The Ruby Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy) (18 page)

THREE DAYS HAD passed since Kit returned from the cave and found Cullen seriously ill. He now walked a few steps around camp and found reasons to bark at John and Henry. He saw her approaching the buckboard. “I’m not riding in that wagon again. I’ve got a horse. I’m getting on it.”

Make that John, Henry, and her.

Jasper appeared as if by magic. Cullen had a co-conspirator. She glanced around and caught a flash of Adam’s plaid shirt on the other side of the wagon.
Traitor.

If Cullen thought he was well enough to ride, he could just sit his sorry ass in the saddle, and she’d see how long he could last. With his innate stubbornness, it occurred to her that he might make it until the nooning, so she packed a lunch basket.

“Mount up, Mr. Montgomery,” she said. “I’ll get my horse.”

The weather was perfect—the kind of day that defined spring. She sketched in her journal as they rode across the prairie. The clouds formed odd shapes that drifted at a leisurely pace across the robin’s-egg-blue sky. Colored pencils would be nice. Wildflowers splashed the tall grass with vivid purples and golds. In between the sky and wildflowers was a view of Scotts Bluff that added mystery to the landscape. And looming beyond the bluff was snow-capped Laramie Peak, a vivid reminder of the ascent into the Rocky Mountains.

From an artistic perspective—sublime to dangerous—it didn’t get any better.

When Cullen stretched, his saddled creaked under his weight.

“You sure you’re all right?”

He crossed his hands over his saddle horn. “You’ve asked twice in the past hour. My answer is the same. Fine.”

She lowered her head and looked at him over the top edge of the sunglasses she wished she were wearing. “Don’t get testy.”

There was no pleasure in his expression when he glanced at his arm for the umpteenth time. The pinprick and discoloration had faded, but he remembered. As she’d discovered, Cullen never forgot anything, and she knew he found it irritating that he didn’t understand what she’d done to him. To get his mind off the pinprick, she hummed a few measures of Bach’s
Toccata and Fugue in D Minor
.

“Shall we work our way through Bach?” he asked.

“You can’t stump me.”

“Would you like to place a wager?”

“I would, but I know you don’t bet.”

He chuckled. “I’ll make an exception.”

“And what would you bet?”

He glared at his arm as if the appendage had betrayed him. “I’ll give up an annoying habit.”

She burst out laughing, startling Stormy who danced sideways. “Okay boy.” She patted his neck. “I was going to ask what annoying habits you have, but a list formed in my mind immediately.”

He slapped his chest. “Ouch”

“Well, what habit did you have in mind? I’ll decide if it’s worth a wager.”

“I had hoped if I called enough attention to this pinprick, you’d tell me where it came from. But our donkey-determination has butted heads.”

“So what’s the bet?”

“If I stump you, you’ll tell me what you put in my arm. If you stump me, I won’t mention it again.”

She waved her arm in a grand gesture. “You go first.”

They went through Bach’s instrumentals and vocals then moved on to Mozart. Toward noon, Cullen’s shoulders slumped, but she knew he’d never admit to being tired.

“I think Stormy picked up a rock. I need to stop.”

“There’s shade ahead. Can you make it to that overhang?”

The real question was, could he?
S
he pulled two Tylenol from her shirt pocket, “Take these.”

He popped them into his mouth, then swigged water from his canteen. “What—”

She gave an inward groan. “Swallow the pills.”

He corked the canteen. “I was going to ask what the word ‘Tylenol’ means.”

“It’s taken from the chemical compound
cetylaminophenol.
And if you’d rather not take them, I won’t give you any more.”

“Whoa, I’m not complaining. Two pills and my aches go away. But I think I’ve discovered your secret.”

“What’s that?”

“You have a laboratory on your farm in Kentucky where you make mystery pills. Then you give them to patients to test their healing potential”

She wrote in her palm with an invisible pen. “Dear Laboratory Assistants. The patient reports that after taking two Tylenol his pain goes away.” She glanced at Cullen. “Can I report anything else?”

“Yes, I have more anecdotal evidence.” He leaned out of his saddle and kissed her. “Add that to the letter to your laboratory assistants.”

She laughed until tears poured down her cheeks.

CULLEN STRETCHED OUT on a blanket and pillowed his head with folded arms. His black hat covered his forehead and eyes. “Tell me what you see.”

She glanced up and around. “A cloud-filled sky and a concentrated disturbance of vegetation.”

A wisp of a smile crinkled the corners of his lips.

“What do you see?” There was a bit of touch-me-tease-me in her voice.

“A beautiful woman I want to kiss.” His fingers wrapped gently around her arm, and he pulled her toward him.

“Not a good idea.”

“Tsk, tsk,
not a good idea
would be wasting the time we have alone.”

“You need rest.” She tried to sit, but he pulled her back down.

“Rest with me.”

“That’s all you want?”

“No, not all I want.” He moved with the speed of a man fully recovered.

Damn those pills.

Before she could escape, he had her beneath him, her head resting in the crook of his elbow. He traced the curve of her jaw with the back of his finger. “There is something so uniquely beautiful about you. Worldly yet innocent. I believe you’re from the Aegean Isle?”

“Nope, the far side of the moon.” She teased her fingertips down the length of his pulsing neck.

His lips met hers in a soft, seductive dance. “I’ve never met anyone from the far side before.” The sounds of the warm cello, the soft mellow flute, the rumbling beat of the kettledrum, the mysterious oboe, the soulful bagpipes blended in his voice and created a symphony that played to her heart.

“You have now.”

Cullen nuzzled her neck, sending silky shivers whispering across her skin. His hand glided over her breasts. “No corset for Kit MacKlenna.”

“Easier for you to touch me.”

“And taste you.” He unbuttoned her blouse, slipped his hand inside her camisole, and cupped her breast. “Yellow silk.” His voice was creamy and delicious. His thumb circled her nipple, eliciting heady sensations that rolled through her body, producing a dizzying explosion of pleasure. He lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth.

Sizzling heat twirled her in a Viennese Waltz of surrender.

Her virginity had almost been stolen on a stormy night years earlier, and because of that she held on to it tenaciously, but now beneath the Nebraska sky, she wanted to give herself to the man she had fallen in love with—a man who could never be part of her life.

She traced the tip of her tongue around the shell of his ear, and whispered. “Make love to me.”

He shuddered and let out a long sigh. “Aye lass, there’s nothing I want more.” He gazed into her eyes. “I won’t take your maidenhead or risk getting you with child.”

“I have…condoms.”

He drew back with a gasp. “Good God, woman.
Why
?” He rolled away from her and jumped to his feet.

She took the verbal attack with a confused shudder. “They were in my backpack to use for emergency water storage—”

“You’d give yourself to me knowing I’m going to marry Abigail?” His voice was a deep wolf’s growl. His eyes smoked with fury.

“What a jerk. You’re crazy.” She clamored to her feet, but in her adrenaline rage, caught her shoe in the dress’s hem. She tugged on her skirt. “Thoughts of
her
didn’t stop you from touching me. If you’re going to marry the woman, marry her. But leave me the hell alone.” White-hot anger boiled inside her gut.

His lip held a sardonic crook. “You’ve known my intentions all along.”

“What are you saying? I’m a condom-toting slut?”

“That’s not what—”

She spun on her heels. “Go to hell, Cullen Montgomery.”

“Come back here.” He grabbed her arm, but she jerked it out of his grasp.

“Leave me alone.” She bunched up her skirt and mounted Stormy.

Don’t cry. Not in front of him.

She galloped away, found an isolated spot by the river, and dismounted. What in the world happened? Cullen had turned on her quicker than that rattlesnake sank his fang. The venomous betrayal went deep into her bloodstream. She had trusted him and even wanted to give…
Oh, God, how could I have been so stupid?

She’d risked more than she could afford to risk, and he had violated her trust. She rubbed the scars on her neck. The memories heaved her into a Machiavellian chamber of horrors. Feeling violently sick, she threw up her lunch.

Damn him.

FROM A DISTANCE, Cullen watched Kit cry. His heart crawled into his throat and hung there, choking him. The only women he had known with condoms were the courtesans he visited in Europe. Knowing Kit had them sent his mind reeling in all sorts of deviant directions.

Was she offering herself to him for pleasure? If to him, then who else? The thought of another man holding her, touching her, kissing her filled him with the burn of jealously and fire of rage.

Now that his heart no longer thundered, he could see clearly. And what he saw made him cower in shame. In her pain and tears, her trust in him had shattered before his eyes.

He groaned like the ground erupting. “Lord, what have I done?”

Bits and pieces of the dream he had the night of Kit’s snakebite coiled into his mind. In the dream, she had left him, and he couldn’t find her. He yelled, but she didn’t answer. He grieved, but she didn’t return to console him. Kristen appeared and led him to the path he needed to take, but he woke before the journey began.

He had a sense he’d just taken the first step in that journey.

Chapter Nineteen

THE WAGON TRAIN crossed the toll bridge at the tree-fringed North Platte River, then had followed Cullen to a camping spot three miles west of Fort Laramie. The fort marked another milestone on the trail, six hundred fifty miles from Independence—less than three hundred miles from South Pass. Kit made notes in her journal, frowning as she often did when she thought of leaving her friends.

“Why are you frowning? It’s a beautiful day.” Sarah sat in a rocking chair mending a pair of trousers.

Kit looked about. The dark blue sky bordered on purple and the temperature hovered in the high seventies, but the dust and an insensitive lawyer kept the day from ranking up there with the gorgeous ones. The paint-worthy ones. The ones she remembered because something extraordinary happened.

“I need to take Stormy to the fort to see the farrier.”

“Take Adam with you.”

“He’s fixing a wheel and doesn’t have time to babysit me.”

Sarah tied off the thread and folded the pants. “What about Ben?”

“He and Clint are both with John.”

“It’s not safe for you to go alone.”

Nothing in the nineteenth century was safe. Cullen wasn’t safe. The trail wasn’t safe. The food wasn’t safe. The water wasn’t safe. Why should the fort be safe? She didn’t have the energy to argue. “What if I put on my short-hair wig and wear trousers? Everyone will think I’m a boy. Will that make you feel better?”

Sarah’s gasp told Kit exactly what she thought of the idea. But her eyes held a spark of interest. “Get dressed and let me see.”

Kit scrunched her face in disbelief. “You sure?”

Sarah gulped. “I think. Hurry up.”

A few minutes later Kit returned with her pant legs tucked into her riding boots and a wide-brim hat covering a short, blonde-hair wig.

Sarah stood, placed her hands on Kit’s shoulders, and spun her around. “Why you’re the prettiest boy I ever did see.”

Kit suppressed a smile. “Can I go now?”

“Please stay out of trouble. If John finds out I encouraged you, he’ll be upset with me. Keep your voice low and hurry back.”

“I’ll be a couple of hours. You sure you don’t need anything?”

“If I do, we can get it tomorrow.”

Kit pulled her hat brim close to her eyes and rode off, passing Henry’s wagon. She didn’t see Cullen’s horse. Did that mean he was at the fort? She hoped not. In the past week, he’d made no effort to apologize. Never again would his smooth talk turn her into a fool.

No talking. No fraternizing. No way. No.

She rode into the fort with her head down, hunching her shoulders. Could she pull off the charade? Sure, as long as she didn’t see Cullen
.

The farrier wasn’t at the stables, and there was no one around to ask when he’d return. If he didn’t show up soon, she’d leave and come back later. While she waited, she decided to give Stormy a bath.

A hand slapped her shoulder and spun her around, bringing her nose-to-chest with a scraggly-haired, hard-ass-looking soldier. A lieutenant, judging from his uniform.

“That’s mighty fine horseflesh, boy. You interested in a race?”

A race?

He hawked up a wad of phlegm and spat into the dirt next to her toes. “Are you deaf? Do you want to race that there stallion?”

Yuk. A disgusting man with a hard-life story written in the wrinkles of his face. A tale she certainly didn’t care to read. “How far?”

“A mile.”

She loved
to race and had been trained by some of the best jockeys in the business. A spirited one-on-one challenge was just what she needed to wipe Cullen Montgomery right out of her mind.

“You got yourself a race, mister.”

He pointed toward the other side of the fort. “Track’s that way.”

Kit stretched her neck, looking where he was pointing. “I’ll meet you over there.”