Page 54 of A Rugged Beauty
Her words threaded hope through the tightness in his chest. Hope he didn't deserve.
But she wasn't done. "I think you need a friend."
Her words left him breathless. He forced down the jolt of affection and warmth her words conjured. Best to shut that down. Or ignore it, if he could.
He let his stare on her harden. "I'm sure you've heard the talk around camp."
A shadow flickered behind her eyes, the minute clasp and release of her hand into a fist at her side.
"I don't want your reputation sullied."
A flash of fire lit her eyes now and a stubbornness lifted her chin. "That's not your problem to worry about."
She moved to the lowered tailgate of her wagon and began pulling things toward her. A large crock. A wooden spoon.
The stubborn woman might not admit it, but she was his responsibility as part of the wagon train. And that included her reputation.
He took two steps closer, took another look around to make sure no one was within listening distance. "It is my problem if I say it is."
She didn’t look at him, but he saw the way her lips tightened.
"We should get married," he blurted.
He'd had a different plan in mind, a formal announcement to the company that had been running through his brain since August and Owen had come to him. But he couldn't keep fighting against common sense. And neither should she.
She'd gone still at his words, frozen in place. Now, as she turned toward him, he couldn't bear to see questions in her eyes. Or whatever else he might find there.
It was his turn to avert his face, to pretend he was looking at oxen being led to a nearby stream. "It'll be a marriage in name only," he said stiffly.
A way to protect her. The only way he could figure. August had been right. "Once we get to Oregon, we'll have it annulled and go our separate ways."
She was quiet. Abigail, who had once confronted him with August about his memory problems. Who’d forced him to eat when he’d been poorly.
He steeled himself and arranged his expression to careful emptiness when he looked at her. "It won't mean anything,"he said dispassionately. "Not even friendship. When we reach Oregon, it'll be over."
She was watching him with tear-filled eyes that probably saw too much. He'd told her about Dinah when no one else knew.
"Fine." Her agreement was quiet. Determined. But her lower lip quivered and she averted her face.
His stomach twisted. He was doing this toprotecther. Not to hurt her. He had to know. "No arguments?"
She shook her head slightly, still not looking at him. Went back to her cooking. After a quiet moment, she began humming under her breath. Had she really settled the matter in her mind that quickly?
His shirt collar felt like it was choking him, like he couldn't draw a full breath.
"Stay here. I'll fetch Owen to do the honors," he muttered before he stalked off.
Owen showed a rare reaction—relief flitting across his expression—when Hollis fetched him. Hollis pushed his prayer book into the other man's hands. "Let's go."
Owen only trailed him for a step, then fell in beside him. "You'll have to move your bedroll, camp together," he said.
"I know," Hollis snapped.
He'd barely come to terms with what he'd agreed to. He'd deal with the forced closeness when it was time.
Abigail was waiting for them, her meal ready to be put on the fire but covered with a cloth.
Hollis didn't want any eyes on them. Not for this. This was between him and Abigail. He marched out in front of Owen and Abigail until they were out of eyesight and earshot from camp. Awareness of how quickly the camp announcement would be upon him rankled his nerves.
