pulse skipped a beat. Someone had threatened her? A man claiming to work for the railroad? A man Duncan’s money helped pay wages to? No wonder she’d been adamant about him leaving. Now wasn’t the time to be interrogated by this younger sister, nor was it the time for him to ask questions. Camy needed medical attention, and quickly. “If I meant to drown her I wouldn’t be carrying her, now, would I?”
The sister inspecting Camy for injuries glanced at the shorter one. “You best get Dr. Northrop.”
“I don’t like it, Ellie.” The shorter one looked over Duncan from head to toe and back again, before resting on her injured sister. “If any further harm happens to either one of my sisters, you’ll regret it, mister.”
“Ye need not worry, Mara Jean.” Hamish stepped from the shadows and over a log. “He’ll not be causing harm to his future bride.”
Obviously Hamish sought Duncan’s protection for his family, but that didn’t mean hot anger didn’t boil in Duncan’s blood at being manipulated. If Hamish had been truthful about his intention of Duncan marrying Camy from the start, Duncan never would have left Topeka, and she wouldn’t now be suffering from a wound in her shoulder.
The sisters spun around, their faces white as snow.
“What have you done, Hamish?” Ellie held up her hand. “Never mind. We’ll hear the tale soon enough. Come along, let’s get Camy home.”
“Northrop won’t be too happy when he finds out about this.” The younger sister giggled.
Camy flinched and curled tighter against him. Her eyes once again opened, pooling with tears. Tears caused by the wound in her shoulder, when she hadn’t cried before? Had she heard Hamish’s revelation? Or was it the mention of the doctor that caused her to seek his protection, a stranger? Either way, he didn’t like the lines of distress creasing her forehead and mouth. Somehow he couldn’t help wanting to play the knight in shining armor to this damsel in distress. After all, he owed her that much after shooting her. No matter how loud the warning bells clanged in his head, he wouldn’t leave her side until he was assured she was well, and then he’d be gone without a second glance. Before Hamish and his daughter convinced him a marriage of convenience held appeal.
* * *
“I won’t leave you.” She closed her eyes as the huskiness of Duncan Murray’s voice, colored with his accent, vibrated through her and curled her toes. “Unless you ask me to.”
She gave her head a slight shake and then wrapped her arms around his neck as he followed Ellie up the path. Her behavior toward him had been monstrous to say the least, and yet he continued to offer her help. She’d almost be willing to slave over the fireplace and make him a month’s worth of dinners.
The wall of his broad chest and his brawny arms reminded her of the days when her da had held her tight during a frightful storm, or when he’d taken her riding. Those days had been forever ago, before her mother had died, before he’d left her and her sisters with Hamish. She hadn’t felt safe or protected since. She wanted to soak it in, and yet she did not. She opened her eyes.
“You may put me d-down now,” she stuttered, releasing her arms from around his neck and pushing at his shoulders. He tightened his grip. She smacked his shoulder and grimaced at the fire burning in her arm. “Oaf!”
Ellie halted her steps. “Something wrong?”
“I’m not a child, Ellie. I can walk.” She released a puff of air. She didn’t want to trust that he had good intentions. There had been too many men of recent months travelling through Rusa Valley seeking land along the river, and some unsavory fellows vying for Sims Creek. However, she didn’t wish to be overly rude, given that he seemed intent on helping her. “He’s injured and has no business b-bearing my burden.”
“Cameron is as stubborn as my Millie.” Hamish’s thick, gravelly accent warmed her heart, even if she took offense at being compared to his mule. He’d inform Mr. Murray that the Simses’ land was not for sale, because Hamish promised it to her when she turned of age on her next birthday, and perhaps he’d help Ellie see reason as to why they shouldn’t give up their home and allow bounders to take over their home.
“I’ve noticed,” Duncan mumbled as he released Camy’s legs. “Far from biddable.”
His fingers anchored around her waist, leaving her light-headed and breathless. Her swim in the river had taken more of her strength than she’d like to admit. The pulsating, searing pain in her arm churned in her stomach.
Peeling his fingers from her sides, she shuddered at the loss of his warmth and wobbled. Duncan’s palm, branding the curve of her back, offered support and propelled her away from him and the delight of his protectiveness. She wouldn’t covet something she could never have. Not from him. He was too handsome by far, and she was too plain. Too unladylike.
She lifted her foot over an exposed root, and a wave of dizziness spun around in her head. Reaching her hand out to steady herself against the tree, she missed and lurched forward. Before she hit the ground, she found herself swept back into the arms of Duncan Murray.
The rumble of his laughter shook through her. “I’m afraid she’ll find I’m just as stubborn.”
Ellie and Hamish laughed too, and if Camy hadn’t been so offended at their jests over her stubbornness, she would have released the tears of pain and frustration begging to spill from her eyes. Ellie rarely smiled anymore, and she hadn’t laughed since she returned home.
Camy crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “I’m glad to amuse you, but can we go home now?”
The sooner they were home, the sooner she’d be out of his arms, and the sooner they could correct him about purchasing their home. Then he could be on his way. But then one of the Northrops would soon arrive, and no doubt, Miller Northrop would hear of her mishap. She could handle Duncan Murray and the emotions he elicited, but she couldn’t handle Miller’s persistent pursuit. The last time almost cost her her freedom, in more ways than one. Camy shivered at the idea of being shackled to that boy. Only a year older than her twenty, Miller had gone from a polite young man to acting like a petulant child over the last year.
“Are you cold?” Duncan’s slight accent rolled over her, somehow setting her nerves on edge, yet giving her a great deal of comfort as it reminded her of her parents.
“I’m fine.”
He snorted, as if she’d tell an untruth, and then pulled her closer. If word caught on that a man carried Camy, no matter the reason, Mrs. Smith would call for a wedding. This man confused her, and she’d no more wish to marry the yellow-bellied oaf of a Scotsman than Miller.
A life with Miller would be worse than tea with Mrs. Smith and her daughters. The socialite had taken it upon herself to mother the Sims sisters, as they had no mother, and Camy always walked away from her teas with a stiff neck from sitting all prim and proper like. Not to mention her nose nearly took on a permanent wrinkled disposition. It was no small chore containing a sneeze, especially when Mrs. Smith insisted on waving her fan, stirring up every imaginable fragrance she’d doused her person with moments before the appointed time of tea. Third Tuesday, every month, weather permitting. A necessary evil, according to Ellie. After all, Mrs. Smith knew all the going-ons within three counties, which kept the Sims sisters ahead of the railroad. Most of the time. All they had to do was smile, nod and sip tea while they listened to drivel about the latest fashions and how a woman should glide and
