With a small laugh, Nathaniel came in closer. He dropped his head so that his mouth hovered just over hers.

"You're full of mischief tonight, ain't you, Boots?"

Before she could protest, he had closed the gap between them. She spread her hands on his back and tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him back, pressing herself to him. Two days without Nathaniel had reminded her what it was like to be alone. His shoulders flexed under her hands; she pressed her teeth to the skin of his neck, tasting his salt and sweat and wanting more, wanting all of him. But the combination of his hands on her breasts and the wall at her back struck a chord she could not ignore.

"This is the church," she gasped when his mouth left hers to move to her ear. "Nathaniel! Perhaps—"

His hand slid inside her bodice, just as his lips closed over her earlobe.

"Nathaniel," she whispered, pushing him away.

His thumb stopped its slow rotation on her nipple, and he lifted his head. "Boots?"

She pulled his head to her, kissed him hard. "There's something sacrilegious about this."

"Well, then," he said thoughtfully. His hand continued on its quest beneath her skirt while he kissed the corner of her mouth, his tongue flickering. "Quote me something from the bible, if that will help. Because I want you."

She gave in with a laugh. Because she wanted to, because she wanted him. She let him bare her breasts to the night breeze. She took his kisses and gave them back, put her hands on him, greedy for the evidence of his desire. With his arms beneath her knees he lifted her against the wall, finding his way through the tangle of her skirt, his fingers pressing into her rounded flesh, seeking. He tilted her up and fit himself to her with a groan muffled against her arched neck.

So closely joined together that she dreaded ever having to let go, Elizabeth drank in the words he murmured at her ear, sounding for all the world like a prayer.

Chapter 52

They found a pumpkin in Anna's garden that was just about big enough to serve as a stand—in for Hawkeye's head, but they also found Jed McGarrity, who was using it as a pillow. Sound asleep with his fiddle cradled in his arms, he was snoring lightly and seemed not in the least uncomfortable.

"Maybe we should help him home," Elizabeth suggested.

"No time," Nathaniel reminded her. "And Nancy wouldn't let him in, anyway. He smells like he climbed right into the schnapps bottle."

"Is Jed difficult when he is inebriated?" she asked thoughtfully.

"There ain't a mean bone in the man's body."

"Good, then maybe we won't have to make do with the gourd." When there was no reply to this suggestion, Elizabeth glanced up at Nathaniel. But his attention was elsewhere, on what was going on inside the tavern.

She put a hand on his arm. "Be careful."

He grinned down at her, cupped her cheek in his hand. "You, too." And then he disappeared around the corner to enter the tavern by its front door. Elizabeth wound her hands in her skirt to keep them from trembling, and she glanced at Jed McGarrity's long face, half lit in moonlight. She crouched down next to him, shook him slightly.

"Hmmm?" He opened one eye and then closed it again. "Miz Elizabeth. Kind of you to come and call."

She stifled a smile. "Jed, wouldn't you be more comfortable in a bed?"

"Yas'm, but there ain't one handy," he mumbled.

"You stay put and I'll find one for you. If you're not fussy about where, exactly."

He fumbled at his head for a moment, as if he had a hat to tip. "I ain't a fussy man, miss. Thank you kindly."

His snoring resumed just as the first shouting erupted from the tavern.

* * *

Liam had left a betty lamp alight on a pickle barrel when he went out to watch the fight, and Elizabeth was very glad of it as she threaded her way through the trading post, around washtubs, boxes of Daffy's Elixir of Life, stacks of folded huckaback and dried tobacco leaves. The trading post was unnaturally quiet in the deep of the night, in contrast to the noise outside. It seemed that the men of Paradise enjoyed a fistfight. She just hoped they didn't take it into their heads to join in. Elizabeth put that idea firmly away, and felt once again for the key in her pocket.

There was a window cut in the pantry door, a dark square as big as her hand. Elizabeth went up on tiptoe, but she could see nothing. With the sound of her own heartbeat so loud that she could barely concentrate, she fit the key to the lock, wincing at the small scraping noise.

"Nathaniel?" came a whisper.

"No, it's Elizabeth." She swung the door open and found Hawkeye standing there, fully dressed. He put out a hand to grab her shoulder, and leaning over, touched his forehead to her hair.

"By God," he whispered. "I knew you two would come through."

Overcome with a rush of affection, Elizabeth grasped his free hand, and pulled him into the room. His face was rough with beard stubble; his hair clung damply to his temples. Blinking and squinting in the light, he looked at first like a confused old man. Then he shook his head and his gaze, razor sharp, focused on Elizabeth.

"Is that Nathaniel out there fighting Kirby? Aye, I thought so. He's been looking for an excuse for a while, but I guess he didn't think it would come like this." He paused, and ran a hand over his chin so that the bristles crackled. "My father?"

"He's alive, but the women think he's very close, Hawkeye. I'm sorry."