“That’s a good idea, considering all the tossing and turning you do when you sleep.”
She was taken aback by his intimate observations of her. Had he watched her sleep? “How do you know that?”
“Couldn’t help noticing when we were on the trail.”
Oh, that. She was relieved until he added, “You talk in your sleep, too.”
She gasped. She did nothing of the sort! But she really didn’t want to get into another argument with him, which his observations were priming her for, so she clamped her mouth shut and looked away from his still naked chest. Why couldn’t he put on a shirt after he left the mine? But she figured maybe he wanted to bathe first, which he left to do as soon as he’d gotten the meal started.
She stared at the fire while he was gone, trying to calm herself. She shouldn’t let the man and his habits agitate her so. It seemed to work, because she was able to smile at him when he walked in, mostly because he was wearing his shirt now.
He brought the food to the table. She smirked to herself when he grabbed a towel and laid it on the table before setting down the hot pots. One contained some sort of meat in gravy, the other buttered carrots. The bread he put on the table smelled fresh, so she guessed he must have made it while she’d napped yesterday.
Once they started eating, he asked, “Who’s Elliott?”
She almost choked. She did talk in her sleep? She must have been beyond exhausted for that to happen—well, she had been yesterday. There was simply no way that Sophie, with whom she had shared a room all those years, wouldn’t have mentioned something like that if Violet did it regularly.
Morgan was looking at her expectantly, so she cleared her throat and said, “He’s the English lord I told you about, the man I plan to marry when I return to London.”
“He’s already asked for you?”
“No, but the London Season of endless parties was about to begin just as I had to leave to come home. I’ve been looking forward to the Season for years. I still can’t believe I’m missing it. And the balls—I do love dancing. Lord Elliott was immediately interested in me when we met, broke quite a few rules because he wouldn’t leave my side! So charming and debonair. He even told me he was looking for a wife, so I know he would have asked to marry me if I were there to enjoy the Season with him—instead of here sorting out this mess Papa left us with.”
“You blame Charley for dying?”
“No, of course not!”
“Sounds like it to me,” he said with a shrug. “And this Elliott you’re going to pay to marry you sounds like an idiot.”
“I told you, dowries are expected among the aristocracy, something you obviously know nothing about. So do us both a favor and finish your meal in silence, as I intend to do.”
She ended that with a glare. Why did that make him grin? Had he deliberately provoked her and was pleased he’d succeeded? But she refused to say another word to him while she was so hotly smarting, or she would certainly say something she would regret.
She finished her dinner quickly and retreated behind the screen so she wouldn’t have to look at Morgan for another minute. The new arrangement really did afford her some privacy. Much better. But they were still in the same room, even if she couldn’t see him now, so she couldn’t quite bring herself to undress and put on her nightgown. Sometimes she wished proper behavior wasn’t so bloody uncomfortable.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“WHAT IS IT, BO?” Violet yelled as the dog started barking up ahead.
She ran toward him, hoping he’d finally figured out that she wanted him to find her father’s scent. She’d continued to let him sniff her father’s jacket before she began her search each day. But when she reached him, she saw that he’d just found a family of rabbits and couldn’t figure out which one to chase.
Assuring herself that the dog just wanted to play with his find rather than eat it, she continued walking. She was becoming frustrated after four days of searching up and down these hills and finding nothing. She’d gone west down the hill yesterday, all the way down, and was utterly disappointed by the view beyond the trees, just another open vista of endless golden and green grassland. She’d walked around every pine tree on the way down, annoyed that none had any exposed roots or hidey-holes to speak of, so she considered that a wasted day.
And the queasiness she’d been feeling wouldn’t go away. She was so dreading asking Morgan for that loan to save her family home. But how else would her brothers be able to come west to work their father’s mine? Even if she found the money and sent it to them so they could make the next loan payment, Mr. Perry would surely seize the house when he found out both of her brothers had left town without paying back the entire loan.
Violet had to make a deal with Morgan on their behalf without being able to consult them first. What if her brothers balked at the idea of working in the mine? After all, it would be very hard labor. They might want to find some other way to pay Morgan back once the house was safe, and then he might get mad and have them jailed if they didn’t pay up or start working toward that end right away.
So many negative possibilities kept filling her head that she’d accomplished nothing over the last three days other than not getting mad at Morgan or arguing with him. But being afraid to broach such an important subject just increased her nervousness. A flat-out no from him would wreck all her hopes and dreams for the future.
And although she’d been maintaining peace with Morgan, she hadn’t gotten the sense that he would be receptive to her loan proposal. In fact, his movements and actions such as banging plates on the table and stomping out to go work suggested he was still brooding. His mood seemed to have worsened since their dinner three nights ago when he’d asked her who Elliott was. Perhaps she’d gone on too long singing Elliott’s praises and complained too much about missing all the lovely parties during the London Season. She’d broken one of Aunt Elizabeth’s rules about charming a man: she’d talked too much about herself. And last night she’d annoyed him so much that he’d stomped out of the cabin and slept on the porch.
But that hadn’t been her fault! She’d been unable to sleep because her legs hurt from so much walking and her calf muscles had cramped. She’d lifted her nightgown to rub her leg, having given in to sleeping more comfortably in the gown the previous night.
He must have heard her groan and asked, “What’s wrong?”
When she told him, the next thing she knew the bare-chested bear had swiped aside her screen and tossed a bottle of liniment on her bed. She’d gasped because her nightgown was still hiked up, giving him a clear view of her aching legs. But all he did was scowl, drop her blanket-screen back down, and go back to his bed.
The cooking fire was still burning low, throwing off some light in the cabin, but it was too dark in her enclosure to read the label on the bottle. “What is this for?”
“All sorts of things, one of them sore muscles.”
Her eyes flared. “You had this and didn’t offer it to me when we arrived and I could barely walk?”
“My friends from Nashart left a few things behind when they went home. I forgot about it. Just found it yesterday when I was looking for the fresh salt.”
Appeased, she’d immediately started rubbing the liniment on her calves and sighed in relief, mumbling, “This works rather quickly. I’ll try it on my thighs, too.” A few moments later she was sighing in relief and pleasure again, then was startled when she heard Morgan stomp out of the cabin.