stepped in front of her son, blocking him from view. The protective lioness guarding her cub.
“Evelyn, this is Lars Brinkerhoff, a good friend of mine.” His only friend in Brave Rock, as Gideon wasn’t one to seek out relationships. From their first meeting shortly after their arrival in this unsettled slice of Oklahoma territory, Lars had gone out of his way to strike up a friendship. “Lars, meet Mrs. Evelyn Chaucer Montgomery.”
He wasn’t sure why he’d inserted her maiden name. His brothers would’ve told Lars about her connection to the Chaucer men, who’d made it their mission to poison the townsfolk’s minds against them.
The Dane extended his hand. Evelyn reluctantly allowed hers to be swallowed by his oversize grip, apprehension snaking across her features. Of course she would be uncertain. She was a woman alone with her enemy and his friend.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Montgomery.”
Her dark eyes shot to Gideon. The flash of vulnerability made him want to reassure her that she had nothing to fear. A pointless exercise, since she insisted on suspecting him of nefarious motives.
“Lars and his sister, Katrine, came over from Denmark ten years ago. They attend Elijah’s church.”
“’Tis true.” The blond smiled broadly and, still clasping her hand, patted it reassuringly. “We would be honored if you and your little one would join us for services.”
“I—I appreciate the invitation.” Evelyn tugged her hand free. “I’ll give it some thought.”
Lars addressed him. “Gideon, you must promise to accompany Mrs. Montgomery if she wishes to attend.”
He scowled. The Dane knew perfectly well Gideon hadn’t once stepped foot in Lije’s tent chapel. How could he, when doing so would only prod to life the latent rage inside him? God could’ve spared his daughter. That He hadn’t still hurt so deeply Gideon couldn’t even begin to process it. Instead, he boxed up his feelings and locked them up tight, hidden from the daylight, left to fester and spoil in the black caverns of his soul.
A suspicion wormed its way into his thoughts. Evelyn Montgomery was a beautiful woman, an exotic orchid among commonplace daisies. And she was available. Could Lars be interested in her?
So what if he is? A marriage between the two would solve your problem. She wouldn’t be after his land anymore.
But what about Winona Eaglefeather? When the Cheyenne woman came to Brave Rock in search of her runaway nephew, Dakota, Lars was able to communicate with her and help her locate the boy. And now that she and Dakota had decided to stay, he was teaching her English. To anyone watching the two adults interact, it was clear they’d grown close. Gideon got the impression his friend possessed deep feelings for the Native American beauty, but their differences held him back.
“Gideon?” Lars prompted, expression expectant.
Do the right thing.
“I suppose I could. If she makes up her mind to attend.”
While Lars smiled with satisfaction and Evelyn stared as if he’d suggested something scandalous, Gideon wanted to call the words back. What in the world had possessed him to agree? He absolutely could not go. If Evelyn surprised him by agreeing to Lars’s invitation, he’d deliver her to the church and wait outside to escort her home.
He knew his continued absence bothered Elijah, and he hated to cause him grief. But he couldn’t go for his brother. And he certainly wouldn’t go for her.
* * *
Evelyn handed the frog back to Walt with a distracted smile. She’d joined him in the stream while the rabbit stew she’d prepared for lunch simmered over hot coals. The cool water washing over her feet and ankles felt delicious in this sweltering heat. Modesty wasn’t an issue since Gideon and his unusual friend were engrossed in their work half a field away. Besides, she didn’t care what they thought about her.
Glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of Mr. Brinkerhoff mounting his horse and lifting a hand in wordless goodbye. They’d accomplished a lot in a short amount of time. The stable walls now reached Gideon’s shoulders.
Leaving the water, she quickly pulled on her stockings and boots, worked the large knot in her skirt free, and waited until the cotton cascaded to the ground to go and check the stew. When she lifted the lid, the thick broth’s succulent aroma teased her nose. Again her gaze drifted to the stable where Gideon was still hard at work. The man had no time to prepare a decent meal. And she hadn’t properly thanked him for Petra....
Acting before she could talk herself out of it, she procured a pewter bowl from her kitchenware trunk and ladled a large portion of the stew into it. “Walt.” She waited for him to look over at her. “I’m going to speak with Mr. Thornton. Don’t wander off, okay?”
Nodding, he returned his attention to the frog cradled in his palm.
The closer she got to her destination, the harder her heart worked to keep up with the blood tumbling through her veins. Calming and refreshing were not words she associated with their interactions. Gideon Thornton possessed the singular ability to irritate her with a mere look. Was it too much to hope this visit would proceed differently than their previous ones?
When she entered the rectangular structure through the double-wide opening, he was in the midst of hoisting a log onto the eastern side wall. Biceps bulging, forearms stiff with tension, he tugged a thick rope toward the floor, thereby lifting the log up into the air. His walnut-colored hair stuck to his temples and nape. Sweat trickled down the side of his neck and disappeared beneath the navy blue shirt collar. Scuffed boots planted far apart in the dirt, his muscled thighs strained the worn-in denim.
Evelyn stood mesmerized by this extraordinary display of strength. Breath locked in her lungs. She remained motionless, afraid to break his concentration lest the log come crashing down on him. It took about five minutes to complete the task. In between testing both ends to check the sturdiness, he flicked her a hooded glance, and she realized he’d been aware of her presence from the second she arrived.
The pewter warm against her palms, she raised her hands to draw attention to her offering. “I brought lunch. Do you like rabbit stew?”
Stepping down from the low stool on which he stood, he whipped off the deerskin gloves and stuffed them in his pocket. His gaze zeroed in on the bowl, then rose to her face. “I’m not a picky eater.”
When he made no move toward her, she chose to go to him. Up close, his gray eyes contained a startling wariness. What had he to fear from her? “I assure you, it’s perfectly safe to eat. I don’t make it a habit of slipping poison in my food.”
Those refined eyebrows lifted in surprise. “How about we test that theory?” Taking the bowl and spoon, he scooped up meat, onion and broth and brought it to her lips.
Stunned, her lips parted automatically, which he no doubt took as a sign of compliance.
Not a single part of him touched her, yet disturbing awareness danced along her nerve endings, resurrecting a longing for connection, for companionship and, yes, that dirty word, romance. One would’ve thought living with three brothers and, later, a husband who despised her would’ve put such naive notions to death. But there it was. Deep down where she guarded her most vulnerable secrets, she yearned to be wooed and courted, dreamed of being that one special person in a man’s life. She wanted to be loved. Truly loved for the person she was inside.
Drake had admired her physical appearance, but the attraction had faded soon after the reality of married life set in.
She swallowed with difficulty.
Gideon’s gaze was locked on her mouth, uneasiness marring his brow. Taking the spoon and bowl with him, he executed a swift turn and crossed to the corner, where he lowered himself on the stool and concentrated on the stew.
Sucking in a balancing breath, Evelyn moved in the opposite direction, knowing it was unwise to linger. The logical thing to do would be to return