A Restless Wind (9 page)

     Rachel Forbes was still sitting on a chair at the head of the bed.  Her gaze was on her husband’s face.  Hetty was glad to see that he was asleep.  Jesse’s opinion was that John Forbes had a good chance of recovering, but he already looked feverish and blood had soaked through the bandages.

     Rachel made a faint attempt at a smile and nodded her thanks as she accepted the food.  Last night Hetty had been surprised at how young the Forbes both were.  Rachel Forbes looked even younger in the morning light.  Hetty returned a reassuring smile before she quietly left the room and closed the door softly behind her.

     Emma, the oldest of the Forbes children was a girl of about ten.  She was blue-eyed and dark-haired a slender combination of grace and shy awkwardness that reminded Hetty of a Spring fawn.

     Hetty watched the girl through the kitchen window.  Her patched and faded skirt fluttered around her ankles as she walked across the yard, leading her younger brother by the hand.  Earlier, after feeding and rocking the baby to sleep, the girl had been in a restless, nervous state, wandering aimlessly from the kitchen to the back porch and outside and back to the kitchen again.

     In an effort to keep her mind off what had happened, Hetty had put Emma to work carrying linens and extra blankets upstairs.  And then Hetty had sent Emma and her little brother out with a basket to gather the eggs from the hen house.  The wire basket, filled with eggs, was setting on the kitchen table.

     Hetty stepped down into the back porch and set the basket of eggs on a shelf.  Turning, she stopped short when she saw Jesse standing in the kitchen doorway.

     “I was just checking on our patient,”  he said.

     She nodded, looking up at him,  “How is he?”

     “He’s resting.  It was a rough night for him.  He’s in for another.”

     “Yes, he has a difficult time ahead of him,”  Hetty agreed.  “But he’s in good hands.  My Aunt Delia knows a good deal about nursing.  Her husband is a doctor in Boston.”

     Jesse nodded.  “That explains why she wasn’t as flustered as I thought she ought to be.”

     In an attempt to think about anything but those eyes that Adalia Sweet had thought were too bold, Hetty untied her apron and carefully folded it,

     “Rachel asked me to bring some clothes for her children,”  Jesse said.  “I’ll be bringing them by tomorrow.”

     Hetty nodded.  “She will need them,”  she said as she set the folded apron on a shelf beside her.  She caught her lower lip between her teeth, searching for something to say in the silence that followed.  “I’ll see about having another bed set up downstairs for Rachel so she can get some rest.”

     “That’s a good idea.  I imagine she won’t want to leave his side any more than she has to.”

     Jesse’s gaze swept over Hetty from the deep blue calico dress and the loosely gathered hair falling over one shoulder, to the stray wisps of curls that had escaped and were softly framing her face.

     She was beautiful.  He had always thought so.  The yellow glow of morning sunlight was upon her, picking up the gold in her hair.  He didn’t reach out and touch one wayward, sun-lit curl to brush it back from her cheek, but the urge to do so was there all the same, surprising him.  Wondering what would prompt such a foolish move on his part, his gaze dropped to her soft, full mouth, recalling once again how it had been to kiss her.

     Damn.  Why’d he keep remembering that?

     He frowned, dragging his gaze away from her mouth.

     “I have something to give you,”  she said abruptly and turned her back to him. 

     He watched her stand on her toes to reach up to one of the shelves above her.  When she turned, she had an envelope in her hand.  She held it out to him.

     “I found this at Sara Cade’s cabin a few days ago.”

     He stepped down to the back porch.  When he reached out to take the envelope from her hand, his fingers brushed hers.  Hetty resisted the impulse to jerk her hand back.  There was no reason whatsoever for her breath to catch in her chest the way it had.  No reason at all for the jolt of awareness that had sizzled along every nerve at his touch.  Her gaze went to his face to see if he had noticed that awareness.

     Thankfully he hadn’t.  He was frowning down at the envelope in his hand.  He didn’t open it.  As his gaze shifted back to her face, he merely slipped the envelope into his shirt pocket.

     He obviously didn’t intend to discuss the contents of the envelope with her.  And she had no intention of prying.  She was curious, however.  More than curious as to why Sara would leave something behind for Jesse McLaren.

     Just like she found herself wondering why he had returned after being away for two years.  She recalled him telling those men last night that he would be staying at the cabin.  She didn’t know if that meant he was staying for good.  And what about the Forbes?  Everyone had agreed that the family would be staying here for a while.  But what about after that?  What was going to happen to them then?

     At present her unasked questions would have to remain unanswered.  Jesse stepped across the porch and walked to the back door.  He rested a forearm on the door frame and looked out at the back yard, leaving Hetty to stare at the way his shirt stretched across the muscles of his broad shoulders and the contrast of black hair against the blue shirt.  It was easier by far, she realized, to be in his presence when he wasn’t looking at her.

     She told herself that she had good reason to feel flustered in his presence.  Their acquaintance so far had been anything but conventional.  The two times they had been alone together had been improper to say the least.  The first time he had kissed her.  Quite thoroughly.  The second time he had thrown her down on a bed and held her beneath him as if she were a saloon girl.

     She felt a warmth surge into her cheeks when she recalled last night when no corset and no petticoats had been between them.  It was too easy to recall the feeling of her breasts pressed against his powerful chest and the intimate feel of his thighs holding hers down.  She also found herself remembering the feather-soft brush of his hair against her cheek and the male scent of him surrounding her as she heard his voice and realized who he was.

     Jesse concentrated on what was going on in the back yard.  He was glad for the distraction.  He didn’t need to be thinking about the effect that accidentally touching Hetty’s hand had had upon him.  He’d come to the house not only to see how John Forbes was getting on, but to try and get that envelope from Hetty if possible.

     He’d seen John Forbes.  He had the envelope.  But somehow he was reluctant to leave.  And he realized it was because of Hetty.  Her nearness was having an effect on him.  Too much of an effect.

     He glanced over at her as she stepped beside him to the little window beside the door and moved the curtains aside as she also peered out into the yard.   Her scent, as sweet and delicate as a meadow full of elderberry flowers, wrapped itself around him.  It was the same scent that had been so intoxicating to him last night.  With an effort he tore his gaze away from her.

     “You’ll be having a full house here,”  he said.

     “Yes,”  she said.  “But we’ll make room.  The children can sleep upstairs with me.”  After a silence, she said,  “I wonder what they are doing now?”

     From the door he could see beyond the lilac bushes that were keeping the children from her view. 

     “Playing by the creek,”  was his reply.

     Hetty slanted a glance up at him.  She thought she had detected amusement in his voice.  In the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves of the trees outside the porch, she saw one corner of his mouth curve upward, deepening the very male, very appealing groove in his cheek.

     That smile had a strange effect on her, as did his low, husky laugh as he continued to watch something outside that she couldn’t see.

     He looked back at her.  With the smile lingering and one dark brow raised, he asked,  “You ready to go fishing?”

     Curious, but with a good suspicion what was going on, Hetty followed Jesse out the back door.

     The creek, which was behind the house, was an irresistible lure for children.  Hetty had played there many times when she was a child.  And so had Pierce.  There had been a great deal of rain and the creek was swollen beyond its banks.  The water swirled and splashed around the many rocks that littered its course.  A small waterfall added to its fascinations.

     Six-year-old Will had used the rocks as stepping stones to make his way across the creek.  He had taken off his shoes and stockings and at the moment he was sitting on a large rock in the middle of the stream, pretending to be a shipwrecked pirate.  In one hand he held a stick.  He raised the stick above his head and called to Jesse,  “A fine sword for a pirate captain, don’t you think?”

     “It is for a fact,”  Jesse called back, his mouth tilting again in silent humor.

     Emma, standing on the bank beside them, explained that the water was deeper and the current stronger than her brother had expected and that the boy was now afraid to make his way back across the creek.

     “How about if I come and carry you on my back,”  Jesse called to the boy.  “So you don’t get wet.”

     Will clapped his little hands together.  Not only was he going to get safely back across the water, but apparently he thought it was going to be great fun to be carried across the creek.

     Hetty watched as Jesse stepped down into the water and waded through the creek.  Reaching the child, he lifted him to his back and told him to hold tight and keep still.  No sooner had Jesse taken a step when the boy cried,  “My sword.  Don’t forget my sword.”

     Jesse lifted one dark brow in amused indulgence and retrieved the stick still setting on the rock.

     “Ho.  Away,”  Will called, pointing with the stick.

     They’d come halfway across the creek with the boy still gesturing with his imaginary sword.  “Look there,”  Will cried excitedly as he leaned far over Jesse’s shoulder.  “A snake!”

     Jesse paused, apparently taking a moment to determine if the snake was venomous or not, before continuing across the creek.

     “Look how the water dashes along,”  Will observed as they made their way through the stream.

     Yes, Hetty thought, the water really was dashing along.  She knew that the current was stronger than it looked and that the rocks could be treacherous and slick.  Will, in the meantime, with all the impulsiveness of a six-year-old, instead of keeping still, began to wave the stick about as he called out, 
“Quickly, sailor.  Get me to the shore before that sea serpent attacks.”

      And then he dropped the stick.

     “My sword,”  he shrilled as if it were the only stick in the world.  “I need my sword.”

     Whether by accident or whether he intended to retrieve the stick, Hetty could not tell, but Will slipped halfway down Jesse’s back.

     After a few precarious moments of balancing the boy, Jesse managed to maneuver the rocks and the current.  He was even able to retrieve the stick which had been washed against two large rocks before being carried further downstream.

     But Jesse had lost his hat in the process.  It, too, had lodged against a big rock.  Before it got swept away by the current, Jesse bent to pick it up.  However, as he leaned forward, Hetty heard a frightened squeak from Will who was now maintaining a death grip on Jesse’s shirt.

     Shifting the boy, Jesse scooped him up and made his way back to the bank with the still-dry child under one arm and his dripping hat in the other.

     Hetty’s gaze moved over the man, not missing a single detail.  The wet boots, the dripping hat, the child held easily against his lithe, strong body and the smile that was still lurking there.

     “We’re lucky this island was here,”  Will said with obvious relief after Jesse had settled him safely on the bank.  Will then very seriously informed Jesse,  “But we’ll have to keep an eye out for uncivilized savages.”

     “Uncivilized savages, huh?”  Jesse chuckled, revealing white, even teeth as he looked at Hetty.  With a flick of his wrist he sent a spray of water from his hat into the sunshine.

     “I expect you’ll be searching for buried treasure next?”  Jesse asked Will.  “Seeing as you’re on an island.”

     “Buried treasure?”  the boy repeated slowly, his eyes growing wide.  The creek was forgotten.  His face brightened as he latched onto all the possibilities of a new game.

     “Wait,”  Jesse said.  “Put your shoes and socks on first.”

     As Will pulled on his shoes, Hetty saw Jesse slowly straighten.  All trace of humor was gone from his face.  He put his hat back on and pulled it low over his eyes.  Curious at the sudden change in his manner, she turned and saw Brent Marsten riding his horse towards them.

Chapter 9

     Hetty looked with covert sharpness at Brent, whose gaze was fixed on Jesse as he rode up.  She noted the stiffening of Brent’s shoulders beneath the dark coat he wore.  She saw the aggressive forward thrust of his chin.