Violet stared blissfully at the lake they’d come to. Carla had already moved to the water to drink and Morgan was walking toward her. “Let me help—”
Not waiting for him to finish, Violet slid off the mule by herself and immediately dropped to her knees, which was not her intention, but her legs just gave out. He shook his head and offered her a hand up, but as long as she was down, she sat to remove her boots.
“I wouldn’t recommend—” he began, but didn’t finish the warning.
Her legs still shaky, she stumbled to the water’s edge, sat down on the grass, and stuck her feet in it. It felt sublime, even if the water wasn’t as cold as she’d hoped it would be. She wanted to swim in the lake, which was what he must have assumed she was going to do, but she didn’t want her clothes to get wet and she certainly couldn’t remove them, not with the bear lurking behind her. Her upbringing forbade it. Her legs probably wouldn’t cooperate anyway if she tried to swim. Sitting astride might have kept her from bouncing off Carla’s back when the mule was trotting, but constantly gripping Carla’s sides with her thighs and calves to keep her balance had worsened the aches in her legs.
She leaned forward to splash water on her face, getting the ends of her hair wet in the process. Then she tried to discreetly knead some of the soreness from her upper thighs, but that hurt too much, so she stopped.
She realized that she undoubtedly looked a fright. The rest of her braid had unraveled and her long golden hair spilled down her back and over her shoulders. Without her usual coiffure, her lovely little hat probably did look ridiculous now, perched atop her wildly disarrayed mane. But she was beyond caring, too sore, too tired, too miserable—and still a little afraid of her abductor escort. What if he wasn’t Morgan Callahan? He never had confirmed that he was. But even if he was, that didn’t mean she was safe with him.
A splash to her right made her glance to the side. She was arrested, watching the man dip his head in the water then flip his head back to get the wet hair out of his face. Beads of water reached her, though she barely noticed.
It was the first time she was seeing him without his hat on. She’d been able to tell that his black hair was beyond shoulder-length. Slicked back with water as it was now, and with his long beard wet, too, his face was a little more defined, could even be called ruggedly handsome, she supposed. It also allowed her to see that he wasn’t really that old, maybe less than twenty-five years. Not that either made any difference. He was still a detestable bear.
He’d been kneeling to dunk his head but stood up now and, once again, hooked both thumbs on his belt—his actual belt, not the gun belt that slanted across his hips. “I appreciate that you’ve been mostly silent during the ride.”
That “mostly” nettled her. “It’s been too hot to make an effort to tell you what I think of the despicable way you are treating me,” she said indignantly. “And it wouldn’t have served any purpose, would it?”
He chuckled and walked away without answering, but then his amusement was answer enough. She huffed to herself and didn’t follow him with her eyes. She was content just to sit there in the shade with her feet in the water and ignore the odious man. But she did glance back when she heard the crackling of a fire. He was roasting something above it, had positioned four stakes around it to hold the meat out of the flames. Her eyes flared when she realized he was cooking the snake! Good Lord, did he expect her to eat that? Even as hungry as she was, she simply couldn’t.
She closed her eyes tight, trying to hold back tears. She might have enjoyed the outdoors when she was a child, but she could never have imagined anyone roughing it like this. Or being so poorly prepared that they had to eat snake meat!
A while later he said, “I’ve let it cool enough for you to hold.”
She glanced down to see a long slice of the cooked meat being offered to her over her shoulder. Oh, God, no plate, skin still on it, though he’d at least split it open.
She turned her head aside. “No thank you.”
“I thought you said you were hungry? Damn well yelled it, too.”
“I am, but only savages eat snake.”
“You see a restaurant nearby? Out here, we eat what’s available, and while snake meat is tough, it has very little flavor.”
“It’s certainly not considered fit for human consumption in England.”
“Do you see England nearby?”
Was he making a joke? She remembered an exhibit at a London museum about people in some distant land who ate snake meat. Sophie had whispered that the male savages ate it to increase their virility. This man certainly didn’t need help in that regard—he was virile enough as he was!
She ignored her growling stomach and repeated, “No thank you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t see him eating. But a while later he tapped her shoulder again, and she turned to see him offering her a piece of bread.
She took it before saying, “So the snake was just to prove what a savage you are?”
“So savage I tried to feed you something that would hold you till the next meal? You need meat.”
Not that kind of meat, she didn’t, but it was pointless to argue with him. She gazed at the lake as she chewed the dry bread. The less she had to look at the man and his strapping body, the better. His very size still frightened her. He was bearish in appearance and manner. He was rough, uncouth, lacking in refinement, lacking in charm, everything she would find objectionable in a man.
And then her eyes flared wide when she saw a very large bear, a bloody real one, lumbering toward the water on the other side of the lake. Horrified, ignoring her screaming muscles, she jumped up and hurried to hide behind Morgan. Why wasn’t he getting his rifle?! She peered around his shoulder and saw the bear stand up to sniff the air before it dropped to all four feet again to drink from the lake. Fascinated, she couldn’t take her eyes off it.
“It’s not coming over here,” Morgan said.
“But if it does?”
“Then I’ll be taking home bear meat.”
“So you’re a hunter, too?”
“Every man’s a hunter when it’s necessary, but I don’t pass up free food, though I admit I’m not partial to bear unless it’s only been eating nuts and berries.”
Bear meat, snake meat. Did people in this uncivilized land really eat anything that became available? God, they probably did. As he’d pointed out, the nearest restaurant she knew of was half a day’s ride away.
Ignoring the bear, Morgan moved to another one of his baskets. When he turned, she was amazed to see him offering her a puffy pastry coated in sugar. She was so pleased that she said thank you this time before she sat down by the water again to enjoy the pastry, glad to see the bear wandering off in the opposite direction. A few minutes later, feeling replete, she wished she could lie down and nap for the remainder of the time they would be there, but was afraid she wouldn’t get back up if she did.
She peered up at the cloudless sky. “Does it ever rain in this territory? Or does the rain dry up in this heat and disappear before it can reach the ground?”
He laughed. “I’ve never thought of that possibility, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it happens. But sure, it rains, just not that often. Snows a lot come winter, though.”
She didn’t care because, thankfully, she wouldn’t be here then. She was already dreading having to get back on her feet, much less on the mule. “How much farther to the mines?” she asked.
“Depends.” She assumed it depended on whether the animals walked or trotted. But then he added, “But it won’t be today.”
She was aghast. Was he serious? And if they wouldn’t reach his mining camp by nightfall . . . “But where will we sleep?”
“On the ground, of course.”
She was utterly appalled by the notion. “I’ve never slept anywhere but on a bed. I simply won’t be able to sleep.”
She thought she heard a chuckle. “You will.”