Page 22 of Fairest of Heart

“Suit yerself.” Jeb exhaled a heavy sigh as if he were being put out by having company, but he slowed down enough to let Coy catch up in a handful of steps.

“You think his leg is botherin’ him?” Angus asked in a low voice.

Titus nodded. “He’s leanin’ pretty heavy on that walking stick.”

Guilt squeezed Penelope’s chest.

“He ain’t used to walkin’ on it this much.” Angus pushed his hat high on his forehead as he watched Jeb and Coy amble out of the grove. “I’ll ask Doc to make him a cold compress after we get the gal settled.”

“Good idea.” Titus turned his attention back to Penelope as he bent down on one knee in front of her. “Let’s get you wrapped up, shall we?” He smiled, but it felt different from their earlier interaction. Not quite as warm. More . . . professional.

Penelope dropped her chin to her chest as she lifted her foot. “I hope he’ll be all right. I would hate to be responsible for causing him pain.”

“Shoot, you ain’t responsible for his pain, Miss Penny.” Angus sat beside her on the log, quaking her seat in the process. “A shattered ankle from bronc bustin’ holds that honor.”

Her leg wobbled in the air while the log settled, creating a challenge for Titus to catch it. Once his hand closed around her heel, he caught her eye. Laughter lit his gaze, sparking the warmth she’d been missing. She shared a smile with him as Angus continued his monologue.

“No one makes that stubborn cuss do anything he don’t want to do. He tromped out here of his own free will, and he’ll tromp back the same way. Can hardly blame him. This here’s the most excitement we’ve seen at the Diamond D in ages. What with Titus showing up all unexpected-like yesterday and then you poppin’ up this mornin’. There’s a reason all of us traipsed out here to see what Rowdy found. We may be old, but we love an adventure. Gets the blood pumpin’. Reminds a man he’s still got some livin’ left to do.”

As Angus chattered on, Titus got to work. His firm yet gentle touch had an odd effect on her pulse. His ministration felt intimate somehow, even if it was purely practical in nature. Which was silly because there was nothing the slightest bit romantic about a filthy, stinky foot that had been in the same ragged stockings for the last twenty-four hours. Titus confirmed that notion when he lifted her foot and frowned.

“Sorry,” she murmured as she instinctively pulled her leg back. “You don’t have to . . . I’m sure I can manage. . . .”

His grip tightened, refusing her retreat. “Your feet are already pretty battered. You sure you don’t want me to carry you?”

“I’m sure.” She set her jaw. Her short-lived flight last night might have left her soles bruised and scraped, but they’d get the job done. “I’m not some pampered princess, unable to withstand a little adversity, Mr. Kingsley. In fact, I’m fully capable of wrapping my own feet. So if you’ll be so kind as to hand over the padding, I’ll get to work.”

She held out her palm.

He ignored it.

“Unprickle your pride, Miss Snow. I was just trying to keep you from suffering more harm than you already have.” He jammed a pad against the bottom of her foot, folded the edges up over her toes and heel, then started wrapping. “If you want to walk, that’s no skin off my nose.”

In truth, he was doing a much better job than she could have managed on her own. She should be grateful, not . . . prickly.

“I’m sorry.” The tension stiffening her spine released its grip. “I really do appreciate your help. I suppose I panicked a bit. The last time a man carried me, I ended up slung over a horse and tied to a tree.”

Titus slowed his work and glanced up. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

The simple admission cleared the air between them as nothing else could. Penelope relaxed, and the Ranger turned back to his work, his touch slightly gentler than before. Angus, bless him, took it upon himself to fill the silence, and his idle chatter successfully swept away the last of the tension, leaving the atmosphere free of awkwardness by the time her shoeing was complete.

Titus offered her a hand up, then turned his attention toward the path they would take. “Follow behind me,” he said as he headed out. “I’ll scout the easiest terrain.”

“If you need a hand at any point,” Angus added, “just grab my arm. I’ll keep it within reach.”

“Thank you.” The old man really was a dear.

And the younger one? Well, dear didn’t seem the proper descriptor. Titus Kingsley possessed far too commanding a presence. Yet his thoughtfulness hinted at a tender heart. Even now, he brushed rocks and acorns out of her path with a sideways swipe of his boot.

She glanced behind, intending to urge Rowdy to join them, but the little man had disappeared.

“Don’t worry,” Angus said with a wave of his hand. “He’ll show up when it’s time to eat. Always does.”

Trusting the man to know his friend’s habits, Penelope set off in the Ranger’s wake. Despite the dozen or more layers of padding buffering her feet, she still felt every bump and prod of the ground. Her bruises spread, and the wrappings shifted, but she soldiered on, determined to prove her hardiness.

Until a thorn jabbed between her toes.

She yelped and jerked her foot up so quickly she nearly toppled. Angus steadied her, and Titus rushed back to her side. Holding on to Angus with one hand, she yanked the offending thorn free. The brown twig looked relatively innocuous. Save for the pairs of three-inch thorns shooting out in different directions along its length. Good heavens! If that had pierced her instep, it could have punctured her entire foot.