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“You seem to know me…and my dog.”
“I’m sure most folks around these parts are familiar with you and your cattle ranch, Mr. Daines.”
He shrugged on his shirt, his gaze never wavering from hers. “I thought I knew most folks around these parts. And I sure—” He paused, turning his face toward the collar. He sniffed loudly, his eyes widening as he met her gaze. “You washed my clothes?”
“They were already wet.” She wasn’t about to put dirty clothes in her cupboards. “I figured adding some soap couldn’t hurt.”
A slow grin eased his tense expression. He stood and stuffed his shirttails into his waistband. “I smell like a field of flowers.”
“It’s the only soap I have,” she said, realizing now that a man may not care to smell like wildflowers.
“I suppose it’s better than carrying the stench of sweat and horsehide.”
While tending his fever, it made sense to add some soap to that water, as well. Hopefully she’d rinsed him enough since then that he hadn’t noticed.
He sat on the side of the bed and Maggie felt some relief. He wasn’t quite so intimidating when he wasn’t towering over her. Perhaps she could tie him to a chair until he was strong enough to leave.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, staring at his mended sock.
Maggie silently cursed the heat in her cheeks. “They were in a sorry shape.”
“You’re more than a thorough nursemaid. I’m indebted to you, Mrs…?”
“Didn’t take much to mend them.”
He stared at her a moment, his narrowing gaze telling her he hadn’t missed her failure to give her name. “I was also wearing a gun,” he said.
“You’ll get your holster back when you leave.”
“I didn’t see any other structures outside. Where are you keeping my horse?”
“There was no horse.”
“No horse?” He surged up. Maggie forced herself to hold her ground, not that she could have backed any closer to the stove.
“I found you and your dog buried in the snow about two miles from here.”
“Buried?”
“Covered by a foot of fresh powder. I nearly walked right past you. If your dog hadn’t stood up, I would have. You’d been hit in the head and had been on the ground for a long while.”
He touched the spot on his head that had been caked with blood when she’d found him.
“Perhaps you should sit down, Mr. Daines. You were suffering from the cold when I brought you here. You had a high fever all of yesterday and most of today. You’d slept so long I was starting to worry the cold or the fever had damaged your brain.”
“It must have. I don’t remember riding into these moun-tains. And I can assure you I am not prone to falling from my saddle.”
“I didn’t assume that you were. Looked to me like someone struck you with a rifle. By the time I found you any other tracks had been long-since snowed over.”
He’d been attacked? Garret tried to jar his memory. Shouldn’t he remember something like being knocked from his saddle? Had he been ambushed? The last he could recall was watching Duce’s tracks fade in the heavy rain.
“I was looking for my partner,” he said. “I followed Duce’s tracks into the hills. What little snow had been on the ground was washed out by the rain.”
“That’s why you nearly froze to death. It didn’t rain long before snow set in, just before sundown. I found you about an hour past dawn. Have you been feuding with anyone?”
“Only half the state,” he said, shoving his hands into his hair. “The cattle trade has been more akin to pirating as of late.”
“Desperation and greed tend to have that effect on men.”
The chill in her husky voice drew his gaze. Why was it her face that filled his mind instead of his attackers?
She nodded toward the front wall. “Go sit at the table.”
She sure didn’t have any trouble passing out orders. His first memory after the storm was her, those blue eyes ablaze with passion, her sweet body arched beneath him as she’d awakened to his touch, his kisses…
“Mr. Daines?”
He blinked, and realized she stood before him with a bowl in her hands, his stern nursemaid, not the lover from his dream. The hearty aroma penetrated his dazed mind, initiating a growl in his empty belly.
“The table,” she repeated.
She obviously didn’t trust him to not end up on his face, staying at his side until he sat in the chair. She plunked the bowl of stew down in front of him and his mouth watered at the sight of steaming chunks of meat in dark gravy. Despite his hunger, he waited for his hostess to join him. Realizing he sat on the only chair, he grabbed the trunk from the foot of the bed and slid it forward.
She stayed by the stove, her bowl in hand, her sweet face pinched in a frown. He gathered she hadn’t planned on joining him at the table. Her steps seemed to drag as she approached him. She nudged the trunk to the far side of the table then hesitantly took her seat.
“I swear I don’t bite,” he said, forcing a smile.
“I don’t usually have company.”
“I don’t usually get lost in snowstorms. I am sorry for putting you out.”
“I’m just glad I didn’t have to bury you in the frozen ground.” With that, she took a bite.
He didn’t wait for further invitation. He heaped a big bite into his mouth and nearly groaned as venison melted against his tongue, the flavorful gravy nothing short of heaven. He emptied the small bowl in a few hearty bites and would have thumbed out the remaining gravy had the bowl not been snatched away from him.
“I’ll get you some more.”
“I don’t want to leave you hungry,” he said, while hoping that big pot was filled to the brim.
“I have plenty,” she said, refilling his bowl. “Luckily I brought more than a frozen cowboy home from my hunt.”
“Thank you,” he said, unable to pull his gaze away from her graceful movements as she sat across from him. Had some sorry excuse of a man left her up here to fend for herself under such harsh conditions? Catching his gaze, she paused before taking another bite. Her tense expression suggested she’d rather be dining alone.
“You were out hunting in that storm?” he asked.
“That deer meat didn’t jump into my stewpot on its own.”
Garret grinned. The flat line of her lips didn’t so much as twitch.
“I don’t imagine it did. Guess you caught more than you bargained for.”
“I did indeed.”
“You must have been at the end of your food stores to be hunting in this storm?”
Her jaw tightened.
“I’m stocked up just fine,” his nameless savior insisted.
He wasn’t new to stubborn women. Wasn’t a woman born more stubborn than his older sister—or so he’d thought.
“A tracking snow can be real useful. It was—before the storm hit. You were the one so far from home.”
If he’d ended up here, what had happened to Duce?
“My business partner didn’t ride in at noon. Duce wouldn’t have stayed out in that weather unless he was having trouble or had found trouble.”
“I’d been hunting in those lower ranges the whole day. I didn’t come across anyone or hear any other gunshots.”
He hoped Duce had made it back to the ranch. “How long have you lived up here?”
“A while.”
Boots pounced up beside her, his front paws landing in her lap. “I already fed you,” she said, her lips hinting at a smile.
“Sorry about that.”
“I’m used to it by now.” She scratched at his ears, turning his cow dog to a limp pile of fur.
“You’ve spoiled him. Boots usually has better manners.”
“You’ve been far more trouble than he has.”
God save him, her smiling eyes sent a whisper of sensation across his skin as images flooded his mind. Unnerved by the rush of desire, he swept his gaze over the small space.
Simple, clean, the nicest cave he’d ever seen. Small and dank, yet livable—for a miner. So where the hell was he?
“More?” she asked, reaching for his bowl.
The first two servings had taken the edge off his hunger, but he could easily put away another. “Only if you’re sure you can spare it.”
She pushed his dog aside and went to the stove. His gaze followed her dainty form, trailing down the part of her braids to her slender, kissable neck.
He pinched his eyes shut. If he’d actually made advances on her in her sleep, she’d be tossing him out on his ear, not serving him stew. And yet…he could practically feel her arms around his neck as she had kissed him into unconsciousness. He looked up as she stepped beside him, her eyes full of caution as she slid the bowl and mugs onto the table—she sure as hell didn’t like being near him.
“You’ve saved my life,” he said. “And I still don’t know your name.”
“I couldn’t rightly leave you in the snow.” She turned away and he caught her by the wrist.
“That’s the second time you’ve avoided telling me your name. Who are you and where is your husband?”
“If you value that hand,” she said, the chill in her tone raising the hair on the back of his neck, “move it.”
Garret had lived with temperamental females long enough to know when his hide was in danger. This wasn’t a woman who took kindly to being backed into a corner—or grabbed by the wrist. She didn’t move to pull away but the cold clarity in her eyes told him her other hand was already gripping the hilt of her blade. A sudden move on his part would have painful results.
Biting back a swear word, he opened his fingers.
“My apologies.”
She took a step back, glowering at him as she rubbed her wrist. He knew he hadn’t used enough pressure to bruise her soft skin.
“Well?” he persisted. “Why isn’t your husband here? You are married, aren’t you?”
“I don’t see how my life history would be beneficial to you, Mr. Daines.”
“Considering I’ve been lying naked in your bed for the past few days,” he said bluntly, “asking your marital status seems a fair question.”
She crossed her arms, her pointed little chin raising a few notches. “Are you suggesting I should have left you in the snow for the sake of propriety?”
Her crisp speech carried a hint of formality that reminded him of Amanda’s. This woman’s sharp gaze and graceful mannerisms belayed her odd attire. She’d been properly schooled. Must have been a sweet-talking sonuvagun who’d convinced her to come all the way out here.
“No, ma’am,” he said. “I’m grateful for your help. But your husband may not appreciate—”
“I don’t have a husband, so you can relax.”
Relax? With the thoughts that were filtering through his mind. Not likely. Why the hell didn’t she have a husband? “You live way up here alone?”
“You should be focusing on getting your strength back. You’ll be leaving as soon as the weather allows.”
Her hostility and evasiveness gnawed at him. He was obviously making her nervous. Hell, he was making himself nervous!
“I know for certain I wasn’t near any homestead when the storm hit,” he said, hoping a less invasive question would get him some answers. “At least none that I’m aware of. I’ve lived in this area for nearly nine years.”
“Do you really think you’re on a homestead?”
She wasn’t buying any of it.
“No, ma’am. More of a miner’s claim, I suppose.”
Her single arched eyebrow wasn’t a denial or a confirmation. The sheer challenge in her gaze caused a discomforting stir in his britches. He was starting to think he had a thing for sassy women. Sassy, stern and pretty beyond measure.
Her cheeks flushed to a soft pink before she hooded those blue eyes with thick lashes.
And passionate, his mind added. She’d been hesitant at first but had quickly turned to sweet fire in his arms.
Garret dropped his spoon, the provocative images in his mind driving him to the brink of insanity.
“Did I bed you?”
