The next day was a haze in the young woman's memory. Somewhere there was the Doc's burly face bent over her, brows knitted in consternation and concentration. The white hair framing it changed to sandy blonde strands falling into a high, square forehead, heavy brows above blue eyes… Lucas. Through the thrumming in her ears she could not be certain if she could actually make out the words.
"She's been feverish through the night, Doc. Did not get much rest… How's the infection?"
The answer was already unreachable to her consciousness. The dreams claimed her.
Some time during the afternoon she woke, clear-headed. Her limbs and thoughts still felt bogged down, the wound a constant throbbing in her side. She must have made a sound, for the tall rifleman stuck his head through the door.
"Guess there was no need to make you promise not to leave during the night?"
It felt like a peace offering, even though Lucas was scowling ferociously.
Emery could not help the small smile. Her hands had stopped shaking.
"N-not really…" Ok, her voice was still rough.
"I half expected you to be gone regardless." He offered her a glass of water, which she accepted gratefully.
"I gave my word." That was the wrong thing to say. His anger seemed to multiply, his face darkened. Emery took a quick breath, and forestalled the outbreak.
"You don't know who's word you got."
"You lied to me for more than a year."
She'd lied to Mark, to the whole town, but that was not the issue here. She lifted her head to give him a hard gaze. The fever made everything sharper, contours over-precise, her thoughts biting. "Do I still call you Lucas?"
That gave the tall man pause. Something passed behind his eyes. His expression softened, though he would not answer. She took that as answer enough.
"Lucas, the only thing I lied about was my first name." … and the fact that she didn't take a piss standing up, but he had never asked about that. "Everything else was the truth."
He glared at her quizzically.
"Every single word, to you and to Mark."
God, it was good he had made her promise not to leave, she would have dragged herself out of the bed on all fours. The helplessness of having to concede superiority to the small voice of reason that told her 'You could not even stand up by yourself, nor do you remember a single moment of this night.' would have made her angry, had she not been so tired. Her eyes searched for the tall man.
Damn, he was intimidating, standing with the light at his back, his face closed and still angry.
Desperation threatened to swamp her. She knew she had only to lose here, but still... still... if she could make him understand...
"I never meant to let you find out. That day repairing the fence, I was going to tell you."
"I remember." He grumbled, a stubborn expression - almost childish - flitting over his face.
Her heart clenched.
"Why?" Lucas' ability to put all his anger, consternation and frustration in to a single word was unique.
Emery had to glance away, robbed of her hard fought-for calm by the stormy gaze. His whole body seemed to scream tension. She could feel the blood rising into her face. "Lucas, this was nothing to do with you, or with North Fork. I've been living as a man for the past years. I move on before people get suspicious, nobody the wiser."
He was watching her with his most unreadable expression. Inwardly the young woman grinned a bitter little smile. "I never meant to stay this long in one spot."
A heavy hand came down on the table with a barely restrained bang. "As you've told me before. Why did you stay?"
Startled despite herself, she bit her lip. Surely he must have guessed. The horrible fright of seeing his tall, powerful body tumble from the outcrop with the mountain-lion clawing at him rose before her eyes. Emery tried to shrug the memory off and answered coolly: "It wouldn't have felt right to leave Mark to look after the farm all by himself after your accident."
Lucas turned to the window, knuckles of his fingers white where he was clenching them to fists on the windowsill.
"So many things… I treated you like a man, a friend." The deep voice was harsh. "The wound on your arm… the way you hid your hands."
Emery bit down on a fist, eyes burning. Lucas kept his back turned toward her.
"The stupid scarf. I can't believe I never suspected anything! You worked with Mark… on the field, with the cows…"
She had seen him angry a few times, but never with the seething fury that now reverberated in his voice. The fever scrambled her thoughts, she was unable to find words. It did not matter.
"Florence – she knew, didn't she?" He did not even turn around for an answer. "The child… and yet…" The tall silhouette against the window hung its head, the window frame croaked under the tension of the bulging muscles. "Who else knows? Who knows?"
Emery shook her head wordlessly. Nobody knew. Nobody could know. Florence had guessed… The young woman did not know when she slipped back into the semi-darkness of fever dreams.
…
When next she woke, it was dark outside. A single lamp lightened the room, Lucas must have been reading at its light. He was already looking at her sharply… but with concern mixed in. That strong face could be so expressive. Ok, stop that train of thought, girl, quickly. That way lie monsters.
Emery tried to sit up. To her surprise, she managed reasonably well.
"Hungry?"
She shrugged, surprised by the rumble from her stomach. "A little."
Lucas hid a quick smile in getting up, and returned with a bowl of chicken stew. He refused her efforts to reach for it, and fed her patiently. To their shared surprise, when Emery was done, the bowl was empty.
Lucas reached out naturally to feel her forehead – and she could not suppress a gasp at the contact. The tall man met her eyes, brows creased in easy scrutiny. "Your brow is cooler, your eyes are clear." His face betrayed profound relief. "How do you feel?"
Emery smelled a faint whiff of whiskey on his breath. "Lighter." Now that was an odd choice of words. But it was true. The horrible sluggishness had lifted from head and body. "Better." She amended for the sake of the confusion on the angular face.
Rocking back on the chair, Lucas unfolded his long limbs to place the empty bowl on the table – besides the almost empty glass.
"I must ask your forgiveness."
Emery turned her head in wary surprise. Was he mocking her? This change from their last exchange was too much – which one was a dream?
"In the woods… I thought you had abandoned Mark to the enemy. I believed Cade."
"Cade?" what had he got to do with anything?
Lucas straightened and turned towards her, stretching his legs under the bed.
"In town earlier today, I confronted him. Told him a different man might come to think he tried to get rid of a man he was still wary of, still thought of as a rival…" At what he read in her face he added dryly: "Miss Schuler looks to you first if you're both in a room. He almost pulled a gun on me."
"Cade?" Emery felt her brows knitting together. She clasped her hands together. Slowly things began making sense.
"He never repeated what you had told him about following the children, the cabins, the rockslide. I think he may have changed the sequence of events. Mark and your story overlap better than his and Mark's. I'm saying I am honest sorry for calling you a coward. Your actions were… remarkable."
His voice had taken on that gravelly intensity that had endeared him to her when she was still Eirik, and made her stomach vibrate with resonance. She became aware that he was watching her with those piercing eyes, waiting for an answer.
"You were mislead… there is no need-"
"I was too quick to let him get under my skin. You've proven resourceful and quick before. And no coward. Especially not where kids are involved." He leaned forward.
Even knowing he could probably read her heart in her face, the young woman could not look away. He had been mesmerizing when she had still been safe, but now…
"Thank you." Oh, how stupid did that sound? "I mean…" she stammered, finally tearing her eyes away from his shadowed silhouette, "there is nothing to forgive."
She lowered her eyes onto her hands. Unbidden the memories rose - of the desolate run through the night forest, her desperation, her horror and pain. Darkness threatened at the edges of her consciousness, called by the turmoil in heart and mind.
A large, calloused, cool hand slowly covered her white knuckles. A second hand cradled her cheek and gently forced her chin upward, until their eyes met.
Time stood still for Emery. Time, the universe, the dusty new Mexico landscape… her senses screamed overload, blood pounding in her ears. How gentle the callused hands…
Lucas was gazing at her as if trying to read her soul. She could see a pale mirror image of herself in his widening pupils. His eyes widened a little, and in the same moment that Emery was forced to draw a breath, the rifleman dropped his hand from her face and tilted his head down.
He was sitting down on level with her mattress, and still he towered over her. Had he always been this tall?
"It is I who is asking forgiveness, for being a coward."
The big hand tightened on her fingers. "What?" Lucas' face turned up again.
"I lied to you for a whole year. To you and to Mark." Suddenly she was thrown back into reality. Where was the boy? What time was it? Spirit, her plans to leave, the town, the Doc, Micah Torrence… What had Lucas told in town? Who knew? Questions swamped her, threatened to overwhelm her. But there was something more important that needed to be said.
"You trusted me. We were friends. And I lied to you." Her hands unclasped involuntarily, and she shyly gripped the hard fingers still touching hers. "Please believe me, I never meant to hurt you, never meant to let it go this far. Your accident… I could not leave, but could not tell… I was so close so many times, and then that day on the field, repairing the fence, I had resolved it had to be this day. I had my things packed, I was ready to…" she swallowed in an effort to force her tongue to stop, but to no avail. His eyes spoke of consternation. The words stumbled on. "… I was prepared for any reaction. Your leg was well enough. And then… Mary and Ned… and then it was the sulphur springs. I hate that I did not tell you some time before, earlier, that you … found out that way… that I hurt you… put you in this position." Damn, tears were running down her cheeks. Angrily she pulled her hands out of his fingers and wiped her face. "I don't mean to cry."
Lucas straightened, lips curling slightly. "No, you're not much of a girl normally."
It took an embarrassingly long time for her brain to work out the humour in his voice, in his words. Then, her eyes flew up to his face, to find him looking down at her with an expression she had seen often – but usually directed at Mark…
The relief made her giddy, even though the blood was rushing to her head. The surrealism of the situation made her chuckle. Which reminded her forcefully of the pain in her side.
Lucas had not noticed her grimace. "You know there are some things that make sense now. Of course you'd be all for women's rights. Of course you'd try to help Cade and Mary." He shook his head lightly, eyes far away. "Few young men would know how nor want to handle a babe like Tony. Was it the reason why you never drank? Fear of betraying yourself?" He turned his face, and straightened, a frown creasing his face.
Must be her face was betraying her now – but the pain in her side had surprised her. She sat up labouredly. "Partly, of course. But…" she shrugged, suddenly tired again. "My first encounter with alcohol, I ended up too slow to help a friend in need, and he lost his life for it. I swore to myself then I'd never touch the stuff again. Also, you know how it affects natives."
"I can see how your wound is affecting you, Emery."
She could not suppress the falter in her breathing at his use of her name. Of course Lucas noticed, mocking her lightly: "You'll have to get used to the name. No-" he forestalled her rising agitation calmly, getting to his feet. "- it's very late, and we both need sleep. We'll talk more tomorrow."
It was a promise, one that sounded almost like a threat to the young woman. Defiance mixed with laughter bubbled up in her, and she tilted her head at the tall, tall man taking up so much space and air in the little cabin. She could see more of Mark in him when he was slightly inebriated, less guarded, more boyish. Blood rose to her cheeks.
Lucas had made it to the door during her considerations, and glanced back, catching her unawares, making the blood rise higher.
"Emery. I like the sound of it."
"You were so angry before." Ah, she could have kicked herself. But the words were out, floating in the room between them.
Lucas' brow rose as he taunted her: "What did you expect?"
He closed the door gently behind him, leaving the young woman to reflect on how she liked the way he made her name sound. The name she had not been called by since she was ten years old.