Stands a Calder Man (Calder Saga 2)

“How do you prevent it?” she asked with an attempt at a smile.

“Think about something else.” He shrugged.

“That’s easier said than done,” she replied. “When it blows like that, I just feel so cooped up in here.”

“Cabin fever,” Webb diagnosed her ailment with a slow smile.

“What’s that?” She looked at him with an interested frown.

“It’s a common malady around here,” he explained. “It comes from spending too many days inside with the same four walls looking back at you all the time. The symptoms are restlessness, irritability, and melancholy.”

“I think I’ve come down with a bad case of it,” Lilli declared. “What’s the cure?”

“I don’t know of any.” Webb smiled sympathetically. “Eventually it just goes away. My mother said it used to help to have company come.”

“Yes.” She seemed to consider that thought. “It is nice to have someone to talk to.”

“Other than your husband, of course.” He wanted to bite his tongue for mentioning that.

“Stefan isn’t much of a talker.” She shrugged and ate her soup.

“I gathered that,” Webb murmured dryly.

“He’s a quiet, simple man, very strong and gentle.” She paused as if thinking about something. “He’s changed a little in some ways since we came here.”

“Oh? In what way?” His voice attempted to conceal the curiosity her seemingly innocent remark had aroused.

“There was a time when he hated the thought of owing anyone money. But when we sold our crop this year, he didn’t pay off the loan we had at the bank. He borrowed more money to buy some additional land,” she explained, then quickly defended his action. “I’m sure it will be a good investment, though.” She glanced at his nearly empty bowl, “Would you like some more soup?”

“No, this is plenty,” Webb refused and wiped the bowl clean with the crust of bread.

“I’ll get you some coffee.” She pushed her chair away from the table to fetch it.

The heavy sweater made a lumpy shape of her as Webb studied the shine of red in her hair under the lantern light. The sights and sounds in the room were pleasing to him—the smell of coffee in the cup Lilli brought him, the soft swish of her skirt, and the look in her eyes that she didn’t always hide.

“I could get used to having a woman do things for me.” Webb smiled as he took the cup from her.

“Most men can.” She moved to her own side of the table, poised and showing no sign that she took his remark personally. “First their mothers look after them, then their wives. Men generally don’t like to do things for themselves.”

His gaze narrowed a fraction as he sensed there was something derogatory in her observation of the male sex. “I suppose some men marry for the convenience of having a wife to take care of them and satisfy their needs.”

He suspected it of a few married couples he knew. Their attitudes toward each other were in marked contrast to the special relationship between his parents. Maybe that’s why he’d noticed it. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t been willing to take a wife, because he envied what his father had and didn’t want to settle for less. He’d never thought about it much before now.

“I suppose some men do.” She suddenly seemed reluctant to share her opinions with him.

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Irritation rippled in him at the way she alternated between being natural and open with him and pulling back in aloofness. “And I suppose some women marry for the convenience of having a man to take care of them and satisfy their needs.” The hard tone in his voice made it an accusation. He was immediately sorry when he saw her pale slightly.

“If a man and woman are satisfied with what they have, I don’t think an outsider’s opinion of their arrangement is important,” she retorted stiffly.

“Are you satisfied with what you have, Lilli?” he asked quietly.

“That is none of your business, Mr. Calder.” The anger that flared in her eyes seemed to mask pain. “I shall ignore your rudeness this time.”

His mouth thinned into a silent line. He wasn’t about to apologize for the question, so he drank his coffee instead and let the conversation die.

Outside, the storm prowled around the shack, isolating them on an island of warmth. The two of them were blizzard-bound alone. Webb had known this could happen when he had turned around. There was a part of him that had counted on it. He wasn’t responsible for the storm, but he had used it, fully aware that Lilli would never turn him out in it. He didn’t feel too damned honorable when he considered it, either. A man liked to think he’d do the decent thing, but his father had warned him there was good and bad in every man. Webb just never thought he’d learn it about himself. Yet he’d known all along there was just one room in this cabin—and just one bed. And it was night.