Chapter 25

Returning to their room after supper, Michaela preceded Sully into the room in silence, removing her shawl and gloves. She perched on the chaise before the fire, which the bellman had laid in the grate while they were gone. Absently, she fingered the gathers of her dress as she gazed into the flames, consternation slightly creasing her brow.

Sully, watching her, checked his own frustration. Dinner had gone better than he expected. Carrie and Roy had been pleasant, and they had parted on good terms. Michaela had been amiable, intelligent, and engaged in the conversation, and he could tell the other couple had been impressed by her. Yet they didn't know her like he did, and though he couldn't identify it, he knew something had been bothering her.

Crossing the suite, he sat next to her, their shoulders nearly touching, but his legs facing the opposite direction so he could see her face clearly. He tried to remain casual, calm, and leaned on his hands as he felt the warmth of the fire on his back.

"You going to tell me what you're fretting about?"

Her brow creased further, and she looked down at her hands. "I'm not fretting," she protested. It was a weak denial at best.

"You haven't looked me in the eyes all evening." He waited, watching her worry her bottom lip between her teeth. He softened his tone. "Tell me," he urged.

She was silent for a moment as she considered how to express her thoughts. "It's complicated, Sully."

He bit back a sigh. "We'll take it slow then. You know you can tell me anything."

"Carrie's a very lovely person…very beautiful," she murmured, raising her chin to look into the flames.

His eyes narrowed. "I suppose she is."

Her eyes dropped back to her lap. "She and Roy don't seem very close…"

"I don't know about that. You know it isn't seen as proper to show affection in public. They might've thought the same about us."

Her eyes met his. "But we—"

"They don't know that."

"No, I suppose not. I just… I couldn't help but notice Carrie's interest in you…" She didn't dare look at him, though she watched for his reaction out of the corner of her eye.

Stunned for a moment, he scoffed, realization hitting him hard in the chest. "You're jealous." His tone belied his disbelief.

She looked at him, indignance flaring in both pairs of eyes. "I am not jealous. I'm merely…" she sighed, searching for the right words. "I'm… concerned… that I may have stolen something from you…" She studied the flames once more, their dancing rhythm mocking her somehow. "What if you could have been happy with her?"

"I broke it off with her, remember? And they got married years ago. She wasn't waiting around for me."

"Yes, but—"

"Why do you think I put my arm around you this afternoon?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "I wanted her to know it was over, that I wasn't interested." Michaela remained silent, her brow creasing with her deepening confusion. He leaned toward her, his blue eyes blazing into hers. "Do you think I haven't been worried about the day some new good-looking doctor shows up at the hospital, supports you professionally, makes you laugh, cares about you, falls in love with you?"

"Sully, I would never—"

His expression softened. "I know you wouldn't. Neither would I, Michaela. Don't you see? We've committed to each other. There isn't another option. In that sense, we're just as conventional as anyone else."

"I know that. I just…" she sighed, having difficulty reconciling her confusing feelings.

"You've got to trust me, Michaela. Not just to remain faithful. But you've got to trust that I willingly gave up falling in love with someone else just the same as you did. We didn't steal anything from each other. We chose this."

She turned large, humbled eyes on him, lustrous with tears. "I know we did. Happily so."

"It was happy for me, too. What we have is special, Michaela. No one's ever understood me like you do. They haven't challenged me like you do, either. There's a million things about you that make me want to be around you. I'd trade that for some typical Victorian romance any day."

She smiled a little. "Me, too, Sully. I suppose listening to our vows yesterday, and then meeting Carrie today, I just—"

"You think too much." His eyes were soft, compassionate as he squeezed her hand.

"Perhaps," she acquiesced.

"The vows were all true, you know. We didn't lie. Maybe the meant something a little different for us, but that doesn't make them less true."

"Perhaps not, but..."

"And we care more about each other than a lot of couples who get married these days. Truly loving someone is a lot deeper than just being in love."

She shook her head, amazed and somehow calmed at his simple insight. "That's true."

He rubbed her shoulder, seeing peace move over her countenance. "Come on, let's get some sleep."

Slipping under the covers, Michaela was glad she'd remained in her chemise and bloomers beneath her high-necked nightdress. She felt much more covered. Opening her medical journal, she waited for Sully, who had secretly done his best to take his time, allowing Micheala the privacy to get in bed unobserved. He emerged a moment later from behind the water closet wearing blue ticking-striped pajamas.

"Want me to leave the window open?"

"Yes, if you don't mind. The breeze feels lovely."

She lay her journal aside as he climbed in to the bed, and they put out the lamps. Michaela lay stiffly on her back in the dark, her hands folded over the covers as she stared at the ceiling. Sully tucked one hand beneath his head, letting the other rest on his torso. He wondered if they were staring at the same spot, he could feel her tension.

"You okay?" he whispered. "I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"There's no need. I'm fine."

"Good." There was a slight pause. "'Night Michaela."

"Goodnight, Sully."

A cold sea wind fluttered through the curtains, cooling the suite with its fresh, salty fragrance. Subconsciously, Sully breathed deep, savoring the fresh air. Different from mountain air, sea air was just as refreshing. He began to stretch, luxuriating in the fresh air, his fingers just barely lifting before a warm weight around his upper arm stopped him.

Opening his eyes, he lifted his head a little to find Michaela huddled around his arm, her face pressed against his warm, cotton-covered shoulder. He smiled indulgently as he felt his chest fill with tenderness. She must be cold.

The blankets were around their hips, and he guessed he'd pushed them down himself as he always did. Most likely, in her sleep she hadn't realized that and had instead instinctively sought the warmth she found next to her. For a moment, he considered turning toward her and wrapping her in his arms, something about her sweetness at this moment made him want to protect her, but knew that would be straining a boundary that was at the moment tenuous. Instead, he used his free hand to pull the covers back over them, making sure to cover her up to her shoulders as best he could.

In the distant, airy space between sleep and wakefulness, Michaela pressed closely to a lone column of warmth. She was internally warm with sleep, but her skin felt cold. She pressed her face against the warmth, finding relief for her forehead and nose, and curling her arms in front of her, found warmth for them as well. She still felt cold, but the little but of warmth was enough to keep her from waking.

The spicy, earthy smell of the warmth, and its smooth, solid feeling, with just a little give, was comforting. A cool breeze blew over her again, cooling her ear, cheek, shoulder, hip, back. She sank further against the solid heat in front of her. And then, a soothing weight drew over her, and moments later, grew warm. The warmth seeped through her, and she sank deeper into sleep, away from the wakefulness that had teased the edges of her senses.

Watching her, he felt her relax a little as her body warmed. The sheer volume of the tenderness he felt for her made his chest hurt. Her insecurities drove him crazy sometimes, but they were also what made her so special. She didn't seem to understand how incredible she was, and that unassuming nature let all her strengths stand on their own. But there was pride mixed in their, too, and it was the mix that had always captured his attention. Here she was now, vulnerably seeking his warmth, always unsure in personal matters, but at dinner, she had been a powerhouse of knowledge, strength, and wit, never wavering. She was a captivating presence, in every possible way, and he felt honored to have the privilege of sharing moments like this with her.

He allowed himself to doze as his thoughts streamed one into another. Never one to sleep in or pass a laze morning, it was kind of nice to relax and wait for Michaela to wake up. He felt so comfortable. With the covers pulled up and the cool air from the ocean, he was the perfect temperature, and he felt as if he could lay in this exact position forever.

Dozing somewhere just slightly removed from full consciousness, he felt Michaela stir a little against his arm, press further into it, and then pull away a fraction of an inch. Realizing she was waking up, Sully was instantly alert but feigned sleep, knowing now as he had known – was it fifteen minutes ago? an hour? he'd lost track – that she wouldn't be comfortable with this kind of physical closeness, and he respected that. He would let her bring it up if she wanted to, but he wouldn't force her to by letting on that he knew.

Slowly, she rolled away, and if he really had been asleep, he wouldn't have known any better. She paused, laying very still, listening to his breathing he supposed, before she stood, donned her robe, and disappeared into the water closet.

Splashing water over her face, Michaela tried to calm her pounding heart. She had been cold, she remembered that now, but she was mortified that she'd snuggled against Sully rather than pulled up the covers. What would he have thought had he been awake? Well, he hadn't been. Drying her face with a soft towel, she took a few deep breaths. She needed to look normal when she went out to choose her dress for the day.

Silk skirts clutched in her hands, Michaela scrambled over the craggy boulders and slippery moss, trying not to fall more than a few steps behind Sully's steady stride. Finally, the boulders leveled out into a flat, rough cliff, and he steadied her elbow as she adjusted her pace to the smoother terrain. Moving ahead of her as she straightened her skirts, Sully stood still, his wide shoulders cutting a clean, strong silhouette against the ocean vista before him. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she watched him, noticing that he seemed to be absorbing the scene into his very being. She covered the last few steps to come up next to him, and he turned to look at her as she joined him.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" His voice held a tone of awe and respect.

"Yes, it certainly is."

They were silent for long moments, watching the white-capped waves roll in so far below them, the seagulls soaring above, the ocean grasses below rippling in the breeze with waves of their own. Rocks rose roughly out of the sand, forming tide pools and cliffs before giving way to dense forest.

"This is what I love about being out west."

Slowly, her eyes moved from the panorama to Sully's strong profile, solemnly reflective in the soft, cloud-diffused light. She had wondered for a moment if he was teasing her, but his expression made it clear that he was simply sharing with her.

"The solitude?"

He glanced at her warmly, lifting his chin in an affirming nod. "Out there, almost anywhere they send me, I can ride a few minutes in almost any direction and be totally alone."

"It must be so peaceful," she murmured, feeling the calm of the waves wash over her.

"It is, sometimes. But I need it, with all the conflict I deal with. Most people don't care about anything but their own gain."

The thought saddened her, and her eyes reflected her troubled spirit. "Where are you going this time?"

"Colorado territory. Somewhere outside of Denver. This trip is mostly just scouting the area, finding the Indian reservations and villages, white man's farms outside of town, main roads, meeting some folks, and checking out the areas that might cause conflict. After I come back and make my report, they might send me back."

"Is it safe?" Somehow, the danger inherent in his work seemed more significant now than it had before. This close companionship she felt with him was important to her, more now than ever. After what felt like a lifetime of occasional visits, she didn't want to see him go, and the thought of something hurting him, preventing his return, was worse yet.

He shrugged casually, closing the subject for now. "As safe as any other trip. Come on, what do you say we explore some of the tide pools down there?"

Cupping her arm, he guided her over toward a different path, and together they wound their way down to the shore.