Last Chance Bride Read online

  But not to him. Jacob’s eyelids bled from the driving ice, yet he rode on, searching, hoping, refusing to give in to defeat. As he rode, he saw fewer and fewer men until there was only one smudge of tan against the unrelenting, driving snow. The figure struggled slow and steady, heading away from town unlike the other men, stopping to search beneath one tree’s heavy boughs, then the next.

  The tan wool twisted around in the wind, and Jacob stopped his weary horse. No, that was a woman’s cloak. That was the hem of a woman’s dress.

  Elizabeth.

  Jacob nudged his horse closer. The worsening storm drove him from the animal’s back, hurling him to the ground. He landed on his booted feet and lifted a hand to protect his aching eyes from the scouring bits of ice.

  His heart broke at the sight of Elizabeth stooped, searching beneath the tree’s bottommost boughs. She turned, startled by his presence.

  “Jacob!” She yanked down the ice-stiff shawl from her face, but the angry wind snatched her words.

  How long had she been out in this cold? he wondered. Alarm speared through him. Her face looked beaten, red from the cold, her nose frosted with her own breath.

  She lumbered closer. “Have they found Emma?”

  He shook his head. God, how it hurt “The search has been called off.”

  “What? That’s impossible. If no one’s found her, we can’t—”

  “The search is over.” At least for Elizabeth. He caught her by the arm. “Come with me. We have to find shelter or we’ll freeze to death.”

  “No.” She stomped her feet, her gaze hot enough to melt the driving wall of ice beating between them. “I’m not going anywhere until I find her.”

  Grief, fear, frustration battered him like the wind. “This is no place for a pregnant woman, Elizabeth. You have to stop and let me search—”

  “I can’t.” Her teeth chattered. She covered her face, tucking a shawl snugly between the folds of her worn cloak. To his horror, she strode away, disappearing in the wall of white-grayness.

  Elizabeth! She was a fragile, pregnant woman. This cold killed men like him. He had to stop her. He couldn’t lose Elizabeth, not even for Emma’s sake.

  Jacob pulled the horse after him, searching for Elizabeth’s tan cloak in the blinding storm. The wind pounded, howling like a lost soul between the stand of trees. Finally, he saw the smudge of wool against the driving ice where she knelt and gazed beneath another tree’s low boughs.

  Jacob’s heart broke. This strong, loyal woman would freeze to death searching for his daughter rather than save herself. Only a mother would risk her life for a child.

  He grabbed her arm and spun her around, forcing her to look at him. “Be sensible. I can’t have you hurt. You have to stop.”

  Elizabeth planted her feet solidly in the knee-high snowdrift. “Not until I’ve found her.”

  “Think of your baby.” He shook her. “You could lose your baby.”

  “I can’t lose Emma.” She jerked free from his grasp and marched straight into the wall of driving snow.

  Jacob could feel his whole world crumbling about him. Ice froze in her hair and her eyebrows, caked her clothes and froze her cloak stiff. She had to be as cold as he was. The danger terrified him.

  “I don’t need your help. I’ll give you my horse and you can ride back to town.”

  “No.”

  Elizabeth’s stubborn denial shook through him, knocking loose the hard quaking deep inside. “Don’t make me take time away from searching for Emma to keep you safe.”

  “She could be sheltered in these trees, don’t you see?” Even inches away from his face, the howling, greedy wind snatched her words and broke them apart. “I will not give up on her. Will you?”

  “No.”

  She stopped, searched his face with her fiercely determined gaze. “Then we’ll search together. It’s my decision, Jacob.”

  “Hell—” He couldn’t allow Elizabeth to risk her health, her life, yet he needed help.

  He watched the wind increase in velocity, driving all of the world from his sight. A search now was as impossible as seeing anything through this unrelenting beat of ice upon ice, but he could not stop. He would not stop until he’d found his daughter.

  The worsening storm could not tear apart his determination. He kept walking, kept searching despite the cold driving its way so deep inside him that even his guts felt numb. Jacob couldn’t stop the deep, violent quaking, a warning he could not survive this cold much longer.

  Elizabeth was just as cold. Troubled, he followed her through the blinding storm.

  Emma wouldn’t have wandered off the trail and into the dark shadows of the forest, Libby was sure of it. If she were a little girl afraid of the storm, she would have found shelter beneath the trees.

  Determined, she kept looking. She had no other choice. How could she give up on Emma?

  The driving, cruel wind snatched her skirts, winding them about her knees as if to stop her from searching. Libby couldn’t stop. Ice beat at her like nails driven from the sky. Wind hurled the bitter cold straight through her, but she wouldn’t quit, she wouldn’t allow a howling wind to stop her. Emma could be hiding beneath the next tree, frightened and cold,

  She kept to her methodical search of each cedar along the edges of the road. The earth was frozen but dry, and the thick needles shielded the ground from the snow like a roof. It would be a cozy and safe shelter.

  Libby rubbed her hands until she could feel the pain in them. She stomped her feet until her toes burned and prickled. She kept going. When Emma wasn’t under one tree, she looked beneath the next.

  As she knelt, her numb feet lost traction in the ice. She caught herself before she landed on her stomach, hitting her hand on a sharp bough. Blood warmed her mitten and oozed into the wool, darkening it.

  She felt solid hands grab her arm, then help her up. Jacob. She recognized his dark coat, but that was all she could see of him, just a smudge of navy in the white whirl that cocooned her.

  She heard one word. “Home.”

  “No.” How could she tell him why she couldn’t give up? She couldn’t stop, she couldn’t abandon Emma.

  Wind roared, ice crackled. She lost sight of him in the wall of white that had become the world. Had he left her? Truly alone and losing her sense of direction, Libby felt her determination begin to wither.

  Hopeless, she knelt down, her knees bending clumsily, searching beneath the tree’s boughs. A smudge of red caught her eye.

  “Jacob!” Libby screamed with the forceful strength of her entire being. “Jacob!” She snatched up the knit cap and fell back to her knees. Without daring to hope she eased up the bough and looked beneath it.

  There was only bare ground and a thatch of old pine needles.

  He grabbed her from behind, helping her up. Her heart beating as fast as the wind, she shoved the cap at him. Libby couldn’t see his face through the thick veil of whitegray ice.

  “Emma!” Jacob’s scream was torn into bits by the howling wind. He stood up and away, disappearing in the dizzying, unrelenting snow.

  “Emma!” She screamed with all her might. “Emma!”

  The driving ice scoured like sand, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t stop now. Jacob disappeared, a hint of a shadow, his shouts already beaten into silence by the horrible wind.

  Libby kept screaming for the girl, not daring to move until Jacob returned and they could search together. A slight smudge of gray burst out of the blinding ice, and she reached for it already crying, feeling the tears freeze to her eyelashes.

  “Emma!” Libby wrapped her arms around the shivering, miserable form huddled in Jacob’s arms. She leaned her face to nudge the girl’s and touched her dear chin just to make sure she was real.

  “Have to get her in,” Jacob shouted.

  Libby grabbed his coat sleeve and was surprised when he stopped, searching for his horse. The animal was tied to a bough, and she grabbed the reins. The bay stumbled, straining t
o breathe in the smothering storm.

  She followed Jacob, trusting him to bring them safely home through the battering ice and wind. It blocked their sight of the sky, of the great forest of trees and the road at her feet. Jacob would see them to safety. She trusted him to.

  The cold beat at her in steady waves. She fought against it, straining with every step. Libby forced her legs to work. She had to keep going. They had to get Emma to shelter. Without warning, she slammed into the side of a building. Jacob’s stable.

  Thank God.

  Safe in Jacob’s house, Libby knelt in the pool of lantern light, struggling with her frozen wraps. Her numb fingers fumbled with stiff buttons. Her coat crackled, driven full of snow.

  “I—I’m so c-cold,” Emma sobbed, slumped on the floor.

  “I know.” Libby knelt close. She felt the frozen stiffness of Emma’s dark hair. “Your pa is lighting the fire. You’re going to be warm soon.”

  “Let me take her.” Jacob, still cloaked in his icy wraps, knelt down to cocoon Emma in a thick wool blanket. The little girl cuddled up to his chest, sobs catching in her throat.

  Father and daughter. Libby’s heart tightened. They sat together before the glow of the building fire. Cuddled in his strong arms, Emma’s tears quieted.

  Libby tugged off her shoes and walked on painful feet toward the dark kitchen. She filled a kettle with water and set it on the hearth to heat.

  “Are you feeling warmer?” Libby asked.

  Emma’s teeth chattered in response.

  “Let me get these frozen shoes off your feet.” The simple act of taking the child’s small foot in her hand fired up Libby’s affections. Affections she vowed to keep quiet. She bent to her work.

  “Thank you, Elizabeth.”

  His rumbling voice, warm and inviting, beckoned her gaze. She remembered how he’d held her in the storm, how he cared for her, wanted to protect her from danger. Desire for him fired in her blood, warming her straight through.

  He didn’t invite you here, remember that. Libby busily chipped at the ice frozen into the leather tongue of Emma’s right shoe. But she felt Jacob’s gaze like a bold touch to her face. They were stuck in this cabin together. Did he regret it? Did she?

  Her half-frozen fingers fumbled, but she managed to get Emma’s feet bare.

  “How do they look?” Concern vibrated in Jacob’s words.

  Don’t look up. Looking at him would only make her want.

  “I see bright pink toes.” She kept her eyes down, rubbing Emma’s small feet, grateful for the healthy skin. A child could lose toes, even an entire foot to such cold.

  “We are lucky.”

  So very lucky. Tucking away her heart, she stood, turning from his presence. Emma was alive and safe. Libby vowed to focus on that and not the handsome father seated before the fire.

  In Emma’s cool bedroom, she gathered up warm wool underthings and a pink flannel nightgown. Libby dreaded going back into the main room where the fire licked warmth into the cabin and Jacob waited for her. But Emma needed warm clothes.

  The brisk flames crackled, radiating delicious heat as Libby approached the hearth. She set the clean clothes on the nearby chair, avoiding Jacob. Looking at him would make her wish—so she left for the dark kitchen. Without much trouble, she found a match and lit the glass lamp, adjusting the wick.

  “Let me help you,” He strode into the room.

  “No—I mean, I can do it. You need to stay with Emma.” She stiffened. “I don’t mind preparing her bath.”

  He studied her. She didn’t know if he meant to lecture her, if he regretted her presence here. Then his eyes warmed.

  “My hands hurt, Pa,” Emma whined, alone before the fire.

  “Take care of your daughter,” Libby instructed softly. “She needs you. I don’t.”

  He clenched his jaw, stiffening as if she’d slapped him. “Fine.” He turned and limped away.

  He wanted to reach out to her, Libby felt it. He’d been terrified today, afraid of losing the child he loved. He wanted comfort, reassurance, a warm woman. All men were the same. She didn’t blame him, but she wouldn’t be foolish a second time.

  Soon the tea was ready and she joined Emma and Jacob in the front room. The cups in her hand teetered just a bit as she walked, but she didn’t spill as she knelt before the snapping fire. “Emma, this will warm you right up.”

  “B-b-but I—I’m s-s-shak-king,” she sobbed, hiccuping miserably. “I c-can’t d-drink.”

  “I know. I’ll hold the cup for you. Then it won’t spill.” Gentleness gripped her heart as she leaned closer, so close to Emma, to Jacob. She felt raw with the need to love them.

  If only they would let her.

  “I brought the second cup for you, Jacob.” She wouldn’t look at him as she held Emma’s cup, tipping it slowly forward for her to sip from.

  “I don’t want it,” Jacob said, his heart set.

  “You’re still in your frozen clothes,” Elizabeth answered in her gentle way. “You should drink it. It will keep you from getting sick.”

  His chest pinched. She’d been out in that storm, damn it. “No, you should drink it,”

  “Well, I’m not still wearing my half-frozen clothes.” She looked worn and battered. The driving ice had scraped the skin on her eyelids. Exhaustion clung in purple shadows beneath her eyes.

  He hated arguing. “I may be cold, but I’m not pregnant.”

  Her face paled. She turned away. “I’m not important. Emma comes first.”

  She didn’t understand he only meant—This woman would have frozen to death searching for Emma. Her heart was big enough to love a child not her own.

  His Emma. She shivered in his arms, her bird-small bones knocking against him. Naked, wrapped in the scratchy blanket, this tiny daughter of his was all scrawny arms and legs, all bony elbows and knees. There was hardly anything to her.

  She was so delicate, so easily lost. His heart cracked at the realization. He could lose this child, too.

  He wanted to run, to close himself off from the fear of living. It’s time to stop hiding.

  Jacob lifted the cup from Elizabeth’s chapped hands. “You sit with her. I hear the water boiling on the stove.”

  “The bath water.” Elizabeth’s gaze lifted. “I’ll be right back.”

  “No, let me—”

  She’d already gone. Damn stubborn woman.

  “P-Pa?”

  “Hmm.” Jacob could just reach the cup’s handle on the hearth.

  “I—I d-don’t w-want M-miss Hodges t-to I-leave.” Emma’s teeth chattered.

  “I know.” He felt inadequate beneath her innocencefilled gaze. And so blessed, too. “You need to drink this all up. Miss Hodges made it just for you.”

  The shivering little girl obediently sipped the hot, soothing tea. A warmth ebbed into Jacob’s heart. He couldn’t stop the rush of love for his daughter, couldn’t hold back the tides of his heart.

  “M-miss Hodges m-makes g-good tea,” Emma said, draining the last of her cup.

  “We can ask her to make more.”

  Before he could stop her, Emma twisted and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. Jacob buried his face in her wet hair and held back burning tears.

  Chapter Eleven

  Even in flannel she was beautiful.

  Elizabeth sat across from him, the oak table between them. Frozen and wet clean through, she’d bathed in the kitchen, after Emma. The entire time he’d put Emma to bed and read aloud from Moby Dick, waiting for her to fall asleep, he could hear the quiet splashes of the water as Elizabeth washed herself—naked in his kitchen—hell, the image taunted him for long hours, even now at the supper table.

  “These beans are good,” she said, her hair wet and loose, framing her face. “You’re a mighty fine cook, Jacob.”

  “I’m fair to middling. When I first moved out here, I had to learn. I couldn’t let Emma starve.”

  She smiled. He could see how she’d been preyed upon by
a wolf of a man.

  He could forgive her anything.

  “Why did you choose Montana Territory?” She sliced into the fried salt pork.

  Too personal. Jacob wanted to bolt up from the table and get as far away from her as possible. But he stayed; faced it. “Because it wasn’t Kentucky.”

  “Kentucky. It sounds like a beautiful place.”

  “Yes.” Kentucky was home. Sweet bluegrass and the scent of horses, his mother’s apple pie baking in the kitchen. “After the war, I couldn’t settle down. I needed a change.”

  “You served?” She set down her fork. “You never told me.”

  “I don’t talk about it. Ever.”

  “I see.”

  So gentle. She didn’t demand more than he could give. “I didn’t mean to sound gruff.”

  “You didn’t.” She set aside her napkin. “You cooked. Let me do the dishes.”

  “You need your rest.” He laid his hand over her wrist to stop her—a mistake. He felt the heat of her soft skin beneath his. “You’re exhausted. I can see it. Tomorrow you can make it up to me.”

  “Make it up to you?” Confusion clouded her eyes.

  She thought...she feared—Jacob blushed. “I meant, you can wash the dishes all you want tomorrow when you’re rested.”

  “Oh.” The wariness slipped away, replaced with a shy smile. “I didn’t think you meant—”

  “I know. After all, we are stuck here together until the blizzard blows itself out.” He withdrew his hand.

  Elizabeth slipped hers beneath the table, as if she’d felt the heat, too.

  “I can be a gentleman, if I have to be.”

  A genuine smile twinkled in her eyes. “You are always a gentleman, Jacob. I admire you for it.”

  His gaze roamed to her mouth. A tugging need urged him to lean closer, to taste her lips. Too fast. Much too fast. He looked down. “Trust me, there’s little to admire about me.”

  Trust. It shone in her deep soft eyes, steady like the North Star, unfailing.