

“You've known him a long time, haven't you?” Linsey told herself that her curiosity came from a need to know more about him for Addie's sake.

“We met in Louisiana while I was attending medical school. I stumbled upon him on the wharf one night after he'd gotten roughed up.”

“And you treated him?”

“No, I got him drunk. We've been friends ever since.”

He smiled a lazy smile that made a pair of dimples dig deep creases in his cheeks, and Linsey's heart flipped dangerously in her chest. It was the first time she'd seen him
smile, and the sight stole her breath away. She realized that she'd just gotten a glimpse of the irresistible rogue who had hearts sighing all over the county.

If she wasn't careful, she'd be sighing along with them.

Disturbed by the thought, she folded her cape closer about her shoulders. “My, but I didn't expect it would be so cold up here. Think it will snow?”

“Not this early in the season. Maybe by Christmas.”

“I hope so. It would be nice to see snow before I—Oh, Lordy! Daniel, the trees!”

He dropped the wine and scrambled to his feet, then cursed at the sight looming before them: a gradually rising slope wearing a thick and towering coat of pine trees.

“How do we steer this thing?” Daniel hollered.

“I don't know. I'm not sure we can.”

“We've got to get it up higher!”

“The valves!”

They reached for the tanks at the same time. Daniel opened the valve, releasing a mighty blast of the gases. After one swift, upward lunge, the balloon began to climb at a steady rate.

Just when they thought they'd cleared danger, a sudden downdraft yanked on the balloon, tilting the basket at a perilous angle.

Pine branches seemed to reach out and seize the silk panels in their clutches like talons upon unsuspecting prey. A horrid rending sound sheared the air. Amidst a vicious tangle
of branches, the balloon caught, swung, then knocked against the tree trunk.

The impact threw Daniel and Linsey to the bottom of the basket. Daniel was smashed against the side with Linsey facing him, crushed against his front, her hand twisted in the folds of his shirt, her forehead against his neck. She buried herself against him as pine needles, cones, and branches showered down on them.

Was she to survive the flight from hell, only to meet her end now?

When the particles settled, neither of them moved, though their hearts pounded in unison.

“Am I dead?” Linsey asked once she could speak.

“Not yet, but after we get out of this mess, I'm going to strangle you.”

“No, you won't.” She lifted her head and grinned. “Admit it, Doc: despite everything, this is the best day you've had in your life.”

“If this is the best, I don't think I'll survive the worst. Why did I ever get into this balloon with you? I knew it wasn't safe—hell, I'm not safe with you anywhere!”

She tilted her head back and gave him a quizzical study. “Of course you are, Daniel.”

He snorted. “As a lit match in a tub of kerosene.”

Of its own will, her hand reached up to cup his whisker-stubbled cheek. “When will you realize that I'd never purposely do anything to hurt you?”

Her touch brought his gaze clashing with
hers. She stared into the dark brown depths, wanting him to believe her, willing him to accept her apology for this transgression as well as those that had come before.

But as they looked at each other, she saw his surprise give way to something darker, more primal. It set off a spark low in her belly and caused warmth to steal up her spine.

Forgotten were their cramped surroundings and their perilous situation. Linsey slowly became aware of the rigid muscle of his chest beneath her breasts, the washboard hardness of his abdomen under her ribs, the power of his thigh aligned with the seam of her legs.

The intimacy of their position uncoiled a heavy knot of longing inside her, flowing into her blood, saturating every nerve ending.

She knew she had to get off of him, knew lying atop him courted danger and threatened every principle she had been raised with. And yet she couldn't make herself move to save her life. He felt so warm, so strong, so powerful. And he smelled of sultry summer evenings and damp sheets, with just a hint of bay rum thrown in to add to his mysterious allure.

Her fingers slipped from his jaw to the corner of his wide, perfectly defined mouth. The pulse at his throat gave a sudden leap. She felt his body tighten, his heart rate quicken, saw his eyes turn darker.

She wanted that mouth, wanted to feel the moist softness of his lips against hers, wanted to taste the peppermint flavor of his breath. As if sensing her hunger, his hand blazed a possessive trail up her back, pressing her toward
him. She closed her eyes as he brought her closer, an inch at a time, wishing he'd come to his senses and push her away from him, hoping to God that he wouldn't.

And then the decision was torn from either of them as the bottom of the basket gave way.

Shading his eyes from the glare of the mid-morning sun, Oren scanned the land ahead. Still no sign of Horseshoe, but as long as they kept followin' the train tracks, he knew they'd end up in town eventually. For the sake of the lady who trudged along behind him, he called encouragingly, “Ain't much farther Miss Witt.”

“I cannot proceed another step.”

Oren glanced over his shoulder. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from grinning. He never thought he'd catch Adelaide Witt looking anything less than perfectly groomed—but, boy howdy, she was a sight. Her high-necked dress was stained and torn. Her bonnet dangled by its blue polka-dotted ribbons and trailed halfway down her back. Her yellow hair hung in limp strands around a narrow face smudged with half of Henderson County.

Lord, she was a pitiful sight.

He found her cute as a toddler's dimple. Tired, rumpled, but cute nonetheless. “I s'pose it wouldn't hurt none to rest for a spell.”

“My deepest gratitude,” she breathed, then plopped down on a nearby rock without a care that her skirts flew up past her knees. Oren spied a glimpse of barn-red underdrawers,
and red-and-white striped stockings that reminded him of a peppermint stick.

His lips twitched. He'd have never have guessed that the demure Miss Addie possessed such fiery tastes. But figuring Miss Prim and Proper wouldn't appreciate being the object of his amusement, he bit back his grin, sat beside her, and handed her the canteen he carried looped across his chest. “Here, this oughtta wet your whistle.”

He expected her to sip daintily from the canteen.

She guzzled like a trail-worn cowpoke.

Oren watched her throat work the liquid down. As far as throats went, hers was a pretty one, he had to say that. Long and smooth and creamy. A drop of water trickled down her oval chin, into the unbuttoned collar, heading to the place only his imagination had ever taken him.

She lowered the canteen and wiped her mouth. “Is something wrong?”

His gaze shot to her eyes.

“You're staring at me. Is something wrong?”

“No . . . no,” he said, feeling guilty color steal into his cheeks. This was his boy's teacher, and though Oren considered her one of the prettiest little fillies this side of the Red River, he didn't figure an old skewbald like him had any business fancying a thoroughbred like her.

“Do you think she'll be all right up there?”

It took him a minute to realize who she was talking about. He squinted in the direction they'd last seen the balloon, he nodded, then
glanced back at the schoolmarm. “What notion ever got a-holt of her to ride in that thing anyway?”

She gave a tiny shrug. “Linsey doesn't always think situations through. Once an idea takes hold, she . . . well, she runs with it.” Hazel eyes shadowed with secret sorrow turned on Oren. “I apologize for involving you in this, Mr. Potter.”

“Oren.”

She hesitated. “Oren, then.”

When she said his name, he half expected harps to start playing.

“I simply didn't know how else to reach her, and when I saw you . . . Oh, heavens!” she gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. “What about Bryce? He isn't at home waiting for you, is he?”

“No need to fret. He's spending the weekend with his mamaw in Houston. That's where I was coming from when you hailed me down.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Addie sighed with heartfelt relief.

Then again, she couldn't imagine Oren Potter gallivanting across the countryside if he'd left his young child at home. Granted, she knew very little about him, although he'd lived in Horseshoe for nearly five years. She knew he'd been married and had lost his wife a couple of years ago. And she knew that his child was a teacher's treasure. Other than that, Oren Potter was as much a stranger to her as that Hobart creature who made spirits in his barn. But he didn't strike
her as the type of man who abandoned his responsibilities.

And she realized that she very much admired him for that quality.

She watched him for several minutes in silence before broaching the subject near and dear to her. “Have you given any further thought to our discussion?”

“If you mean about sending my boy away, nope.”

“You won't even consider—”

“Nope.”

“Mr. Potter . . .”

“Oren.”

“Oren, perhaps I didn't make myself clear. Your son has a gift of learning. He absorbs concepts with amazing accuracy, he can solve mathematical equations faster than—”

“And maybe I didn't make myself clear,” he cut in with a voice of steel. All trace of amiability vanished from his eyes, leaving them a flinty blue. “I ain't leavin' Horseshoe and I ain't sending my boy away—especially not half across the country to some fancy Eastern school where the only thing they'll teach him is how to become some uppity, righteous Yankee too good for his own kin.”

Addie stared at him, feeling his pain as if it belonged to her. Who had hurt this gentle man so badly? “Bryce would never be like that. He loves you.”

“And I love him. That's why I can't let him go. Addie, he's all I got.”

He didn't seem aware of the slip of her Christian name, but Addie noticed. The sound
of it, rumbling through his chest and off his tongue like a caress, made tingles ripple through her nerve endings.

Then he turned solemn eyes on her, and in the clear blue depths, she saw pain and fear that seemed too large for even a man of his size to carry. “I'd be obliged if you didn't bring this up again.”

She turned away, unsettled by the urge to cradle his head against her breast and comfort him as she would his son, or any of the other children in her class. Oren was far from being a child. She'd become all too aware of that over the last few days.

“If there's somethin' he needs to know, you can teach him.”

“I'm afraid Bryce needs more attention than I'm able to give him within my classroom.”

“Then teach him in private.”

“Tutor him?”

“If that's what you call it.”

“I don't know if I can. His capacity for knowledge is so much greater than mine.”

“You don't set enough store by yourself. How are you gonna know what you can teach him if you don't try? And if you need a place, there ain't no reason why you can't give him lessons at the smithy after school.”

Against wisdom, Addie found herself pondering the idea. What a challenge! To be able to help shape such a young and brilliant mind. To help a child explore all the opportunities she'd never had the courage to explore herself. . . .

“I'll do it,” she said with a decisive nod. “I'll
give him private lessons, and whatever I don't know, we'll learn together.”

He smiled at her as if she'd just announced she'd hang the moon for him. “That's the spirit.”

Making a decision for herself felt so . . . liberating! For as long as she could remember, she'd lived in Linsey's shadow—

Oh, no!
Addie thought, pinching off the uncharitable thought before it fully formed. How could she have forgotten Linsey? How could she have been so selfish, sitting here, enjoying a man's company and making plans for her future, while her sister was in danger?

New urgency made her leap to her feet. “We've rested long enough, Mr. Potter.” She gathered the canteen and her bonnet. “I must find some way to help Linsey.”

The four leaves in a four-leaf clover represent good luck in fame, wealth, love, and health.

D
aniel lay still, his lungs feeling as if they'd collapsed and turned to lead. He should feel rocks biting into his shoulder blades, or at the very least, the sting of abrasions on his skin, but the fall seemed to have stunned every nerve in his body numb.

“Daniel?”

His name reached him through a fog and roused him from the stupor.