Page 25 of The Enchanted Land

That night, Morgan was very aware of Seth’s big body spread out so close to her own. She could hear his slow, deep breathing. The sound made her feel safe.

The days began to form into a pleasant routine. Seth was still cool to Morgan, but his hostility had lessened. Joaquín always seemed to be near Morgan. Whenever she needed anything, there he was.

They stopped early one night at a place called Council Grove.

“Can you shoot a rifle, Morgan?” Seth asked her.

“No.”

“You’re going to learn. You may need to know how later on.”

They made their way through the trees to a little clearing. Seth marked a target on the tree, and then stepped back.

“Now, put the rifle into your shoulder like this,” he demonstrated.

“I didn’t realize it was so heavy.”

“Here, I’ll show you.” Seth stood in back of her and his powerful arms encircled her, his hands covering hers.

His body felt good to her. He had not touched her since they had left Kentucky. Feeling his warmth, she snuggled against him.

Seth bent his head next to hers to show her how to sight the rifle. Her hair was sweet, her neck was slightly damp from the heat of the day. As he looked from the rifle to her, he felt her move against him and involuntarily he felt his breath quicken. Her small, round bottom pressed against his groin caused his manhood to stir.

“Damn you!” He abruptly dropped his arms and stepped away, turning his back to her.

“Seth?” She had no idea what had made him so angry. She went to him, put her hand on his arm. He jerked away from her touch.

Angrily, she turned from him. “My mother was right. Men are incomprehensible creatures. One minute I think we can be friends, and the next minute you’re cursing me.” She started back to the camp, each step quicker than the last, each step angrier than the one before.

Seth, recovering himself, reached her in a few long strides. His eyes and voice were as angry as hers. The hand on her arm hurt her as he swung her around to face him, the sun blazing behind him.

“Your mother! If your mother had been any kind of mother at all, she wouldn’t have poisoned your mind. If she’d had your interests in mind, she would have taught you about men and women, rather than imprisoning you in that big house like a nun.”

She jerked her arm from his grasp. “How dare you!” She spat her fury at him. “And your behavior proves she was right in everything she told me about men. I can’t talk to you, I can’t even be near you without you becoming angry with me for no reason.” She started quickly down the path toward the wagons.

Again Seth was next to her, even more angry. He stood in front of her. Through clenched teeth he said, “You’re damn right I can’t be near you. What do you expect when you wiggle against me?”

“Wiggle? What are you talking about?” She looked at him with hatred.

Quickly, his big hands reached out and encircled the back of her head, pulling her lips to his. His kiss was gentle and searching. Morgan had the drowning sensation again. She felt her body go limp and at the same time she could feel every part of her react. She reached out, her hands touching his waist, feeling the firm, hard muscles of his stomach with her thumbs.

Gently, he drew back from her and looked down at her closed eyes, the delicate blue veins showing through the lids. Her eyelashes were long and thick. His voice was a whisper. “Your mother should have explained about men being very sensitive. That’s why I can’t be near you without being angry at not being able to have you.”

Her anger was gone now, but many years of training by her mother cried out in her head. The anger was replaced by a look of determination and arrogance. “My mother was correct when she told me that men could not love, that they cared only for horses and business and that they used women. Since I have met you, Mr. Colter, you have shown me less consideration and friendliness than you show your horse. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do at the wagons.”

She left him standing alone.

“What is it, my pretty little dove?” Joaquín’s voice was soft and very close.

Morgan was leaning against a tree, trying to fight the tears that threatened.

She sniffed and smiled nervously up at Joaquín. “I guess I don’t understand men.”

“Ah, but men are very easy to understand. It is women who are mysterious. It is women who control men.”

“Controlmen! I don’t even seem to be able to talk to one.”

“A lover’s tiff. Soon you will make up, and then you will be happy again.”

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