“Mrs. Holloway?”
“Older woman?”
“Yes.”
Caleb shook his head.
The woman closed her eyes.
Two tears escaped.
She wiped them away almost angrily.
Caleb looked toward the fire.
“What is your name?”
“Evelyn.”
He waited.
“Evelyn Hayes.”
“Caleb Ward.”
Her eyes opened.
Recognition.
That surprised him.
“You know the name?”
“I heard it in town.”
Caleb's jaw tightened.
Of course.
“What did they say?”
Evelyn looked uncertain.
“Many things.”
“Usually do.”
She studied him.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing lately.”
That almost made her smile.
Almost.
She shifted beneath the blankets.
Pain crossed her face.
“Where?”
“My ribs.”
“Can you breathe deeply?”
She tried.
Winced.
“Probably bruised.”
“You a doctor?”
“No.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I was hoping mountain hermits came with medical training.”
Caleb stared.
Then a laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
Evelyn looked surprised.
So was he.
The moment passed.
Wind struck the windows.
“You should sleep.”
“I've been sleeping.”
“You've been unconscious.”
“Is there a meaningful difference?”
“Yes.”
Evelyn looked toward the blue dress.
“I'd like to change.”
Caleb immediately turned.
“I'll go outside.”
“In that storm?”
“Porch.”
“You'll freeze.”
“I won't.”
She frowned.
“You carried me two miles?”
“Close.”
“In this weather?”
“Yes.”
“And now you're going to freeze because I need to put on a dress?”
Caleb's patience thinned.
“What would you prefer?”
“Turn around.”
He did.
Evelyn dressed slowly.
Caleb listened to fabric moving behind him.
He hated that he noticed.
He hated more that his imagination noticed.
Eight years alone had apparently not killed every instinct.
“Done.”
Caleb turned.
The dress belonged to his sister Rebecca.
Deep blue.
Long sleeves.
Simple lace at the collar.
On Rebecca it had always seemed modest and plain.
On Evelyn, it looked completely different.
The bodice fit tightly across her full figure.
The waist sat higher than intended.
The skirt followed generous hips before falling to the floor.
Caleb stared a second too long.
Evelyn noticed.
Of course she did.
Her face changed.
Not flirtation.
Expectation.
The kind that prepares for an insult.
Caleb immediately understood.
He looked away.
“Does it hurt anywhere else?”
“That was quick.”
“What?”
“The change.”
Caleb frowned.
“What change?”
“The look.”
“What look?”
“The one men get when they see my body.”
His jaw tightened.
“What look do you think I had?”
“You tell me.”
Caleb considered lying.
Didn't.
“I was staring.”
“I noticed.”
“Because you're beautiful.”
Evelyn froze.
Caleb immediately regretted speaking.
Not because it was false.
Because truth had created a new problem.
She stared at him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“I heard words. I am trying to understand whether hypothermia damaged my mind.”
Caleb almost smiled.
“You're beautiful.”
She looked genuinely offended.
“You don't know me.”
“Didn't say I loved you.”
Color rose into her cheeks.
“Mr. Ward.”
“Caleb.”
Her mouth tightened.
“You say that very casually.”
“What?”
“That.”
“Beauty?”
“Yes.”
“It's an observation.”
Evelyn stared.
Then shook her head.
“You mountain men are strange.”
“So I've heard.”
She stood.
Too quickly.
Her knees gave.
Caleb caught her.
His arms closed around her waist.
Everything stopped.
Evelyn's hands landed against his chest.
Caleb could feel the warmth of her body through the blue dress.
He had expected softness.
He had not expected how much he would like it.
Her face was inches below his.
Green eyes.
Flushed cheeks.
Parted lips.
Caleb released her instantly.
“Sit.”
“I am fine.”
“You nearly fell.”
“Then perhaps the floor moved.”
“The floor hasn't moved since 1879.”
She sat.
Caleb walked away.
Fast.
That was when Evelyn noticed something.
His hands.
They were shaking.
She looked toward him.
“Caleb?”
“What?”
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
“Then why are you shaking?”
He looked at his hands.
Closed them.
“Nothing.”
Evelyn watched.
A strange thought entered.
“Are you afraid of me?”
Caleb laughed once.
“No.”
“Then why did you run across the room like I caught fire?”
He turned.
“I didn't run.”
“You moved impressively quickly.”
“Evelyn.”
“What?”
“You nearly died.”
“I know.”
“You're injured.”
“Yes.”
“You've been awake fifteen minutes.”
“Closer to twenty.”
Caleb stared.
She smiled slightly.
His expression hardened.
Evelyn's humor disappeared.
“What?”
“Stay there.”
Her body stiffened.
Caleb immediately saw fear return.
That was not what he wanted.
He searched for better words and found none.
“Because if you come any closer...”
He stopped.
Evelyn's eyes widened.
“What?”
Caleb cursed himself.
“I can't promise I'll be able to control myself.”
Silence.
Evelyn's blood ran cold.
Every warning she had ever heard about isolated men returned at once.
Caleb saw it.
His face changed.
“Not like that.”
She pulled the blanket around herself.
He backed against the far wall.
“I meant—”
“What did you mean?”
“That I want you.”
The words landed heavily.
Evelyn stared.
Caleb closed his eyes.
“This is going badly.”
“Very.”
“I've been alone eight years.”
“That does not improve the sentence.”
“I know.”
He opened his eyes.
“I carried you here because you were dying.”
Evelyn said nothing.
“I took off frozen clothes because you were dying.”
Still nothing.
“I sat across the room all night because I did not want you waking to a stranger beside you.”
Her fear softened one degree.
Caleb continued.
“And now you're standing in my sister's dress looking like...”
He stopped.
“Like what?”
His eyes moved over her once.
Then back to her face.
“Like something I stopped believing belonged in my life.”
The room quieted.
Evelyn's grip on the blanket loosened.
Caleb looked away.
“So when I said stay there, I meant I don't trust myself not to forget that you nearly died and kiss a woman who hasn't decided whether she even likes me.”
Evelyn stared.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
Not cruelly.
A small exhausted sound.
Caleb frowned.
“What?”
“You are terrible at warnings.”
“I know.”