Short-Straw Bride (20 page)

T
ravis glared down at the woman who'd nearly given him a heart seizure. Her blue eyes had gone wide.
Good.
Maybe he'd scare some sense into her.

“Don't you
ever
step in front of my weapon like that.” He ground the order out between clenched teeth. “Do you understand me?”

Meredith gave a quick little nod, her chin quivering. Travis hardened himself against the urge to set aside the lecture and gather her into his arms. This was no time to be soft. Just thinking about what could have happened made his blood run cold.

“A bump against the barrel, an involuntary jerk of my hand . . . anything could have set the gun off, and then where would you be?” He let go of her arm and stalked off a pace before whirling around, his finger jabbing toward the earth, where he visualized her bloody, prostrate form. “On the ground, that's where. Dead.”

A shiver passed through him, and he raised a hand to his face to try to rub away the torturous image.

“I trust you, Travis.” Meredith took an uneven step toward him. “I know you would never harm me.”

“Not intentionally, but accidents happen. You need to exert better judgment, Meri. Stop rushing in to help all the time.”

“Stop rushing in . . . ?” She stiffened her posture.

A tickle of unease gathered in Travis's gut.

“It wasn't
my
faulty judgment that placed me in front of your rifle, Travis Archer. It was yours.” Her index finger collided with his chest.

Travis frowned. If she thought she was going to turn this around on him, she could think again.
She
was the one who needed to learn how things were done on his land.
She
was the one who needed to quit putting herself in harm's way, conducting those good deeds of hers that always seemed to go awry.
She
was the one—

“I tried to explain who Moses was when I first came across your little welcoming party,” she said, intruding on the satisfaction of his inner tirade, “but you were so set on driving him away that you rebuffed my efforts. Had you simply listened, there would have been no need for me to get your attention through drastic measures. Perhaps I did put myself in harm's way, but only because you drove me there.”

“I'm sure you could have found other,
safer
, ways to secure my attention.” Travis crossed his arms. Let her try to refute that argument.

Meredith crossed her own arms. “Maybe, but none of those options would have put me between you and Moses. And that was precisely where I needed to be. Or did you fail to notice the way his hands curled into fists when he thought I might be in trouble?” She paused, as if daring him to comment. “He would have flattened you if I hadn't intervened.”

“I would've held my own,” Travis grumbled.

“Would you have shot him?”

Travis rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the tops of his boots. Meredith knew he'd never shoot an unarmed man, he could hear it in her voice. So why was she pressing him?

She took a step toward him and braced her hands on her hips. “One of these days someone is going to call your bluff, Travis, and you'll either have to take whatever they dish out or pull that trigger and live with the consequences. I didn't want today to be that day.

“Moses outweighs you by at least forty pounds.” Meredith eyed him dubiously. Travis straightened to his full height and glared at her. “You might've been willing to take him on, but I wasn't willing to let you try, not when I had the ability to clear up the misunderstanding with a simple explanation. So I did what I had to do. I'm an Archer, remember? We protect our own.”

He wanted to throttle her. He truly did. Throwing his words back in his face as if the crazy woman actually thought he needed her protection. It was his job to protect her, not the other way around. Yet hearing her declare herself an Archer filled him with such satisfaction, he chose not to correct her misguided notions.

For now.

“Just promise me that you won't put yourself in harm's way again.”

She lifted her chin. “I promise not to intentionally put myself in harm's way . . .
unless
I deem it necessary to protect the well-being of another.”

Did she have to make everything so complicated? Travis bit back a sigh. At least she agreed to comply with his dictate for the most part. That'd have to be good enough. He'd just ignore the obstinate set of her mouth.

Only he couldn't.

He stared at her lips. Watching them soften as her defiance faded. Imagining the feel of them against his own. Would she welcome a real kiss from him? Not another chaste meeting of lips like at their wedding, but a deep, intimate joining?

Travis jerked his gaze to the sky and flared his nostrils as he strove to subdue the stampede of desire thundering through him. He'd always found his wife attractive, but he'd not been prepared for this sudden ambush of cravings—to kiss her, touch her . . .

Could she read his thoughts? Was he frightening her? 'Cause he was sure as shootin' scaring himself.

“I don't mean to make you angry, Travis,” Meredith said, her expression more stubborn than fearful, thank the Lord. “But I can't promise to do something that may violate my conscience.”

Angry?
What was she talking about? “I'm not mad at you, Meri.”

Her brow furrowed. “You're not? I could have sworn you were counting to ten or something, trying to keep your temper in check.”

Travis nearly laughed aloud. His sweet, innocent wife had no idea what he'd been trying to keep in check. And he wanted to keep it that way. At least until he learned how to control it a little better.

“I promise I'm not m—”

Meredith's gasp cut him off.

“Oh my stars!” Her panicked eyes darted past him to the house and had him reaching for his rifle to confront the threat. “My cornbread!” She grabbed a fistful of skirt and sprinted down the path and across the yard.

Travis let out a breath and watched her go, propping the unneeded rifle on his shoulder. She sure was a pretty thing. Feisty, too. And even though he hated that she'd put herself in danger, he had to admit that her courage and tender heart were the things he admired most about her.

Perhaps it was time he got serious about courting his wife.

Travis secretly schemed during supper, determined to wait for the right moment. When Meredith cleared away the dessert plates and the empty pie tin that earlier had been filled with sweet, flaky apple goodness, he excused himself to go check on the stock.

If the woman was trying to sweeten him up, she was doing a right fine job of it. He couldn't remember ever tasting anything as delectable as that apple pie. It only made him more anxious to get his wife alone. When he carried his coffee cup to where she stood washing the dishes, he caught the faint aroma of cinnamon and apples clinging to her even after the pie had been fully consumed. He couldn't wait to see if the taste lingered on her lips, as well.

After checking that the horses had adequate feed and water for the night, he headed back to the house with Sadie trailing at his heels. The sun had already dipped beneath the horizon, and light quickly faded from the sky. The moon promised to be bright, though—the perfect backdrop for a courting stroll.

He bent to pat Sadie's head, but the sound of the front door opening urged him back to an upright position. Jim crossed the porch, an unlit lantern in hand.

“Heading to your workshop?” Travis strode forward to meet him at the base of the steps.

“Yep.” Jim halted when he reached the ground and hesitated, as if waiting to see if any other conversation would be necessary.

“Whatcha making this time?”

Jim tipped the brim of his hat back and shrugged. “One of them chests womenfolk like to store blankets and such in.”

“Oak or pine?” Travis asked, not concerned so much with the answer as in keeping the conversation going.

“Oak.”

A question burned on the front of Travis's tongue, but he couldn't quite seem to spit it out. It was only when Jim started to move past him that the words tumbled forth.

“Do you think I did the right thing in hiring Moses and Josiah?” Travis peered into his brother's face, hoping for a sign of approval yet worried that Jim might confirm the uneasy niggling in the back of his mind that accused him of giving Meredith too much influence over his decision.

As always, Jim took his time answering. “The man knows building,” he finally said. “And his idea about using stonework for the first three or four feet of the walls is sound. We'll be able to get more use out of the lumber we've salvaged from the original barn, plus the stone at ground level will be less likely to catch fire should a torch ever be tossed down beside it.”

“You think he's trustworthy?”

“Dunno. But he and the boy are hard workers. They sanded the scorch marks from about half the boards in the scrap heap after lunch and tested them for weak spots while you and Crockett checked the grass up by Horseshoe Rock. Said he'd bring along his own tools tomorrow, too, so he wouldn't have to borrow mine. Seems a decent enough fella.”

“Good.” One of the knots in Travis's belly loosened.

“I think Neill got a kick outta having someone his own age around. Once those two started yakkin', they hardly ever stopped.”

Which could mean anything from swapping names and a pleasantry or two to jabbering like a pair of magpies. It was impossible to tell with Jim making the observation. To him, a sentence with more than two words qualified as verbose. He'd probably said more in the last two minutes than he had all day.

“Well, I'll look forward to seeing them in action tomorrow.”

Jim nodded and headed off to the shed. Sadie padded after him, leaving Travis alone with the other knot in his gut—the tangle of anticipation and nerves.

Surely Meredith was done tidying the kitchen by now, and hopefully Crockett would be off in the den working on Sunday's lesson or taking Neill on in a game of checkers. The last thing Travis wanted when he asked Meredith to walk with him was an audience.

As it turned out, no audience waited for him in the kitchen, but then, neither did Meredith. Travis moseyed down the hall in search of his wife, trying to look as nonchalant as possible despite the porcupine rolling around in his stomach. He ducked past the den before Crockett could see him, figuring he'd look there last. No sense opening himself to a round of teasing if it wasn't necessary.

Her bedroom door stood open, but when he peeked inside, he found no trace of her. When he turned, however, he was treated to the sight of his wife's backside wiggling toward him as she struggled to pull Neill's door closed while clasping a wad of clothing in one hand and her sewing box in the other.

Travis reached around her to assist, enjoying the contact as his arm brushed against hers. She jumped into a straighter position, and the movement pressed her back snuggly against his chest. He liked that even more.

“I didn't mean to startle you.” Which was true, but he sure didn't mind taking advantage of the results. He breathed in the scent of her as he rubbed the side of his jaw against her hair.

Meredith lingered a moment, then stepped away. Travis bit back his disappointment.

“I was gathering the mending,” she said, her shy gaze not quite reaching his. “I didn't realize you were behind me.”

“No harm done.” Travis smiled at her, hoping the grin would pass for charming. Sadie was the only female he'd ever tried to coax into sharing his company before, and something told him gals of the two-legged variety might be a little trickier to convince. “Would you . . . um . . . like to take a walk with me? There's a pretty spot down along the creek that I've been meaning to show you.”

“It sounds lovely.” Her lips curved encouragingly, then fell. “Oh, but I told Neill I'd repair the cuffs on his favorite work shirt. One snag and the raggedy things are bound to tear clean off.”

Hoping the regret he heard lacing her voice was genuine and not just wishful thinking on his part, Travis gently collected the sewing box and pile of shirts from her and tucked them under his arm. “It'll keep,” he said.

He led the way to the kitchen, set the mending items on the table, and then took her cloak from the hook on the wall and held it out for her to step into. “Shall we?”

She hesitated, looking at the mending before reaching out to him again. But when she bit her lip and nodded, a spark of eagerness danced in her eyes that set his pulse to thrumming. Meredith reached behind her back to untie her apron, then slid her arms into the sleeves of her cloak and allowed him to fit it over her shoulders. His hands smoothed down the edge of her arms as she did up the top few buttons, and he fought the urge to draw her into a more intimate embrace.