Louise's mouth dropped, and she stared at him. That's why he'd refused her offer, not because he didn't want to be tied to her, but because he didn't want to end like his father, resenting his wife for bailing him out. The instant he said the words, it sounded so obvious.
What other mistakes had she made?
"Louise, slow down before you break your neck. We need to talk!"
No sooner had he shouted the warning than she felt the back wheels lock and spin into a sickening icy slide. She was skilled enough to save the team from wrecking, to hold the wagon steady until it straightened again, but she wasn't balanced well enough to save herself. The wagon seesawed and pitched her into the road, where she banged down on the ice and rolled across the snow pack into a drift.
Quicker than she could sort out what had happened, Max was off Marva Lee and pulling her out of the snowbank. He propped her against the drift and ran his strong work hands over her neck, down her arms, and across her rib cage. When he threw up her skirt and moved his hands from her ankles to her knees, she slapped down her skirts and wiggled away from him.
"Here. Sit on my duster," he insisted. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm not hurt." Probably badly bruised, but not actually injured. Her skirt was torn, and her hat had gone missing.
"It's a miracle you aren't dead. I never saw anybody drive a wagon that recklessly!"
She blinked at the road. "Where are the horses?"
"Probably halfway to Denver . We'll send someone to look for them later. Right now you and I have some things to talk about." He sat on the snow facing her and tried to take her hand, but she snatched it away.
She was going to have to swallow her pride and ask him to take her to a hotel in Fort Houser . Damn.
"I know what you're going to say," she said, lifting a hand and cutting him off. "You're a good man, and you and I have become friends so you want to make this as easy as possible for me. And I appreciate that, but I know what I saw and I know how you feel." She looked down at her hands twisting in her lap.
"No you don't."
"And if you're mad about me just running off, well, I'm sorry about that. It was cowardly. And I didn't think about stealing your horses and wagon." She looked at him. "But it's time I left, Max. I've overstayed my welcome."
"Louise, listen to me. I don't care about Philadelphia . She doesn't mean a thing to me. Whatever I felt for her died a long time ago."
"We haven't lied to each other, let's not start now. I saw your face when Philadelphia was in labor, and your expression said it all." She hated to remember that day. "You were worried to death about her. And you were devastated when you learned she'd been with another man."
"Damned right I was worried. Weren't you? Wasn't everyone? I didn't want her to die; I didn't want a death on my conscience. As for being devastated that she'd been with another man, hell yes, the news shocked me. I never expected such a thing. And it made me furious. I'd been flogging myself that I'd betrayed Philadelphia by taking my wife—you—to bed. And all the while she had betrayed me weeks before." He sat on the snow facing her with his legs tucked up under him Indian fashion. "Call it pride, call it stupidity, but of course I was furious that she was pregnant by another man. But Louise … that has nothing to do with you."
He looked at her sitting on the side of the road, as unaware of the snow and cold as he was, her heart swimming in her eyes. It was so like her to think of other people's happiness and run off to clear the way for him and Philadelphia . Despite her bluster and bravado, despite the chip she sometimes wore on her shoulder, there wasn't a selfish bone in this woman's body.
"I love you, Louise Downe McCord. You drive me absolutely crazy sometimes, and this is one of those times, but I love you."
Her eyes widened in surprise, and she gripped her hands tightly in her lap.
"If you hadn't run off when you did, if you'd stayed a few more minutes, you would have heard me tell Philadelphia to go home. You would have heard me tell her that I love you with all my heart and that you're the best thing that ever happened to me and I thank God for you every day of my life."
"You told Philadelphia all that?" She stared. "Well, damn it, Max, I ought to smack you hard. Why'd you tell her all that instead of telling me?"
"I planned to tell you. I was getting around to it." He cleared his throat and wished his hair was combed and wished they weren't sitting on the snowy ground by the side of the road. This wasn't the ideal circumstance in which to commence a long-overdue courtship. "Mrs. McCord, I love you," he said, making a beginning. "I've tried to identify the moment when I first knew you had captured my heart."
She stared at him with such an odd expression that a stab of fear pierced his chest. What if she didn't love him back? What if she'd run away, not because of what she'd seen in the barn, but because she was tired of him and didn't want to be married anymore? Then he would just have to woo her and win her.
"I think I fell in love with you that amazing night on the kitchen floor. Or maybe it was the evening you stepped up and set my arm." Testing things, he reached for her hand, and, to his joy, she glared, but she let him take it. "Or maybe the night I knew I loved you was when I kissed you under the mistletoe on Christmas Eve. It's hard to say because I look at you now and it seems to me there's never been a time when I didn't love you."
He clasped her hands hard. "Don't ride out on me, Louise, I need you. I couldn't stand losing you. I'm laying my heart on the line. I'm saying I love you and no man ever meant those words more. I think we can make a good life together; we've already started. Let's forget about an agreement we made before we knew each other. I want you with me always." A sigh lifted his chest, and he gave her a look of exasperation. "Are you ever going to interrupt this speech and tell me that you love me? Or are you going to torture me by keeping me in suspense?"
"I'm bad tempered and stubborn, Max. I'm never going to be a lady. I doubt I'll ever in my life invite someone to tea or be invited to such an event. I don't have any fashion sense, and I'll never be beautiful."
"What are you talking about?" he asked, frowning. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
How can you not know that?" When she stood naked before him like a young Venus, he was struck dumb with awe. And when she smiled at him across the bedcovers, the shine in her lovely eyes took his breath away. He told her what he was thinking. "And you have a wonderful mouth just made for kissing and laughing."
She studied him with suspicion, then amazement. "Good Lord. You really mean it! You honestly think …
