Read Online The Officer and the Southerner (Historical Western Romance) (Fort Gibson Officers Series, Book 2) by Rose Gordon - Free Book Online
Authors: Rose Gordon
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patient with her.
Sighing, he opened the door and froze.
There, in the middle of the bed—his bed—was Ella, tucked up under the covers that reached just below her chin, with her head on the pillow and facing away from the window, her fisted hand settled up by her lips.
He set the pail down and closed the door. She looked as if she was sleeping, but just to be sure, he whispered her name.
She didn’t respond.
Wordlessly, he undressed and slipped into the bed beside her, frowning. She was still wearing her gown. He whispered her name again, and she didn’t respond.
He repositioned himself onto his side and reached up to brush the hair away from her face, his frown deepening when his fingertips skimmed her damp cheek.
Tomorrow, he vowed to himself. Tomorrow, he’d get his answers. For now, he’d let her sleep and regain her good humor. Even he had enough sense to know that an angry Cherokee was preferable to the wrath of an angry woman awakened from her slumber.
~Chapter Eight~
It was a new day, and without question, he and Ella needed a new start.
For reasons he didn’t truly understand, Ella was upset with him; and though he didn’t really feel as if he were at fault, he knew just enough to know that sometimes lowering one’s pride and being the first to try to make amends was necessary.
“ Ella,” he whispered softly in her ear.
She stirred from where she’d slept right beside him. Of course, that was quite a large part of his motivation in making amends—he could certainly get used to having her sleep in his arms and against him rather than on the edge of the bed. And, preferably, without a thick dress to separate them. He pushed away such lusty thoughts before he gave himself away.
“Ella,” he whispered again.
She opened those eyes of hers that intrigued him so. Both were light in color but different hues. He’d never seen anyone’s eyes that varied before. Not that it was a bad thing, just different...unique.
As if sensing what he was staring at, she closed her eyes and rubbed her eyelids with the tips of her fingers.
“ Are you excited to meet Allison?”
Her nod was so slight he would have missed it had he not been staring at her.
Suppressing a sigh at her lack of enthusiasm and swallowing the last ounce of his pride, he said, “Ella, I’d like to talk about last night.”
“ Can it wait?”
He rolled up onto his side and propped his head up on his hand, his elbow digging into the pillow, so that he could study her face. But it gave nothing away, just as her tone hadn’t. He was losing patience. She was clearly still unhappy with him, and he was growing just as unhappy with her at a very rapid rate. It would be best for them to talk. Instead, she wanted to lie there. Why? Did she feel she was that wronged by him for whatever reason her mind had come up with?
He clenched his right hand into a fist. “Ella, I—”
“Didn’t spend the night in the watchtower,” she finished for him in a soft and gentle tone that was barely above a whisper.
“ No. I didn’t,” he agreed, his blood pounding through his veins. Was she angry with him or was she not? He had no idea what had caused her sudden solemn mood any more than he knew why she was so upset about anything, especially the watchtower. Irritated at her level of stubbornness and blatant disinterest in him, he said, “You’ll be satisfied to know, however, that it is still my duty to make sure all of the horses are fed and properly tended to each morning.” He rolled over and then climbed out of bed. “I’ll be back in half an hour to escort you down to breakfast.” And help you change, if you’d like . But he doubted she would like that, or even care for his mention of it, so he didn’t say it. She’d worn a very simple traveling dress yesterday and he imagined that most of what she’d brought would be similar in style.
To his good fortune, nobody was out yet as he made his way across the
Sighing, he opened the door and froze.
There, in the middle of the bed—his bed—was Ella, tucked up under the covers that reached just below her chin, with her head on the pillow and facing away from the window, her fisted hand settled up by her lips.
He set the pail down and closed the door. She looked as if she was sleeping, but just to be sure, he whispered her name.
She didn’t respond.
Wordlessly, he undressed and slipped into the bed beside her, frowning. She was still wearing her gown. He whispered her name again, and she didn’t respond.
He repositioned himself onto his side and reached up to brush the hair away from her face, his frown deepening when his fingertips skimmed her damp cheek.
Tomorrow, he vowed to himself. Tomorrow, he’d get his answers. For now, he’d let her sleep and regain her good humor. Even he had enough sense to know that an angry Cherokee was preferable to the wrath of an angry woman awakened from her slumber.
~Chapter Eight~
It was a new day, and without question, he and Ella needed a new start.
For reasons he didn’t truly understand, Ella was upset with him; and though he didn’t really feel as if he were at fault, he knew just enough to know that sometimes lowering one’s pride and being the first to try to make amends was necessary.
“ Ella,” he whispered softly in her ear.
She stirred from where she’d slept right beside him. Of course, that was quite a large part of his motivation in making amends—he could certainly get used to having her sleep in his arms and against him rather than on the edge of the bed. And, preferably, without a thick dress to separate them. He pushed away such lusty thoughts before he gave himself away.
“Ella,” he whispered again.
She opened those eyes of hers that intrigued him so. Both were light in color but different hues. He’d never seen anyone’s eyes that varied before. Not that it was a bad thing, just different...unique.
As if sensing what he was staring at, she closed her eyes and rubbed her eyelids with the tips of her fingers.
“ Are you excited to meet Allison?”
Her nod was so slight he would have missed it had he not been staring at her.
Suppressing a sigh at her lack of enthusiasm and swallowing the last ounce of his pride, he said, “Ella, I’d like to talk about last night.”
“ Can it wait?”
He rolled up onto his side and propped his head up on his hand, his elbow digging into the pillow, so that he could study her face. But it gave nothing away, just as her tone hadn’t. He was losing patience. She was clearly still unhappy with him, and he was growing just as unhappy with her at a very rapid rate. It would be best for them to talk. Instead, she wanted to lie there. Why? Did she feel she was that wronged by him for whatever reason her mind had come up with?
He clenched his right hand into a fist. “Ella, I—”
“Didn’t spend the night in the watchtower,” she finished for him in a soft and gentle tone that was barely above a whisper.
“ No. I didn’t,” he agreed, his blood pounding through his veins. Was she angry with him or was she not? He had no idea what had caused her sudden solemn mood any more than he knew why she was so upset about anything, especially the watchtower. Irritated at her level of stubbornness and blatant disinterest in him, he said, “You’ll be satisfied to know, however, that it is still my duty to make sure all of the horses are fed and properly tended to each morning.” He rolled over and then climbed out of bed. “I’ll be back in half an hour to escort you down to breakfast.” And help you change, if you’d like . But he doubted she would like that, or even care for his mention of it, so he didn’t say it. She’d worn a very simple traveling dress yesterday and he imagined that most of what she’d brought would be similar in style.
To his good fortune, nobody was out yet as he made his way across the
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