“No.”
“You look amused.”
“I am confused.”
He looked toward the window.
“About what?”
“About you.”
“That makes two of us.”
The answer was so dry that Eleanor did smile.
Only for a second.
Then the old suspicion returned.
Henry had been charming too.
Especially when he wanted something.
Her late husband had known exactly how to soften his voice.
Exactly when to apologize.
Exactly how long to behave after frightening her.
Men could make gentleness into strategy.
Eleanor had learned that lesson painfully.
She stepped closer.
Caleb noticed.
His shoulders became rigid.
“You paid my creditors.”
He said nothing.
“You paid for my journey.”
“Yes.”
“You bought supplies before I arrived.”
“We needed supplies.”
“You married a woman you had never met.”
“We wrote for five months.”
“That is not the same as knowing me.”
“No.”
Eleanor stopped several feet away.
“So what did you purchase?”
His expression changed.
“Nothing.”
“Caleb.”
“I didn't buy you.”
“You gave nearly eight hundred dollars to settle obligations belonging to a woman you had never touched.”
His voice hardened.
“I paid people who were threatening to take what little you had left.”
“And what do you expect in return?”
“Nothing you don't choose.”
“That sounds noble.”
“It isn't.”
“What is it, then?”
“Basic sense.”
Eleanor laughed once.
Caleb frowned.
“What?”
“Men in Baltimore would find your definition unusual.”
“I don't care about men in Baltimore.”
“No.”
“You seem to care remarkably little about most people.”
“That has generally served me well.”
She stepped closer again.
Now only the table separated them.
Caleb put the blanket down.
Eleanor watched his hands.
Huge.
Scarred across the knuckles.
Hands capable of violence.
Yet he had not touched her unnecessarily once.
Not while helping her down from the wagon.
Not while carrying her trunk.
Not when she nearly slipped on the icy path.
He had offered his forearm.
Waited until she chose to take it.
Every time.
That consistency bothered her more than kindness would have.
Kindness could be performed.
Habits were harder to fake.
She said:
“You wrote that you wanted a wife.”
“Yes.”
“Not a housekeeper.”
“No.”
“Not a servant.”
“No.”
“Then what does wife mean to you?”
Caleb looked genuinely uncomfortable.
Eleanor waited.
Finally:
“Someone here.”
She frowned.
“What?”
He glanced around the cabin.
“Someone here.”
“That cannot possibly be your entire answer.”
“It mostly is.”
“Caleb.”
He exhaled slowly.
“You want the embarrassing version?”
“I would prefer the honest one.”
“That is the embarrassing one.”
Eleanor folded her arms.
He looked toward the fire.
“When winter closes the northern pass, sometimes nobody comes through for four months.”
She waited.
“I hunt.”
“Trap.”
“Repair things.”
“Read.”
“What do you read?”
“Whatever I have.”
“That is not relevant.”
“No.”
His mouth almost smiled again.
Then he became serious.