Spring Blossom (21 page)

“You’re afraid to try a simple kiss?” he
prodded in feigned wonder.

Margaret’s eyes met his again. “And you are
playing some silly game I want no part of,” she snapped, sliding
out from beneath his arms.

But before she could get to her feet, he
taunted, “Kissing is a simple pleasure, Maggie. Like the
sunset.”

She scoffed at that. “You think kissing you
would be a pleasure?”

“You won’t know until you try it.”

Margaret hated to be taunted, but she was,
in fact, curious. She couldn’t see that such a gesture held any
real merit. “I’ve kissed my father’s cheek because I have true
affection for him,” she stated primly.

Hunter rolled onto his back as he gazed at
her. “There’s a difference between kissing a father's cheek and
kissing that of your husband.”

There was certainly a difference in the
relationships, but what could be the difference between kissing one
man’s cheek and kissing another’s? Exasperated by her own growing
curiosity, Margaret chose to attack. “This is a silly game and no
doubt, a trick.”

“No trick,” he said, and it was hardly a
game when husband and wife could not share a simple kiss.

She stared at him a moment, kneeling at his
side and ready to escape if need be. “I don’t want you to touch
me,” she said

Hunter raised his arms and cradled the back
of his head with his hands. He then turned his head in her
direction, offering one side of his face and Margaret leaned
forward and lightly pressed her lips to his cheek.

She did not linger, but sat back on her
heels, frowning down at him. “No difference,” she announced. Hunter
merely grinned, lying there looking foolish until she found herself
smiling. “You look ridiculously pleased.”

“Actually I’m disappointed,” he said. “You
could have put some enthusiasm into it.”

She laughed at that.

“It lacked substance,” he said lightly,
teasing. “I had hoped for something more than a friendly peck.
Chickens peck, Maggie.”

“Such foolishness,” she muttered and started
to turn away.

Hunter lightly grasped one of her hands.
“It’s quite fun being foolish sometimes, don’t you think? Just as
it's fun to kiss with a little enthusiasm. But you have to have it
in you, Maggie,” he said with well-feigned doubt.

Her frown mocked him as she eased her hand
out of his hold and rested both palms on her thighs. “You know
something, Hunter? You should speak to me in Cherokee. Then perhaps
I will understand you better.”

“It
is substance. A kiss must have substance.”

“Is this a challenge?” she asked, arching
her finely chiseled brows.

“Absolutely.”

She was timid, but Margaret was also just a
little bit curious. Just being close enough to him to offer that
light peck had felt different.

She leaned toward him, and Hunter turned his
head so that she pressed her lips against the corner of his mouth.
That startled her, and she pulled back, but then she titled her
head to the side and her soft lips and warm breath caressed his
cheek again.

Come, little one, he coaxed silently, be
brave.

Margaret’s senses heightened as she caught
hints of his pleasant scent and warmth. She experimented with the
feel of his skin against her lips, and she moved upward, her lips
lightly touching just below his eye. She felt strange, but
pleasantly so as her lips trailed down one side of his face and
toward his mouth, hesitating. There was something very compelling
in wanting to touch him with her lips but something frightening,
too.

Hunter could feel the tension radiating from
her, but hoped it was shyness and not complete fear…more like
trepidation, that this would lead to something more, that she did,
indeed, fear. He turned his head toward her, even as he dared to
raise one hand and cup her cheek, lightly holding her still. He
took her beyond her hesitation by placing his lips against hers,
gently, warmly. When she started to pull away, he waited, hoping
her curiosity would force her to return of her own accord.

Margaret stared down at the well-defined
masculine lips so close to her own, then lowered her head,
tentatively touching and withdrawing before returning to wonder at
the pleasant sensation this kissing could promote. It was not at
all threatening, touching him this way. And that was curious.

And the hand that touched her cheek was warm
and gentle and a little bit possessive. That, too, was curious.

She backed off then, watching his hand fall
to his side as she straightened, clearly perplexed. When her eyes
move higher, Hunter was watching her with an expression she could
not define and had never seen on his face before; but that look was
entirely sensual.

Margaret swallowed hard and sought to ease
the nervous tension that had sprouted instantaneously within her.
“Should we make breakfast now?”

Hunter laughed lightly. She had made him
hungry, but not for food. “All right, little one,” he said in a
somewhat strained voice. “But I want you to know I thought that was
a pleasant start to the day.” He rolled lithely to his fee and used
the act of pulling on his shirt and boots as an excuse for keeping
his back to her. Clearly he needed a few moments alone.

“I’ll get some water,” he muttered as he
swept his hand down, easily tossed the wooden pail in the air, and
then caught it as he started off toward the river.

Margaret frowned at what she considered
strange behavior on his part.

By the time he returned, Margaret had the
fire going and was struggling to shave thin slices off a side of
bacon. Hunter left the water near the fire, then knelt beside her
and took the knife. He tested the blade with the pad of his thumb.
“This needs honing.”

Margaret moved far enough away so that she
would not be touching him as she began making the coffee. She was
still getting over the kissing and now found she couldn’t forget
the feel of his hand on her cheek or the feel of his lips beneath
her own.

Once the coffee had brewed and the bacon and
beans were plated, Margaret seemed to concentrate on her food for
quite some time before actually eating. The suddenly her blue eyes
snapped up and narrowed as she honed in on his face. “Was that the
lesson you said I would learn this morning?” she asked
suspiciously. “Was kissing you the lesson?”

Hunter hid his smile but he was pleased; so
she was thinking about that? But to her he said only, “Well, I
suppose there was a lesson in that, of sorts, but there is another
lesson, Maggie, after we eat.”

“And that would be…?”

“I’m going to teach you how to defend
yourself.”

“As in fighting? You expect me to
fight?”

“Not fighting as a man would fight. But a
woman can learn to protect herself. Even a small woman can disable
a man if she knows how.”

Margaret’s brows arched upward. “A man of
any size?”

Hunter nodded, oblivious to the intent
behind that particular question. Then he frowned in turn as a
glowing smile slowly spread across her face. The imp! “Not against
me, woman,” he laughed.

Margaret chuckled and dipped her head as she
scooped up a forkful of beans. She thought it an excellent idea to
learn how to defend herself against him. In fact, she thought she
needed lessons in more than physical defense; often he left her
feeling emotional challenged as well.

Once they had eaten and tidied their
campsite, Hunter moved well away from the fire and motioned Maggie
to join him.

Felling a distinct rush of anticipation, and
somewhat uneasy, she walked slowly toward him and stopped several
paces away.

“It occurred to me last night that this is
something you should have been taught years ago,” he said as he
shortened the distance between them.

“I don’t think my father has ever thought
about self-defense,” she said quietly. “And who else would teach
me?”

That was true. Still…”There are bound to be
times when you find yourself among people you don’t know or can’t
trust, like those two visitors of yesterday. You didn’t like them,
and they frightened you because you felt vulnerable. Is that a fair
statement?”

Margaret nodded her head, although she was
disconcerted by how much he seemed know and understand about her.
In fact, she sometimes wondered if he understood her better than
she did herself. She had never given a conscious thought to her
vulnerability; life was what it was.

“All right,” Hunter said, watching for any
display of skittishness. “I’m going to walk behind you,” he warned
as he put words to actions. “And then I’m going to put my arms
around you.”

Margaret nodded her head slowly.

He stepped closely behind her and folded his
arms across her chest, locking one strong hand onto the opposite
forearm. “All right, little one?” he asked softly.

Margaret nodded her head again but swallowed
as if her throat had squeezed, preventing her ability to do so with
ease. This feeling of entrapment was not all comfortable for her
but she stood still, trusting him for the first time since their
marriage. Why she would suddenly trust, she would have to determine
later.

“Now, how do you think you could force me to
let you go?”

She thought about that as she raised her
hands to test the strength of his hold around her.

“You can’t pry my arms apart, Maggie,” he
said softly. “But men do have some vulnerable points, just as women
do.” He loosened his hold somewhat, giving her room. “Look down at
our feet. If you were to suddenly and quickly grind your heel into
my instep, the pain and surprise would cause me to at least loosen
my hold. Once you feel that happen, and have enough leeway to turn
slightly toward me, move your arm briskly forward and bring your
elbow back sharply, with all your strength, into my ribs.”

He put his hand around her forearm and
demonstrated the movement.

“Is this the way the Cherokee fight?” she
asked.

Hunter laughed. “Darling, when it comes to
fighting, everyone will do whatever must be done.”

Darling?

Hunter hadn’t been conscious of the
endearment, but Margaret was fully aware…and surprised.

“
Now we’re going to try
something else,” he was saying as her mind began to drift in
directions completely opposite of fighting. “But remember,” he
warned, gaining her attention. “I’m your husband. You are not
supposed to hurt me.”

Margaret chuckled at the thought. Hurting
him would be the equivalent of a flea hurting a dog. Anything more
severe than a pesky bite would be pure luck.

Hunter released her and took a step back.
“Are you ready?”

“Ready,” she choked, doubling in two as she
turned hysterically giddy over her own self-doubt.

Hunter frowned as he watched her turn toward
him, her hands covering her face as she slowly straightened.

Margaret’s eyes roamed up from his boots to
his wide shoulders, and the control she had been gaining was lost
as she began to laugh again. “I’m really supposed to disable you?”
she asked. “Hunter, that would be like a mouse trying to fell a
tree. How is he even supposed to life the ax?” She howled again
with laughter as he grinned at her inanity. “I’m sorry,” she
continued as he waited patiently for her to regain some semblance
of control. “It just struck me as funny.”

He enjoyed her reaction; he liked to see her
laugh. It was the first time he had heard her laugh since his
return to Treemont. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited
as he continued to smile at her.

“I’m all right now,” Margaret said
eventually, choking briefly as she wiped tears of laughter from
beneath her eyes.

Hunter shook his head, doubtful that she was
steady as yet. “You’re certain you’re ready?”

“No,” she teased, but turned her back to
him. “Yes.”

Hunter stepped forward and threw his arms
around her.

Before he had fully captured her, Margaret
snapped her arm back, driving her elbow into his midsection with
such sudden force that he immediately released her.

At his grunt of pain, Margaret whirled to
face him. “Oh, Hunter,” she cried, genuinely dismayed. “I didn’t
mean that to happen.”

“
I know, Maggie,” he said
quietly as his hand massaged his ribs. And then a lopsided smile
appeared on his face as he realized her honest distress. “Now you
see how you can also use the element of surprise as another
weapon.”

Margaret covered her mouth with her hand as
she continued to stare in obvious concern.

He was moved by her reaction and took her
hand in his. Squeezing her fingers lightly he said, “It’s all
right, little one. I’m not hurt.”

She nodded, acknowledging his statement, but
continued to frown.

“Now that you’ve mastered that maneuvers,”
he teased, “I hesitate to go on to the next.”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t do this anymore.”

“But you see now how easy it is?”

She did. And suddenly her concern for him
was forgotten. This was serious business to him.

Rubbing his thumb slowly across her
knuckles, he added, “Now that you are free of your attacker, you
must run. If you aren’t able to get away, there is something else
that you can do.” He dropped her hand and stepped very close to
her. “Suppose you have been successful only in stunning him and he
continues to hold you?” He put his hands on her shoulders and
smiled ruefully. “Little one, I ask you not to lose control of your
actions this time. You could ruin our hopes of having children if
you do.”

Margaret’s frown deepened even as her cheeks
turned brilliant pink.

Hunter knew she was going to be
uncomfortable with this and chose to speak casually, as if they’d
had such discussions on numerous occasions. “The most certain way
of disabling a man is to strike hard between his legs. If you are
far enough back, you can kick him. If he has a hold on you, bring
your knee up sharply. Once you strike there, Maggie, I guarantee
you will be free.”