Promise Me Spring

“No need to knock, Miss Harris.” He waved the fork in the air.

“Grab a plate off the shelf there ‘fore this turns to charcoal.” Rachel shrugged out of her coat and tossed it over a nearby chair before crossing the room. She grabbed a blue-and-white platter from the shelf and held it out to him. As he scooped the bacon out of the frying pan, he said, “Dru tells me you’ve changed your mind again. You’re going to stay.”

“Yes, “I… I gave my word.”

“We wouldn’t want to put you out any.” Rachel met his hard gaze. She’d spent her waking moments convincing herself that she felt nothing more for Gavin Blake than she did for the rest of the Blake family. But with one look into his steel-gray eyes, she knew it was all a lie. She felt much more. She tried to remember how hard she had worked to make him think the worst of her, but she was unable to stop her honest reply.

“I want to stay.” She read the doubt in his eyes before he turned his attention back to the frying pan.

“Why don’t you check on Dru, see if she’s ready to have a bite to eat?” Gavin suggested.

“She’s still in the bedroom.” He jerked his head toward the far end of the house. She continued to gaze at him for a moment, fighting the irrational tears that tried to well up in her eyes. Finally, she whispered, “All right.” She set the platter on the sideboard and crossed the large main room. She rapped lightly on the door before pushing it open.

“Dru?” she called softly.

“Are you awake?”

“Come in, Rachel.”

“Gavin’s prepared breakfast. Are you hungry?” Dru rolled her head from side to side on the pillow, her eyes still closed.

“Not right now.” She drew a deep breath, then looked at Rachel.

“Are the girls up yet?”

“I haven’t seen them.” Rachel crossed the room to stand beside the bed.

“We’re all a bit tired, I suppose,” Dru said with a sigh. She smiled weakly up at Rachel as she took hold of the younger woman’s hand.

“It’s a great comfort to me to have you here, Rachel.” Pangs of guilt and shame shot through her. Dru wouldn’t be so comforted if she knew the truth about her, Rachel thought as she forced a tremulous smile onto her lips. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife. The commandment surely covered thy neighbor’s husband as well. She quickly squeezed Dru’s hand, then pulled free.

“I’ll tell Gavin you want to wait a while to eat.” She turned toward the bedroom door.

“Have Gavin take you to town. There’s plenty of things we should stock up on before winter sets in.” She glanced back, a protest on her lips.

“I don’t…” she began. But Dru’s eyes were closed, and she appeared to be asleep. Quietly, Rachel left the room, closing the door behind her. With the completion in 1880 of the toll road from Challis into the mining district, people had poured into the area by the hundreds. Bonanza City and Custer became bustling towns complete with general merchandise stores, meat markets, livery and feed stables, restaurants, Chinese laundries, and hotels. Challis, located in a more bucolic section of the Idaho mountain country, thrived with them. Gavin, Stubs, and Charlie had first seen the land that would become the Lucky Strike Ranch nearly six years before. Tired of chasing color from one gold camp to another, Charlie and Gavin pooled their resources, bought themselves a herd of cattle, and settled in as permanent residents of the Salmon River country. They hadn’t become rich, by any means, but they hadn’t done too badly either. Although it was not an easy life, Gavin had always found it a satisfying one. As he drove the wagon toward town, Gavin ruminated on the early years. He and Stubs had finished the long cattle drive up from Texas that had reunited them. They’d collected their pay in Miles City, Montana, then headed west to find wealth in the gold-laden hills of Idaho Territory. Except they’d found, as did many others, that riches were more apt to come to those selling goods to the miners than to the miners themselves. It was in Idaho City they’d met the Porter family. Gavin wasn’t ever quite sure how it happened that Charlie and Dru and little Sabrina became such a part of his life. It just seemed to happen. Charlie felt like a long-lost brother, and their friendship became an unbreakable bond. But it was Dru who truly made them all into a family, Dru with her warm laughter and her enjoyment of life. When Petula was born in Bonanza City, Dru had asked Gavin to be the baby’s godfather. Even now, remembering, it created a warm spot in his heart. Gavin would have a hard time ever putting into words how he felt about Charlie and Dru and their children. He owed them more than he could ever repay.

“Oh!” As the wagon jerked out of the rut, the startled sound brought him abruptly back to the present. He glanced to the right and found Rachel gripping the wagon seat as the rear wheel fell into the same deep cut in the earth, then pulled out of it again.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Her left hand rose to her black velvet hat with its fur-lined brim and cluster of ostrich tips. She pushed at its crown, as if to make sure it was still secure after the jostling it had been through. It didn’t seem to matter where she was or what she was doing or what she was wearing. Rachel Harris always managed to look beautiful. Even now, with wisps of hair spilling free from beneath that preposterous hat, he couldn’t remember when he’d seen anyone more beautiful. Wouldn’t she be even more beautiful without the hat, with her hair tumbling freely about her shoulders, with her face slightly flushed from… “Are we nearly there?” He nodded as he looked away, damning himself for his wayward thoughts. Did it take no more than a pretty face to make him forget the difference between right and wrong? Silently, he cursed himself for ever allowing Dru to talk him into that trip to Boise City. Shoot! He could’ve tutored the girls himself. He wouldn’t have been as good at it as Rachel was, but he could have managed. It would have been better for all of them without an outsider like Rachel Harris around. A small grunt escaped his companion as the wagon wheel dropped into another rut. He hid a grin, finding some perverse satisfaction in her discomfiture. It was easier to blame his inner turmoil on her than to face the truth of his feelings. Rachel let out a silent sigh of relief as the wagon rolled down the main street of Challis. The trip into town had seemed hours long.

Gavin hadn’t spoken more than a half dozen words the entire time, and the few he’d spoken had sounded distinctly churlish.

She straightened on the wagon seat and allowed herself a look around. In comparison with Washington or Philadelphia, the town would hardly have been considered civilized.

Even compared to Boise City—scarcely two decades old itself—it was small and rustic. Yet she felt strangely at ease as her gaze swept from a mercantile store, past a saloon, over a dry goods store, beyond the livery stable, and finally rested on a Chinese laundry. It was a little like coming home after a long trip abroad.

What a silly thought!

Rachel shook her head as the wagon drew to a halt in front of the Challis Mercantile. Gavin wrapped the reins around the brake handle, then hopped to the ground and walked around to the opposite side. Wordlessly, he held out his right hand to her.

She paused a moment before slipping her gloved fingers into his. Her insides seemed to jump at the moment of contact, but she managed to hide her inner pandemonium by averting her eyes, staring hard at the planks of wood that made up the sidewalk outside the mercantile. It wasn’t until he released her hand that she was able to draw another breath.

“Gavin! Sure and I’m glad to see you’re back.”

Rachel turned with Gavin toward the deep male voice with the soft Irish burr.

The man who stepped up onto the narrow boardwalk was well over six feet tall, with a massive chest and shoulders. He was wearing a stylish suit coat and trousers and shiny leather boots. Rachel hadn’t seen anything finer since she was back East. He looked strangely out of place in this remote mountain town. As he doffed his felt derby, revealing a shock of carrot-red hair, he flashed a grin in her direction.

“And I see you’ve brought a bit o’ beauty out o’ the basin with you.” His laughing green eyes never left her face.

“Sure if I’m not thinkin’ I should be summerin’ my cattle there too.”

“Hello, Patrick.”

“Faith and begorra!” He paused a few moments.

“Have you lost your manners? Introduce me to the young lady before I have to do it myself.” Rachel glanced quickly from the man called Patrick to Gavin and then back again. In comparison with the stranger’s friendly smile, Gavin’s look was dark and decidedly inhospitable.

“I can see I’ll get nowhere waitin’ for my friend here to do me the honor of an introduction.” A large hand clad in a fine kid glove reached out and took hold of her fingers.

“Patrick O’Donnell, at your service.

“Tis proud I am to make your acquaintance.” His smile broadened.

“Now if you’d be so kind as to tell me your name, I’d be forever in your debt, lass.” She couldn’t help herself. His smile was as irresistible as the open appreciation written across his pleasant, if not handsome, features. She tilted her head slightly to the side as she looked up at him.

“Rachel Harris,” she replied, returning his smile.

“Sure and I should have known. A name that would make the angels in heaven rejoice.” He bowed low and kissed the back of her hand. Gavin made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat.

“Ignore the blighter,” Patrick said as he slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and drew her toward the door of the mercantile.

“Now tell me. What has brought you to our fair community, Miss Harris?”

“I’m working for the Blakes at the Lucky Strike.”

“Then you’re here for a stay?” Patrick asked, pulling open the door and ushering her through. As she moved passed him, he offered an exaggerated wink. ““Tis the luck of the Irish that made me a neighbor to Mr. Blake. Tell me, Miss Harris, what is it you do for the likes of this disagreeable mate o’ mine?”

“I’m teaching the Blake children.”

“A teacher? What a fine and noble trade. I’d wager my mother’s own jewels that you’re a fine one, too.” Gavin stepped up beside her and claimed her other arm.

“You’ll excuse us, Patrick,” he said gruffly.

“Miss Harris and I have some business to see to.” Patrick lifted an eyebrow, but the twinkle in his eyes never faltered.

“Sure and I can see he has want of you to himself,” he said to Rachel in a stage whisper, “but I know now where to find you. Good day, Miss Harris.” He nodded to Gavin.

“Good day, mate.” As the door swung closed behind him, Rachel let out

a deep breath, feeling just a little wind-blown by the brief encounter.

“If you’ve got the list, Miss Harris, we’ll get done what we came to town for.” If anything, he sounded even more surly than before. Killjoy, she thought angrily as she pulled the list of shopping items from her reticule. Yet, for some strange reason, she felt elated by his sour mood, knowing instinctively that it had something to do with the way Mr. O’Donnell had looked at her.

Chapter Fifteen

“Don’t be silly. I’m feeling as strong as an ox today. We’ve been home several weeks now and I’ve not gotten to go visiting once. I have no intention of missing Pearl Johansen’s wedding, and it’s time you met some of our friends and neighbors, Rachel.” Rachel watched helplessly as Dru pulled her best dress over her head. Three weeks of rest had done wonders for the woman, but she was far from being as strong as an ox. Perhaps as feisty as one of Countess’s kittens would be a more accurate comparison.

“Now we’d better hurry or we’ll miss the wedding. Stubs and Jess have already left.” Dru fastened the last button up the front of her autumn-plaid bodice, then glanced toward Rachel once again.

“Will you help me with my hair?” Rachel shook her head even as a smile curved the corners of her mouth.

“Gavin isn’t going to like this. I was supposed to convince you to stay home.”

“I know.” Dru grinned in return, then settled onto a stool in front of the dresser mirror.

“But it doesn’t do any of us any good to just sit around waiting for me to die.” Rachel sucked in a startled breath. Dru’s hazel eyes met Rachel’s in the reflection of the mirror.

“There’s no point in dancin’ around the truth any longer. We all know what’s coming. And my stayin’ in bed all the time isn’t going to change a thing.” She twisted to look directly at Rachel.

“I’d rather live right up to the end, Rachel. I don’t want my girls’ last memories of me to be lyin’ in bed, lookin’ old and tired and sick. Can you understand that?”

“Sure,” she whispered, her throat tight as she fought hot tears. She made a big production out of picking up the brush and selecting a ribbon from a box on the dresser while she gained control of her emotions.

“Now,” she said as she straightened, “how would you like your hair, Mrs. Blake?”

“Anything you can do to make it look halfway pretty will do.” Rachel ran the brush through the fine gray-brown hair, wishing there was something special she could do.

“I know!” she exclaimed suddenly as she dropped the brush onto the dresser.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She rushed out of the bedroom and across the sitting room, not even pausing long enough to pull on her coat before rushing outside and toward her own cabin. She scarcely noticed the cold. She was too excited. She pushed things aside in the wardrobe, then rummaged through her trunk, tossing things out onto her bed until she found it.

“There it is.” She pulled the hair ornament from its box.

“Perfect,” she whispered. She felt surprisingly light-hearted as she hurried back to the main house. Dru was still sitting at her dressing table, wearing the same surprised expression that had appeared when Rachel rushed out of the bedroom.

“Look. Isn’t it wonderful? It goes perfectly with your dress.” Rachel held up the spray of satin tiger lilies, the orange flowers interspersed with burnt-sienna leaves of the same shiny fabric. Rich brown ostrich feathers completed the ornament. Dru held out her hands, cradling the satin and feathers as if they were fragile glassware.

“This is much too fine for me to wear, Rachel. I’m not the right sort for it. It’s meant for someone young and pretty like you. And what if I lost or damaged it? I couldn’t ever repay you.”

“What nonsense,” Rachel said as she picked up the brush once again and quickly swept Dru’s hair into a smooth twist at the back of her head.

“Anyway, I’m not lending it to you. It’s yours to keep. Then I don’t have to worry about it being lost or damaged, do I?” Dru tried to shake her head, but Rachel stopped her with a light tug on her hair.

“Besides,” Rachel continued, “I look dreadful in brown and orange. I don’t know whatever possessed me to buy such a thing. You’ll be doing me a favor to take it and wear it. Otherwise, it’s just a waste.” As she talked, she took the object from Dru’s hand and slipped the comb into the knot of hair. Smiling, she leaned down and met Dru’s gaze in the mirror.

“There. It’s perfect with your hazel eyes. See? You make it look beautiful.”

“Yes,” Gavin’s deep, male voice said from the doorway.

“You do make it look beautiful.” Rachel straightened and turned around, half expecting to find him scowling at her as usual. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t even looking at her. There was a tender smile on his mouth, a soft look in the gray of his eyes as he gazed at his wife. Rachel felt like an intruder and slowly moved back from Dru’s side. But she stopped when Gavin’s gaze shifted to her. When the tenderness didn’t alter or disappear, she felt a strange warmth rushing through her veins, ending in a tight ball in her midsection. Her mouth felt as dry as dust.

“It’s a gift from Rachel,” Dru said softly, breaking the growing silence. Gavin glanced back at his wife.

“I heard.” He crossed the bedroom in several easy strides.

“I guess this means you won’t stay home.”

“I haven’t seen my friends and neighbors since last May. This may be my last chance before… before the snow falls. Please don’t argue with me, Gavin.” A wry grin lifted one corner of his mouth.

“Since when did it ever do anyone any good to argue with you, Drucilla?” He rested his hand on her shoulder. Her fingers came up to cover his.

“Never,” Dru answered as she leaned her head back to look up at him. Once again, Rachel felt her presence was intrusive and sought to quietly leave the room. And once again, she was stopped by a pair of compelling gray eyes. A maelstrom of feelings stormed through her in

response to his look. Pleasure, confusion, bewilderment, satisfaction. She felt warm and cold at the same time. Joy and sorrow mingled within her. She felt hope for what could be, despair for what could never be.

“I’d better get ready too,” she whispered, then retreated to her own cabin as quickly as possible.

“Good heavens,” Rachel said in a hushed voice as the wagon pulled to a stop on the crest of a hill.

“What is that place?” The two-story stone house, U-shaped and sprawling, resembled a medieval castle. It was set against a tree-covered mountain and surrounded by a sloping lawn. Threads of smoke drifted above numerous chimneys jutting up from the steep pitched roof. Green shutters bordered the many windows that looked over the panoramic countryside.

“That’s the O’Donnell ranch. They call it Killarney Hall. Pretty impressive, isn’t it?” Gavin responded.

“The Johansen girl didn’t do too bad for herself.” Dru jabbed him in the ribs, and he had the decency to be ashamed of himself. From all reports, Pearl was head over heels in love with her intended, and nothing he’d ever seen of the girl indicated that she would marry for any other reason.

“Is this where the wedding’s to be?” Rachel asked.

“I thought we were going into town.”

“There’ll be too many people at this wedding for the little Episcopal church to hold,” Dru answered.

“It’s not every day one of the O’Donnell boys gets married. Folks from miles around are going to want to see this.”

“Mr. O’Donnell is the groom,” Sabrina piped up from the back of the wagon, pleased to be supplying some information. “pattrick O’Donnell?” Rachel asked as she turned to look at Gavin. Was that disappointment he heard in her voice?

“No. His brother, Shane.” Sabrina stood and leaned her head forward between her mother and Rachel.

“Patrick O’Donnell is the oldest one. He must be as old as Pa. Shane O’Donnell, the one who’s getting’ married, is next. Then comes Jamie and then Trevor. Trevor’s about sixteen.” It would be hard not to be impressed with the O’Donnell ranch, Gavin thought as he slapped the reins against the horses’ backsides. The house was enormous and the many outbuildings looked nearly new. Success and wealth were written on every nook and cranny. He glanced quickly to the side. Rachel would fit right in with these people, he thought as he looked at her profile, her blond hair tucked up beneath a pretty indigo bonnet. As soon as they pulled into the yard, the front door of the house opened and three of the O’Donnell brothers—strapping, tall men with matching thatches of red hair—came out onto the porch.

“Gavin!” Patrick called to him, his usual friendly grin in place.

“Sure and I told Shane you wouldn’t miss seem’ him trussed up and married.” The big man jumped down from the porch, ignoring the five steps that led to the ground below. Even as the horses drew to a stop, he was lifting a giggling Petula from the back of the wagon, swinging her high in the air before setting her on her feet.

“This can’t be the wee lass, can it?”

“I’m Pet!” she squealed in delight.

“And can this be Sabrina? Faith but she’s become a young lady while up in the basin.” He lifted the older girl to the ground as he spoke. Sabrina blushed even as she turned her eyes toward the two younger men still standing on the porch.

“Hello, Trevor,” she said in a soft voice.

There was something about her tone that brought Gavin up short. He’d been so caught up in looking at the O’Donnell ranch and wondering what Rachel must think of it in comparison with the Lucky Strike that he’d scarcely noticed what Sabrina had been telling her governess about the O’Donnells. Trevor’s about sixteen. He heard it again in his head and felt a sudden alarm. Sabrina was hardly more than a baby! Dru seemed to read his mind.

“Puppy love,” she whispered as her hand touched his knee.

“It won’t hurt anything.” Patrick stepped over to the side of the wagon just then, his arms outstretched toward Rachel. ““Tis pleased I am to see you again, Miss Harris. I’ve been meanin’ to come callin’ on you like I promised, but my brother has had the whole place in a turmoil. Such a fuss over takin’ a bride.” And with that, he lifted her to the ground as easily as he had the children. Gavin stepped over Dru and jumped down from the wagon seat, then turned back and helped Dru descend. Patrick let out a low whistle.

“Faith and begorra. This can’t be Sabrina’s mother. You’re lookin’ no more than a girl yourself, Drucilla Blake.” Dru’s laughter filled the air.

“Leave off your Irish blarney, Patrick O’Donnell. It’ll get you nowhere with me. I’ve known you for too many years to have my head turned by your flattery.”

“A shame you feel that way, lass, for I meant it from the heart.” He turned toward Gavin. ““Tis not fair you should have so many beautiful women at the Lucky Strike, mate, while I’ve got nothin’ but brothers to look at.” He motioned with his hand for Gavin to follow, then hooked Rachel’s hand through his arm.

“Come in out of the cold. You’ve a house full of friends who’ve eager to see you again.” Gavin hung back for a moment while Patrick squired the ladies inside. There wasn’t any reason for him to be feeling so much antagonism toward Patrick; in fact, he’d always considered him a friend in years past. What had changed? Ever since he’d seen the man in Challis several weeks ago, there’d been something stuck in his craw that wouldn’t go away. Was he jealous of what the O’Donnells had here? He’d never thought so. He’d always felt great contentment with his ranch, his home, his way of life since settling down. Still, he hadn’t wanted to come to the wedding, and he sure as heck didn’t want to go inside and listen to Patrick lavishing compliments on the womenfolk. Womenfolk? Or just Rachel? Pressing his lips together in a grim line, he climbed the steps and entered the house. Dru hadn’t been exaggerating when she said folks would come from miles around to see an

O’Donnell get married. The house seemed to be bursting at the seams with people, young and old alike, all of them in good spirits as they gathered close to hear the tiny, dark-haired bride promise to love, honor, and obey the strapping, red-headed groom. After the brief ceremony, servants carried vast platters of food to the long tables set up at the back of the great room that made up the center of the house. People milled about, chatting with neighbors, sharing gossip, eating and laughing and, in general, enjoying themselves immensely. Rachel’s head was swimming with names. It seemed that in the past two hours Patrick, who’d been at her side throughout most of the afternoon, had introduced her to nearly every person who lived within a hundred square miles of Challis. There were even some dignitaries from the state capital. Patrick had just introduced her to Senator Brewer when his brother Jamie called to him from across the room.

“Excuse me a moment, Miss Harris. Senator.” Senator Brewer rubbed the whiskers on his chin as he grinned at Rachel.

“Of course, Mr. O’Donnell. You can be sure I’ll take good care of Miss Harris in your absence.”

“I won’t be long,” Patrick promised as he moved away.

“Don’t believe I’ve seen you in these parts before, Miss Harris. And I’m sure I’d have remembered a pretty little thing like you. You look like you just got off a train from the East.” Rachel tried to quell her instant dislike for the rotund man with the sagging jowls and prying eyes.

“Actually, sir, I grew up in Boise City.”

“You don’t say. You’ve got family there?”

“My sister and her husband. Maggie and Tucker Branigan.”

“You’re Judge Branigan’s sister-in-law? Well, well. I had no idea he knew the O’Donnells. But then, I shouldn’t be surprised.” He lowered his voice.

“It never hurts to have wealthy friends if you’re the least politically motivated, I always say. I’ll have to have a talk with that brother-in-law of yours. He carries a lot of weight in this territory. Very influential man. Well-respected. If he were to have the money of the O’Donnells behind him as well as his own, there’d be no stopping him in the politics of the territory. I can see why he sent you here to represent him.” She didn’t much care for the man’s insinuations.

“Tucker doesn’t know the O’Donnells, Senator Brewer,” Rachel replied, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.

“I’m working as a governess for the Blake family. They own the Lucky Strike Ranch south of here.”

“A governess? Out here?” Bushy gray eyebrows jumped up on his wrinkled forehead.

“Well, I… that is ..” She could almost read his thoughts. Was Judge Branigan in financial trouble? Was Rachel in some sort of disgrace, sent away where few people would see her? Was there a scandal brewing? Something which might even be politically convenient to know? It made her blood boil. And if she didn’t want to say anything that would embarrass Tucker later, she knew she’d better withdraw before her temper got the better of her.

“Excuse me, Senator. I’d better make sure my young charges aren’t up to any mischief. You know how children can be.”

“Of course. of course.”

“Pompous ass.” she muttered beneath her breath as she turned away from the older man, not even caring particularly if he overheard her. She moved off through the throng of people crowded into the great room. She wasn’t really concerned about Sabrina and Petula. Dru had told her earlier that the little ones were being entertained by the older children in a far corner of the house. What she wanted most of all at this moment was just a few minutes of peace and quiet while she tried to cool her anger. It took her a while, but finally she reached the hallway leading to the east wing and escaped into its blessed quiet. Seeing an open door near the end of the hall, she walked in that direction. As she stepped into what turned out to be a sunny solarium, she stopped abruptly. Gavin was standing near the window. His expression was pensive as he stared outside. Feeling like an intruder, she started to back out of the room. As if he’d heard some infinitesimal sound, his head turned and their eyes met.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” She swallowed.

“I was looking for the children.”

“They’re upstairs. Except for Sabrina.” He jerked his head toward the window. Curious, Rachel moved forward and glanced outside. Seated on the veranda steps was Sabrina, her face a portrait of abject misery. Rachel followed the girl’s woeful gaze toward the opposite end of the wide porch where Trevor O’Donnell leaned against the banister, his boot heel hooked over the bottom rail. He was smiling down at a pretty girl in a frilly pink dress. As they watched, Trevor removed his suit coat and draped it around the girl’s shoulders.

“I’d like to break his jaw,” Gavin murmured. Rachel’s eyes returned to Gavin. It was clear from the look on his face that he was suffering nearly as much as Sabrina.

“Brina would never forgive you if you did,” she said softly. He sighed as he turned his back toward the window, his gaze meeting hers.

“I don’t know much about being a father, I guess.”

“I think you’re feeling what any father would feel.” She smiled up at him.

“Think so?” She nodded. Her throat felt tight.

“The girls are very lucky to have you.” She tried to swallow but couldn’t.

“So is Dru.” His gray eyes seemed to darken.

“Are you having a good time?” She nodded again.

“You must be used to this sort of shindig.”

“Weddings are always fun.”

“I won’t ever be able to give Sabrina a wedding this fancy.” He sounded angry again.

“It won’t matter as long as she’s in love with the groom,” she whispered. As he glared down at her, standing so close she could smell the faint odor of whiskey on his breath, she had the strange feeling they were locked in some sort of battle and that every word she said was important. She wanted desperately to say the right things but wasn’t even sure she knew what they were discussing any longer.

She might have discovered what it was if Patrick hadn’t appeared in the solarium doorway at just that moment.

“Ah, so here it is you’re hiding. I thought I’d lost you, Miss Harris.” Gavin held her gaze a heartbeat longer before turning toward their host.

“I was just keeping Rachel company until you were free again, Patrick. Now I’d better go find my wife.” A moment later, he had disappeared into the dim hallway.

Chapter Sixteen

“I’ll be payin’ you a visit soon,” Patrick said as he leaned against Patch’s hip and looked up at Gavin and the two women on the wagon seat. Gavin knew good and well it wouldn’t be him Patrick O’Donnell was coming to visit. He mumbled something as he picked up the reins and slapped them against the teams’ broad rumps, causing Patrick to jump quickly backward.

“See you soon, mate,” the Irishman called after him, laughter filling his voice.

“Gavin, what’s wrong with you?” Dru asked gently.

“Nothing.”

“Gavin?” He looked at her. Her face was drawn with weariness. Despite protests to the contrary, the day had drained what little energy she possessed. He should be ashamed of himself for causing her any extra worry. But then his eyes shifted to Rachel, and he felt his mood grow even more foul. Damn the woman! She even had him snapping at Dru. He swore silently once again as he returned his attention to the road ahead. But he couldn’t stop the flood of anger that washed through him. He’d give almost anything to be able to go back in time, to be able to refuse to go to Boise in search of a woman to teach Dru’s daughters. Nothing had gone right for him from the first moment he’d met Rachel. She was a selfish, spoiled, rich girl with nothing bigger to worry about than what to wear to the next party. She wasn’t even the proper sort to have around, influencing the children. Yet, even as he worked so hard to convince himself he still believed those things about Miss Rachel Harris, he couldn’t rid himself of the memory of her blue eyes looking up at him, bathed in the sunlight pouring through the solarium window, her pale golden hair capturing the warming rays and reflecting back the light. He remembered the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, so clearly outlined beneath the bodice of her indigo gown. He thought of the soft curve of her mouth, her lips moist and rosy. Her honeysuckle cologne lingered yet in his nostrils, stirring something basic in his vitals. He remembered her laughter, her gentle encouragement of Sabrina and Petula, the thoughtfulness she continually showed toward Dru. Even now, her voice seemed to echo in his ears, soft, melodic, soothing. Soothing? Hellfire and damnation! There was nothing soothing about Rachel Harris. He raked his fingers through his hair as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, trying hard to ignore his keen awareness of her. Dear God, what a base creature he was! His wife was right there beside him, her head resting on Rachel’s shoulder, and he was thinking … It was like a fire raging in his belly. The wanting, once he acknowledged it, flared white-hot and undeniable. He wanted to hold Rachel, touch her, possess her as he’d never wanted another woman in his life. And the thought of any other man—Patrick O’Donnell in particular—having the right to do any of those things nearly drove him mad. Is this what had happened to his mother? Was it lust rather than greed that had made her forget she had a husband and son, that made her turn her back on everything right and honorable? With a slap of the reins, the team broke into a trot as twilight fell over the valley. Rachel felt the tension drawing her as tight as a bow string. Gavin never said a word, never even took his eyes off the road before them throughout the long drive home. His mood was dark and strange, and somehow he transmitted it to her and she grew afraid. The first stars were already visible by the time they arrived at the Lucky Strike. Dru stirred and lifted her head from Rachel’s shoulder as the wagon rolled to a stop in front of the ranch house. Wordlessly, Gavin jumped from his perch, then lifted Dru down after him.

“Wake up, girls,” Rachel said softly, turning to look at the two sleepyheads curled up in the back of the wagon.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” Neither of them stirred.

“Don’t bother waking them, Miss Harris,” Gavin said sharply.

“I’ll see they get to bed.” She turned toward his voice.

“It’s no bother. I-”

“I said I’ll take care of them. Good-night.” She couldn’t see his face, but there was no mistaking the finality of his voice.

“Gavin…” Dru began. He cut her short.

“I can take care of my family, Dru.” He lifted his wife in his arms and turned toward the house.

“We won’t need you anymore tonight, Miss Harris.” Rachel drew in a breath of night air even as she felt heat rush to her cheeks and tears burn her eyes. Unseeing, she scrambled down from the wagon seat and raced to her own little cabin. She found it nearly as cold inside as it was out, the fire having long since burned down to a few coals. It seemed somehow fitting after the icy words Gavin had flung her way. With her fingertips, she dashed away the tears that clung to her lashes, then hurried toward the wood box, all the while fighting back more tears that threatened to replace them. She made several attempts before the fire took hold. As soon as it did, Rachel pulled a heavy blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her, coat and all. Then she sat in a chair beside the stove and gave herself over to a good cry. She didn’t understand anything anymore. She didn’t know what she felt or believed or wanted. It was all a crazy mix-up inside her head, inside her heart. Every time she thought she knew what she should do, what she wanted, something happened to change it. She sniffed and dried her eyes and forced her shoulders to stiffen, her back to straighten. No. It wasn’t true that she didn’t know what she wanted.

She knew she wanted him to dislike her. She’d tried her best to make him think she was just as useless and vacuous as he’d thought her when Dru first hired her. Therefore, his anger and rudeness shouldn’t upset her. It simply meant she’d succeeded. Only the victory was a bitter one. She couldn’t rid herself of the memory of that afternoon, the two of them standing near the solarium window, so close she could almost hear his heart beat. He hadn’t disliked her then. There had been a moment—a brief and fragile moment-when she had hoped… “Gavin,” she whispered as hot tears coursed her cheeks once again. She choked over a sob.

“Oh, Gavin.”

* Dru rose from the bed and pulled her robe tightly about her shoulders as she walked toward the bedroom door. Had she been mistaken? she wondered wearily. She’d been so sure in Boise when Rachel entered that hotel room. She would have sworn something special had passed between Gavin and the girl the moment their eyes first met, just as it had been for her and Charlie. But could she have been wrong? She made her way to the table and sat down, leaning her forearms on the smooth surface while she stared toward the children’s bedroom door. She could hear Petula mumbling sleepily. She could hear Gavin’s gentle response. She wasn’t wrong. She couldn’t be. There was no time for error. She heard his footsteps and watched as he stepped through the doorway. Looking at the unhappiness, the tension that pulled at the handsome features of his face, she knew she had to keep trying. She wasn’t wrong about those two. He frowned when he saw her.

“What are you doing up?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Gavin. I’ve never known you to be cruel to anyone.” His lips pressed together in a firm line as he walked toward her.

“You hurt Rachel’s feelings. I think you should go over and apologize. See that she’s all right.”

“She’s fine.” He sat down across the table from her. Dru reached forward and took hold of his hand.

“Please, Gavin. I want you to go to her. Apologize. Please.” His gray eyes were as troubled as storm clouds. His voice, when he spoke, was tight and low.

“Leave it be, Dru. You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

“Yes, I do,” she whispered, tightening her grip on his hand.

“Please, Gav. It means so much to me. Don’t let her go to bed in tears.”

“Dru.”

“I know I’ve asked too much of you already, takin’ on a sick wife and two girls to raise. I haven’t any right to ask anything more. Not a thing. But I am asking’. Go to her, Gavin. For me.” Moonlight bathed the yard in a white light, casting an eerie glow across the barn, the grasslands, the mountains, everything. But especially across the small cabin that stood apart from the other buildings. It seemed especially bright there. Gavin walked slowly across the expanse of ground that separated the main house from the one-room cabin. He tried to repress the resurgence of anger that increased with each step he took. He stopped. He was here because Dru wanted him to be here. He would do as she’d asked and then leave. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked firmly. It seemed a long time before he heard the latch lifting, saw the door opening. And then she was there, standing in the doorway, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes swollen from crying, her mouth parted in surprise. She was wearing a pretty robe over her long nightgown, and she clutched the front of it near her throat. His anger began to evaporate the moment he saw her, replaced by a tender yearning, something he’d never felt before—a feeling far more dangerous than his anger had ever been.

“Gavin,” she whispered as she stepped suddenly back from the doorway, disappearing into the dark shadows of the cabin.

“I came to apologize.” he said, his voice loud in the silence of night. He stepped inside, hesitated, then closed the door.

“Apologize?”

“I was rude. And tired. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” A pale sliver of moonlight fell through the curtains over the window. Just enough light, added to the red glow from the fire in the stove, to help him see her face, to help him see the sparkle of tears in her eyes.

“It’s all right.” she answered softly.

“No, it’s not all right.” The darkness seemed to close in around them even while her face became more clear. She was beautiful. So damned beautiful.

“Nothing’s been right since I met you.” He stepped closer.

“What have you done to me, Rachel?” Her words were breathless.

“I .. . I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” He reached out, his fingers over her arms.

“It’s not right what I feel for you. It’s not right how I think about you.” He wasn’t sure how it happened, but suddenly, she was pressed against him, her face turned up his, her eyes filled with wonder instead of tears.

“Not right,” he whispered again. Then his mouth descended toward hers. Rachel had been kissed before, but nothing had prepared her for the explosion of feelings that erupted within her the moment their lips touched. Her knees became as wobbly as a newborn colt’s. She lifted her arms and clung to his neck, afraid she would fall to the floor and splinter into a thousand pieces if she didn’t hold on. The skin on her face tingled, and her breath caught stubbornly in her chest. His lips were warm and moist, gently moving against hers. She responded, parting her mouth ever so slightly and touching her tongue against the flesh of his lower lip, as if tasting some strange and exotic delicacy. His hands pressed against her lower back, holding her close but not close enough to assuage the strange ache that was growing inside her-began to move. His touch seemed to sear her skin right through the fabric of her robe as his fingers traced the length of her back, then moved down her arms and back again. Finally, his hands came up to cradle her head. His thumbs lightly caressed her cheeks as his fingers plunged into her unbound hair. Her thoughts were like chaff in the

wind, scattered in all directions. She couldn’t think straight. Who was this man? Who was she? What wondrous place had he brought her to? What miracle was he working in her body? But even as her mind toyed with illusion, reality tried to reassert itself. Time became her enemy. She wanted it to stand still. She wanted them to remain forever as they now were. Gavin’s mouth released hers, yet hovered close, so very close.

“It’s not right.” His voice was low, hoarse. His breath was warm upon her. She forced the quiver from her voice, speaking louder than was necessary in hope that it would give her words conviction and strength.

“We’ll forget this ever happened.” But she knew, even as did he, that they could not forget. He’d said the same thing moments before—or was it hours before?—but only now did she truly understand what he meant.

“I’ve never wanted any woman the way I want you.” There was something almost frightening in the resonance of his whispered confession, a depth of emotion she felt incapable of accepting and unwilling to deal with. From what well of strength did she summon the courage to free herself from his embrace? Perhaps she would never know. She dragged in a quick gasp of air as she stepped away from him, her hands pushing against the wall of his chest.

“You must go.”

“Rachel …”

“Go now!” she cried, knowing that soon there would be no stopping the tide that carried them into perilous waters. For a breathless moment, she thought he would refuse. Then she saw him take his own step backward.

Chapter Seventeen

Rachel’s fingers fumbled nervously with the buttons of her bodice. Her stomach was tied in knots, and a sleepless night had left her without energy. Yet she knew she couldn’t delay going to the main house any longer. She couldn’t expect Dru to prepare the family’s breakfast The woman had been exhausted by yesterday’s outing. She glanced quickly at her reflection in the small mirror atop the bureau. There were gray shadows beneath her blue eyes, and her face looked as white as a sheet. She pinched her cheeks several times between her forefingers and thumbs, trying to revive a hint of color. She couldn’t risk Dru thinking she was ill—or worse, suspecting that something had happened the night before. Her stomach tightened with a jolt as the memory of Gavin’s kisses flooded over her, around her, through her. It had been like this throughout the night, his specter invading the cabin time and again. Relentless. Persistent.

“No more,” she pleaded softly.

“No more.” Before she could turn coward and return to her bed, she pulled her fur-lined cloak from the peg by the door and threw it over her shoulders. It never happened. It never happened. Oh, Maggie, I wish you were here. You could tell me what to do. It never happened. It never happened. Gavin … Oh, Gavin. She jerked open the cabin door, and with head bent forward beneath the warm hood of her cloak, she hurried toward the main house. Just as her hand touched the doorknob, she heard the clatter of hooves and turned to see Gavin riding his black gelding out of the barn. He never looked toward the house, never saw her standing there, would never know how she longed for just one glimpse of his steel-gray eyes. It was just as well. It would have been her undoing. She twisted the knob and entered the house.

“Look what you did!” Sabrina’s shrill cry brought Rachel up short. With a quick glance, she assessed that the disaster wasn’t as dire as the girl’s voice had indicated. But by the time Rachel closed the door and rid herself of her cloak, Petula was already in tears as she stood in the middle of the egg-splattered floor, broken eggshells surrounding her feet.

“Don’t cry, Pet. It’s not so terrible,” Rachel said as she hurried forward.

“But it is, Miss Harris,” Sabrina insisted.

“Those were all the eggs. We’ve been out and collected them and there won’t be any more until tomorrow. And Ma said she’d like an egg for breakfast. She hardly ever eats any more, but she wanted something this morning, and now Pet’s ruined Ma’s breakfast.” The younger girl’s sobs increased.

“I .. . I ….. didn’t mean … mean to.” Rachel pushed tangled brown hair away from the child’s face as she knelt beside her, unmindful of the hem of her dress mixing with the gooey mess on the floor. She kissed Petula’s cheek.

“Hush, now. Shhh. Your mother will understand. We’ll make her a grand breakfast, something she’ll like much better than eggs.”

“Wh .. ….. what?” Petula sniffed then rubbed her sleeve beneath her nose. - “why don’t I go ask her?”

“But then she’ll know what Pet did,” Sabrina interrupted in the same high-handed tone. Rachel turned her head, casting a meaningful glance toward the older girl.

“Do you think your mother wouldn’t understand about a little accident?” Sabrina bowed her head.

“No,” she mumbled.

“No,” Rachel repeated.

“Of course not. Now, help Pet clean this up, and I’ll go see what we can tempt your mother’s appetite with.” The set of Sabrina’s shoulders was still slightly mutinous, but she nodded her head as Rachel rose from the floor.

“Miss… Miss Harris?” Petula stuttered, still trying to control her tears.

“I… I ruined your dress too. Look.” She pointed at the egg stains on Rachel’s skirt. It was one of her favorite day dresses, a pale blue wool, and it did, indeed, look ruined. But Rachel managed to conceal her dismay as she calmly reached for a cloth lying on the dry sink and wiped away what she could.

“It’ll wash,” she told Petula, her voice light.

“It’s not important.” And she knew as she spoke the words that they were true. Petula’s feelings were far more important than any dress. For the few minutes it had taken to deal with Petula’s crisis, Rachel had forgotten her own problems, but as soon as she reached the door to Dru’s bedroom, they came rushing back. Dru was more than an employer. She was Rachel’s friend. She was sick and dying, and Rachel had come

so close to betraying her. How could she face her? She leveled her shoulders, drew a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

“Dru?” The room was shrouded in shadows.

“Is everything all right out there?” Dru’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Yes.” Rachel crossed the room with measured steps.

“Just a little tiff between sisters. I’ve seen it before with my nieces and nephews.” She stopped beside the bed.

“I’m afraid there won’t be any eggs for breakfast.”

“It’s not important,” Dru replied with a shallow sigh.

“I doubt I could have eaten it anyway.” Rachel’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the room by this time, and she stared down at the woman in the bed. It seemed to Rachel that Dru had withered away overnight.

“Dru, please. You must try to eat something.” She leaned forward, touching the papery skin of Dru’s arm.

“Perhaps later. What I’d like is for you to sit with me a while. Would you do that for me, Rachel?” A shiver of fear raced down her back.

“If you’d like.” She reached for the chair against the wall.

“Wait.” Dru’s voice seemed even weaker.

“Help the girls with their breakfast first. Then come back. I’ll just close my eyes and rest for a while. I’m so terribly tired today.” He was a coward and he knew it. Gavin reminded himself of that fact numerous times as he rode Scamp across the acres of grassland that made up the Lucky Strike. There was little a cattleman could do in the winter except pray and hope that the blizzards and freezing temperatures didn’t last too long, that the calves didn’t drop too soon, that the wolves and coyotes didn’t strike too often. There wasn’t anything he could accomplish by spending the day in the saddle, chilled to the bone by the icy November winds. But he was a coward and he knew it. He couldn’t face Dru this morning, not while Rachel’s image was still burned into his brain, not while he longed to taste her lips, feel her soft flesh beneath his hands; not while desire to possess her raged in his body. He jerked back on the reins, bringing the gelding to a sliding stop. He pushed his hat back on his head and rubbed his fingers across his forehead. What sort of spell had that blonde witch cast over him? Never once in his thirty-three years had he been so obsessed with a woman. He’d known his share and found out he could get along well enough without them in his life, at least any particular one for any particular length of time. When he’d felt the need of a woman, he’d found the saloon girls in any town were sufficient. He could spend a few hours with them, finding release within the soft warmth of their bodies, then forget them. Perhaps that was what he needed now. Perhaps he needed to head up to Bonanza City or Custer, somewhere far enough away that Dru—and Rachel—would never hear of it. For a few dollars and a little time, he could rid himself of this obsession. He’d been abstinent too long. But even as he thought it, he knew it was useless. He knew he would return still wanting Rachel Harris. And not just her body. He wanted to sit with her while she read to the children. He wanted to watch her brushing her hair by candlelight. He wanted to race with her through another mountain meadow, hear her laughter as she tripped over Joker’s clumsy feet. He wanted her completely, totally, absolutely, unconditionally. And with all he was, all he’d ever believed, he knew it was wrong to want her. As long as he had a wife, it was wrong. He dug his spurs into Scamp’s black sides and sent the horse hurtling forward at a mad pace, afraid to think any longer, afraid of where his thoughts were leading him. After preparing the children’s breakfast, Rachel went to her cabin and quickly changed out of her soiled gown. Upon her return to the main house, she found Dru fast asleep. Knowing that Dru always read to the children from the Bible on Sunday mornings, Rachel sat down with them near the fireplace and read several parables from the Gospel of John. More than once she paused in her reading, feeling a terrible hypocrisy. Thou shalt not covet. Could God ever forgive her the rebellion of her heart? Rachel returned to Dru’s bedroom throughout the morning, but every time, she found the woman sleeping. She couldn’t bring herself to wake her, not when she could see so clearly the fatigue written on her face. Several times, she stepped outside, her gaze sweeping over the valleys and mountains, never admitting to herself what she was watching for. Once, she saw Stubs come out of the bunkhouse, his coat collar pulled up against the cold. He raised a hand and waved to her before entering the barn. She shivered as a lonely wind whistled through the trees, then turned and went back inside. It was shortly after noon that a knock sounded on the door. The girls were in their bedroom, involved in cutting out scraps of cloth for doll dresses, so Rachel went to answer the door herself, certain that it was Stubs. When she pulled the door open, she was surprised to find Patrick O’Donnell’s giant frame filling up the opening.

“Good day, Miss Harris,” he said as he pulled his hat from his head.

“I hope I’ve not come at a bad time?”

“Not at all, Mr. O’Donnell. Please. Do come in.” She opened the door wide to admit him. There seemed to be something almost awkward about the big man today. Rachel sensed his nervousness even as she reached to take his hat.

“Won’t you have a seat?” She motioned toward the chair near the fireplace.

“I’m afraid Gavin isn’t here at the moment.”

“It’s not Gavin I’ve come to see.” Rachel’s eyes widened as she looked at him. He’d flirted with her the day they met, and at the wedding he’d monopolized much of her time. But it wasn’t until now that she took his interest seriously. Perhaps it was that schoolboy look on his face or the way he was pressing his fingers together, turning them white at the tips.

“I see,” she replied softly, sinking into another chair. She liked

Patrick O’Donnell. Despite his size, she sensed a gentleness about him. He had a fine face, not truly handsome, but pleasant. She imagined his broad nose had been generously freckled when he was a boy, though there was no trace of them now. His mouth was full, the hint of a grin lingering in the corners, even now when he was serious. His green eyes promised mischief. She’d enjoyed his company yesterday. He’d always been the gentleman. And he’d made her laugh often. She wasn’t quite sure why she was silently cataloging Patrick O’Donnell’s assets. At least, not consciously. But somewhere deep inside, in a secret corner of her heart, she realized that here might be an answer to her quandary. This man could be her shield. This man could protect her from herself, from her own sinful desires. If she were to turn her affections upon him, she needn’t fear being around Gavin any longer.

“I’m glad you came, Mr. O’Donnell. Would you care for some coffee? There’s plenty and it’s fresh.”

“I’d like it very much.” He grinned, all traces of nervousness disappearing.

“I’d find even more pleasure, Miss Harris, if you could bring yourself to call me Patrick.” As she rose from her chair, she returned his smile.

“I should like that, Patrick. And you must call me Rachel.” She could see Charlie. He was waiting for her, smiling, his arms open wide. He was surrounded by light—warm, comforting light. When she reached him, there wouldn’t be any more pain. She wouldn’t be tired any longer. She could laugh again. She could run through the woods and fall down with Charlie in the grass. She could be happy. He beckoned for her to hurry. I’m coming, Charlie. But something held her back. Something was unfinished. Soon, Charlie. Soon. She made her way back through the darkness she’d come part-way through. It was an arduous, tiring journey, but at last she made it. Dru awakened to find Rachel at her bedside.

“I was worried about you,” Rachel said softly.

“You’ve been asleep all day.” Dru lifted her hand from the bedclothes, reaching toward Rachel. Sensing the woman didn’t have the strength to keep it there long, Rachel grasped hold of the cool fingers, wrapping both of her hands around Dru’s frail one.

“Mr. O’Donnell was here to see you. He said he’ll come again soon.” She paused, then added softly, “Let me get you some broth. You need to eat.”

“No.” Dru shook her head.

“Just sit with me.” Rachel couldn’t seem to let go of Dru’s hand. She lowered herself onto the edge of the bed.

“I haven’t much time, Rachel.” She opened her mouth to protest but was stopped by the look in Dru’s eyes.

“There’s so much I wanted to do before I joined Charlie.” Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat and tightened her grip on the feeble hand within hers.

“Gavin’s a good man, Rachel. He wasn’t to me what my Charlie was, but we loved each other in our own way.” Her eyes seemed glazed as she stared into space beyond Rachel’s shoulder.

“He wasn’t meant to marry me. There’s so much of love he doesn’t know about. So much he needs to learn.” Dru closed her eyes. Her breathing was shallow, almost nonexistent. Rachel leaned forward, her heart aching in her chest. She, too, was afraid to breathe.

“Rachel…” Dru opened her eyes once more, this time her gaze focused and meaningful.

“Gavin’s going to need you. Don’t forget your promise. You’ll stay through spring. Time. Give him time.”

“Don’t talk this way, Dru. You’re going to be well by spring. You’ll see.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. I won’t leave. I give you my word, but-”

“Ask Stubs about Gavin. Make him… make him tell you everything. There’s so much I never knew. Make him tell you… everything.” Panic raged in Rachel’s breast. She wasn’t acquainted with death, yet she could see its shadow slipping over Dru’s face and knew it for what it was.

“Brina… Pet…” Dru whispered.

“I’d like to see them now. Will you help me sit up? Comb my hair?”

“Yes, Dru. Of course. I’ll help you.” She was blinded by tears and fought to keep them from falling.

“Please, won’t you eat something? You’ll feel stronger if you do.” She rose from the bed and grabbed another pillow to place behind Dru’s back.

“No. I just need to see my girls.” Gavin tossed a rake of hay into Scamp’s stall, then made his way toward the house. His mood was as dark and heavy as when he’d taken off that morning, but he’d been gone too long already. Dru would be wondering what was wrong. He didn’t know yet what he would tell her. He only knew he couldn’t tell her the truth. The moment he pushed open the door, he sensed something was wrong. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Rachel appeared suddenly in the bedroom doorway. Her face looked pale and drawn.

“Gavin,” she whispered. His heart skipped a beat, cold tentacles of dread spreading through his veins. She took a step forward.

“Dru…” Quick strides carried him across the parlor. He brushed past her and into the dimly lit bedroom, stopping just inside the doorway. Dru’s arms were around Petula’s shoulders. She kissed the child’s forehead, then lay back against the pillows. Her eyes met Gavin’s and she offered a tiny smile.

“Here’s your pa. It’s time I talked to him. And then I must rest. Good night, children. I…” Her voice broke.

“I love you.”

“Ma…” Sabrina was having a hard time controlling her tears.

“I know, Brina. I know.” She sighed as she closed her eyes.

“Now go with Miss Harris.”

Gavin watched as Sabrina took hold of Petula’s hand and led her little sister across the room. Hazel eyes, identical to her mother’s, glanced up at him as they walked by. He felt immobilized by the pain he saw written in them, helpless to remove or heal the hurt.

“Come along, girls,” he heard Rachel say behind him. A moment later, the door closed with a soft click. Dru opened her eyes once more.

“I was waiting for you.” He moved forward on stiff legs.

“Hold my hand, Gavin.” He knelt on the hard floor and did as she’d asked.

“You’ve been a good friend.

To me and to Charlie.”

“Dru ..”

“No, don’t say anything. There isn’t time.” Her gaze, although weary, was tender.

“From the moment I first laid eyes on Charlie, I knew there was something’ special between us. There wasn’t anything in this world that would’ve kept me from being’ his bride. Not anything.” He nodded, his throat too tight to try to speak again, even if she hadn’t told him to keep still.

“I’m not afraid to die, Gavin. The girls have got you and Rachel. They’ll be fine. Just fine. And I’ll be with Charlie.” Her eyes closed again, and she was silent for a long time. Her chest scarcely moved. Gavin tightened his grip on her hand.

“Don’t be afraid to love someone… like I did Charlie. It ….. makes . everything in life… worthwhile.” She looked at him then, and it seemed to Gavin that she was already far away.

“What happened in the past… can’t be changed… but the future… can.” Again the lengthy silence.

“I… wish you… love.” She pulled her hand from his, lifting her fingertips to touch his cheek. Then her hand fell listlessly to her side as her eyes fluttered closed.

“Charlie ..” The name was whispered with an exhaled breath. There was no matching intake of air to replace it. Gavin had no idea how long he knelt there, unmoving, unthinking, scarcely even feeling. There was a great hollowness inside him, devouring everything, leaving only emptiness. He didn’t hear the door open, wasn’t aware of the rustle of petticoats as Rachel entered the room, coming to stand beside him. He didn’t feel her hand upon his shoulder.

“Gavin?” He lifted his head, raising his eyes toward the woman at his side. He wondered why she was there.

“Gavin, she’s gone.” He looked once more toward the bed. He knew that what he saw was only an empty shell. The essence that had been Drucilla Porter Blake was gone, escaping the bonds of earth, leaving behind the pain.

“She’s with Charlie,” he said hoarsely. A sob caught in Rachel’s throat.

“I know.” He picked up Dru’s hand and tenderly laid it across her chest. Her voice seemed to echo softly through the room. I wish you love. And as he heard the silent words repeated, a chink appeared in the carefully constructed wall around Gavin’s heart.

Chapter Eighteen

Rachel stood on the grassy knoll, her right hand on Sabrina’s shoulder, her left on Petula’s. Patrick stood beside her, likewise offering what comfort he could with an arm around Rachel’s back. Gavin stood on the other side of the grave, his face a controlled mask. The minister’s voice droned on, dispensing words of consolation and hope. Overhead, gray clouds rolled across the heavens, driven by a frigid wind. The weather seemed in keeping with the sorrow that blanketed the friends and neighbors who had gathered to bid Drucilla Blake farewell. As Reverend Keating’s final prayer was carried to the mourners on the wind, the snow began to fall. People departed somewhat quickly after that.

Rachel gazed across the grave site at Gavin, but he made no move to leave, even after the last person had offered his condolences and gone. Her heart ached for Gavin. She wished desperately for a means to console him. But even as she wished it, she knew she couldn’t. She was an outsider to his grief. He’d made everyone an outsider in the two days since Dru’s death.

“Come along, girls,” she said.

“We must get inside.” When Petula, blinded by tears and sobbing, stumbled over a ground squirrel hole, Patrick caught her up and cradled her against him. Rachel held tightly to Sabrina’s hand as the foursome made their way down the gentle slope and back to the house. As the others entered the front door, Rachel turned around and looked back toward the knoll. The snow was falling in large gentle flakes, but she could still see Gavin’s silhouette against the mountain.

“Rachel?” She turned toward the sound of Patrick’s voice.

“You’ll take cold, lass. Come in. Sure and I’ve got a fire goin’ on the hearth.” She nodded, then cast one final glance over her shoulder before entering the house and closing the door. Patrick seemed to understand her concern.

“Give him time, Rachel.” That’s what Dru had said. Give him time. But, lord help her, she wanted to give him much more than time. She wanted to offer real comfort. Not just words and platitudes. She wanted to share his grief, help him carry the burden of sorrow.

“Come here, lass.” Patrick said gently as he took hold of her hand and drew her toward him. He pushed the hood from her hair then loosened the clasp of her cloak and removed it from her shoulders. Finally, he pulled her into his embrace.

“There now. You’ll not have to worry. Patrick O’Donnell is here for you.” She was grateful for a strong shoulder to lean on. Even now, with so much else on her mind and in her heart, she knew that by doing so she was indicating the direction her relationship with Patrick was headed. But that was what she’d wanted, she reminded herself. Nothing had changed since she’d made that decision. Not really. Gavin seemed as forbidden to her now as ever before, though why that should be she wasn’t quite sure. That was a lie, she thought as she pressed her face against Patrick’s shirt. She had envied another woman her husband. She had succumbed to his kisses. She had been tempted to do much more than that. She was guilty of a cardinal sin, lusting after a married man. Her punishment now was to be forever denied what she wanted most. She felt as if she were shattering into pieces. How was she to keep her promise to Dru, to help Gavin and the children through this time of sorrow? How was she to survive Gavin’s nearness, knowing that their time together was fleeting at best? Patrick’s arms tightened around her.

“I’m here for you, lass,” he repeated, as if in answer to her silent question.

“I don’t know how I’d get through this without you,” she whispered. The door slammed shut, and she lifted her head from Patrick’s chest to

meet Gavin’s remote gaze. His black hair was dotted with white flakes of snow, wet tendrils curling at his nape. His face was red from the cold. Without a word, he moved on toward his bedroom, his door closing firmly behind him. Rachel pulled away from Patrick, taking a step toward Gavin’s room, but she stopped herself. Her shoulders slumped. There was nothing she could do for him. Not now. Not ever. Instead, she turned toward the children’s bedroom. At least there she could openly pour out her love and caring. She found them curled up together on Sabrina’s bed. Sabrina was stroking her little sister’s hair and whispering, “Don’t cry, Pet,” while large teardrops streaked her own cheeks. Looking at them, she was reminded of her childhood back in Philadelphia, of the many times Maggie had talked to her in just that tone of voice. After so many years, the memories were fuzzy, but she knew they’d been very lonely in those early years and so terribly unhappy. Just the two of them against the world. Maggie had often played the “Good Things” game with her whenever Rachel was too unhappy or too frightened. They would hide up in the attic, where Uncle Seth never thought to look for them, thinking of all that was good and happy and bright. No matter how grim things seemed, they’d always managed to think of something. She remembered how very badly she’d wanted a family, a family to love her. And she’d been lucky. She’d been given a wonderful one. Not just Maggie, who had always been a comforting presence, but Tucker and Fiona and Neal and Mr. and Mrs. Foster. She’d been granted so many things good and happy and bright. She wondered how long it would be before Sabrina and Petula could think of something good about their lives. She wondered what she could do to help them find the happiness their mother wanted for them. Rachel slowly crossed the room. Wordlessly, she pulled back the covers and guided the children beneath them. Then she sat beside them and waited until they fell asleep. She was surprised to find Patrick still there when she came out of the children’s room more than an hour later. He rose from his chair the moment she appeared in the doorway.

“I thought you’d gone, Patrick.” She walked toward him.

“I couldn’t leave until I made sure you were all right.” She sighed deeply.

“I’m all right. Just tired.”

“You shouldn’t have to carry this burden alone, lass. Sure but there must be something more I can do.”

“Yes, Patrick. There is.” She sank onto the chair nearest the fire.

“Just sit with me.”

“If you wish.” She looked into the orange and gold flames.

“I was remembering how Maggie used to make me feel better when something bad had happened. We used to try to think about good things, pretty things. Like a fine black horse pulling a shiny black carriage. Or a lady’s hat with a purple ostrich feather. Or maybe a winter snowfall. Sometimes we’d play the game for hours.”

“Did bad things happen often to you, Rachel?” He leaned forward in his chair.

“Yes…” she whispered.

“I guess they did. But you know, it’s strange. I can’t really remember what they were. After we came to Idaho, I have only good memories.”

“I’m glad, lass. I’d not ever have you sad if I had my way about it, and that’s the truth.” She turned her head to look at him.

“How do I keep them from being sad, Patrick? I don’t know what to do for them.”

“There’s not much you can do but have patience. Be there to listen when they want to talk. Be there t’hold them when they want to cry. Mournin’ takes time, lass, and each goes about it in their own way. What of you? How will you go about it, Rachel? Will you allow someone to listen and hold you when you’re needin’ it?” He truly was a good friend. A gentleman. Dependable. The sort she could count on in good times and bad. Would it be so harmful to encourage his interest, knowing her heart yearned for another? Surely, with time, she could grow to feel more for him than simple friendship, and the guilt for what she’d done, what she’d wanted, could be forgotten.

“Yes, Patrick,” she replied.

“I

Chapter Nineteen

The days and weeks drifted by little noticed by Gavin. He was weighed down by shame and remorse. Illogically, he blamed himself for Dru’s death. If he hadn’t gone to Rachel’s cabin the night before, if he hadn’t kissed her and burned with desire for her, if he hadn’t left Dru alone the next day—if he hadn’t done these things, Dru might still be alive. He mentally flailed himself for his neglect, for his disloyal thoughts and behavior. He could have been a better husband to her. True, their marriage had been one of convenience, never consummated and never meant to be. True, their mutual affection had been based upon friendship and no more. But wasn’t there something he could have done to change the course of things? It seemed so, now that it was too late to try. While Gavin wrestled with the demon of guilt winter arrived in earnest in the high country. It blanketed the Salmon River Range with thick layers of snow, sometimes with lazy crystals drifting to earth, sometimes with vengeful blizzards, winds howling across the mountains and valleys. Temperatures fell well below zero at night and lingered there until noon. The skies seemed eternally gray, days scarcely discernible from nights. Gavin went about the business of running the ranch by rote. Although Stubs and Jess could have managed well enough without him he needed something, anything, to distract him from his troubled thoughts. Rachel took care of the house and the girls, preparing meals, washing and mending their clothes, caring for every detail of their day-to-day existence. Patrick O’Donnell came often, but Gavin rarely spoke to him. He rarely spoke to anyone. Christmas would have been a dismal affair in the Blake house, if not for Rachel and Patrick. If it weren’t for them, there would have been no tree strung with popcorn and paper garlands. There would have been no

stockings filled with fruit and nuts, no special gifts awaiting the children on Christmas morning. Without Rachel and Patrick, there would have been no sleigh ride, no singing of Christmas carols. Although it was impossible for the day to be a joyous one, there was at least an effort to make it a normal one.

But Gavin didn’t notice. For him, Christmas was merely another day to get through as best he could. Gavin awakened suddenly in the middle of the night. Silence enveloped the house. No wind whistled beneath the eaves, no snow blew against the window panes. There was only silence. And as he lay there, he began to hear Dru’s words to him once again. But this time, more than five weeks after she’d whispered them to him, he wasn’t just hearing them in his head. He was hearing them with his heart. Don’t be afraid to love, she’d said. Don’t be afraid to risk it all. Don’t be afraid to trust and give. Don’t be afraid to take in return. Don’t be so embittered by what some did in the past that you can’t look for the good in others in the future. Don’t believe that every woman is like Christina Blake, selfish and spoiled. Believe, instead, in the best in people. Don’t be afraid to love. Really love. Love with everything, heart and body and mind and soul. Don’t be afraid to love. I wish you love. He stared up at the ceiling as a strange peace descended. She’d known. That’s what she’d been telling him. She’d known what he felt for Rachel and she’d wanted it for him. Not just the physical passion, although he didn’t doubt she’d wanted that for him too. She’d wanted him to experience that tender yearning, that desire to be a part of the whole that was made from two people. He wondered, now that he understood, if it was too late for him to learn how to love. Patrick proposed to Rachel on Christmas day, just before he left the Lucky Strike for home, and she accepted. But she insisted the wedding couldn’t take place until mid-June. She’d given her promise that she would stay on at the Lucky Strike until then. She would keep her word. She wasn’t surprised by the proposal, nor even by her acceptance, although she didn’t lie to herself about her reasons. As fond as she was of Patrick, she knew she didn’t love him. She’d turned down numerous proposals from men every bit as wealthy and many of them more handsome for that exact same reason. She might have liked them tremendously, but she hadn’t loved them. And she hadn’t wanted to marry for any reason except love. She’d wanted to be just like Maggie in that respect. But this time, she couldn’t turn the man away. She accepted this as her destiny. Perhaps even her punishment. To be so close to happiness but never quite able to grasp it. Rachel awakened in the wee hours of morning the day after Christmas. It was still as black as ink outside, and she knew the girls wouldn’t be awake for some time. She jumped out of bed and scurried across the room, quickly plucking some wood from the wood box and stuffing it into the black iron belly of the stove. Then she raced back to the warmth of her bed and waited for the fire to do its work in the small room. She hadn’t slept a great deal through the night, and when she had, it had been fitful. She knew she should write to Maggie and tell her of Patrick’s proposal. Maggie would want to meet the man intended to be her brother-in-law. Of course, no one could find fault with the big Irishman. He would be a kind, adoring husband, and she knew he would always be good to her. But there was an ache inside Rachel for more than kindness, more than goodness. She could see him in her mind. Hair as black as raven’s wings. Eyes like gun metal. The features of his face boldly handsome. Tall and broad of shoulder, his arms whipcord-strong, his legs long and powerful. A man capable of joyous laughter and explosive anger. A man who could drive her to tears and carry her to passion. Gavin. With a moan deep in her throat, Rachel tossed aside the heavy blankets and rose once again from her bed. She drew on a warm robe as she walked across the room to the window, pushing aside the curtains to stare across the snow-covered yard. Everything was so still. For the first time in weeks, the sky was clear. Stars twinkled against the black backdrop of night, their light reflected in the crusty blanket of snow that covered the earth. As beautiful and peaceful as nature appeared at the moment, Rachel felt a terrible longing for the relative mildness of the Boise Valley. It never snowed there for days on end, let alone weeks on end. And there were all sorts of winter activities to take part in. Not like here. Here she was alone, separated by distance and weather from everyone else in the world. If it weren’t for Patrick’s stubborn interest in her, which brought him several times each week across the miles that separated the two ranches—even in near-blizzard conditions—she doubted she would have seen another soul until the spring thaw. But if she was honest, it wasn’t being snow-bound that caused this feeling of loneliness. It wasn’t mere isolation from the town or even her family that troubled her. She glanced toward the house, understanding now that the distance between her cabin and Gavin’s home was much farther than the mere yards it was measured in. More than heavy snows stood between them. She was more isolated from Gavin than from anyone in Challis or her family in Boise. Rachel leaned her head against the window casing as her throat tightened and her eyes misted. What would Gavin think of her engagement? Would he even care? Of course not. He’d never expected her to stay longer than spring. Once he left to take the cattle back into the Stanley Basin, he wouldn’t give her another thought.

She saw a light flicker inside the children’s bedroom. It was so early. She couldn’t imagine them being awake yet, not after the activities of Christmas day. Was Petula ill perhaps? The girl had

partaken rather liberally of the candy Patrick had brought with him. Rachel turned from the window and quickly pulled on her boots over warm stockings. She didn’t take time to change, merely pulling her cloak over her robe. The serenity of the outdoor scene through the window of her cabin had been misleading. When she opened the door, she was blasted by a wall of frigid air. Crystals formed immediately on the tiny hairs inside her nostrils. Her lungs complained as she took in a frosty breath. Pulling her cloak more tightly about her, she hurried across the yard, the snow crunching beneath her footsteps. In her hurry, she strayed once from the hard-packed trail between the buildings. She broke through the crusty surface, her leg sinking in snow almost to her knee. She caught herself just in time to prevent a nasty wrenching. By the time she reached the house, the light had disappeared from the children’s room, but she had no intention of returning to her cabin without making sure everything was all right. Quietly, she opened the door and let herself in. She was midway across the spacious room when his voice stopped her.

“The girls are fine. I just looked in on them.” A sharp intake of air produced a tiny protest of surprise as she whirled around. He was standing near the fireplace, the banked coals glowing softly behind him.

“You’re up early,” he said. Her heart was pounding madly in her chest, and she pressed her hand against it, as if to keep it from breaking free.

“I saw the light in the children’s room. I thought perhaps Pet…” Gavin stepped toward her. His voice was low.

“You couldn’t sleep?” She shook her head, her breathing slowed by his nearness. She could make out the outline of his face now, the bold cut of his jaw, the sharp line of his nose, the deep set of his eyes.

“Neither could I.” She realized then that there was something changed about him. It was his voice. It sounded different. Stronger. like Gavin again.

“I was thinking about Dru.” Her knees felt weak. She turned away from him and sat quickly in the nearest chair. Silently, Gavin returned to the fireplace, hunkering down as he stoked the fire with new fuel, coaxing it back to life. Hungry flames licked at the wood, curled around it in a hot caress, then reached toward the chimney, as if in joyous celebration. The glow of the fire played over his ebony hair, still tousled by sleep. It was reflected in the steel gray of his eyes as he turned his head to meet her gaze. Unnerved by the look, she lowered her eyes to the hearth. He swiveled on the balls of his bare feet, still crouching. She realized then that he was clad only in his long johns. Her gaze jumped quickly over his knees and the lower part of his body, afraid of what she might accidently see—and even more frightened by her desire to see. The warm flannel stretched smoothly across his shoulders. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms. Finally, her gaze returned to his face. She found him still watching her, his expression enigmatic. Enigmatic, yes; but different from any look she’d seen before. There was life in the gray depths of his eyes. Perhaps even hope. There was something about the way he was looking at her. Something… A name for it eluded her even while she yearned to understand. When he rose and came toward her, she closed her eyes, concentrating on the thundering of her heart. She heard the chair creak as he settled onto the seat. She opened her eyes but kept her gaze on the floor near his feet.

“I’ve been thinking about Dru,” he repeated after a lengthy silence.

“About what she was hoping for .. for everyone.” The wanting increased. That terrible, irresistible urge to be a part of him. She was aware of her own near-nakedness beneath her robe. She had to get out. He was too close. Far too close. She could scarcely breathe, let alone think.

“I gave my word I wouldn’t leave until you’d taken the cattle back to the basin in June,” she said.

“I’ll keep my promise.”

“Maybe you could come with us.” He paused.

“The girls would miss you. Besides, they could use the schooling, even in summer and I-”

“No.” The word came out more like a croak.

“No,” she said again, stronger this time.

“I couldn’t come. I… I’ll be getting married in June.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out that way but she desperately needed her shield against the overpowering desires that flowed like hot lava through her body. She looked up at him then. His face was set like granite, unyielding and harsh.

“Who?” he demanded in a voice as hard as the look on his face. She whispered her response.

“Patrick.”

“I should have known.”

“He’s been so kind to us these past weeks. To me, especially.” Was she justifying it to Gavin or to herself?

“He’s a good man and he’ll make me happy.” It happened so quickly that she wasn’t aware of his rising, of his hands on her arms, of the way he pulled her up from the chair and against his chest. Just as suddenly his mouth was devouring hers, and she was helpless to prevent it. Unwilling to prevent it. She savored the taste of him the way a starving woman savors a succulent meal. His hands roamed over her back, then stroked up the length of her sides until his thumbs came to rest beneath the swell of her breasts. She gasped into his mouth but didn’t pull away, waiting for him to continue. She eagerly wanted more. Much more.

“Gavin,” she whispered, the sound pleading. And then he set her away from him. His tone was angry, almost hateful.

“He might make you happy, but I wonder if he’ll ever be able to make you feel like this.” Her eyes flew open in time to see him turn and stalk away.

Chapter Twenty

Patrick pulled the fur blanket over Rachel’s lap.

“Ready?” he asked. She nodded. He glanced behind them at the two girls snuggled beneath another lap robe in the back of the sleigh.

“Are the wee lasses ready?”

“Yes,” they cried in unison, both of them wreathed in excited grins.

“Good. Let’s go!” He picked up the reins and smacked them smartly against the rump of the dappled gray mare. As the sleigh slipped across the yard between house and barn, Patrick lifted his arm to wave at Gavin, who was standing near the barn door.

“He should have come with us,” he said loudly to Rachel.

But he was mightily glad that Gavin had refused the invitation. Patrick didn’t much care for the changes that had come over his friend since his wife died. Mourning was to be expected. Grief was a personal thing that had to be worked through. He hadn’t been particularly surprised by Gavin’s withdrawal from those around him, and he’d been willing to wait things out, give the man the time he needed to heal. But he’d seen something different this past week. Gavin was an angry man, his eyes cold and heartless, his words sharp, biting. And he seemed especially so with Rachel. It made Patrick want to knock some sense back into him. He glanced to his right, a warm happiness replacing his displeasure as he looked at Rachel. Her pale blond hair was hidden beneath a fur bonnet. The cold air had left splashes of pink on her cheekbones and the tip of her pert nose. Her blue eyes glittered as she squinted into the sun and wind. He couldn’t yet believe the lovely lass had consented to be his wife. He’d been in a dither ever since he’d left the Blake ranch on Christmas Day. He’d been over to see her every day this past week, and miracle of miracles, she hadn’t changed her mind on him yet. Today, New Year’s Day 1884, they were going to announce the news to his family. It had been hard to keep from telling his brothers this week, but he’d managed to keep that promise to Rachel, just as he hoped to keep all his promises to her for the rest of his life. And today he was going to show her the wedding ring—the prettiest damned ring she’d ever see. It had been in Patrick’s family for six generations and had come over from Ireland on his mother’s hand. As the oldest O’Donnell son, it was his honor to give it to his bride. He couldn’t wait for the day he’d be able to put it on Rachel’s finger. Patrick turned his attention back to the glistening white landscape before him. He didn’t want the horse leaving the beaten path and sinking into a drift. This was no day for accidents. He’d never thought he would find a girl like Rachel Harris who would consent to marry him. Not that he’d given much thought to matrimony until he’d met her. Faith and begorra! He’d thought Shane a blathering fool when he started spoonin’ over Pearl Johansen. But Rachel had changed his way of thinking fast enough. He’d seen how just a little slip of a thing could turn a man into a first-rate buffoon. Not that Patrick O’Donnell was running with blinders on. He didn’t have the fair maid’s heart-at least not completely. She’d never said she loved him. But he knew she was well enough fond of him. Most married folks were lucky to share that much between them, let alone be asking for the moon and the stars and love in the bargain. With time, she might grow to love him. He’d have to be satisfied with things as they were until then. Only he kept having this nagging feeling that all wasn’t as right as he’d want it to be. The months leading to June stretched impossibly long in his mind. They couldn’t be over too soon for his liking. Sure and if that wasn’t the truth. Rachel stared at the O’Donnell house as the sleigh sped toward it. This was the first time she’d been there since the day of Shane’s wedding, and it seemed even more impressive to her today. It sprawled against the backdrop of a tall mountain, its stone exterior a solemn gray against the pristine whiteness of winter. It resembled a castle more than the home of a cattle rancher, seeming very out of place here in the high country of Idaho. As if she’d voiced her thoughts aloud, Patrick said, “Killarney Hall.

“Tis fashioned after the O’Donnell estates in Ireland. I was born there, but my parents left while I was still a lad. My father never forgot his homeland, never stopped missing the emerald-green valleys or the cool, misty mornings-though in truth it was his own decision that brought us to America. When we settled here, he built this house, according to his memories of our old family home.”

“Where are your parents now, Patrick?”

“Buried, both of them, beneath the aspens.” He pointed up the slope of the hill.

“Three years ago now.”

“I’m sorry,” she said faintly. She cast a surreptitious glance to her left. She realized with a jolt that she knew surprisingly little about Patrick. They’d spent hours together—entire days together—but he had never talked much about himself. it’s because I’ve never asked, she thought, and was instantly ashamed. How could she have been so selfish, so callous toward a man who’d treated her with such kindness? She truly wasn’t any better than Gavin thought her. Gavin. She closed her eyes as the onslaught of feelings slammed into her. It was always the same. Ever since that morning when he’d branded her with his touch, tasted her with his lips. She couldn’t rid herself of the memories or the sensations he’d stirred. It was bad enough that those feelings raged within her when she was engaged to another man—worse still because Gavin had made it so clear what he thought of her. It was clear in his eyes when he chanced to look at her, clear in his voice when he was forced to speak to her. He detested her, despised her, hated her. And yet, to her shame, she knew she would find it impossible to resist him should he take her once again into his arms.

“Rachel? Have you heard a word I’ve said, lass?”

“What?” She looked at Patrick, startled.

“Oh, I’m ……. I was daydreaming. I didn’t hear what you said.”

“I said ‘tis time we broke the news to the O’Donnells. Are you ready?” She swallowed the rising dread.

“Yes, Patrick. I’m ready.” There was no going back now. She had to

be certain there was never any going back.

It didn’t take Patrick long to hustle Rachel and the two girls into the warmth of the cavernous entry hall. A servant, dressed in a black suit, white shirt and collar, appeared instantly to take their wraps.

“The family is waiting for you in the salon, sir.”

“Thank you, Crandal. Do you think Cook might be able to find a piece of cake or two for the wee lasses?” Sabrina’s and Petula’s eyes immediately sparked with enthusiasm.

“I think so, sir,” Crandal replied in the same obsequious tone.

“Come along, young ladies. The kitchen is this way.”

“May we, Miss Harris?” Sabrina asked. Rachel was relieved that the girls would be elsewhere when Pairick made the announcement of their marriage plans. She knew she would have to tell Sabrina and Petula eventually, but she wasn’t ready to do so yet. She didn’t know why she wanted to wait, just that she wanted to. She tenderly smoothed back Sabrina’s unruly hair.

“It will spoil your lunch, Brina.”

“It won’t hurt them this once,” Patrick chided. Sabrina’s gaze was hopeful.

“Please, Miss Harris.” She felt rather helpless against such powers of persuasion. And there’d been little enough happiness for the children lately. She supposed Patrick was right. It wouldn’t hurt them this once.

“Well, if you promise to mind your manners. You too, Pet.”

“We will,” they promised in unison. Patrick offered her the crook of his arm. ““Tis time we went inside, Rachel.” She forced a smile onto her lips.

“I’m ready,” she said, her voice tremulous. There wasn’t a one of the O’Donnell brothers that could have tipped the scales at less than two hundred pounds, or measured under six-foot-two. They all had the O’Donnell red hair, although the shades varied slightly, from Patrick’s carrot red to Trevor’s rich auburn. They had the same open, friendly faces and the same laughing eyes, Shane’s and Jamie’s the same green as their elder brother, Trevor’s a golden-flecked hazel. It was a bit daunting, walking into the brothers’ midst. They greeted her with grand enthusiasm, their voices booming and boisterous. They crowded close, paying Rachel outrageous compliments and saying it was about time Patrick brought her back to Killarney Hall. It was Pearl, Shane’s bride of a little more than six weeks, who relieved some of her apprehension.

“Get back, you big ox,” she said sternly, pushing on both Shane’s and Jamie’s shoulders at the same time.

“Can’t you see she’s about to suffocate?” She took Rachel’s arm and pulled her away from Patrick and the others.

“You can’t imagine how wonderful it will be to have an afternoon of conversation with another woman.

And don’t mind the lot of them. They can be overwhelming at times, but they’re basically harmless.” Rachel glanced over her shoulder. The brothers were all wearing satisfied grins, and she thought they’d probably already guessed at the reason for her visit.

“You must come to see us more often, Miss Harris,” Pearl continued.

“Patrick can come for you in the sleigh whenever you’d like.”

“Thank you. I ..” Patrick interrupted her.

“Come summer, you’ll be able to see Rachel whenever you want. She’s going to be living at Killarney Hall … as my wife.”

“I knew it!” Jamie shouted.

“Sure if I didn’t see it coming!” Shane slapped his older brother on the back.

“Congratulations, Paddy.” Trevor gripped Patrick by the upper arms and gave him a shake.

“We’d given up hope you’d find the courage before you were too old, brother.” Pearl gave Rachel an impetuous hug.

“I’m so glad. Patrick’s a lucky man, Miss Harris.”

“Please. It’s Rachel.” She laughed nervously. And then the brothers surrounded her. She received a bear-like hug from each of them, followed by a kiss on each cheek, as she was profusely welcomed into the O’Donnell clan. Finally, she was claimed once again by Patrick. He led her to a sofa, then sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders. As the brothers and Pearl quickly took nearby seats, he regaled them with stories of his courtship of the lovely Rachel Harris, much of it dramatically embellished. The room was filled with laughter as the minutes ticked away on the mantel clock. Rachel felt like a terrible fraud. If Patrick loved her, the whole clan would love her. That was apparently the way it was in the O’Donnell family. But she didn’t deserve it. They believed she was in love with their brother, that she was marrying him for all the right and proper reasons, that she would make him happy. She wished she did love him. It would make things so much easier. Could it happen? Could she grow to love him? Could she make him happy? She turned her head to look up at him and prayed she would be able to do so. If not, it would be one more sin, one more lump of burning coal upon her head that she would have to live with. Crandal’s imperious voice interrupted her musings.

“Cook reports that dinner is ready, sir. Shall I inform her you are adjourning to the dining hall?”

“Yes, Crandal. Do so at once.” Patrick turned a solemn look toward Rachel. ““Tis the devil to pay if the O’Donnells aren’t ready when the food is. Cook is a ferocious, unforgiving woman who rules that corner of the house with a vengeance. You’ll meet her later.” She met his sober gaze with one of her own.

“I’m not sure I want to,” she answered, half-serious, half-jesting.

The brothers burst into laughter.

“Sure you’ve got yourself a fine woman, Paddy,” Shane said, once again slapping his brother on the back.

“A regular O’Donnell,” Jamie added. Patrick beamed down at Rachel with pleasure as they all rose and left the salon.

Chapter Twenty-One

And this will be our bedroom, once you’re Mrs. Patrick O’Donnell.” Patrick shoved open the door, revealing the massive chamber with its large four-poster bed, gleaming wood floors, and cherrywood bureaus. Exotic Persian rugs were scattered around the room. Upholstered chairs sat in a cozy semi-circle before the fireplace. Heavy draperies framed

the large windows. Rachel felt a cold lump growing in her belly as she stepped into the room.

“It’s beautiful, Patrick,” she said softly.

“Not nearly as beautiful as you.” He closed the door behind him. She knew she would feel his hands on her arms any moment, that he would turn her toward him, that he intended to kiss her. There was no avoiding it this time. Except for a quick kiss on the mouth the night she’d accepted his proposal, she’d managed to forestall anything more than a few pecks on the cheek, always having the excuse that the children were nearby. And she’d managed to keep them nearby throughout his courtship. But they weren’t there now.

“Rachel.” His hands did touch her arms. He did turn her toward him. And he did intend to kiss her. She closed her eyes and waited. Patrick pulled her closer into his embrace, drawing her up as his mouth lowered. He held her tenderly, lovingly. His lips were warm upon hers. She wasn’t revolted by his kisses. That was her first thought. The second was that she didn’t feel much of anything else either. She knew then that she’d hoped to feel all those wonderful, terrible things that she’d felt when Gavin kissed her. A sudden heat spread through her at the thought of him. She longed for his kisses, craved his hands upon her body. These weren’t the right lips, weren’t the right hands. She broke away from Patrick, feeling a flush rise to her lace. Patrick’s gaze changed from restrained passion to amusement.

“There’s no need for embarrassment. We’re to be wed.”

“I… I’m just not ready for… for this.” she stammered.

“Aye, I can see I’ll have to go slowly. I forget what an innocent you are. You needn’t fear me, Rachel.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Patrick. Truly I’m not. It’s just that .. .” It’s just that you’re the wrong man.

“It’s just ..”

“You’ve no need to explain to me. You’ll get over your shyness with time. I’m a patient man. I’ll wait.” Rachel nodded as he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her toward the bedroom door. Someday, she knew, he would expect far more than kisses from her in this room. What was she going to do then? Joker rose from the rug by the fireplace and trotted toward the door. He whined, then returned to sit by Gavin’s chair, flopping his big head into his master’s lap.

“I know, boy,” Gavin said as he stroked the wolfhound’s head.

“They’ve been gone a long time. It’s almost dark.” The house was too quiet when the children were gone, he thought. And it was empty without Rachel. He squelched that thought quickly. It was the children he missed. He rose from the chair and paced across the room to the window, much as the dog had done only moments before. He rubbed a small circle on the frosty glass and peered out. He’d done a lot of thinking that day and had made some unpleasant discoveries about himself. He’d married Dru to provide her children with a home and a father once she was gone. But look at him. First he’d withdrawn from everyone, including Sabrina and Petula, so overwhelmed with guilt that he’d given no thought to anyone else. And then, when he’d realized what Dru had been trying to tell him, he’d again thought only of himself, about how wonderful it was to be rid of the guilt. Finally, when he’d been rejected by Rachel, he’d taken his anger and hurt out on the children. It was time for it all to stop. He’d known all along that Rachel Harris wasn’t cut out for the hard life of the Blakes. They weren’t rich and probably never would be. This would go on being a working ranch, with all family members needing to pitch in and help. There would be too few new gowns, too many long winters. Joker whined again, jumping up on his hind legs and resting his paws on the window sill. Gavin laid his hand on the dog’s head. He should have known the minute they met Patrick in Challis that Rachel would set her cap for him. The Irishman was as rich as King Midas. His father had made a fortune in the gold fields of Idaho, and Patrick O’Donnell had repeated the feat in Bonanza City. Now he’d settled into that castle like some kind of medieval lord, waiting to rule his kingdom. Damn! That wasn’t fair and he knew it. Patrick was a generous, good-hearted man. That he was rich and able to offer a wife a life of ease shouldn’t be held against him. But he could hold it against Rachel, for it was clear it was for money she was marrying him. It had to be or she wouldn’t come so willingly into Gavin’s arms. He cursed aloud and turned abruptly from the window, his angry voice sending Joker scurrying back to the rug by the fireplace. The worst of it was that he still wanted her. He burned with the want of her. And it infuriated him. He’d always kept a firm control over his life. Hunger, fatigue, passion. They could all be overcome with a strong will and mind.

“Hell!” He grabbed his coat from the peg by the door and shoved his arms down the sleeves. He’d started out knowing he needed to be a better father to Sabrina and Petula and here he was thinking about Rachel again. If he had two licks of sense, he’d take her to Challis and put her on the next stage to Boise. If it weren’t for Dru wanting her to stay for the sake of the girls, he would have done it, too. Damn it, he would have!

“Oh look, Miss Harris!” Petula cried from the back of the sleigh, her voice filled with excitement.

“Look at the deer!” As Rachel began to twist around, she caught a glimpse of Petula jumping up on the seat, her arm pointing off behind them. Just then, the sleigh jerked abruptly to the side, then back again. With a scream, the child bounced over the back of the sleigh.

“Patrick, stop!” He pulled back on the reins, but it seemed an eternity before the horse was brought to a full halt. Rachel shoved the lap robe to the floor of the sleigh and jumped to the ground. She stumbled in the snow, falling to her knees.

“Pet!” she cried. She scrambled to her feet and raced back along the sleigh tracks toward the whimpering child.

“My arm.

Oh, my arm.” Before Rachel could reach for the child and lift her up from the snow, Patrick’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Don’t move her yet. Let me have a look.” Sabrina arrived, her face ashen. She grabbed Rachel’s hand.

“Is she gonna be all right?” she whispered.

“She’s not gonna die, is she?”

“Oh, heavens no,” Rachel replied, giving her hand a squeeze. She dropped to her knees and hugged Sabrina.

“It’s all right, Brina. Pet’s going to be fine, you’ll see.” She understood the child’s fear. Her father was dead, and now her mother too. It wasn’t surprising that she might think an accident would take Petula from her as well. Patrick’s voice was concerned as he turned toward Rachel.

“It looks as if her arm is broken. It doesn’t look right to me.” He was frowning.

“We’re almost to the ranch. I’ll take you there, then head for town to get the doctor.” Petula’s crying increased as Patrick lifted her gingerly from the ground and carried her toward the sleigh, Rachel and Sabrina close on his heels. As soon as Rachel was seated, he passed the child into her waiting arms, then hurried around to the opposite side and got in. Moments later, they were hurtling across the frosty countryside again.

“It hurts, Miss Harris,” Petula said amidst sobs.

“I know, kitten. But it won’t for long. We’re almost home, and then we’ll get you taken care of. Hang on, sweetheart.” Despite her assurances to the child, it seemed to take forever before they dashed into the yard and stopped in front of the house. Gavin stepped through the doorway at that very moment. Perhaps it was something on their faces or the hectic way they’d arrived, but he seemed to know that something was amiss even before his gaze fell on the whimpering little girl in Rachel’s arms.

“What happened?” he demanded as he came forward.

“She fell. We think her arm is broken.”

“Pa, it hurts,” Petula cried, giant tears streaming down her cheeks. Gavin lifted her into his own embrace.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised her. Rachel jumped out right behind him, hurrying to open the door.

“I’ll be back with the doctor as quick as I can,” Patrick shouted after her. Rachel heard him, but it didn’t mean much to her at the time. She wanted only to take care of Petula. She followed Gavin into the children’s bedroom and watched as he laid Petula on the bed. He frowned as he straightened.

“We’re going to have to take your coat off, Pet. It’s going to hurt, but there’s no way around it.”

“No. It hurts too much already. No. Don’t take it off.” Gavin’s gaze met Rachel’s. She felt the same helplessness she could see in his eyes. She knew he was right, but she hated the thought of causing the child more pain. She went around to the opposite side of the bed and sat down.

“You’re going to have to help us, Pet. We must get your coat off before the doctor comes.”

“Let me wait. No, let me wait.” Rachel felt like crying too. This was her fault. If she hadn’t let the children go with her to Killarney Hall to have dinner with the O’Donnells, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Get a hold of yourself, Miss Harris,” Gavin said sternly, his voice low. She drew a quick breath, startled by his sharpness. But he was right. She couldn’t fall apart now. She had to be strong for Petula. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“We can’t wait, Pet,” Gavin told the little girl.

“It has to be done now.” Rachel clenched her jaw and leaned forward to help him.

“Children mend mighty quick from a thing like this, Mr. Blake.” Dr. Forester said as he led the way out of the bedroom.

“She’s going to be in some pain, but I think her arm will heal up fine, long as you can keep her from doing too much until it’s good and mended. You’ll have to keep her quiet until then.”

“For how long?”

“Oh, ‘bout five, six weeks, I’d say. It was a good, clean break. Should heal up quick.”

“Keep a five-year-old quiet for six weeks?” Gavin asked incredulously. He might not have much experience as a father, but he’d learned enough to know that was nearly an impossible request. Dr. Forester chuckled as he pulled on his coat.

“Do the best you can, sir.” He turned toward Rachel, standing just outside Petula’s bedroom.

“The laudanum should help her sleep for several more hours. Watch the clock and don’t give her more until I said.”

“I’ll be careful, doctor. Thank you.” The doctor turned toward Patrick.

“Well, Mr. O’Donnell, since you insisted on bringing me here, I’m afraid you’ll have to drive me back to Challis as well. But if you don’t mind, could we try a more sedate speed? I’m an old man.” Patrick nodded.

“I’ll be happy to do that for you.” He glanced past Gavin toward Rachel.

“I’ll be back in a day or two to look in on the wee lass. You take care o’ yourself, Rachel.” Gavin thought the man would have liked to say more, if the moment and place had been more private. As it was, he simply nodded again and pushed his hat over his red hair as he followed the doctor out the door. Gavin went with them and waited until they’d pulled out of the yard before going back inside. He found Rachel and Sabrina sitting in the bedroom beside Petula’s bed, Sabrina in her governess’s lap.

“Please stay in here tonight, Miss Harris,” Sabrina said as he stepped into the room.

“You can sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.” When Rachel didn’t answer immediately, she added, “Please, Miss Harris. I don’t wanna be alone. Please.”

“You won’t have to sleep on the floor, Brina,” Gavin interrupted.

“I’ll set up a cot for you.” Light blue eyes widened as they met his gaze, eyes clouded with worry.

“I’ll move your things over from the cabin. I imagine you’ll want to stay in here for a while.” Rachel nodded, then turned her eyes back toward the bed while her fingers tenderly stroked Sabrina’s hair. Wordlessly, Gavin headed for the cabin.

“Rachel, may I have a few words with you before you retire?” She lay the damp cloth across Petula’s forehead, then glanced toward the

doorway where Gavin stood.

“Of course,” she responded softly. As she straightened, she looked toward the cot near the window. Sabrina, too, was fast asleep, her mouth open and one arm thrown above her head. It had taken some doing before the older girl relaxed enough to fall asleep. Her fears that something worse would happen to Petula had increased as the night grew later, and Rachel had nearly despaired of reassuring her that everything would turn out all right. Taking a steadying breath, she returned her attention to the matter at hand. Gavin wanted to speak with her. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He was standing beside the fireplace, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers.

“Sit down, Rachel.” She was inclined to believe it was more than likely bad news that had dictated this meeting.

“I’ve been thinking about my behavior lately,” he began, “and I owe you an apology. Whatever … whatever’s been wrong between us, I’d like us to call a truce. For the sake of the children if nothing else.” She remained silent, but her heart was pounding furiously in her chest. His eyes were the color of granite, his face set like stone.

“We’ll forget what happened.” Forget? It would be impossible for her to forget, especially when she was so close to him.

“It’s already forgotten,” she said with more conviction than she felt.

“I’d like very much for us to get along while I’m here. The children need us both to help them get over the loss of their mother. It would be nice if we could get along in a civilized manner.” She should have been an actress, she thought, the way she spoke those lines. She almost believed them herself. Gavin stepped toward her, stopping within arm’s reach. His eyes searched her face. Rachel lifted her chin and met his gaze with cool control. Finally, he extended his hand toward her.

“Truce?” he asked.

“Truce.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

A blizzard blew in from the northwest during the night. Rachel wouldn’t have thought it possible for more snow to fall, but fall it did. The wind howled through the canyons and valleys, bending trees before its relentless fury. The temperature plummeted. Roads became impassable. Rachel awakened to Petula’s small voice calling for her mother as she tossed restlessly in her bed. She pulled on a robe and went to sit beside the child.

“Hush, Pet. It’s all right.” Petula opened her laudanum-glazed eyes.

“Where’s Ma?” Not knowing how to answer, Rachel gathered the girl into her arms and rocked her to and fro.

“You’ve been dreaming,” she whispered. Gavin appeared suddenly in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” He was wearing trousers over his long johns, the top of his undergarment open at the throat to reveal a light furring of dark chest hair. His hair was rumpled, his chin covered with black stubble. His feet were bare. Rachel felt slightly winded by the sight of him.

“Just a dream,” she managed to reply. Petula raised her head from Rachel’s chest.

“Pa, I hurt.”

“I bet you do.” He crossed the room to stand on the opposite side of the bed.

“That must have been some fall you took. Almost as good as the time I fell out of the barn loft and broke my nose.” He sat on the bed, and Petula slipped from Rachel’s arms into his.

“You broke your nose?” Petula asked.

“Right here.” He touched the slight bump on the bridge of his nose.

“My father held my head and shoved it back into place or else I’d have looked mighty funny now.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Something awful.”

“Mine too.” The child laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

“Mine too.” They have their father back. Rachel’s heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the wind wailing around the corners of the house. Rachel continued to stare at the man and child, drawing immense enjoyment from the simple scene. Perhaps what made it so special was that she felt a part of it too.

Realizing that Petula had fallen asleep, Gavin kissed the top of her head, then raised his eyes toward Rachel. There was nothing cool or remote about his gray eyes this morning, she thought. They seemed warm and intimate and friendly. She smiled in response and self-consciously smoothed back the disheveled mass of hair from her face.

“You look mighty pretty when you first wake up, Miss Harris,” Gavin said softly. Her heart started a mad thumping in her chest. Is this part of the truce? she wondered. And then, You look mighty handsome yourself, Mr. Blake.

“Well…” He laid Petula back on her pillow.

“Guess I’d best check on the animals.”

“You can’t go outside. There’s a blizzard raging.” She could hear the thudding of her heart in her ears now.

“You might not make it to the barn this time.” The look in his eyes told her he was remembering the last blizzard—those hours he’d held her in his arms—just as she was.

“Guess you’re right. I’d better stay inside.” Surely he could hear the crazy pounding too.

“I’ll get dressed and fix you some breakfast.” His gaze slid down over her loose hair to the opening at the front of her robe, then back again. His voice sounded husky.

“Yes. You get dressed.” He rose and was gone in an instant, closing the door behind him.

* She was a good cook, Gavin thought as he stretched back in a chair after supper that night. His belly was full after two helpings of the beef and vegetable stew. And cooking wasn’t her only skill. He’d watched her throughout the day, realizing how much she’d done for them in recent weeks. She was constantly there for the children, caring for them, teaching them, playing with them. She’d even made them each a new dress out of fabric she’d found in Dru’s old chest. And she hadn’t done too badly for a city girl used to store-bought clothes. He glanced her way. There she was, wearing another of those ridiculously fashionable outfits of hers, looking like she was ready to go calling on a society neighbor or for a walk in the park, and yet her lap was covered with socks to be darned.

At the moment, she was squinting as she tried to thread a needle. Begrudgingly, he admitted that, while she might be ambitious when it came to choosing a husband, she wasn’t averse to hard work. It was a strange mixture. And she was so beautiful too. At the moment, the firelight had turned her wheat-colored hair to a dark gold. A fringe of bangs kissed her forehead, and loose tendrils curled near her ears. She’d left her hair down today, held back from her face by tiny combs just behind her temples. He liked it that way, falling down her back in gentle waves, simple and unadorned. He felt the beginnings of desire stirring and knew he should look away, should turn his attentions elsewhere. But he didn’t do so. He wanted to look. He wanted to know the lady. He wanted to understand what it was about her that held him so spellbound. What made her different from other women? Why wasn’t he able to keep his feelings for her in perspective the way he’d always done in the past? He frowned. Perhaps it was because he thought her different. He remembered the way she’d looked into his eyes, the way she’d fallen into his arms, the way she’d returned his kisses with a passion to match his own. He’d thought her an innocent young woman, but—. Gavin’s eyes narrowed. Would an innocent respond as she had? Would a naive young lady accept the kisses of a married man? Would a virtuous woman melt in his arms while she was engaged to another man? Maybe Rachel Harris wasn’t what she appeared. Why had she come looking for a job at a “remote mountain ranch”? She couldn’t have been looking for a husband. So what was the reason? Could she be hiding from discovery of some scandalous behavior? Like a dog worrying a bone, Gavin mentally chewed on all the unsavory possibilities. And then she glanced up at him, meeting his gaze, and he knew what he was doing. He was trying to justify his own lust. He was trying to find an excuse that would allow him to cross to her chair, lift her into his arms, and carry her into his bedroom—some way to make himself blameless for his actions. She smiled. It was a sweet smile, completely unsuspecting of the carnal storm raging in Gavin. He rose quickly from his chair.

“Think I’ll go talk with Stubs. Night, Rachel.” She felt the blast of cold air through the open door as he left the house. The sewing lay idle in her lap for a long while afterward. She continued to stare at the closed door, trying to understand the strange mood that had permeated the room just before he left. A truce he had called it, but what did that mean? Were they friends or merely respected adversaries? It had felt so good, so right, having him in the house today, helping with Petula, talking with Sabrina. He hadn’t snapped at Rachel once or looked as if he despised her. He’d even complimented her on the stew and taken a second helping. She’d thought they might truly become, if not friends, then at least friendly. But she’d felt something else pass between them moments ago. There’d been something in his eyes, something dangerous, something exciting. She might be inexperienced, but she recognized the sensual brooding of his glance, knew what would happen if she allowed it to. She could deny it as much as she wanted, but it wouldn’t change things. She was in love with Gavin Blake. She was engaged to Patrick but in love with Gavin. Gavin wanted her in his bed.

Patrick wanted her for his wife. She knew what was the right thing for her to want, the right thing for her to do. But she didn’t know if she was strong enough to make the proper choice. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to walk away from her heart’s desire. Gavin tipped his chair back until it leaned against the bunkhouse wall. He sipped at the whiskey in the tin cup, his thoughts still back in the main house. Stubs finished pouring his own whiskey and sat in a chair opposite Gavin.

“Jess oughta be in tomorrow. Hope he made it to the line shack ‘fore the storm hit.”

“No reason he shouldn’t have. He knows how to read the sky as good as any cowboy I’ve ever seen.”

“I reckon you’re right.” Stubs took a quick swallow of the golden liquid.

“How’s Pet?”

“She’s going to hurt for a while, but she’s okay.”

“How ‘bout Brina? She was pretty shook up over the little one’s fall.” Gavin finished off the whiskey.

“Fine. She’s fine.”

“Good.” Stubs cocked an eyebrow, as if waiting for Gavin to say more. Instead, Gavin leaned forward, grabbed the whiskey bottle, and poured himself another drink. Stubs rubbed his grizzled chin, his expression pensive.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, “I been doin’ me a lot of thinkin’. Helps pass the time when the winters get long.” He stared at a spot on the floor and sipped his whiskey.

“Been thinkin’ that a man don’t often meet just the right girl for him. Most settle for something’ less. Sorta like you and Dru. Don’t get me wrong, Gav. Nicer woman I ain’t never known, but if she hadn’t been ailin’ and needin’ a pa for them young’ns, you two wouldn’t never tied the knot the way you did.” Gavin stared hard at his foreman and friend, not sure he cared for where Stubs’ thoughts were taking them.

“You gave that woman all the carin’ she could’ve asked for. She was lucky to have you. Yes, sir. Lucky, she was. And Dru knew it too, don’t think she didn’t.” Gavin remained silent. Stubs shook his head thoughtfully.

“All kinds of love in this world. You ever thought about it? All kinds. Kind you got for them girls in there. Kind you had for Dru. Shoot. Guess there’s even the kind you might have for an old coot of a friend like me. Yes, sir. All kinds.” Stubs got up from his chair and walked over to the window. He pushed aside the curtains Dru had made in an effort to make the bunkhouse more homey and stared outside for a long time before speaking again.

“No man oughta feel guilty for lovin’ people in different ways. Dru

knew that. She never quit lovin’ Charlie. Loved him right to the last.” He turned and this time his gaze met Gavin’s.

“She loved you too, an, she never expected or wanted nothin’ from you that you didn’t give to her. Except one thing, Gav.” He was reluctant to ask.

“What was that?”

“She wanted you to find what she and Charlie had. She wanted that real bad like.” Gavin let out a long sigh.

“I know.” He thought of Rachel, sitting near the fire back at the house.

“But sometimes the things a person wants don’t happen.”

“Sometimes,” Stubs agreed softly, then added, “and sometimes they do.” Rachel was listening for his return. She tried to tell herself she wasn’t, that it was merely the sound of the storm that claimed her attention, but she knew better. Was Gavin going to spend the night in the bunkhouse with Stubs? Perhaps some warm milk would help her fall asleep, she thought as she rose silently from her bed. She slipped into her robe and tightened the belt around her waist. A flicker of light from the sitting room fireplace faintly illuminated her path to the bedroom door. She paused long enough beside Petula’s bed to see that the child was sleeping peacefully. Satisfied, she left the room, closing the door behind her. She didn’t bother to light a lamp. The firelight was ample to find her way to the icebox. She filled a small kettle with the white liquid, then carried it to the fireplace where she hung the kettle on the chimney crane and swung it over the low-burning flames. She grabbed some wood from the wood box and added it to the fire before sitting in the nearest chair and staring into the flames, her thoughts drifting and disjointed. For some reason, she thought of Tucker. She was six years old when she first saw him. Six and very shy. She wasn’t used to being around people. Her early life with Uncle Seth had been a nightmare of shadows and shouting in that old Philadelphia house. But it had at least been familiar. Suddenly she’d been thrust out into a frightening and very unfamiliar world full of strangers. But it wasn’t so frightening when she was with Tucker. She remembered the way he had made her feel, almost from the very beginning. He’d made her laugh. She remembered the night, there on the Oregon Trail, when he’d brought back that rabbit for supper and she’d cried because she’d had a pet rabbit once. He’d told her a story about his old hound dog back in Georgia while he helped her peel the potatoes for the stew, and soon the rabbit was forgotten. If Maggie had been as much mother as sister to Rachel, then Tucker had been the father she’d never known. From the moment they met the Branigans outside Independence, Missouri, Rachel had been surrounded by love. She’d been a witness to what a grand passion meant in a marriage, for no two people had ever loved more than Maggie and Tucker. And she’d been the recipient, along with her nieces and nephews, of parental love. What would her life have been like without Tucker and the rest of the Branigans? She couldn’t imagine. Didn’t want to imagine. Rachel felt a sting of homesickness. She wished she was with Tucker and Maggie right now. She wished she could crawl up into Tucker’s lap and nestle against his chest and have him stroke her hair and tell her stories about that old hound. She wished she was a child, with no more worries than what kind of grades she would get from Miss Creswell on her schoolwork. She heard the moaning of the wind through the chimney and felt the isolation of this place more than she’d ever felt it before. She was a city girl, used to having lots of people around. Now she couldn’t even get to a small town like Challis to buy a hair ribbon or go to church. She was trapped by the winter weather, held captive by the snow. She was alone, with only Gavin and the children for company. Gavin. If she truly had Gavin, she wouldn’t even notice the seclusion. Gavin. What twist of fate had brought him into her life? If she hadn’t been feeling restless… if she hadn’t read that ad in the newspaper… if she hadn’t been so certain that life held something special for her if she’d only go out looking for it. Gavin. Was he even what he seemed? Was he the wonderful husband and father she’d thought him? After all, he’d come to her cabin and… and kissed her while his wife lay dying in the house. She should hate and despise him for it not long for him to do it again. And she did long for him to do it again. Her hands clenched in her lap. Was she so different from him? She’d accepted Patrick’s proposal, yet burned for Gavin’s touch. Should he hate and despise her any less?

“Oh, Gavin,” she whispered. The door flew open allowing entry to a flurry of snowflakes before Gavin shut it quickly, but not before the temperature of the room plummeted dramatically. Rachel shivered as she hopped to her feet, feeling exposed by her secret thoughts. Gavin looked up and found her watching him from beside the fireplace. He felt a warmth surge through him that had nothing to do with the fire on the hearth or the whiskey he’d consumed in the bunkhouse.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now,” he said as he shucked off his coat.

“I was just fixing some warm milk to help me sleep.” Warm milk. How like her. Or was it? Just who was Rachel Harris? Was she the apparent innocent who stood before him now, clothed in a prim, high-collared nightgown and warm robe? Or was she the scheming woman who came willingly to his embrace but promised herself to another man for the wealth he possessed? Perhaps without the whiskey dulling his thoughts, he could have figured it out. Gavin stepped toward the fireplace as he ran his fingers through his wet hair.

“Looks like we’re in for a long winter. Lots more snow falling tonight.” He sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose.

“Your milk’s scorched. Can’t you smell it?”

“Oh!” She reached quickly for the chimney crane, swinging the kettle out from the fireplace. Another cry—this one of pain—quickly

followed, and she pulled her fingers to her mouth. He stepped toward her.

“Did you burn yourself?” he asked, instantly concerned.

“It’s nothing.”

“Here. Let me see.” He took hold of her wrist and drew her hand from her face.

“Really. It’s nothing.” She sounded breathless. In the glow of the fire, he could see the red marks across the pads of her three middle fingers.

“I’ll get some snow to help cool it. It’ll take out the sting.”

“Really, it’s—”

“Sit down, Rachel, while I get the snow.” Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, and he thought she looked terribly fragile at the moment. He felt the pain as if it were his own. He left her, grabbing a pan from a hook in the kitchen and taking it outside to fill with snow. It wasn’t long before he was back, kneeling by her side, instructing her to bury her hand in the icy white crystals.

“It was silly of me,” Rachel said softly. He looked into her eyes and felt the warmth returning to his veins.

“You should be more careful.”

“I will be.” He reached for her free hand and turned it palm up. Where once her hands had been smooth and white, now they were calloused and red.

“You weren’t meant to work this way. You were meant to have servants caring for you.” Patrick had servants who would care for her, he thought as he met her gaze once more. What would happen if he took her in his arms and kissed her? What would happen if he loosened the belt of her robe and ran his hands over the thin fabric of her nightgown? What would happen if he were to cup her breasts in the palms of his hands and feel her heart beat against his fingertips?

“Do you love him, Rachel?” he asked hoarsely.

“Do you love Patrick O’Donnell?” Her eyes rounded as she met his gaze. She pulled her hand from the snow, bringing the fingers once more to her lips.

“Do you?” She stared at him for the longest time. Her face seemed pale, even in the golden glow of firelight.

“Tell me,” he demanded, his voice stronger this time.

“I … I’m going to marry him. How do you think I feel?”

“Tell me you love him, then.” She made no reply. Strange. He wasn’t sure if her silence made him feel better or worse. But he did know that if he didn’t move away from her soon, it wouldn’t matter to him if she loved Patrick or not. He would take the kisses—and more—that were promised to someone else. He rose from her side.

“Good night, Rachel.” Only the silence followed him into the solitude of his room. Rachel remained by the fire until it had burned down to mere embers. A numbness settled over her, stopping all thoughts, all feelings. It wasn’t until the wee hours of morning, when the cold began to creep into her joints, that she realized what her silence had cost her.

“It’s you I love, Gavin,” she whispered. It became so terribly clear to her in the cold darkness of the sitting room. She’d been right when she’d decided not to sit back and wait for that something special to happen to her. She’d been right to get out and find it. And now that she’d found it, she had to make it her own. Somehow, she had to make it her own.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“I’ll be gone for a few days.” Gavin announced as he pulled on his coat the next morning.

“Gone?” Rachel felt an alarmed chill spreading out from her heart.

“Jess was riding line when the storm hit. He might need some help. In weather like this, the cows can just bunch up and wait to freeze or starve to death. Stubs will stay and take care of things here. If you need anything, see him. Gavin, wait. I want to tell you it isn’t Patrick I love. It’s you.

“We’ll be fine.”

“I’m taking Duke and Duchess.” His hand rested on the doorknob.

“I’ll leave Joker with you. He might not seem like he’s very smart, but he’d let you know if something was amiss.” She nodded.

“My guess is the worst of the storm is past, but stay close to the house anyway. It can change in a minute. Stubs’ll take care of milking the cows in the barn and feeding the stock.”

“We’ll be fine,” she repeated, feeling just the opposite.

“I should be back by Sunday, but don’t worry about me if I’m not.” I’ll worry every moment you’re away.

“I won’t.” He wrapped a wool scarf around his neck and ears, pulled his hat down low on his forehead, and opened the door. For a fleeting moment, he glanced back at her and their eyes met and held. Then he was gone, the door closed behind him. Rachel felt the emptiness closing in all around her. Sunday seemed a decade away. She glanced around the sitting room. Perhaps this would be a good day to scrub the floors. Anything to keep herself busy. Anything. Sunshine poured in through the sitting room window, belying the frigid temperatures that reigned through the high country. Petula, feeling restless after several days abed, was seated in a chair beside the fireplace. Sabrina sat cross-legged on the rag rug near her little sister’s feet. A book was open in her lap, and she was reading aloud. It was Saturday, and Rachel was busy with the butter churn. Every so often, she glanced through the small glass window in the over-and-over to see how the cream was doing. This time when she looked, she found the little grains of butter she’d been watching for.

“Look for ‘em to be about as big as Number Six shot,” Dru had told her.

“Then you’ll know it’s time to add the water.” She opened the end of the churn, flung in some cold water, and continued churning.

“Miss Harris?” Rachel looked across the room.

“Yes, Brina.”

“Are there really places in the world where it never snows? Where it’s like summer all the time?”

“Have you ever been some place like that?”

“No. I’ve only read about them in books like you. But I’ve talked to people who’ve been to such places.”

“A place where it never snows.” With a shake of her head, she lifted the book and continued reading. Rachel listened to the story with half an ear as she carefully poured the buttermilk from the churn into a large pitcher. Sabrina stopped reading again.

“Can we have some, Miss Harris?” she asked, eyeing their favorite drink.

“Help yourself,” Rachel answered, her hands busy as she dumped a large quantity of clean, cold water in with the butter to wash it, then turned the churn and tipped the water out. While Sabrina got down the cups and poured some buttermilk into them, Rachel found herself musing over the things she’d learned since leaving Boise City. She’d certainly never known anything about churning butter, although she was vaguely aware of seeing the cook hard at it a time or two when she was growing up. She supposed Maggie knew how, for the Branigans hadn’t been wealthy when they’d arrived in the territory. But she doubted Maggie would believe her eyes if she could see her little sister now. Rachel smiled to herself as she emptied the contents of the churn onto the butter worker. It was a shallow wooden trough with a wooden fluted roller that moved up and down the trough when the handle was turned. She poured generous amounts of water over the butter as she worked it, squeezing it off with the roller, making sure the butter was washed absolutely clean.

“If it’s not,” Dru had said, “the butter will never keep.” When she was certain there was no buttermilk left in it, she salted the butter and worked it some more, then flung it in handfuls into an earthenware crock for storage. She pounded the salted mixture again, then rammed it hard with a wooden tool to drive out all the water and air so the butter wouldn’t go rancid. She let out a satisfied sigh as she surveyed her accomplishment. She’d done it. Without anyone’s help or instructions, she’d done it. She’d remembered everything Dru had told her. Perhaps it was silly to feel so proud of herself. Women had been churning cream into butter for centuries. But this was her achievement, and she was proud. As she finished cleaning up, there was a knock on the door.

“See who it is, Brina,” she said, but she already knew it would be Patrick. Bad weather had kept him away for four days. The sunshine had guaranteed he would soon arrive.

“Ah, lass, ‘tis good to see you.” he said to Sabrina as she opened the door. His big form filled the doorway. He pulled off his hat with one hand, his other held suspiciously behind his back. His gaze flicked to Rachel, then to Petula as he stepped inside and closed the door.

“And how’s the wee lass? Are you feeling better, Pet?”

“Miss Harris let me get out of bed today.”

“Then you’ve been mindin’ the doctor an’ stayin’ out o’ mischief?” Petula frowned.

“There’s nothin’ to do.”

“Well, then, you might take a likin’ to a new friend to play with.” As he spoke, he brought his arm around from behind his back, producing two porcelain-faced dolls. ” your sister might like one too.”

“Thank you, Mr. O’Donnell,” Sabrina said, wide-eyed, as she took the dolls reverently from his hand and carried them over to Petula’s chair. Patrick’s eyes now returned to Rachel.

“Faith and begorrah,” he said softly. ““Tis good to see you, my lovely.”

“Hello, Patrick.” She swept her hair away from her face with the back of her hand.

“You’ve been hard at work, I see.”

“Just putting up some butter. We were nearly out.” He walked across the room.

“Best time is in summer when the grass is lush and green.

“Tis hard to get much milk from a cow this time of year.”

“We weren’t here then.” She was surprised by how defensive she felt.

“But look at you, lass.” His green eyes moved slowly down the length of her rose-colored cashmere gown, then up again.

“You look like you should be sittin’ in a garden filled with spring flowers, rather than churnin’ butter.” He took hold of her hand and raised it to his lips.

“Once we’re married, you’ll not have to do such things again.”

“Married?” Rachel spun toward the startled sound of Sabrina’s voice. How had she let this happen? The day Patrick had announced their engagement to his family, she had asked that they not speak of it in front of the children. She’d wanted to tell them herself, in private. A sixth sense had warned her that they wouldn’t welcome the news. It would mean another departure from their lives. If it hadn’t been for Petula’s accident, she would have told them by this time. At least, she believed she would have. But it hadn’t seemed so important after the child was hurt, and she hadn’t seen Patrick since then, and… She stepped away from Patrick, moving slowly toward the children. She pulled a chair over next to Petula and sat down, her hands folded in her lap.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I .. . I wanted to keep it a secret a little longer. We’re not going to get married for quite some time. I’m going to be staying right here with you.” Sabrina’s tone had changed to anger.

“Does Pa know?”

“Yes, Brina. He knows.”

“And he’s going to let you? He’s going to let you leave us?” With a betrayed cry, she ran into the bedroom and slammed the door. Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at her hands as she fought the tears that welled up.

“Miss Harris?”

“What is it, Pet?”

“You won’t really go away. You’re gonna stay with us, aren’t you?”

“Pet, I ..”

“Don’t you love us?”

“Oh, Pet.. .” She slipped from the chair, kneeling on the floor as she placed her arms around the child and hugged her.

“I love you very much. You’ll never know how much. And I won’t be far away at all. You know how quickly we can get to Mr. O’Donnell’s house in the sleigh.” Petula sniffed.

“Will you… will you go with us to the basin when we go? Ma always… always liked it there best.” She just couldn’t say she wouldn’t be going with them, not when that was what she wanted more than anything else.

“Spring’s so far away,” she whispered so only the child could hear.

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” Petula sniffed again.

“Now, why don’t you go see if Brina’s okay. Tell her I didn’t mean to hurt her by keeping it a secret. I just .. . I just didn’t think.”

Petula slid from her chair and started to walk away, then turned suddenly back and gave Rachel a hug with her good arm.

“I don’t want you to go either, Miss Harris.” Then she ran for the bedroom as her sister had done moments before. Rachel drew a deep breath as she rose to her feet.

“Seems I made a mess of things,” she said as she turned toward Patrick. There was a perplexed expression on his face. His eyes watched her intently.

“You should have told them.”

“I know.” She sighed, feeling drained of energy. He came toward her.

“Why didn’t you, lass?” She shrugged.

“After Pet was hurt…”

“But you did tell Gavin?” Something about his tone of voice surprised her. There was a hard edge to it. She’d never heard Patrick sound that way before, especially not with her. He always seemed so bright and jovial. Even with his immense size, he’d never seemed threatening. Yet, there was something about him now that sent a thrill of alarm up the length of her spine. His hands closed around her arms and he drew her toward him.

“I love you, Rachel Harris, and there’s no mistakin’ that I do. It’s proud I am that you’ve consented to be my wife. I’d have everyone in the territory knowin’ it too.” With quiet resignation, she accepted his kiss, while inside a storm of despair began to brew.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Gavin hadn’t seen Jess, but he’d seen signs of him. Enough to let him know the young cowboy was okay. By the looks of the tracks he’d found south of here three days ago, Jess had rounded up a good portion of the herd and was heading them toward the hillsides where the wind had blown snow off the grass. Gavin knew he should probably be headed back to the house—he’d already been gone a couple more days than he said he would be—but he just wasn’t ready yet. He needed this time alone to mull things over, sort things out. He kept feeling that he was right on the verge of some important discovery, but it always seemed to slip away before he could grab hold and see what it was. He turned Scamp’s head and rode toward the line shack. He and Charlie and the men had put up four such shelters after settling in this river valley. In comparison with the mammoth ranches he’d seen in Wyoming and Montana, the Lucky Strike wasn’t large, but it still covered more acres than could be effectively managed from the ranch compound. The cowboys used the line shacks for temporary shelter while trying to keep the cattle from starving and freezing to death in the winter or from wandering away during the rest of the year. This line shack was at the north end of the Lucky Strike range, far from the main ranch house, far from just about anything but the wind and the snow and the trees. He supposed he’d chosen it for its remoteness. He heard the barking of the wolfhounds from some distance away. He knew the animals well enough to recognize that they were at play rather than sounding an alarm. If they’d found the carcass of a cow or sniffed out a predator, it would have been a different cry he heard. He let out a sharp whistle. Before long, he saw the two dogs barreling across the white terrain.

“You two hungry?” he shouted at them as they bounded through the snowdrifts and yipped in delight. He dismounted in front of the shack and, after unsaddling Scamp, turned the horse into the corral. Then he entered the building, the two dogs dashing inside before him. This particular line shack was built up against a mountain, the backside of it dug into the south slope. The back wall and part of each of the two side walls were formed by earth. The remainder was made of logs chinked with mud. Inside there was a cot, a table, and one chair, plus a small stove for cooking and heating. Gavin didn’t bother to remove his coat right away. It would be a while before the fire took the chill off the room. It never would be warm, no matter how hot the fire, but it was better than outdoors and for that he could be thankful. He was stirring up his supper in a pan when she popped into his thoughts. He wasn’t surprised by it. It happened all the time. It seemed there wasn’t any escape from Rachel. Where she couldn’t be, her memory was. He sat down in the chair.

“Wish I could figure her out.” Duke’s tail thumped against the dirt floor. Gavin raked the fingers of his left hand through the hound’s shaggy hair.

“I couldn’t ever give her what she wants.” Duchess whimpered and lifted her head to look at him.

“Hell, it doesn’t matter anyway. She’s made her choice.” Patrick was at the Lucky Strike when Stubs announced that he thought he’d better check on Gavin and Jess. They’d seen neither hide nor hair of the two, and Gavin was several days later returning than he’d said he would be.

“Nothin’ to worry ‘bout,” Stubs told Rachel.

“Just like to keep track of where everybody is this time of year. I’ll be back by nightfall, so you needn’t worry about that.”

“Sure but I think I’ll go with you, Stubs, if you wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Glad t’have you. I’ll saddle you up a horse.” It was Patrick’s voluntary offer that caused Rachel the most alarm. Gavin had told her not to worry if he didn’t return by Sunday. It hadn’t been easy, but for the most part, she’d been able to follow his directive. She’d kept herself occupied with baking and cleaning when not busy teaching the children or entertaining Patrick, who came over daily in his sleigh.

“Patrick,” she said softly so the children wouldn’t hear, “do you think something’s wrong?”

“No, lass. I feel more a need to get out from under your feet while you teach the wee ones here. You’ve been patient with me. It will do me good to sit a horse for an afternoon. I’m getting’ soft in that sleigh.” Rachel wasn’t convinced. Stubs wouldn’t go out looking for Gavin if he didn’t think something could be wrong. And Patrick wouldn’t volunteer to accompany Stubs if he didn’t think so too. She absently turned her cheek for Patrick’s kiss, then followed him to the door where she stood, shivering from the cold, and watched the two men

ride away . As she closed the door, she inhaled deeply, reminding herself she couldn’t go falling to pieces in front of the girls. They would sense her anxiety and make themselves sick with worry. It had taken several days to smooth things over after they learned of her engagement to Patrick.

She didn’t need them upset again.

“Well,” she said as she turned around, “it’s time for our math lessons. Brina, get the slates, please.” It made no sense at all, but she felt that Gavin’s absence was her fault. He’d wanted to get away from her. That was why he’d left. Not because he wanted to check on Jess but because he wanted to avoid her. So what did that mean? Did it mean he might care for her after all?

“Miss Harris?” Then louder.

“Miss Harris?” She shook her head, as if to clear it of confusion.

“What lesson, Miss Harris?” Sabrina asked. She picked up the book.

“Let me see. Where did we leave off yesterday?” Later she would give it some more thought. It was around two in the afternoon when Jess Chamberlain rode into the yard. After several weeks out on the line, he looked ragged and weary. Confronted in the barn by an anxious Rachel, he was unable to offer any information regarding Gavin’s whereabouts.

“Didn’t see him when I come up from the south range. Come past all three of the line shacks that’re down that way. Reckon he might be up at Lone Pine Gulch. Gotta line shack up there. Though why he’d take himself up that away, I can’t say. Most of the cows winter south of here.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chamberlain.” She started out of the barn, then stopped and glanced over her shoulder.

“Just where is Lone Pine Gulch?” Jess walked over to the barn door and pointed.

“See that double hump of mountains there? The gulch runs right up between them.”

“It looks a long way off.”

“Not bad. You can get there in a little more’n a half hour with good weather and a fast horse.”

“I see,” she replied thoughtfully, then added, “When you’re through here, come on up to the house. I need your help with something.”

“I’ll be there, Miss Harris.” Her mind was made up before she really knew what she was doing. She hurried into the bedroom she shared with the children and dug out a warm pair of woolen under drawers She shed her light day dress for a black cashmere and moire walking dress, pulling on the under drawers beneath it. She grabbed her fur bonnet but left her muff. She would need gloves to drive the sleigh. She was dressed and ready when Jess knocked on the door.

“Come in, Mr. Chamberlain. I’d like you to stay here in the house until I return.”

“Return? Ma’am—” She slipped into her fur-lined cloak.

“You needn’t worry. The children won’t cause you any trouble. Just keep Pet from doing too much. There’s a hot stew on the stove if they should get hungry. Help yourself. You must be starved.” She pulled on her gloves.

“But, Miss Harris, where are you—”

“If Mr. O’Donnell comes for his sleigh before I return, tell him not to worry. I’ll bring it back without a scratch on it. I’m perfectly capable of handling a horse and buggy and shouldn’t find a sleigh any more difficult.”

“Miss Harris—” She closed the door before he could argue with her. She didn’t have time to waste. She had neither good weather nor a fast horse, and she didn’t know how long it would take her to reach the line shack at Lone Pine Gulch. He thought about his childhood as he lay back on the cot. There hadn’t been much to that farm in Ohio—a few hard scrabble acres, a pigsty, a broken-down team of mules, and a three-room house complete with field mice. His father hadn’t ever had much success at farming. Never had much success at anything, Gavin supposed. But Timothy Blake had loved his wife. Gavin had grown up hearing stories of how he’d seen her when visiting cousins in Pittsburgh and how he’d wooed her and brought her to his farm in Ohio. Gavin was born nine months after the wedding day. His father had always said that his biggest heartache was that Christina was warned by the doctor not to ever have any more children. Gavin would be their only child. Hell, Gavin knew the truth about his mother. She just hadn’t wanted to have any more children by a poor dirt farmer. She’d set her sights elsewhere, and Gavin’s father had been too blinded by love to see it. Gavin sat up on the cot and leaned his head in his hands. Lord, he didn’t want to think about this. It made his gut twist with anger. Anger at his father’s blind foolishness. Anger at his mother’s treachery. As if to further torture him, Rachel’s image reappeared. From almost the first moment he’d seen her, he’d thought she was like his mother. Both of them were blondes. But Rachel’s hair was paler, like a field of wheat. Both of them had eyes of blue. But Rachel’s were lighter, like the blue of a robin’s egg. Both of them. He stopped himself. Was Rachel really anything like his mother? Was she really out to snare a wealthy husband, no matter who it was? He ran his hand over his hair, cursing beneath his breath. He didn’t know. Damn it, he just didn’t know what was what anymore. Duke jumped suddenly to his feet and ambled toward the door. He cocked his square head to one side, then to the other. Finally, he growled low in his throat.

“What is it, boy?” Gavin reached automatically for his rifle as he rose from the cot. Duchess joined her mate by the door, her head low, her ears alert.

“Get back,” Gavin ordered as his hand closed around the latch. The last thing in the world he expected to see when he pulled open the door was Rachel Harris driving up to the shack in O’Donnell’s sleigh—alone.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Her heart was racing as he walked toward her, rifle hanging at his side.

“What are you doing here? Is something wrong with the girls?”

“No. I..” Rachel paused, unable to come up with a reply that made sense at the moment. Gavin continued to watch her with dark, stormy eyes.

“We were concerned when you didn’t return,” she finally answered

“Where’s Stubs?” His gaze shifted to the stretch of land behind her. She shivered inside her cloak.

“I think he went down to check the south range.”

“You came up this way alone?” Now there was real anger in his voice. She nodded.

His eyes returned to her. His black brows were drawn together in a scowl, his mouth a thin line of disapproval.

“Get down,” he said at last.

“We’d better get you inside and warm you up.” She tried to say thank you, but the words caught in her throat. She allowed him to take her arm and help her from the sleigh. He didn’t release her immediately. Instead, he steered her forcefully toward the dismal little shack set against the hillside, its roof buried under a thick layer of snow. If she’d thought the exterior dismal, the inside was even more so. There were no windows in the walls of the cabin. A lantern sat on the table, shedding what light it could. The room smelled damp and heavily of wood smoke.

“Here.” Gavin pulled the spindly-looking chair from the table and set it right next to the stove.

“Sit there.” She did as she was told, glad to be off her feet. She seemed to be shaking uncontrollably now. She set her jaw so her teeth wouldn’t chatter and hugged her arms tightly around her chest. Gavin leaned his rifle against the wall near the door before sitting on the cot.

“Are you sure the girls are okay?”

“They’re fine. Jess is with them.”

“He let you come out here in that contraption? Damn it, I’ll-” She spoke in a rush.

“It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have stopped me. I.. I had to talk to you. Gavin’s frown eased a bit, although he didn’t look any more welcoming of her company. Now that she was here, she could see that it had been reckless for her to come alone. Perhaps it had been foolish for her to have come at all. At the moment, she was hard pressed to remember what she’d thought she would say if she found him. That had been her worst fear, of course. That she wouldn’t find him. Or that she would find him injured—or worse. Now that he was here before her, looking strong and handsome and angry, it was easy to guess what he would think of her escapade. Rachel glanced toward the stove.

“Is there any coffee in that pot?”

“Yes.” He crossed the room and reached for a tin cup set on a shelf above the stove. With a towel, he picked up the coffeepot and poured the dark brew into the cup.

“Thank you,” she whispered as he handed it to her. He returned to the cot and sat down again, continuing to watch her as silence filled the room. She looked down at the cup in her hands, then took several sips, choking down the bitter brew. It tasted as if it had been on the stove for several days, but it was hot. And she felt a strong need for something hot to fortify her. She looked as pretty as he’d ever seen her. The black fur hat covered her hair and the tips of her tiny ears. Her cheeks, nose, and chin were as red as apples in autumn. Her blue eyes were positively dazzling, like a piece of clear winter sky. As foolish as it was for her to have come alone, he couldn’t deny that he was glad she had come. Just sitting there, she brightened the lonely little shack. As he watched her sipping her coffee, his anger began to fade. She always did that to him, he realized. She had a way of making him unreasonably angry and then making him forget why he’d been angry as the desire to hold her replaced it. That’s what was happening to him now. He wanted to take her in his arms and warm her with his embrace. He wanted to let his kisses change the bright glitter of her eyes to a sultry gaze. He wanted his breath against her cheeks to make her forget the icy weather outdoors. He wanted to pull that fetching fur bonnet from her head and let her hair cascade over her dark coat. And then he wanted to remove that coat and everything beneath it and feast his eyes upon her. Rachel’s eyes widened a fraction as she looked at him. Her mouth parted, as if to release a sigh, although he heard none. It took almost more strength than he possessed to pull his thoughts back to safety.

“Now, tell me what you’re doing here.”

“We were concerned when you didn’t return on Sunday.”

“I told you not to worry if I didn’t get back then.”

“I know, but…” She set the cup on the table.

“Well, I thought…” Her gaze dropped to her lap.

“What was it you thought, Rachel?”

“I was afraid.. . I was afraid I was the reason you were staying away. The girls need you. If I’m the reason you’re staying away from them, I’ll leave.” Her words came faster as she spoke.

“I know you never wanted Dru to hire me as the children’s governess. I’d hoped… Well, I’ll understand if you’d prefer that I go.” Her voice faded. Gavin rose slowly from the cot. Three strides was all it took to carry him to her. He reached down, taking her gloved hands into his, and pulled her to her feet. He knew there was some reason he shouldn’t take her in his arms, but at the moment, he was damned if he could remember what it was. He kissed her, lightly at first. She tasted fresh and sweet—and just a little like coffee. He felt the captured-bird pulse beat in her throat as his hands cradled her face. The kiss changed, deepened, set fire to his blood. He removed her hat, just as he’d imagined doing. He freed her hair from its twist and ran his fingers through it as it tumbled free, over her shoulders and down her back. His hands followed the hair, drifting over her coat until he found the small of her back. He drew her closer, but not close enough to satisfy the building fury. She didn’t protest. Her arms remained at her sides, neither pulling him closer nor pushing him away. Encouraged, he moved his right hand to the clasps of her cloak. Slowly, carefully, he released each one, then pushed the heavy garment from her shoulders, allowing it to drop to the floor around her feet. Once again, he drew her body close against his. How perfectly she fit

in his arms. She seemed to belong there, seemed to have been made for him. But he wanted to feel her without all the trappings between them. He wanted to run his hands over her fair skin. He wanted to look at her breasts. He wanted… He broke the kiss, resting his cheek against her head near her ear. Rachel, he mouthed, but no sound came out.

“When you kiss me,” she whispered, “when you touch me… I can’t think. I can’t remember…” She ended with a sigh. His lips brushed her hair.

“Can’t remember what?” Her voice seemed small and far away.

“When I’m near you, I can’t remember why I must marry Patrick. Gavin, I…” He could have put his hands around her throat and squeezed the life from her. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead, he claimed her mouth in another kiss, punishing her the only way he knew how for her cruelty. That she should be here in his arms, returning his kisses, and still speak of Patrick. He should hate her. Damn it! He would hate her. If his mouth hadn’t covered hers, she would have told him she loved him. She would have told him she couldn’t marry Patrick after all. She would have told him she would die without him.

But he was kissing her again with renewed fury, and she couldn’t break away. She would tell him later. For now, she would enjoy the feel of his lips against hers. The sudden cry of the dogs broke them apart. Gavin shoved her aside and grabbed his rifle.

“Stay put,” he ordered as he eased open the door. Rachel could scarcely breathe. Whether from sudden fear or from his kisses, she wasn’t sure. Gavin let the door swing wide.

“You’d better fix your hair and straighten your clothes, Rachel. Your fiance and Stubs are here.” Then he stepped outside, closing the door behind him. She stood riveted to the floor, feeling a coldness seeping through her. She’d thought… She forced her hands to move, twisting her hair back in place. She leaned down and retrieved her hat, then pulled it over her hair. She could hear voices outside as she picked up her cloak and slipped into it. He would know. Patrick would know just by looking at her. She felt feverish. Her lips were swollen. Her skin tingled. Her knees felt weak. Surely he would look at her and know what had been happening just before he arrived. What had been happening? she wondered as she fastened the top clasp of her cloak. Would she have allowed more than his kisses? She steadied herself with a hand on the table as the answer came to her. Yes! Yes, she would have allowed more. She’d wanted more. She’d wanted him to teach her everything about the intimacies between a man and a woman. God forgive her, she’d wanted it all, and Gavin despised her because of it. She drew a deep breath and stepped toward the cabin door, pulling it open with more courage than she felt. It wasn’t just the loathing she’d heard in Gavin’s voice that made her reluctant to go out. She knew she was in for a scolding from Stubs. And Patrick? She wasn’t sure what Patrick would say or do. The moment he saw her, Patrick skirted around Gavin and strode quickly toward the door. In an instant, he had her in his arms, lifting her feet off the ground.

“Sure but you scared the living daylights out o’ me, lass.

“Tis a fool thing you did.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t think. I .. .”

“I’ll not be havin’ my wife doin’ such things. You may as well make up your mind to it now, my lovely.”

“Patrick…” His kiss silenced her. It wasn’t until he released her and she turned to meet Gavin’s gaze that she knew what a devastating kiss it had been.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Stubs? May I talk to you?” He set the horse’s hoof down and peered up at Rachel from beneath the wide brim of his hat.

“What’s on your mind, Miss Harris?” She glanced over her shoulder toward the house, then closed the barn door. As she walked toward the grizzled cowhand, he leaned against the stall gate and pushed his battered hat back on his head. She stopped, made all the more nervous by the way he was watching her, as if he already knew why she was there.

“Stubs, I.. . I’m not quite sure how to start,” she said when she reached the stall.

“Beginnin’s always a good place.”

“Yes.” She inhaled deeply, then let the air out slowly.

“I… I want to ask you about Gavin.” An eyebrow lifted.

“What about him?”

This was harder than she’d thought it would be.

“I … I’m not sure. Dru told me to ask you. She told me to have you tell me everything about Gavin, about the things she never knew.” Now he was frowning.

“What for?”

“I don’t know. It… just seemed important to her.” Stubs pulled open the gate and stepped out of the stall, then turned and slipped the rope noose over the corner post to fasten the gate closed.

“What about you, Rachel?” he asked as he turned around.

“Is it important to you?” She wished she could say no. Her life would be so much simpler if it wasn’t important, if he wasn’t important.

“Yes,” she answered in a small voice, her gaze dropping to the straw-covered floor. The silence seemed interminable. Rachel didn’t dare look at the cowboy. She was afraid he’d guessed too much already.

“Let’s go up to the bunkhouse. It’s warmer there, an’ we won’t be bothered by anybody. Jess went into town. Probably won’t be back ‘til tomorrow some time.” He took hold of her elbow and steered her out of the barn. A cold wind whipped at her skirts as she walked beside Stubs across the yard, sending a chill up her spine and along her arms. She was afraid to glance toward the house, afraid she would see Gavin watching what she was doing. He would be furious if he knew she was asking his old friend about him, about his past. While she took a seat on the bench near the table in the center of the bunkhouse, Stubs stoked the fire in the pot-bellied stove.

“Coffee?” he asked without turning around.

“No, thank you.”

“Think I’ll have me some.” Rachel twisted her hands in her lap as she waited. Her insides felt as tight as a bowstring. She’d been that way

ever since Patrick released her from his embrace yesterday and she’d looked into Gavin’s eyes. He despised her. Minutes before, he’d been making love to her, and then he’d despised her. Why did it always turn out that way? Stubs turned from the stove, cup in hand.

“I wasn’t more’n fifteen when I went to work for the Blakes back in Ohio. My folks had died, and I didn’t have a place of my own. Guess I wasn’t much better at farmin’ than Timothy Blake was, but I was mighty willin’ to try. Gavin’s pa, Timothy… well, he was one nice fella. Lousy farmer. Never did have two nickels to rub together, didn’t seem like.” He walked across the room and sat down on a bench opposite Rachel.

“Gavin was about three when I first started livin’ there. Cutest little tyke you ever saw.” He shook his head slowly, his eyes looking back through time.

“Lord, what a beauty she was. Her husband worshipped the ground she walked on, an’ that ain’t no exaggeration. Early on, I think she’d tried to make that place into a home, but I never seen it. She hated that farm. Hated being’ poor. Never did a lick of work around the place. Timothy waited on her hand an’ foot. Treated her like she was a queen.”

Stubs pierced her with a sharp gaze.

“You look a bit like her. Don’t suppose Gavin ever told you that. She had blond hair and blue eyes and a figure…. Course, you really don’t look nothin’ like her once a fella gets t’lookin’. Your hair’s lighter and your eyes are different, but for just a moment, I could see. Maybe it’s ‘cause she could turn a man’s head, just like you.”

“But I don’t ..”

“There’s the difference. You don’t seem to know you’re turnin’ men’s heads. Christina knew, and she used it. She wanted to be rich, and she wasn’t ever gonna get there as a farmer’s wife.

“Spect she knew all along just how she was gonna get rich. Didn’t matter to her that she had a husband and a little boy.” Rachel felt a pain in her heart. She wished she could tell him to stop, not to tell her anything more. She had an awful feeling that she hadn’t heard the worst of it.

“I don’t know for sure. Gavin never talked about it later. But I think he found his ma and Mr. Hannah together while his pa was away. Guess there wasn’t any reason for her to sneak around and pretend after that. She left the farm in Mr. Hannah’s company, bold as you please. Just up and walked off and left her husband and son and went to live in that big house in town. I suppose Gavin was about ten, maybe twelve years old at the time. She never saw her boy agin ‘til after his pa died. Why would she? She’d married herself the rich Mr. Hannah. She didn’t have no use for the boy.”

“Poor Gavin,” she whispered.

“Gavin watched his pa drink himself t’death. Place ‘bout fell down around their ears. I took me a job elsewhere ‘cause there wasn’t anythin’ more I could do. I’d moved West by the time Timothy died.” The room was silent for a long time while Rachel imagined what it must have been like for Gavin and his father.

“Christina kinda soured Gavin on women, least as far as formin’ any kind of lastin’ attachment goes. I guess he always figured he’d come home one day an’ find the woman in bed with another man.” She felt herself blushing. Was that what Stubs had meant about Gavin finding his mother together with another man?

“But… but she was a married woman,” she protested, not wanting to believe it.

“Promises didn’t mean nothin’ to Christina Blake. She was beautiful an’ selfish an’ was lookin’ out for herself. She found herself a rich man an’ she was gonna have him. Funny thing was, I doubt she ever loved old Mr. Hannah. I guess if she ever loved anybody besides herself, she loved Timothy. But not enough to stay poor an’ keep livin’ on that farm.” Stubs shook his head.

“Easy to understand why the boy would decide not ever t’marry after havin’ such a ma.”

“But he married Dru.” Stubs smiled.

“That was different. Charlie’d been Gavin’s friend. Closest thing he could ever have for a brother. After he died, it just fell to Gavin to look out for the family.

“Spect that would’ve been good enough if Dru hadn’t got the cancer. When she knew she was dyin’, she asked Gavin t’marry her so her girls would have a pa when she was gone. She didn’t want ‘em to be orphans.”

“But he loved her. I could see it.”

“We all loved her. Couldn’t help but love her. You know that. You loved her too.” Rachel agreed with a nod and a wistful smile.

“But she an’ Gavin didn’t have the kind of marriage most folks think about. She was his friend more than his wife. She wanted Gavin t’learn t’trust his heart. She wanted him to find a woman an’ fall in love an’ have a family, just like her and Charlie. That’s what Dru wanted.” Rachel swallowed a lump in her throat, then whispered, “She told me he wasn’t meant to marry her, that he had a lot to learn about love.”

“I might be a fool,” Stubs said as he leaned forward, his voice low, “but I ‘spect she was hopin’ he’d learn about it from you.”

“Dru wanted us…” She let her voice fade away. Of course. It seemed so clear now. While she and Gavin had been feeling guilty about their feelings, Dru had been trying to throw them together. Suddenly the rest of the pieces began to fall into place as well. Despite her love for Gavin, Rachel had accepted the proposal of a wealthy man. Yesterday, she had gone into Gavin’s arms, returning his kisses with as much fervor as his were given. She would have done even more if they hadn’t been interrupted. Lord only knew how far she might have gone. She put her hands up over her face as shame washed over her. She would have allowed him to do anything, everything. She’d wanted it. And then, when Patrick came, she’d found herself in his arms instead. No wonder Gavin despised her. He’d always feared she would be like his mother, and not just because of the physical resemblance. He was afraid she was spoiled and not cut out for the hard life he’d chosen

here in the back country. He’d been afraid she would leave him for a wealthy man, even if she loved him. Well, she’d done all those things, hadn’t she? She’d proven him right. Except he wasn’t right. She wasn’t spoiled or too pampered for the life he’d chosen. She was willing to work hard. As hard as it took to make the ranch grow and prosper. She didn’t need money and a house in town. And she wasn’t going to marry Patrick O’Donnell. Whether or not she could ever convince Gavin that she loved him, she wasn’t going to marry Patrick.

“Thank you for telling me everything.” She rose from the bench and started toward the door.

“What’re you gonna do now, Rachel?” She didn’t look back at him.

“Try to fix things if I can, Stubs. Try to fix things.”

“Gavin?” He stopped, his hand already on the door. They hadn’t spoken in three days, not since they’d returned from lone Pine Gulch. Of course, he’d heard her voice whenever she spoke to the children, but he hadn’t heard her speak his name. He turned.

“What is it?” He steeled himself against looking at her. Whenever he did, he felt the pain of loss. Not for things he’d once had, but for things he might have had if things were different.

“I want to ride over to Killarney Hall today. I need… I need to talk to Patrick.” His jaw tightened.

“You don’t need my permission to see him.”

“Then I may take one of the horses?” He turned back toward the door.

“No, but I’ll have Stubs hook up the team to the sled. It’s not fancy, but it’ll get you there.” Her soft “thank you” followed him out the door. Gavin didn’t like being confused, but it seemed that confusion had been his constant companion since he first met Rachel Harris. Before that, his life had been carefully arranged. He had his few friends. He had his ranch. With the exception of Dru’s illness, he’d been able to control the events of his life. He’d even been able to control his emotions. Until Rachel. He didn’t know what he felt anymore. He wanted her. He hated her. He needed her. His hand closed around the latch on the barn door, and he jerked it open with fury. Hell, no! He didn’t need her. He wouldn’t need her. Gavin Blake wasn’t the sort of man to ever need a woman.

He’d been right about women and love and marriage all along. Shoot, if Charlie hadn’t died and left a sick widow and two children, Gavin wouldn’t have ever married. Not even Dru, no matter how much he liked and admired her.

“Stubs!” he shouted. The barn was empty. He spun on his heel and marched toward the bunkhouse. He never should have let Dru hire Rachel. The blasted female was driving him crazy. He didn’t know what he wanted, what he felt anymore. Damn, maybe he should just tell Rachel to forget her promise to Dru to stay until spring. Maybe she should just marry Patrick now and get out.

“Stubs!” He rapped once and opened the door. His grizzled friend was leaning back in a chair, whittling a piece of wood. He raised a curious eyebrow at Gavin but remained silent.

“Hook up Patch and Checker to the sled and take Rachel over to the O’Donnell place.” He stormed out, making a beeline for the barn, without giving Stubs a chance to respond. Before Stubs ever got to the barn, he’d saddled Scamp and was headed out for a quick look at the herd and more solitude. But it was impossible to escape his troubled heart. She felt Stubs’ disapproving gaze but didn’t offer any explanation. She had to talk to Patrick before she could try to set anything else right.

And if that meant she had to endure Stubs’ unspoken condemnation, then that was what she would do. The Blake sled was nothing more than a wagon box set on crude runners, and the two big workhorses didn’t exactly glide over the snowy terrain. The journey was long, tense, and silent. Despite Rachel’s anxiety over the anticipated confrontation with Patrick, she was relieved to crest the hill and see Killarney Hall come into view. Once they’d stopped in front of the house, Rachel didn’t wait for Stubs to help her from the wagon seat. She scrambled to the ground, then turned to look at him.

“You needn’t wait, Stubs. I … I don’t know how long I’ll be. I’m sure Mr. O’Donnell will see that I get home.” Home. Home to the Lucky Strike. Home to Sabrina and Petula and Gavin. Home. But it couldn’t be her home until she talked to Patrick. Maybe it couldn’t ever be her home, but she had to try. She turned, squaring her shoulders, and climbed the steps to the veranda. Insides aquiver, she knocked on the door. Patrick knew what was going to happen the next time he saw Rachel. He’d known it the day they’d found Rachel and Gavin at the line shack. That was why he hadn’t hooked up the sleigh and driven over to the Lucky Strike today or yesterday or the day before that. He wanted to postpone the inevitable as long as possible.

Perhaps, with a little more time, he could change fate.

“Mr. O’Donnell?” He looked up from the papers strewn across his desk.

“What is it, Crandal?”

“Miss Harris is here, sir. I’ve shown her into the solarium.” He couldn’t stop the chain of events simply by staying at home. She’d come to him.

“Thank you, Crandal.”

“I’m getting some tea for the young lady, sir. Can I bring anything for you?”

“No.” He had a feeling he would need something stronger than tea to brace him for this meeting. But he didn’t pour himself a tumbler full of Irish whiskey, despite how much he wanted to. Sure but you can take this like a man, O’Donnell, he thought as he left his office and walked down the hall toward the solarium. She was standing at the window, gazing out across the range. She looked as sweet and lovely as he’d ever seen her, perhaps more so. She turned her head when she heard him enter, and he saw the trouble brewing in eyes of blue.

“This is a surprise, Rachel. Have you come alone?”

“Stubs drove me over.” Patrick glanced around the room.

“I sent him back to the ranch. I was counting on you for a ride home.”

He wanted to take her in his arms and keep her there. Instead, he motioned toward the brocade sofa.

“Crandal is bringing tea. It’ll warm you. I’d not have you takin’ cold after comin’ all this way to see me.”

“Patrick…”

“What did I tell you? Here he is.” She’d been like a dream. He’d known it wouldn’t last. He would have to awaken one day and she would be gone. He guessed he’d known it from the first time he saw her in Challis. She was in love with Gavin. He wondered if she’d known it then. He knew Gavin well enough to know he hadn’t guessed yet, and Patrick had hoped he could win Rachel for himself before Gavin saw it too. Well, the dream was about to end, but he meant to prolong it a few more hours if possible. Just a few more hours was all he asked. It seemed to Rachel that they’d talked about almost everything under the sun except the reason for her visit. Her insides were coiled as tight as a spring, and her head was throbbing painfully. It was getting late. She had to take care of this and get home. She stood abruptly.

“Patrick, I must speak with you about something important.” The smile left his face.

“You don’t have to, my lovely.

“Tis already clear why you’ve come.” He rose from the sofa to stand before her, taking her hands into his as she looked up at him. ““Tis no surprise to me.” Could he truly know and understand?

“We’ve been foolin’ ourselves. At least, I have. I’ve known your heart belonged to another, but I hoped I could change that. I thought myself a lucky man when you said you’d marry me. I knew you were weak with sorrow at the time, and I took advantage of it. You’ll have to forgive a man for tryin’.”

“Oh, Patrick… You’ve always known,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

“I thought I could marry you and make you happy. I really did.”

“I know, lass.” Tears traced her cheeks.

“Take me home, Patrick. Please.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rachel prepared a roast and fried potatoes with onions for supper, but Gavin wasn’t there to eat it. She scarcely touched the food either. Her stomach was balled into knots.

“He prob’ly decided to bed down in a line shack. Don’t s’pose we’ll see him for a day or two,” Stubs said when she took some of the supper over to the bunkhouse. At nine, she put the children to bed. She read to them for a short time, then turned out the lamp. At ten, she changed out of her dress into her nightgown and crawled into bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. At eleven, she put on her robe and went to sit by the fireplace in the sitting room. She tried to read a novel, but she couldn’t keep her mind on the plot. Finally, she put the book aside and simply stared into the fire, wondering where Gavin was and how long it would be before she could talk to him. It was nearing midnight when the dogs lifted their heads toward the front door, ears cocked forward. Joker got up and wandered across the room. Rachel held her breath. She wasn’t ready, she realized as the latch lifted and the door opened. Gavin paused on the threshold, letting in a gust of cold air. He stared at her for what seemed a very long time, although later she would guess it had been only a matter of seconds. Finally, he closed the door and removed his warm coat and gloves. He hung his hat on one of the pegs next to his coat, then turned around. Just how did she begin to tell him all she was feeling? Did a woman dare to speak of love first? Should she simply tell him she wasn’t going to marry Patrick? He crossed the room, his gaze locked once again with hers. He looked unhappy to see her sitting there. Perhaps it was already too late. Perhaps he would never want to hear what she wanted so desperately to say. Perhaps he wouldn’t care one way or the other about whom she married. She pushed herself up from the chair.

“I didn’t expect you to return tonight.”

“Neither did I.”

“Are you hungry?”

Her legs seemed to move of their own volition, carrying her to stand before him. Her heart began its erratic beating. Her head felt light.

“Gavin…” she whispered. His voice, when he responded, was also low and he sounded angry.

“What do you want from me, Rachel?” What did she want from him? To love him. To spend her life with him. To be a mother to his children. To be at his side through good times and bad. To grow old together. But she couldn’t say those things, and so she did the only thing she could. She stood on tiptoe, placed her arms around his neck, and kissed him. What she’d meant to be only a tender gesture, a means of telling him how much she loved him, became a fire in her veins, spreading violently through her, leaving her skin tingling and her limbs weak. When he clutched her tightly to him, she could only moan in acquiescence. His mouth moved hungrily over hers and she responded with equal greed.

“No more, Rachel,” he whispered huskily as he swept her feet up from the floor.

“God help me, I can’t resist you anymore.” She pressed her face against his shoulder as he carried her across to his bedroom door. Just as he stepped into the darkened room, he paused.

“Do you know what’s happening? Do you want to be here?”

“I… Yes.” Her voice quavered as she answered the second question. As for the first, she wasn’t sure what was happening, only that she knew she couldn’t bear to stop it now. He closed the door with the heel of his boot, then carried her to the bed. She felt cold when he released her, moving away into the darkness. She felt like crying out, begging him to return. A moment later, a match flared, then the lantern came to life. He turned it low, leaving only an eerie golden glow to spill across the bed. The rest of the room remained in shadows. Gavin sat on the edge of the bed and removed his boots, then turned and took her into his arms as he stretched out beside her on the bed. His mouth returned to claim hers, first with gentle nibbles and then with a renewed vigor. The blood surged hot through her veins once

again. She clung to him as his mouth pillaged hers, teasing her lips until they opened to the exploration of his tongue. Lightheaded, she responded in kind, delighting in the taste of him. When his hand slid slowly from her back to cup her breast, she gasped lightly into his mouth. She’d never felt such an intimate touch. It frightened her. It intrigued her. His mouth moved away once again, this time to trail kisses across her cheek to her ear, then to her throat, his lips pressing against the pulsing vein just below her jaw. She closed her eyes and arched her neck, offering herself willingly to the new sensations he stirred within.

“Don’t move,” he said softly in her ear. Goose pimples rose on her arms and legs. She felt the gentle movement of the bed as he slipped away from her. A sixth sense told her he wouldn’t be gone long, yet she opened her eyes make sure he wasn’t leaving her completely. His shirt was already missing. Lamplight played across the muscles of his broad chest, shed golden highlights upon the dark chest hair, turned his skin to bronze. She’d never seen anything more beautiful, more magnificent in all her life. She met his gaze, and her stomach seemed to drop, as if falling from a great height. She was vaguely aware of the movements of his hands and arms as he removed his trousers, knew that he stood naked before her if only she had the courage to look, but she couldn’t move her eyes from his. She was locked in his power, helpless against it, caught in a maelstrom of new and wondrous emotions. Kneeling on the bed, Gavin took hold of her shoulders and drew her up onto her knees to face him. He pushed her robe from her shoulders. She caught the sleeve with her fingertips, pulled the garment free and tossed it aside. His hands drifted down her sides, stopping near her hips. Slowly, he began to gather her nightgown into his hands. Cold air swirled around her ankles, her thighs, her waist as the flannel garment inched upward. And then he was pulling it up over her head, flinging it aside as she had the robe. Only now did his eyes release their magnetic hold on hers. His gaze drifted down just as his hands came up to play lightly over her breasts. Again, she gasped, this time audibly. She swayed toward him, her knees feeling unsteady, a strange ache beginning in the apex of her thighs.

“Gavin…” He drew her closer, their bodies brushing lightly against each other. She was aware first of the silky feel of his chest, and then of the unique physical differences between them as his hands cupped her buttocks and drew her to him. Her eyes widened, and there was a moment of fear, of wondering what it was she was doing. And then he was kissing her again as he lowered her back onto the bed. Fear vanished, and she surrendered willingly to the inevitable. He was like a starving man presented with a banquet. He wanted to feast on it all. He wanted to make it last in case he should never be presented with such glorious delicacies again. She was more beautiful than he’d imagined. Her skin was porcelain-smooth. Her breasts were full and firm, the nipples hardening in response to his touch. Her waist was narrow, her stomach flat, her hips rounded, her legs long and shapely. When he kissed her throat, he could feel the rapid beating of her heart and her ragged breath against his hair. Braced above her on his hands and knees, he trailed a path of kisses from the hollow of her throat down to her breast. He covered the areola with his mouth, laved it with his tongue, sucked it up between his teeth. She writhed beneath him, and he groaned in response, feeling his own need for her increase until his whole body was pulsing with it. He stretched out beside her again, this time leaving her on her back. With a careful touch, his hand slid from her breast to her belly, and then lower, lower. He heard her gasp, felt her startled flinch. He covered her mouth with his, stopping her protest with the fire of his kisses. The rhythm of his touch sent a river of heat flooding through her. After the initial surprise, she gave herself over to a world of wondrous sensations, delighted in the flashes of color and bursts of light that danced inside her head. Her body felt at once languorous and tense. His hand tutored her body, readying her for him. When he rose above her for the second time, she intuitively reached up to draw him closer. When he entered her, she scarcely felt the pain, an instinct as old as time lifting her toward the sinuous drive of his hips, fitting them together in perfect union. She murmured something, though she knew not what. He sighed near her ear. She felt the cadence of his movements and found pleasure in learning the ancient dance, the beat growing in fevered tempo until, at the final crescendo, she cried out, her body arching against his. He spoke her name even as he shuddered against her. And then she seemed to spiral slowly back to earth. They lay replete, bodies sapped of energy, each locked in the other’s embrace. Gavin rolled onto his side, taking her with him, their bodies still joined. Rachel smiled as she nestled her face against the base of his throat, finding pleasure in the sated intimacy that followed the tumult of moments before. I love you, Gavin, she thought. And then she slept. The waking was slow and blissful. She slept against him, her hand upon his chest. His face was buried in the abundance of her hair. He felt a tightening as he remembered their love-making. And then he felt the guilt. He was supposed to be Patrick’s friend, but he had taken Rachel to his bed, lay even now with her in his arms. From nearly the first moment they’d met, he’d felt his desire for her growing. He had nearly betrayed Dru. He had betrayed Patrick. All because of the woman lying in his arms. Worse yet, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself if she stayed until spring. He would take her to his bed again and again. And they would continue to betray

Patrick. She’d shown her willingness to share Gavin’s bed, even while choosing to marry another man. She would have to leave the Lucky Strike. He would have to make her leave at once. At first light. Today. His arms tightened around her. It was going to hurt to make her go.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

She stretched languidly, reluctant to awaken. She knew it was still early, too early to be up when she would much prefer to linger in bed and remember the loving she’d found in Gavin’s arms. It had been a thousand times more than anything she might have expected. She would tell him she loved him. Of course, he would know that already after last night. He would have to understand. And he would tell her he loved her too. Nothing stood between them any longer. Not Dru. Not Patrick. They would wait an appropriate length of time before marrying, but then nothing would ever keep them apart again. She opened her eyes to find him standing beside the bed. He was fully dressed. She felt herself flush as he stared down at her, remembering the way he’d gazed at her naked body during the night.

“Good morning,” she said and smiled.

“You’d better get dressed. I don’t want the girls finding you here.” Her eyes widened at the anger she heard in his voice.

“I want you to pack your things and leave. Stubs will take you to the O’Donnell place. At least, that’s where I imagine you want to stay until your wedding.”

“My wedding?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the unfortunate Mr. O’Donnell so quickly. You remember Patrick. Your wealthy fiance.” She sat up, holding the blankets against her breasts.

“Gavin, you don’t think… About last night.”

“I don’t give a damn about last night, Miss Harris. I just want you off the Lucky Strike as fast as you can get your things packed.” He spun on his heel and marched toward the door. He turned for one more glance in her direction, the set of his face hard and unrelenting.

“After breakfast, I’ll take the girls out with me. I don’t want them to know you’re leaving. I’ll tell them something after you’re gone. Stubs will take you to Killarney Hall.”

“Please, Gavin,” she whispered, her throat thick with tears.

“You must let me explain.”

“Nothing you could say would make any difference to me.” With that, he left the bedroom, closing the door snugly behind him. She was too stunned to move at first.

But I love you, Gavin. Nothing she could say would make any difference to him. I don’t want to marry Patrick. He just wanted her off the Lucky Strike. But I love you. Numbly, she found her nightclothes. She slipped the nightgown over her head, remembering with burning clarity the way it had felt as he’d removed it the night before. She pushed away the pain the memory stirred as she pulled on her robe and walked across the room. She listened at the door, then opened it, thankful to find the sitting room empty. She pushed her tangled hair back from her face. Her fingers touched her lips where just hours before he had kissed her so lovingly. A tiny moan tore free of her throat. She gripped the door jamb as a dizzy weakness shook her to the core. She dragged in a breath of air to help steady herself. Get dressed. You must get dressed. If she concentrated on what she had to get done, if she didn’t allow her thoughts to stray to Gavin or the night in his arms, she would be all right. Get dressed. She released her hold on the door jamb and forced one foot to move in front of another. Step by agonizing step, she crossed the main room. She eased open the door to the children’s room. Her gaze went first to Petula’s bed. The child’s covers were tangled into a heap. Except for a glimpse of brown curls, it would have been impossible to tell if she was in the bed. She turned toward the cot against the wall. Sabrina was lying on her back, her mouth slightly parted, one arm thrown over her eyes. Her covers, in contrast with her sister’s, were barely rumpled. Rachel blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. She would miss them. She loved these girls more than she could have believed possible. For over three months, they had been her primary concern. She had played with them, laughed with them, cried with them. She had washed their clothes and cooked their meals. She had watched them struggle with their school work and beamed with pride at their accomplishments. She couldn’t have loved them more had they been her own. And now they were lost to her forever. She choked down the sob that threatened to escape her chest. With head hanging, she moved silently toward her corner of the room. She dressed hastily, trying not to make any sound to awaken them. The longer they slept, the longer she could remain. It would make no difference, of course. A few minutes. A few hours. It would never be long enough. She would still have to leave today. Oh, Gavin. You don’t understand. I thought… I thought you wanted me because you loved me. I thought you would know I love you too. Perhaps he did know, she thought as she pulled a brush through her hair. Perhaps he knew she loved him and just didn’t care. She didn’t want to believe it could be true, but perhaps it was. With a heavy heart, she returned to the kitchen to make breakfast for the children. The last breakfast she would ever make for them. The next few hours would be filled with things she would be doing for the last time within these walls, with this beloved family. She wondered if she had the strength to survive the hours to come. Gavin didn’t give Stubs a chance to ask any questions. He just told him to help Miss Harris load up her things as soon as Gavin left with the children and take her to the O’Donnell place. They set out—Gavin, the girls, Duke and Duchess—well before noon, while the air still held its nighttime chill and their breath turned to frosty clouds in front of their faces. Gavin carried Petula with him on Scamp. Sabrina rode Princess, two pairs of ice skates tossed across the mare’s rump behind the saddle.