Read Online Frontier Courtship by Valerie Hansen - Free Book Online Page B

returned, they added a spit and roasted the hare he’d bagged. All in all, the meal was as tasty as any she’d eaten in a long time, due in part, she was sure, to the good company.
    Hoisting the nearly full bean pot by its wire handle, Connell stored it in a box packed with straw in the rear of the Beal wagon. Thus secured, it would ride safely and continue to cook from its own internal heat for some time, making it easy to fix supper after the long day of travel still ahead of them.
    When he saw Faith grimace as she bent to clean their dishes, he went to her and crouched down by her side. “Let me do that.”
    Wide-eyed, she looked at him as if he’d handed her a poke full of gold nuggets. “You? Why?”
    “Because it pains you.”
    “It’s woman’s work,” she said.
    “A man learns to do lots of things when he’s on his own in the wilderness. Let’s make a bargain. You go hunting next time and I’ll help with your chores now.”
    “Don’t be silly.” She scrubbed harder, her hands flying over the gray surface of the tinware.
    “I’m not. You claim you can shoot straight.”
    “I can, but…”
    “But, what?” Taking the dish from her hand, he looked it over carefully. “If you rub this any cleaner, it’s liable to end up so shiny it’ll start a prairie fire.”
    Faith wasn’t about to admit how much his close presence had dithered her. “Cleanliness is next to godliness.”
    He drew a hand slowly over his beard, bringing his fingers together at his chin. “While we’re speaking of such things, do you happen to have shears and a looking glass I can borrow?”
    “In my trunk in the wagon,” she said. “I’ll get them for you presently.” Hawk had fallen into the rhythm of her work and was relieving her of each piece as she finished with it. Since there had been just the two of them for dinner, there wasn’t much left to clean up. “I can trim your hair for you, if you like,” she offered. “I used to cut Papa’s.”
    He eyed her mischievously. “I trust he had hair to cut?”
    “Of course, he did!” Straightening stiffly, she batted him with the corner of her apron, then used it to wipe her hands.
    With one eyebrow raised, he warned, “Just a trim, mind you. It’s been ten years since I had a city haircut. The back of my neck is real used to the shade.” Seeing her heading for the wagon, he followed, reaching out to stop her. “Let me get the shears for you so you don’t strain.”
    Faith halted and wheeled to face him, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “Look, mister. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but you’re being so solicitous you’re driving me crazy. I’ve been hurt before. I’ve healed. And I’ll do it again, with or without you.”
    He tried to look chagrined when, in truth, her fortitude pleased him greatly. “Yes, ma’am.”
    Catching the wry humor in his reply, she hoisted herself into the wagon and looked down at him with a smirk. “You’d best not tease me, sir. Not when you’re about to turn your barbering over to me.”
    “Is that a threat, Miss Beal?”
    “Take it as you like,” she offered, slipping the scissors, a wide-toothed comb and a small hand mirror into her apron pocket.
    Once again, Connell tentatively held out his arms to her. Situated above him as she was, allowing his help in descending was the sensible thing to do. This time, Faith acquiesced.
    “Okay. Easy,” she said, placing one hand on each of his shoulders and leaning forward.
    His hands circled her slim waist, almost fully spanning it, and he lifted gently, slowly and with great care, bringing her closer, then lowering her till he felt her feet brush the toes of his boots.
    Breathless at his nearness, Faith was loath to let go. She was remembering how marvelous it was to be cradled against this man’s broad chest, to be held the way a loving husband might hold his wife.
    Only she and the plainsman weren’t husband and wife, nor would they ever be, she reminded herself.