Page 107 of Snowbound Surrender
“As to that,” Miranda said, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin, the way a proper, genteel lady would. “I have yet to be convinced that was a good thing.”
“Why?” Randall asked, that teasing light she was coming to love so well in his eyes.
She sent him a serious look across the table, but kept her answer to herself. There were too many ways anything shewould say could go wrong. Restlessness and confinement had left her wicked side way too close to the surface.
“We should spend the afternoon making sure we have enough fuel for a few more days,” she said. “Who knows how much longer we’ll be stuck in here together?”
He didn’t reply at first. All he did was stare at her, a decidedly disconcerting heat in his eyes. Once again, her focus shifted back to all of the pulsing, itching, aching parts of herself that she shouldn’t be thinking about. Worse still, the look in Randall’s eyes hinted that he was debating something…something dangerous…somethingdelightful.
At last, he sat back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, under the table. His feet came close to brushing hers. “You know, I’ve been thinking about this. Maybe it’s time I start sleeping in the apartment here.”
“Oh?” Every wiggly, squiggly feeling inside of her intensified.
“That way we wouldn’t have to make the fire hot enough to heat the hallway and the other rooms too. We could keep the apartment door shut and conserve warmth. It’s practical, since we don’t know how much longer we’ll be in this situation.”
Randall. Sleeping close to her. Perhaps she should suggest that they make a pallet of blankets on the floor near the hearth, that they share it to conserve warmth even further. A shiver passed down her spine at the thought.
“I think that would be a good idea.” She agreed to his proposal without taking it further…the way she wanted to. Heavens above, how had her mind and her morals become so scrambled?
“Good.” He nodded, finishing his lunch. “So this afternoon we consolidate fuel and see if we can clear away some of the snow from the doors and windows, tonight I’ll cook us a delicious chicken supper, and then after that…”
“After that…” She leaned forward as her heart beat thunderously in her chest.
“And after that, we’ll snuggle in for a warm, cozy night by a cheerful fire as visions of sugarplums dance in our heads.” His smile was intoxicating and full of suggestion.
Miranda let out a breath, but the tension in her soul remained. Dear heavens, it seemed as though it was only a matter of time before the two of them got up to the sort of mischief they couldn’t undo.
CHAPTER 7
“Doyou ever get the feeling that everyone else in the world has ceased to exist?” Miranda asked another whole day later as she and Randall stood at the top of the moving stairs in the attic, staring out over a desert of white. The snow had stopped, the wind had died down, but the sky was still a thick grey. It was hard to tell what was going on in town immediately below them, but in the distance, everything continued to look blanketed and buried. Miranda only hoped that the measles epidemic had eased up.
“Once,” Randall answered, his voice tight with concern. “When we hit a calm out in the Pacific after the voyage to Hawaii.”
Miranda pursed her lips, a wave of irrational irritation snapping at her. “You have a story for everything,” she grumbled.
Randall turned away from the world of white to stare at her in indignation. “You asked.”
“You didn’t need to batter me with reminders of how much more exciting your life has been than mine.”
He blinked, mouth hanging open for a moment before he said, “I’ve told you that none of that was what I wanted, that—” He pressed his lips shut and turned away with a sharp exhale.
Miranda swallowed and ducked back into the attic, stepping carefully down the stairs. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. It was like her skin was itching so badly it was coming loose. And she had felt so naughty and squiggly where Randall was concerned yesterday. The problem wasn’t that she had stopped feeling so titillated, the problem was that she felt even more hot and bothered. But she also wanted to slap him for not sweeping her into his arms and kissing her senseless…for giving her heated looks…for smiling…for teasing her about the contents of the attic…for…
She huffed out a breath and headed for the stairs. The easy answer to what was wrong with her was that she’d been trapped alone in the saloon with Randall for so many days that she’d lost track. She turned in a useless circle in the spotless, scrubbed attic. They’d finished cleaning it that morning, putting heaps of restless, dangerous energy into work instead of flying scandalously at each other. The second floor was spotless too. The saloon’s main room was so clean they could have eaten off the floor. They’d manufactured Christmas decorations, set them around the saloon and the apartment, rearranged them, and exhausted themselves making more. There was simply nothing at all left to do in the entire building.
Miranda had finally met her match, and its name was Cabin Fever.
“I think there might be people moving around in town,” Randall said as he climbed down the stairs and shut the trapdoor. “I can’t tell for sure, though. Not without climbing all the way out onto the roof.”
“Why not step out on the roof? It’ll be another adventure for you to add to your collection.” Miranda’s snippishness madeher writhe on the inside. Nothing left to do, nothing left to do. Nothing left but throwing herself at Randall and ripping the clothes from his?—
Dear heavens, she needed to get a hold of herself!
“If you’re so concerned about, it, why don’t you climb up there and dance around.” Randall marched across the attic to her, hands planted at his waist, fire in his eyes. “Seeing as you’re so worked up about adventures.”
“Don’t take that tone of voice with me, Randy.” She pointed a scolding finger at him.
“I always take that tone of voice with people who are being unreasonable,” he fired back, stepping to within a few feet of her.
