Big Sky Homecoming

She pulled back. “I’d never refuse to help anyone in trouble.”

He held her gaze. “Anyone? Even a Caldwell?”

She nodded. “Even you.”

“Ouch. You make it sound as though that’s the worst possible thing ever.”

Her expression softened again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” She opened the sack and pulled out bandages and a tiny jar. “I’m going to fix your cut as best I can.” She considered it. “I suppose I could sew it up.”

He laughed but cut it off as pain ripped through his head. “Never mind sewing anything unless it involves fabric.”

The gust of air she released told him she was happy not to have that option. And yet she’d offered. What a strange woman she was.

She pulled the stool closer and gently stroked his hair back from his forehead.

He closed his eyes as a thousand sensations of pleasure and delight flooded his skin and tingled in his fingertips. This feeling was new. And not unwelcome. In fact—

“Ouch.”

“Sorry. But I need to pull the edges as close together as I can.”

“Don’t hurt him.” Billy sounded about ready to cry.

“It’s okay,” Duke assured him. “It hardly hurts at all. I just wasn’t prepared.”

“I should have warned you. Now I’m going to put a dressing in place to hold it.” She bent over him, her scent bringing to mind summer pastures filled with wildflowers. Her touch was gentle yet firm. Not unlike the lady herself.

“There. That will keep it for now.”

“Thanks.” His voice came from a long distance.

“Duke, you must stay awake.”

Why must I? “You’ll stay?” He pulled the words from the fog.

“Until I’m sure you’re okay.”

So long as she was there, he’d be safe. And he let the fog drift closer.

A faint breeze, a sense of aloneness, forced his eyes open. “Rose?”

She stood by the sofa. “Billy, stay with him while I clean up these things. And keep him awake.”

Billy perched on the stool that Rose had vacated and patted Duke’s hand. “You’ll be okay now. Rose fixed you up good. I knowed she would. That’s why I got her to help.”

Duke grunted a time or two to indicate he listened as Billy rattled on and on, but he barely heard a word the man said. His thoughts had followed Rose to the kitchen. Would she leave without saying goodbye? The thought of being alone except for the frightened Billy sent his pulse into a fury.

From the depths of his heart he prayed. God, please convince her to stay.

Chapter Four (#ulink_de1b67c1-4c8c-5eba-a573-f29b153e076f)

Rose stood in the middle of the kitchen, her hand pressed to her throat. What was there about this place, this situation, about Duke, that unraveled her thoughts until she could hardly remember who she was?

She went to the stove and lifted the kettle. It was full of water. A cup of tea would set her to rights. She pushed wood into the stove and stirred up the fire. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she searched for tea. Every cupboard she opened increased the tightness in her head. Would she be accused of snooping? But Mrs. Caldwell was away, so she wouldn’t know. Still, Rose’s sense of intrusion increased.

As did her growing awareness of the vast difference between her as a Bell and Duke, a Caldwell.

She found a canister of tea and a fine china teapot and closed the cupboards firmly and with a sigh of relief.

She warmed the pot, then measured out a handful of tea leaves and added the boiling water.

A good look around the kitchen gave her cause to think that Duke didn’t cook for himself. The place was far too tidy. Did Billy cook for them? Did a housekeeper come in and prepare meals? Or did they go over to the long building down near the barn she took for the cookhouse?

Duke would never make it that far in his present condition.

She poured tea into three matching teacups, put them on a serving tray and carried it to the other room.

Billy jumped up as she entered the room. “I’d of helped if you called.”

“Thank you, Billy, but I managed fine.” She set the tray on the nearest table. “I thought tea might hit the spot.”

Duke pushed himself upright, grimacing.

She hurried to his side. “Lie back.”

“Can’t drink tea lying down.”

She could practically hear his teeth creak from the way he clenched them.

He swung his feet to the floor and gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m fine. Really.”

She stood in front of him, her hands planted on her hips. “About as fine as snow in July.” It was on the tip of her tongue to say being a Caldwell didn’t make him impervious, but the pain and determination in his face made her hold back her words. Instead she almost commended him for the strength he showed.

He lifted his face to her. “I believe I’ll have that tea now. Thank you.” His crooked smile made her grin.

“Yes, sir.” She carried a cup to him and hovered close as he took it. The tea sloshed so wildly, she caught his hands to steady them.

His eyes bored into hers.

A part of herself broke free and seemed to float above her as she looked into his eyes and held his hands. If only...

“You must find it hard to do this.”

“Do what?” His voice settled her wandering mind.

“Coddle me.”

“Am I doing that?” Her words came out soft and sweet, from a place within her she normally saved for family. “Seems to me all I’m doing is helping a neighbor in need.”