Devils on Horseback: Gideon, Book 5 Page 9

  Easier said than done.

  * * * * *

  They didn’t speak as they set up their camp. Gideon built a fire close to the wagon, using it as a buffer for the wind and anything else that might try to visit them during the night.

  As she unpacked the supplies to make supper, he used the quilt and blanket they’d made into packs to create a bedroll. There was no way they were going to sleep in the wagon with all the junk in there, not to mention the smell. He laid out only one bed—no matter what happened, it was the safest for both of them. He expected her to squawk about it, but she just glanced at him occasionally as she worked.

  What was he to think of that? Was she hoping they would sleep together or apart? Perhaps she might even sleep in the wagon. He dismissed that idea. She was as repulsed as he was by the stench of the peddler woman’s things. Gideon was out of his element and didn’t know what to do or what to say.

  Chloe chipped away at his control, and that made him short-tempered. He’d yelled at her enough to make her hate him, or at the very least dislike him. Yet she continued on with him, counting on him to help her find her family. He had already vowed in his heart to help her no matter what.

  As he finished readying the bedroll, she gathered up a few things in the wagon, then appeared holding what looked to be a bedsheet. Her gaze settled on him, and the blankness in her eyes made him nervous.

  “I’m going to wash up.” She turned to go.

  “No, you’re not going anywhere alone.” He rose and put his hands on his hips. “We’re in a strange place, with obvious dangers no matter which way we turn. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you go off in the dark by yourself.”

  “I don’t want you peeking at me. I don’t need a protector.” She kept walking away.

  “Chloe. I said no.”

  She waved her hand in the air in dismissal.

  Gideon thought perhaps his head would explode. “Chloe. Come back here.”

  All he saw was her back disappearing into the woods. He stomped after her, furious and scared at the same time. She tied him into knots. Gideon wasn’t used to being disobeyed, and this little sprite was making him loco because she never listened to him.

  “Don’t be peeking at me.” She had stopped by the creek, and from what he could see, she was glaring at him.

  “I won’t peek, and I resent the fact you believe I would.” He didn’t mean to sound affronted, but it came out that way.

  “I don’t know you from a hole in the ground, Mr. Blackwood. All we know is how to pleasure each other.” Her brazen words left him speechless.

  She disappeared behind some bushes, and he took the opportunity to check the water. The creek was about eight feet wide with a gentle current. He cupped a mouthful and tasted it, and it was clean. Next thing he knew, a pair of legs went past him into the water. She either didn’t care if he peeked, or she hadn’t seen him squatting by the edge.

  Either way, he was struck dumb by the sight of Chloe Ruskin in the moonlight. Her skin was like alabaster, glowing against the darkness around her. She was perfectly formed, curved in all the right places, with a round behind, long legs and beautiful breasts. Gideon’s dick tented in his trousers as he froze in place.

  She scooped up sand from the bottom and started washing. He should back away and give her privacy. Yet something kept him there. She was like a selkie come to life, frolicking in the water and tempting him to join her. He shook his head to dispel the image and forced himself to creep backward. Unfortunately he stepped right on a stick that snapped with a loud crack.

  “Are you peeking at me?”

  He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to come up with a reasonable response. “I was making sure you were safe.”

  She hmphed and kept washing. “Then throw me my clothes over yonder so I can get them clean.”

  Gideon rose, painfully aware of the throbbing erection between his legs, and found her clothes on a bush. The rough fabric should be burned, but he didn’t want to leave her with nothing to wear, however appealing that might be. He threw the clothes to her, and she murmured a thank-you.

  With a tremendous amount of self-control, he turned his back to the sight of the incredibly delicious Chloe Ruskin naked in the water. He made himself recite Latin verbs in his head, leftovers from a childhood of schooling he never used. Then he recited recipes from the restaurant silently until he clenched his teeth so tight, he gave himself a headache.

  “I’m done.” She breezed past him and the bush she’d laid her wet clothes on. To his shock, she wore only a bedsheet.

  Gideon forgot how to think at all.

  Her hair hung down her back like a dark curtain, framing her small shoulders. Dry, it sprang up into curls, but wet it was longer than he’d expected. She was slender, as though she would break if he dared to touch her again. It was an illusion though, because he knew how strong she was, probably the strongest woman he’d ever met. That hardness was tempered with what he could only think of as innocence. She seemed young and had experienced quite a bit due to the war, but whatever was happening between them, he sensed she was out of her element.

  Her scent finally hit him, and his body clenched all at once. Chloe was rough around the edges, but she was a blossom in the briar patch. He just had to get through the prickers and reach her.

  Gideon picked up her clothes from the bush and followed her. There was no other choice since she wouldn’t be safe alone and half-naked, yet he knew he was lying to himself if that was the only reason. She was a siren, a selkie calling him to her, and dammit to hell, he was helpless to resist.

  It appeared the captain had met his colonel.

  She sat in the firelight, finger-combing her wet hair. The bedsheet didn’t do much to disguise her shape. He couldn’t quite see through it, but his imagination and memory painted the picture of her naked form anyway. His dick grew another inch, and he had to squat by the fire or risk her noticing just how much he appreciated her near nakedness.

  “Feel better?” His voice was rusty-sounding. Fool.

  “Cleaner anyway.” She disappeared behind the wagon, and all he could see was her feet.

  He told himself not to follow her, to give her respect instead of lusting after her like an idiot with no brain. With a painful thud, he sat on the hard ground and poked at the fire that had burned down a bit while they’d been at the water. The coals glowed orange in the darkness, and he didn’t take his eyes off them. Where he looked was something he could control. At least until she decided to parade around completely naked.

  Gideon focused on his breathing until he was calmer. When she stepped back into view, he used every ounce of self-control he had not to look at her. The hard truth was he was fascinated by her, drawn to her, and it made him angry—at himself mostly. He’d spent too much time trying to find out exactly what his purpose was in life, leaving Tanger to find out where he belonged. Now he was losing his grip on all of it, including his self-control. Chloe muddied the waters too much. He needed to stop thinking about her, obsessing about her and certainly bedding her.

  Chloe wasn’t sure what to think of Gideon’s behavior. He almost seemed nervous, which had to be impossible for the hard-nosed man. She told him not to follow her, yet he did, and then he acted odd. She needed to get clean, and if it offended him, so be it. Perhaps he hadn’t had to wash up out-of-doors much since he was from a rich family.

  She had found a few surprisingly clean men’s shirts and trousers in the wagon. Now after a little while of airing on the side of the wagon, they’d be perfect to wear. Whoever they had belonged to had been short like Chloe; perhaps they might also fit. They weren’t made for her, but free clothes were never turned away, especially after the war. She pulled on the trousers first and realized she’d need a rope to hold them up.

  Now she was in a tight spot. The rope was somewhere in the wagon, Gideon
had thrown it in there, and it was too dark to find it. They’d used the only other rope to secure the animals. If she put on the shirt, the trousers would fall to her feet. However, she couldn’t parade around with nothing on but a pair of too-big trousers, or she would be shaking her titties at him. She decided to simply put the shirt on, and the trousers be damned. It was long enough to extend to her knees and covered most of her.

  As Chloe came back around to the firelight, she thought a butterfly had landed in her stomach and flapped its wings. He stared at the flames, which was good. She didn’t want him ogling her bare legs anyway.

  “You hungry?”

  A grunt was his only response. She went over to the edge of the wagon and picked up the pack with the coffee pot and pans in it. The next ten minutes helped her relax. She brewed coffee and whipped up a batch of cornpone. The meal made things appear almost normal. Still, he did not look at her. She felt silly and suspicious at the same time.

  “Coffee’s ready.” She poured herself a cup and sat back to sip it. The other tin cup waited on the rock beside the fire. “You sick or something?”

  He finally turned to look at her, and she felt like she’d been burned by the coals. There was so much heat coming from his blue eyes, her breath caught in her throat. He took his time staring at her legs, her body, then her face, and she thought for sure she’d melt like butter on a skillet.

  Holy God.

  Chloe resisted the urge to fan herself, although the air between them must’ve been a hundred degrees. “I, uh, made coffee.”

  “I realize that.”

  “Don’t you want any?” She tugged at the shirt, wishing it was a bit longer.

  “I’m too hot to drink coffee.” His voice was husky, nearly a low growl.

  She was like a rabbit facing a wolf. With every bit of strength she had, Chloe looked away. “H-how about cornpone?”

  “I’m not hungry for food.”

  Oh boy. She managed to swallow some dry spit and pull out two tin plates from the pack. When she was looking for the knife to cut with, he appeared beside her. She let out a yelp and started so bad, she dropped the plates on her foot.

  “Don’t be scared, Chloe.”

  “I ain’t scared.” At least, she wasn’t scared of him anyway. No, she was afraid of her body’s reaction to his nearness and the way she swayed toward him without hesitation. Chloe had never felt such things before.

  He reached up and cupped her cheek, his calloused thumb caressing her skin. “You are the most maddening, sassy, amazing woman I’ve ever met. You are driving me loco, you know that? I made a promise to myself to stop touching you, and then you appear in that shirt.”

  Chloe didn’t know what to say. He thought she was amazing?

  “I am going to be a gentleman if it kills me, but I wanted to ask your permission for a kiss.” He leaned closer, his breath whispering across her lips.

  She couldn’t have denied him if she wanted to. “Kiss me already, you foolish man.”

  It wasn’t what she expected. He brushed his lips across hers, the barest touch, then pulled away. She wanted to grab him and pull him close, press her lips to his and release the pent-up passion beating like a drum in her chest. Yet she didn’t and Chloe cursed her own cowardice. Looking him in the eye, she lost the courage she had used in the darkness of the night to climb into the wagon.

  “The cornpone is burning.”

  His observation was like a bucket of ice water on a hot day. She gasped and reached for the pan, only to have him grab her arm.

  “No need to burn yourself. Use the rag.”

  Shaking, she accepted that he’d saved her from a nasty injury. Her own stupidity left her careless. With a grateful, weak smile, she used the rag to pull the pan from the side of the fire. It wasn’t too burned, just crispy on the bottom. With efficiency born of familiarity, she sliced it up and placed it on the tin plates, giving him two-thirds of it.

  “I said I wasn’t hungry.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And I don’t rightly care. You need food to keep going, and I ain’t letting you get the vapors ’cause you haven’t eaten.”

  His mouth twitched as if he was holding back a laugh, but he didn’t protest again. He took the plate, then, using the same rag, he grabbed the pot and poured himself coffee. This time when he sat across from her, the tension between them had eased enough to where the little hairs on her arms didn’t stand up anymore.

  “I made one bedroll.”

  She glanced at it. “I saw.” In fact, she was wondering why but wanted to see what he would say without asking him.

  “Is that acceptable to you?”

  She shrugged. “It makes no never mind. It’s a bed, which is better than shivering under a tree with just leaves to keep you warm.” As soon as she said it, she glanced at him to see his reaction. Chloe hadn’t meant to let that slip. He looked startled.

  “It surely does.” He took a bite of cornpone, chewed and swallowed before he spoke again. The man had stellar table manners. “You’ve slept under a tree before, then?”

  Well, she had to admit it. After all, it was she who brought it up.

  “Yep.”

  He nodded, and she was pleased he didn’t ask her for details. That’s when it hit her. He didn’t ask because he knew how it felt—an unspoken bond she hadn’t expected. This soldier from the south had likely endured things he would never admit to. It surprised and intrigued her, but she didn’t pursue questioning him about it. He’d done her the same courtesy.

  They ate the rest of their meager dinner in silence. The sounds of the night surrounded them, soothing her frayed nerves, and surprisingly, when she finished eating, she was sleepy. She had thought it would be hours before she felt tired enough to sleep. The day had been long and fraught with worry and stress, and it all weighed down on her. Before she could stop it, a jaw-cracking yawn hit her.

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Tired?”

  “No.” Then, damn it, she yawned again.

  “Me neither.” He surprised her by picking up the supper dishes. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  Chloe stared after him, watching his lean-hipped swagger until the darkness swallowed him completely. Gideon was dangerous to her heart, and she knew it. If she were honest with herself, he had set himself a nice spot deep in her heart already.

  She sighed as she rose to her feet. Granny wasn’t here to talk to and help figure out the tangled mess inside her. Something told her Gideon was the perfect man for her, but she didn’t want to fall in love yet. She had to take care of her family. They always came first, no matter what. Her own feelings for Gideon Blackwood would have to be second.

  With a heavy heart, she crawled into the bedroll and was asleep in a blink.

  Chapter Six

  Chloe was just a lump beneath the blanket when he returned. He wondered if she were playing possum, but then heard a soft snore and realized she was asleep. Gideon shook with exhaustion. Every bone and muscle in his body was sore as if he’d been beaten during the day. It was definitely an emotional beating, if not a physical one. A day of ups and downs, absolute lunacy in the purest sense of the word.

  He set the dishes down, added a couple more logs to the fire to keep it going for a while, then turned to the bedroll. Perhaps he expected her to look young and innocent in her sleep. But she didn’t. Chloe’s hair was splayed out like a fan, sparkling red and gold in the firelight. Her lips were slightly parted as though waiting to be kissed. The shirt gaped open as she lay on her side, revealing the barest hint of the curve of her breast.

  Blood surged into his dick, and he hardened in seconds. He forced himself to take deep breaths and not to touch her until he was more in control of himself. She was a slip of a thing, beauty in an unconventional wrapper. After all the women his friends had fallen in love with, Gideon had expected to find a simple
woman to live a quiet, happy life with.

  He held back the snort with great effort. His experiences with Chloe had been nothing short of a disaster, yet he was drawn to her. There was a bond there, one that grew stronger with each passing hour. He hadn’t intended on falling in lust or love with a traveling smart-mouthed, short woman from Virginia, but damned if both hadn’t happened.

  Gideon sat down to take off his boots, then crawled in next to her, careful to stay above the blanket. His body still throbbed with the need to touch her, and the clean scent emanating from her side of the bedroll made it worse. He rolled over and gave her his back, but it didn’t help. His dick knew exactly where she was.

  “Tell me about where you came from.” Her words startled him.

  “Jesus, woman, I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I was, but I sleep light. Had to learn to.” She was right, of course; women traveling alone could not afford to sleep heavy or risk their safety and perhaps their lives for it. “Tell me about where you came from.”

  He felt peevish enough to be difficult. “You first.”

  A small fist landed on his shoulder. “You’re a hard man, Gideon Blackwood.”

  This time his chuckle was a strangled grunt. “You have no idea.”

  After a moment, she started speaking. “I grew up in the middle of Virginia, not too far from West Virginia. My parents had a tobacco farm, and we scraped by on what we had. Granny is my daddy’s ma. She lived with us after Mama died. I must’ve been about two, so I don’t remember much before she was there.” Her voice was soft and melodic, amazingly calming Gideon’s over-stimulated body. “I have, I mean had a brother. He was two years older than me, and we were best friends growing up. We climbed trees, caught frogs, went swimming in the pond out back. Heck, I was eight before I realized I wasn’t a boy like him.”

  “That explains a lot.”

  The fist thumped his shoulder again. “Hush up or I won’t keep talking.”