Read Online Would-Be Wilderness Wife by Regina Scott - Free Book Online

as he started down the stairs. “Let Beth watch Ma for a while. I’ll spell her shortly. We’ll send for you if anything changes.”
    He reached the bottom of the stairs and started across the room as if she were no more than a basket of laundry destined for the line. “I can walk, sir,” she informed him.
    He twisted to open the door. “That you can. I’ve seen you do it.” He paused on the porch to nod out into the darkness, where the only light was the glow from a few stars peeking through the clouds. “But our clearing isn’t a city street. There are tree roots and rocks that can trip you up in broad daylight. I know the hazards. Best you let me do the walking.”
    She hadn’t noticed that the space was so bumpy when they’d arrived. Indeed, it had seemed surprisingly level; the grass neat and trim. Very likely the goats cropped it. Still, she didn’t relish tripping over a rock and twisting her ankle. She hardly wanted to stay at Wallin Landing a moment more than necessary, and certainly not long enough to heal a sprain.
    So she remained where she was, warm against his chest, cradled in his arms, as Drew ferried her across the clearing to another cabin hidden among the trees. Her legs were decidedly unsteady as he set her down on the wide front porch and swung open the door to enter ahead of her. She heard the scrape of flint as he lit a lantern.
    The golden light chased the darkness to the far corners of the room, and she could see a round planked table in the center, set over a braided rug and flanked by two tall solid-backed chairs. A little small for a knight of the round table, but cozy. As if he thought so, too, Drew’s cheeks were darkening again, and he seemed to be stuffing something white and lacy into the pocket of his trousers.
    â€œThere’s a washstand and water jug in the corner,” he said, voice gruff. “The necessity’s between the two cabins.”
    In a moment, he’d leave her. Perhaps it was the strange surroundings or the lateness of the day, but she found herself unwilling to see him go. Catherine moved into the room, glanced at the fire simmering in the grate of the stone hearth. As if he was watching her, expecting her to find things wanting, he hurried to lay on another piece of wood.
    â€œShould be enough to see you through the night,” he said, straightening. “But I can fetch more from the woodpile if you’d like.”
    Was he so eager to leave her? “No need,” Catherine said. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. You could answer one question, though.”
    She thought he stiffened. “Oh? What would that be?”
    â€œWho’s Mary?”
    Now she waited, some part of her fearing to hear the answer. His face sagged. “My little sister. The one who died. Ever since Ma took ill, she’s been asking after her. We think maybe she’s forgotten Mary’s gone.”
    His pain cut into her. She wanted to gather him close, caress the sadness from his face.
    What was she thinking?
    â€œShe’s delirious,” Catherine told him. “It’s not uncommon with high fevers.
    He nodded as if he understood, but she could see the explanation hadn’t eased his mind. She should think of something else to say, something else for him to consider, if only for a moment. She glanced around the room again. Her gaze lit on the ladder rising into the loft. Oh, dear. Her hand gripped her wide blue skirts.
    â€œIs that how you reach the sleeping area?” she asked, hoping for another answer.
    â€œThere’s a loft upstairs,” he said, “but the main bed’s there.” He pointed toward the fire.
    What she’d taken for a large cupboard turned out to be a box bed set deep in one wall. The weathered wood encircled it like the rings of a tree. Catherine wandered over and fingered the thick flannel quilt that covered the tick. Blues and reds and greens were