Tracie Peterson (8 page)

“Well?” His eyes seemed to twinkle.

“I understand!” she declared and tried not to notice the feel of his muscular arms around her.

His expression sobered and Amelia couldn’t help but notice that there was no twitching of that magnificent mustache. Sometimes, just sometimes, she wondered what it would be like to touch that mustache.
Is it coarse and prickly, or smooth and soft like the pet rabbit Margaret had played with as a child?

He was looking at her as though trying to say something that couldn’t be formed into words and for once, Amelia didn’t think him so barbaric. These new considerations of a man she’d once thought hopelessly crude were disturbing to her. Her mind began to race.
What should I say to him? What should I do? I could demand he release me, but I seriously doubt that he would. And what if he did? Did she really want that?

This is ridiculous,
she chided herself. Forcing her gaze to the path, she nodded and said, “Shouldn’t we get back? Maybe you could just put me down now. I’m feeling much better.”

Logan gave her a little toss upward to get a better hold. She let out an audible gasp and tightly gripped her arms around Logan’s neck.

“Don’t!” she squealed with the abandonment of a child. Logan looked at her strangely and Amelia tried to calm her nerves. “I—I’ve always been afraid of falling,” she offered lamely. “Please put me down.”

“Nope,” he said and started for camp. When he came to the edge of the clearing it was evident that everyone else was still collecting firewood. Logan stopped and asked, “Why are you afraid of falling?”

Amelia’s mind went back in time. “When I was very young someone held me out over the edge of the balcony and threatened to spill me. I was absolutely terrified and engaged myself in quite a spell until Mother reprimanded me for being so loud.”

“No reprimand for the one doing the teasing, eh?” Logan’s voice was soft and sympathetic.

“No, she knew Jeffery didn’t mean anything by it.” Amelia could have laughed at the stunned expression on Logan’s face.

“Not Sir Jeffery?” he asked in mock horror.

“None other. I think it amused him to see me weak and helpless.”

“Then he’s a twit.”

Amelia’s grin broadened into a smile. “Yes, he is.”

“Amelia! What’s wrong?”

“Speaking of the twit,” Logan growled low against her ear and Amelia giggled. His warm breath against her ear, not to mention the mustache, tickled. “Amelia’s fine, she just overdid it a bit. I’m putting her down for a rest.”

“I can take her,” Jeffery said, dropping the wood he’d brought. He brushed at his coat and pulled off his gloves as he crossed the clearing.

“Well, Lady Amhurst, it’s twits or barbarians. Which do you prefer?” he questioned low enough that only Amelia could hear.

Amelia felt her breath quicken at the look Logan gave her.
What is happening to me? I’m acting like a schoolgirl. This must stop
, she thought and determined to feel nothing but polite gratitude toward Mr. Logan Reed. When she looked at each man and said nothing, Logan deposited her in Jeffery’s waiting arms.

“Guess your feelings are pretty clear,” he said and turned to leave.

“But I didn’t say a thing, Mr. Reed,” Amelia said, unconcerned with Jeffery’s questioning look.

Logan turned. “Oh, but you did.” As he walked away he called back to Jeffery, “Put her in her tent and help her with her bedroll. I’ll have some food brought to her when it’s ready.”

“He’s an extremely rude man, what?”

Amelia watched Logan walk away. She felt in some way she had insulted him, but surely he hadn’t really expected her to choose him over Jeffery. He was only a simple American guide and Jeffery, well, Jeffery was much more than that. If only he were much more of something Amelia could find appealing.

“Put me down, Jeffery. I am very capable of walking and this familiarity is making me most uncomfortable,” she demanded and Jeffery quickly complied. She knew deep in her heart that Logan would never be bullied in such a way.

“Mr. Reed said to have you lie down.”

“I heard him and I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. Now shouldn’t you help get the firewood? Mr. Reed also said we were to expect a cold night.” Jeffery nodded and Amelia took herself to the tent, stopping only long enough to give Logan a defiant look before throwing back the flaps and secluding herself within.

“Men, like religion, are a nuisance,” she muttered as she untied the strings on her bedroll.

M
orning came with bone-numbing cold and Amelia was instantly grateful for her sisters. Snuggling closer to Penelope, Amelia warmed and drifted back to sleep. It seemed only moments later when someone was shouting her into consciousness and a loud clanging refused to allow her to ease back into her dreams.

“Breakfast in ten minutes!” Logan was shouting. “Roll up your gear and have it ready to go before you eat. Chamberlain, you will assist in taking down the tents.”

Amelia rolled over and moaned at the soreness in her legs and backside.
Surely we aren’t going to ride as hard today as yesterday.
Pushing back her covers, Amelia began to shiver from the cold of the mountain morning.
Could it have only been yesterday that the heat seemed so unbearable?
Stretching, Amelia decided that nothing could be worse than the days she’d spent on the Colorado prairie.
At least here, the black flies seem to have thinned out. Maybe the higher altitude and cold keeps them at bay.
Amelia squared her shoulders.
Maybe things are getting better.

But it proved to be much worse. A half-day into the ride, Amelia was fervently wishing she could be swallowed up in one of the craggy ravines that threatened to eat away the narrow path on which she rode. The horse was cantankerous, her sisters were impossible, and Mattersley looked as though he might succumb to exhaustion before they paused for the night.

When a rock slide prevented them from taking the route Logan had planned on, he reminded the party again of the altitude and the necessity of taking it easy. “We could spend the next day or two trying to clear that path or we can spend an extra day or two on an alternate road into Estes. Since none of you are used to the thinner air, I think taking the other road makes more sense.”

Logan’s announcement made Amelia instantly self-conscious.
Was he making fun of me because of the attack I suffered last night? Why else would he make such an exaggerated point of the altitude?

“I do hope the other road is easier,” Lady Gambett said with a questioning glace at her husband.

“I’m afraid not,” Logan replied. “It climbs higher, in fact, than this one and isn’t traveled nearly as often. For all I know that trail could be in just as bad of shape as this one.”

“Oh dear,” Lady Gambett moaned.

“But Mama,” Josephine protested, pushing her small spectacles up on the bridge of her nose, “I cannot possibly breathe air any thinner than this. I will simply perish.”

Logan suppressed a snort of laughter and Amelia caught his eye in the process. His expression seemed to say “See, I told you so” and Amelia couldn’t bear it. She turned quickly to Lady Gambett.

“Perhaps Josephine would be better off back in Longmont,” Amelia suggested.

“Oh, gracious, perhaps we all would be,” Lady Gambett replied.

“But I want to go on, Mama,” the plumper Henrietta whined. “I’m having a capital time of it.”

“We’re all going ahead.” Lord Gambett spoke firmly with a tone that told his women that he would brook no more nonsense.

“Are we settled and agreed then?” Logan asked from atop his horse.

“We are, sir,” Gambett replied with a harsh look of reprimand in Josephine’s direction.

Amelia tried to fade into the scenery behind Margaret’s robust, but lethargic, palomino. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was to have to face Logan. She was determined to avoid him at any cost. Something inside her seemed to come apart whenever he was near. It would never do to have him believing her incapable of handling her emotions and to respond with anything but cool reservation would surely give him the wrong idea.

Logan was pushing them forward again. He was a harsh taskmaster and no one dared to question his choices—except for the times when Jeffery would occasionally put in a doubtful appraisal. Logan usually quieted him with a scowl or a raised eyebrow and always it caught Amelia’s attention.

But she didn’t want Logan Reed to capture her attention. She tried to focus on the beauty around her. Ragged rock walls surrounded them on one side, while what seemed to be the entire world spread out in glorious splendor on the other side. The sheer drop made Amelia a bit light-headed, but the richness of the countryside was well worth the risk of traveling the narrow granite ledge. Tall pines were still in abundance, as were the quaint mountain flowers and vegetation Amelia had come to appreciate. Whenever they stopped to rest the horses she would gather a sample of each new flower and press it into her book, remembering in the back of her mind that Logan Reed would probably be the one to identify it later.

Soon enough the path widened a bit and Amelia kept close to Lady Gambett, hoping that both Jeffery and Logan would keep their distance. Her father was drawn into conversation with Lord Gambett, and Lady Gambett seemed more than happy for Amelia’s company.

“The roses shouldn’t be planted too deep, however,” Lady Gambett was saying, and Amelia suddenly realized she hadn’t a clue what the woman was talking about. “Now the roses at Havershire are some of the most beautiful in the world, but of course there are fourteen gardeners who devote themselves only to the roses.”

Amelia nodded sedately and Lady Gambett continued rambling on about the possibility of creating a blue rose. Amelia’s mind wandered to the rugged Logan Reed and when he allowed his horse to fall back a bit, she feared he might try to start up a conversation. Feeling her stomach do a flip and her breathing quicken, Amelia gripped the reins tighter and refused to look up.

“Are you ill, my dear?” Lady Gambett asked suddenly.

Amelia was startled by the question, but even more startled by the fact that Logan was looking right at her as if awaiting her answer. “I … uh … I’m just a bit tired.”
It wasn’t a lie
, she reasoned.

“Oh, I quite agree. Mr. Reed, shouldn’t we have a bit of respite?” Lady Gambett inquired. “Poor Mattersley looks to be about to fall off his mount all together.”

Logan nodded and held up his hand. “We’ll stop here for a spell. See to your horses first.”

Amelia tried not to smile at the thought of dismounting and stretching her weary limbs. She didn’t want to give Logan a false impression and have him believe her pleasure was in him rather than his actions. Without regard to the rest of the party, Amelia urged her horse to a scraggly patch of grass and slid down without assistance. Her feet nearly buckled beneath her when her boots hit the ground. Her legs were so sore and stiff and her backside sorely abused. Rubbing the small of her back, she jumped in fear when Logan whispered her name.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized, “I hope you’re feeling better.”

Amelia’s mind raced with thoughts. She wanted desperately to keep the conversation light-hearted. “I’m quite well, thank you. Although I might say I’ve found a new way to extract a pound of flesh.”

Logan laughed. “Ah, the dilemma of exacting a pound of flesh without spilling a drop of blood. The Merchant of Venice, right? I’ve read it several times and very much enjoyed it.”

Amelia tried not to sound surprised. “You are familiar with Shakespeare?”

He put one hand to his chest and the other into the air. “‘My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late!’”

He grinned. “‘Romeo and Juliet.’”

Yes, I know,” she replied, still amazed at this new revelation.

“‘Hatred stirreth up strifes: but love covereth all sins.’”

Amelia tried to remember what play these words were from, but nothing came to mind. “I suppose I don’t know Shakespeare quite as well as you do, Mr. Reed.”

“Logan,” he said softly and smiled. “And it isn’t Shakespeare’s works, it’s the Bible. Proverbs ten, twelve to be exact.”

“Oh,” she said and turned to give the horse her full attention.

“I thought we’d worked out a bit of a truce between us,” Logan said, refusing to leave her to herself.

“There is no need for anything to be between us,” Amelia said, trying hard to keep her voice steady.
How could this one man affect my entire being? She couldn’t understand the surge of emotions, nor was she sure she wanted to.

“It’s a little late to take that stand, isn’t it?” Logan asked in a whisper.

Amelia reeled on her heel as though the words had been hot coals placed upon her head. “I’m sure I don’t understand your meaning, Mr. Reed,” she said emphasizing his name. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to consider.”

“Like planting English roses?” he teased.

Her mouth dropped open only slightly before she composed her expression. “Have we lent ourselves to that most repulsive habit of eavesdropping, Mr. Reed?”