Page 69 of A Rugged Beauty
And turned toward her, the motion turning her, too, so that they stood face to face as the last notes of the lullaby faded away.
What kind of spell was Abigail weaving over him?
Hollis went quiet, his throat raw from singing—or maybe from the memories that had flowed through him, the grief that had at once pricked him, and now flowed away like water running down a hill.
It wasn't gone, not completely. But healing, leaving a scar.
He was peripherally aware of the two Fordham kids with their heads together, whispering, just out of sight inside that wagon, and the soft sigh from the baby drifting to sleep on Abigail's shoulder.
In sharp relief was the beat of heat, like a jagged lightning strike, running from their linked fingers and pressed together palms.
He was mesmerized by the brown pools of her eyes. She was... happy with him. A quiet joy flowing from her into his heart. He couldn't help leaning closer. Close enough to feel thesweet warmth of her breath on his chin, count the individual eyelashes surrounding each eye.
He distinctly remembered the feel of her lips pressed to his. He could taste?—
"Don't kiss me if you don't mean it." The vulnerable whisper drew him back to his senses.
He let go of her, took a step back. He reached up to remove his hat, push a hand through his hair.
What had he been thinking?
He hadn’t been, that much was clear.
But his heart was still throbbing in his throat, and he wanted to pull her into his arms.
She watched him with soft eyes. Her hand came up to rub the sleeping baby's back. "I care about you," she said with a quiet seriousness that hit low in his belly.
He wanted to deny the words, the connection they implied. He couldn't?—
"I think you care about me, too."
Something hot sliced through his insides. His nostrils flared. "I'm attracted to you."
He could admit that. Surely she already knew.
"I think it's more than that," she challenged with a lift of her chin, something deeper in her eyes. "It's been between us since the beginning of this journey. Since before either one of us was willing to admit to it."
He shook his head slowly but still couldn't tear his eyes from her. If she touched him, it might set off the tension vibrating through his entire self. He felt like a keg of powder. Ready to explode.
He was poised to run.
She didn't move toward him.
"I don't want an annulment. I want our marriage to be real." Her lips firmed into a line, her chin lifted with determination.But he saw the uncertainty in her eyes even as his chest ballooned with panic.
The baby made a soft noise and nuzzled his face into her collarbone.
Something that had been niggling in the back of Hollis's mind solidified. He grasped onto it, grateful for something else to focus on. "You said their parents are asleep. Why?"
She glanced at the tent just beyond the wagon. "They're sick. The Kimballs, too." Her brow creased with concern. "I sent Owen with a message for you earlier."
Frustration fired. "Why didn't you tell me yourself?"
"Because you've been avoiding me," she returned with a bite to the words. "Owen was nearby and I knew—I thought he'd give you the message."
"He didn't." Anger stirred. He tamped it down to deal with Owen later. "How bad off are they?"
His spirits sank as she listed off the same symptoms four other families had experienced. He couldn't deny it any more. They were facing the beginning of an epidemic.
