Her Dearly Unintended (5 page)

“You're telling me there's only one correct place to put a rock on a windowsill?”

“No, if there are four rocks, then there are four correct places to put rocks on the windowsill.”

Josiah caught the rocks and pulled the two center ones against each other again. “I disagree. What looked perfect before isn't working now.” Katie Ellen made a grab, but he caught her by the wrist. Holding her hand up between them, he pulled her a step closer. “Let it go, Katie Ellen. Can you just let it go?”

Her lips parted. Her lashes fluttered down.

“The key is on the mantle over the fireplace,” she said.

“I'll keep it on me. Lock the door after I leave.” He released her. There was so much more he wanted to say, but she wasn't ready to hear it.

With a sigh, he took the door handle, his hand swallowing the delicate porcelain knob. “I'll see you in the morning,” he said, then stepped into the parlor.

Silas was laid out on the sofa, stocking feet to the fire, twisting the jagged edge of his mustache while staring into the flames. The lock clicked behind Josiah. He sighed. At least she was willing to do that much. Now to secure the key. Taking up the poker again, Josiah pretended to stoke the fire, all the while letting his hand skim the top of the mantle.

“Are you looking for this?” Suspended from Silas's hand was an iron key. “I found it on the porch. Thought you might be missing it.”

Josiah snatched the key and shoved it into his pocket. “You aren't a very good guest.”

Silas studied him for a moment before answering. “Then I'll go.”

“Where are you going?”

“Outside. Clearly you aren't getting any sleep as long as I'm inside, and I don't mean to keep you away from your pretty little wife.” His smirk let Josiah know exactly what he thought of their relationship. “I might as well stretch my legs until I'm spent.”

With a mighty kick, Silas propelled himself into sitting position. He swayed a second as if the sudden movement was too much for his equilibrium, and then staggered to the door.

“See you in the morning,” he said. He donned his hat and closed the door behind him.

Well, that was something. How had Silas known he was looking for the key? Josiah looked at the bedroom door. She was safe. Throwing the rumpled quilt aside, he stretched out on the two-seater sofa, trying to squeeze the length of his body between the two narrow
wooden arms. He'd be better off on the floor. Besides, Katie Ellen was partial to that sofa. What if he drooled—

A scream.

Josiah was at Katie Ellen's door as soon as his feet hit the floor. He rammed the key into the keyhole. It glanced off, scraping his knuckle against the metal. He tried again, but it didn't fit.

“Josiah!”

He twisted on the doorknob. Nothing. “It's me, Katie Ellen! Let me in!” He banged on the door as shuffling came nearer. He leapt backward, ready to kick through the barrier, but it swung open and Katie Ellen rushed out.

She didn't run into his arms, though. No, she ran behind him, then shoved him into the room.

“There!” She pointed. “That man looked in my window.”

Josiah's arms tensed. He strode to the window and looked out over the hilltop. Silas was nowhere to be seen, but he could have easily stepped behind one of the many trees.

“He's already broken one window,” Katie Ellen said. “What's to keep him from breaking another?”

There was nothing outside the window, but on the windowsill stood four geodes, spaced precisely the same distance apart.

Swallowing his disappointment, he said, “I thought you weren't afraid of him.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “That doesn't mean I want him peeking in my windows.”

“Look what he had.” Josiah held the key before her eyes.

Her head tilted. She'd let her hair down. Her face shone white amidst the thick chestnut waves. She turned and her bare feet padded across the floor. “That's not the room key. That's the barn key. I left it in my coat outside.”

“Then the room key is still . . .”

She spun and ran out of the room. It took only a heartbeat for her to retrieve the key off the mantle and push it into Josiah's hand. “You were right. Maybe he scares me just a bit.”

“You can't be scared. I won't allow it.”

Her hair cascaded down her shoulders. Shorter locks curled around her cheek and neck. Katie Ellen watched him, as if weighing him by the moonlight. Josiah didn't waver. Was she giving him another
chance? He hoped she'd give him several because she was fixing to get as irritated as a chicken laying a goose egg.

He ushered her back into the bedroom and closed and locked the door behind them.

“I thought I was clear—”

“You have a locked door on one side,” Josiah said, “but nothing's between you and the glass window.” He walked to the side of the bed next to the wall and hopped up on the high feather tick. Leaning back against the headboard he stretched his legs out. “Nothing except me.”

“Where am I going to sleep?” she asked.

“Right here.” He patted the rumpled blankets next to him.

“I don't think so.”

“Get under the covers and close your eyes. I'm going to sit here and mind my own business, don't you worry.” He tried to imagine her expression, but with the lamp out, it was too dark to know for sure.

“What would my parents think?”

“Would they rather we sit up all night in the kitchen together?”

“Either way, we're spending the night unchaperoned,” she admitted.

“Then you might as well be comfortable.”

“I'd feel better if I knew . . .”

Josiah stilled. His hearing grew acute, noticing each breath she took. “Knew what, Katie Ellen?”

The floor creaked, but the bed didn't move. “Knew what you thought of me. Knew what you were planning. . . .”

Now his words failed. For the last few years he'd been trying to figure out a way back into her life. If that meant teasing her like he had when they were young, then so be it. He just needed to get close enough that she could see he was sincere. That she could remember the good times they'd had together and consider whether there might be better times ahead. But she wasn't willing to go back. He'd have to find another way.

He cleared his throat. “If you're worried about me telling tales about you when this is over, you just get that thought out
of your mind. I know better than that, Katie Ellen. Can't you admit I've done some growing up, too?”

In vain he waited for an audible answer.

The bed creaked, then dipped as she curled up away from him. No words of acceptance coming from her tonight. He hadn't proved himself yet, but he was still trying.

With the gray cloud cover, Katie Ellen wasn't sure if the sun had hit the horizon or not, but the rooster told her it was morning. She reached for her blanket but it was beneath her instead of covering her. And the same shirt and skirt that she'd worn while getting the calf across the bridge was still on her. In bed.

She flopped onto her back and bumped against something solid. Her stomach dropped. Something was wrong. Slowly, memories of her parents' absence, the rainstorm, and the troublesome traveler came back. Morning had come and she'd survived, but where was Silas? Had he torn up anything? Had he stolen anything? Was he gone? And then there was Josiah.

Josiah. With growing certainty, the identity of the lump beside her became clear. Through the weak light from the window she could make out his profile. His head bowed to his chest, dozing against the headboard.

How many years had Katie Ellen looked for him down every crooked rabbit trail? How often had she stopped to see if the rustling in the undergrowth would turn out to be the swash
buckling blond boy, ready to take a break from his adventures to see her latest creation? But in later years, they hadn't enjoyed the same friendship. If she wanted to see him now, she had to dally in a spot waiting to accidentally-on-purpose run into him. And now here he was—so close, so protective. He could've left at any time. He could've made it down that cliff. He'd been scrambling up and down it since they were losing their milk teeth, but he'd stayed. For her.

And yet it might have been the biggest mistake of their lives. What if word got out? What would Pa and Ma say? What would Josiah's family think of her? Just like Josiah to jump into action without considering the consequences.

Through the years it seemed they shared a special bond. Sure, he irritated her, but no one could get her tickled the way he did. But that was before.

The kiss was the start of Josiah ignoring her. When his father, Calbert, had asked her ma for help, Katie Ellen had volunteered to take her ma's place, thinking that Josiah would be happy to see her. Instead he avoided her like she had the ague. For the next year or so
he'd stayed away, but recently something had changed. It'd take a fool not to recognize that he was trying to get back in her good graces, and Katie Ellen was no fool. But why now? What was he up to?

She wanted to move away but feared the awkwardness of the encounter. How did one wake up next to a man? She could sneak out and start her chores. No. She didn't want to go out alone not knowing what Silas was up to. . . . But could she stand being with Josiah any longer? And did his eyelid just flutter?

Katie Ellen bounded upright. “You're awake, aren't you?”

Slowly he lifted his head and smiled down at her. “I told you I'd stay up and watch out for you.” Then with no warning
he hopped up and took to the window. “Looks like the rain is slowing. Maybe we'll see the last of Silas today.”

And the last of Josiah. She scooted to the edge of the bed. The frame creaked as she slid her feet to the floor. She picked up her hairbrush from the nightstand. “I need to get ready for the day,” she said.

“I could use a spit and polish, too.” He scrubbed on his bristly face. His morning whiskers shaded his dimples even deeper. “Where do I keep my straight razor?”

“Do you need to shave? It seems like you're always stubbly when I see you.”

“Do you like it?” He dipped his head and waited as if her opinion was so very dear to him.

Transfixed, her hand rose of its own accord to touch his cheek. . . .

Katie Ellen snapped to attention. She hid her hands behind her back and clasped them securely.

“In the room upstairs. That's where Pa's razor is.”

Josiah cleared his throat and stared at her as she began to brush out her hair.

“What?” She lowered her arms.

His face had pinked like he'd been sitting too close to the stove. “Your hair is mighty pretty, Katie Ellen. I don't know that I've ever seen it down.”

Her stomach got all fluttery. She ripped the brush through a tangle. “What nonsense. I never wore it up until a few years ago.”

“But that was before.” His voice went dark.

Her hands stilled. “Before?” Their eyes locked. He had a request, a message he was trying to convey to her. She waited for him to voice it, but instead he walked past her, unlocked the door, and strode outside.

Katie Ellen's arms dropped to her side. She slammed the door closed and sprawled on the bed. Grabbing a pillow, she clutched it close. What was he doing to her? Why did he make her feel so unsure of herself? So dissatisfied? Every insecurity that'd ever plagued her danced through her mind. She'd make a good housekeeper, no doubt about it. She could cook and manage a farm. She was frugal and tidy. Josiah thought she had pretty hair, and evidently she was handsome enough to make him kiss her once. So what was her glaring defect? What was it about her that made him flee the room rather than tell her what he so obviously wished to express? Katie Ellen was determined. If she could only identify her shortcoming, she'd work night and day to obliterate it.

Speaking of working night and day, Josiah had moved her rocks again. Getting up, she put them back in the correct place. Just like him to set everything awry and not correct it. What was wrong with him? Turning from the window, she took her brush and continued to smooth her hair.

Josiah had always been known as a daredevil. Everyone thereabouts had Josiah stories they could tell—how he jumped over a campfire, how he rode Jeremiah Calhoun's meanest stallion, how he broke open the mountain pass for Doctor Hopkins during the worst blizzard. Josiah wasn't known for cautiousness. It was just like him to paint himself into a corner, and to Katie Ellen that was a serious character flaw. So maybe this inability to express himself was another flaw? On the other hand, if he was fearless, why had he started hiding from her?

No answer satisfied her.

Finishing her preparations, Katie Ellen left the bedroom just in time to see Silas and Josiah going out the door.

“You finally up?” Silas said. “'Bout time. I have a hankering for some vittles.”

“Come on,” Josiah said, not even sparing her a glance. “The animals come first.”

Choking back the multitude of instructions she wanted to impart to him, Katie Ellen headed to the kitchen. Breakfast she could do, and
hopefully Josiah would find everything he needed and not leave the place a mess. But if he did, she'd clean it up. See what a help she was?

Soon the eggs were frying and some bread was sliced. Pulling out a jar of preserves and placing mugs by each plate, she had the table ready by the time the men returned.

Silas dropped into a chair. “Can't believe a barn that clean and organized wouldn't have a proper milk pail.”

Her eyes darted to the corner where the milk pail sat unused that morning. Josiah shrugged as he pushed the water bucket onto the cabinet. Katie Ellen frowned. That's what she watered the animals with. She wouldn't be drinking that. Josiah put a hand on her waist. She froze as he pulled her against him and nuzzled his face into her hair. What was he doing?

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I couldn't tell him I didn't know where my own milk pail was.” Goose bumps raised on her arms as his lips brushed against her ear. “And now I have to kiss you to keep this little conversation secret.”

Her knees had turned to water even before he placed the chaste kiss on her cheek, and then he went to the basin to wash his hands.

Although she'd just as soon kiss a razorback as continue with this farce, Katie Ellen poured a ladle of milk into each mug and presented the men with their breakfast.

As soon as grace was over, Silas took one look at the skillet
and whistled. “Sunny-side up again? And I thought after that kiss you'uns had reached an understanding.”

Katie Ellen stared at the eggs. She hadn't meant to cook them wrong, but she had a lot on her mind. Surely they couldn't fault her for forgetting this one little thing? Josiah's head was still bowed. With his mouth twisted to one side, he took the flipper and dropped an egg onto his plate.

“You'd think after all these years of marriage that I could learn to like them the way she cooks them.” Josiah pushed the edge of his fork through the egg and shuddered as the yolk broke free.

“Put some pepper on them. They needed it last time.” Silas passed the pepper grinder to Josiah. “How long have you'uns been married, anyway?”

“Two . . .” Josiah drew out the word, probably waiting to see if she'd contradict him, “ . . . years?”

“That sounds reasonable,” she said.

“And no children?” Silas asked.

Josiah kept his chin tucked. “We haven't had time.”

Katie Ellen's face burned. Forgetting her resolve to avoid the milk, she gulped it down as Silas scratched his cheek. “Haven't had—”

Josiah grabbed her hand. “Any other chores you have for us, dear? I'm sure you don't like us underfoot.”

Milk rushed up her nose. Lowering the mug, she tugged away from him and covered her face with a kitchen towel. After a couple of coughs and an unladylike snort, she dared face her co-conspirator. “I'll go with you. Mr. Silas can wait here.”