Carolyn Davidson – Runaway (страница 3)
She was small, slim and supple, but weighed down by the dress and petticoats she wore, and his muscles bunched and flexed as he hauled her from the water. Hoisting himself to his feet, he dragged her up the creek bank, both hands full of wet clothing, then held her before him.
Her dark hair hung in wet strings across her face, and her eyes squinted shut against the water. Coughing and gagging, she clung to his arms, sagging as if her legs would not hold her erect. The blue dress was torn, exposing her right arm and shoulder and the very top of a lush, curving breast.
She’d coughed her way out of choking to death at least, and her legs seemed better able to hold her upright. He eased his grip on her shoulders, noting idly the texture of her skin as his fingers slid over the wet surface.
And then she looked at him. Opening her eyes, blinking several times at the sunlight, she gaped at him.
Eyes like the forget-me-nots his mother had growing by the outhouse took his measure. Blue as the summer sky, edged with a darker rim and surrounded by a fringe of black lashes that clumped together with a residue of water from the stream, those eyes made a journey from the top of his head to the middle of his chest and then back.
“Who are you?”
It was a woman’s voice, sure enough, he decided. Low pitched, holding only the faintest tremor, it issued from a soft mouth that trembled and then stilled its giveaway movement as she clamped her lips together.
The shivers racking her body were another matter altogether. Only a warm fire and dry clothing would solve that particular problem, and with a sigh of aggravation, Will set about bringing it to pass.
“My name’s Tolliver,” he grunted. “And takin’ care of a half-drowned female is a far sight from what I had planned for today.”
Her eyes widened at his words, and she planted her feet more firmly against the creek bank. “Then take your hands off me, mister, and make tracks. Nobody asked you to wake me up and shove me into the stream.”
Will plopped her down where she stood, only too aware of the clinging fabric of her dress and undergarments, resisting the urge to tug the wet material into place over the rise of her bosom.
Bad enough to be needing a woman’s touch for longer than he could remember. Even worse was standing here eyeing this female’s form, bosom half exposed to view, and him randy as a barnyard rooster.
His sigh of resignation was deep and heartfelt. “Sit right there and don’t move. I’m gonna build a fire and find you something to put on.” He turned from the sodden lump she’d become with his urging, her arms winding around her knees, bent almost double to better warm herself.
“Yes, all right,” she said grudgingly, her eyes wary as she watched him head for his horse and pack mule. Within moments he’d stripped the mule of a bulky, canvaswrapped bundle and begun rooting around in its depths. With a grunt that appeared to signify success, he pulled out a nondescript shirt, slinging it over his shoulder. It was wrinkled, but looked to be fairly clean. A pair of heavy stockings came next, joining the shirt, and then a pair of trousers.
“Tolliver?” Her voice had lost its tremor, but not the low, sultry sound he’d noted right off.
“Yeah?” He looked back at her over his shoulder. She was too young to sound so damn womanly, he decided. Her face was sunburned across her nose and forehead, freckles dotting her cheeks and joining across the bridge of her narrow nose. The dark hair was long, hanging almost to the ground as she crouched before him.
“Thank you for pulling me out of the water. I can’t swim.” The words were grudging, but issued in a polite form that suggested she had just remembered her manners. Blowing ineffectively at a lock of hair that hung just in front of her right eye, she looked up at him.
“You wouldn’t have been in the water if I hadn’t scared you into jerking away from me,” he told her after a moment. Fair was fair, and the girl was trying to be decent. She was probably scared to death of him, too much so to get up and run, lest he be after her.
“Were you serious about building a fire?” Shivering as she spoke, she hugged herself even tighter as she rocked in place.
“Soon’s I find you enough warm clothes to put on.” He searched another moment, then cast her a glance. “You’ll have to do without underwear. I seem to be scrapin’ the bottom here.”
A faint flush crept up her cheeks, joining the sunburn. “I’m sure anything will do, as long as it’s dry and big enough.”
His laughter was short and harsh. “This shirt will wrap around you a couple of times, if my eyes serve me right Don’t know about the pants. You’ll have to find that out the hard way, I suspect.”
Stuffing the clothing into a compact bundle, he headed back to where she sat “I’ll gather up some firewood and get it going while you get those wet things off.” He waved his hand at a nearby thicket, where bushes and undergrowth vied for space near the stream.
The girl rose quickly, with a sinuous grace, her arms wrapped around herself, as if she would hold against her skin whatever small amount of warmth she had garnered. One hand reached for the proffered bundle, snatching it from him quickly, her eyes barely meeting his before she headed for the shelter he’d suggested.
Her clothing clung, draping her in a wet, dingy array, another tear exposing one shoulder blade, the hem of her dress trailing a torn portion in the dirt as she walked. And walk she did…her hips moving, that wet dress emphasizing the curve of her bottom.
A bruise caught his eye, the discoloration dark against her skin, showing through the torn part of her dress on her back. Either she’d been in one dickens of a fuss with someone, or she’d fallen and gotten herself scraped up somehow. Whichever, she was shivering and about at the end of her tether, so far as he could tell.
If he had his directions right, he was about ten miles or so from either the small settlement of Loco Junction or the town of St. Catherines. And which one this woman had come from was a moot question. Certainly, she’d not walked more than ten miles, unless she had shoes hidden on her person or tossed aside beneath the trees before she’d made her bed by the water.
His gaze traveled again to encompass the form that was even now disappearing behind the bushes, and he grunted, a low, negative sound that echoed his mood. Nowhere beneath that clinging mass of clothing was there hiding anything so cumbersome as a pair of shoes. Indeed, the arrangement of the girl’s body was a pure line from head to toe, unblemished by any bulge or lump other than those she’d come by through the process of just being a woman. And every one of those were in fine shape, her bottom being a prime piece of work if he’d ever seen one.
His fire was ablaze, the dry leaves and kindling he’d set to burning well covered by larger pieces of dead wood, by the time she reappeared. She’d buttoned the shirt partway and was clutching the waistline of his spare pants just beneath the fourth shirt button. His stockings were barely in sight beneath the multiple folds of pant legs, and she took mincing steps as if she feared dislodging the clothing before she reached him.
“Need some help there?” Will offered, crouched next to the fire, his eyes peering from beneath the brim of his hat
“Do you have a piece of rope or a belt, maybe?” Her hair hung down her back, making wet stains on the gray shirt he’d loaned her, and the sleeves were folded several times.
He’d solved one problem. She was more than covered from his view.
“I should have a spare belt.” The bundle of clothing was at hand and he dipped into it once more, coming up with a braided leather length from its depths. “This oughta work. Come here.”
She halted, her eyes wary as she considered his words. “Toss it to me. I’ll figure it out myself.” One hand reached toward him and he shrugged, rolling the leather before he cast it in her direction, across the fire.
She caught it deftly and fed it through the belt loops, tying it in an awkward knot at her middle. One final tug at her handiwork seemed to satisfy her, and she lifted her head to look at him again.
“Do you have any extra food? I’m afraid I can’t pay you any money, but I’ll write you a due note. As soon as I’m able, I’ll make it right with you.” Her tongue touched her top lip and she tilted her head, fussing with the remaining buttons on her shirt. “I’d rather not go back toward Loco Junction, if you don’t mind. Any place north of here will do nicely.”
His eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting briefly. “A man never turns down a stranger’s need for food out here, honey. Hard to say when I might be in the same boat. I’ll share what I have.”
She nodded, accepting his offer, then hunkered down by the fire. As if the beckoning heat gathered all of her energy, she slumped where she sat, her head drooping, her arms wrapped about her knees, her eyes closing.