he died.” She smiled sadly when Duncan sat back on his
heels. “It was his idea to cut the pine growing on the hil side
and have it sawed into lumber, then planed into tongue-
and-groove knotty pine for the interior wal s.”
“That’s why you want the logs? You plan to hire someone
to finish the house?”
“No, I intend to finish it.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Al by yourself?”
She sat up a little straighter. “I’l have you know that I’ve
run al the electrical wiring and roughed in the plumbing
over the last three years, and just last month I finished
insulating the attic.” She smiled again, this time smugly.
“And thanks to your buying my gravel, I’l have the house
ready for us to move into by this fal .”
“Al by yourself?” he repeated.
Peg stopped smiling. “Of course not. I have a smal army
of gnomes who cut the boards and hand them to me, a
bunch of fairies who run the wires up through the rafters
because I’m afraid of heights, and an entire crew of elves
that come in every night to clean up the mess we made that
day.”
He went back to work on the deer—again rather
aggressively.
“Construction’s not exactly rocket science,” she muttered,
picking up the smal er knife and slicing steaks off the ribs
once he pul ed the front shoulder free. “And the kids help—
even Peter and Jacob.” She stopped cutting to glare at
him. “Or don’t you think women are capable of doing more
than keeping house and raising babies?”
He set down the cleaver and stood up. “I think,” he said
ever so softly, “that I’d better go check out that hil side
before I have to meet Mac to hike the mountain. I’l bring
over the agreement for you to sign tomorrow morning,” he
finished, reaching down to grab his jacket before turning
away.
“Duncan.”
He stopped and turned back to her.
“Thank you for helping me,” she said, gesturing at the
deer, “and for giving me a fair price for my gravel.”
He merely nodded, then turned and headed down the
knol .
Peg rested her fists on her knees, watching him stop at
the edge of the water and wash his hands. He then rol ed
down his sleeves, slid on his jacket, and made his way
around the flooded pit before final y disappearing into the
trees on the hil side.
She dropped her gaze to the half-butchered deer
and sighed, wondering what had possessed her to turn
hostile. Why should she care if the man had looked
incredulous and then suddenly angry when she’d told him
she was finishing the house Bil y had started for his family?
She was proud of what she’d accomplished, dammit, and
Duncan had no business assuming she couldn’t put a roof
over her children’s heads all by herself.
“Yeah, wel ,” she muttered, driving the knife into the meat,
“you men aren’t al you think you’re cracked up to be, either.
Everyone loves a hero except for the wife and kids he
leaves behind when he gets himself kil ed trying to save a
bunch of stupid buildings in some stupid town.”
Which was another reason she was staying a widow—
even if it meant sleeping in an empty bed for the rest of her
life—because she’d be damned if she was going to let her
children get their tender little hearts broken again.
Chapter Five
“Here’s an idea,” Duncan said as he stopped to wait for
Mac to come up beside him. “Why don’t you ask Olivia’s
father to keep an eye on Peg Thompson and her children
while you’re gone? Sam seems like the sort of man who
relishes a chal enge.”
Mac’s eyes lit with interest. “What did she do this time?”
Duncan headed up the mountain again. “Do you know
she owns a high-power rifle and apparently isn’t afraid to
use it?”
Mac pul ed him to a stop. “Peg shot at you?”
“No,” he growled as he started walking again. “She shot
a deer.” He tapped his finger to his forehead. “Smack dead
center between the eyes. The damn animal was dead
before it even hit the ground.”
“Why? Is hunting season not usual y in the fal ?”
“I gathered from what Peg told the deer as she sobbed
al over it that a bag of feed is a hel of a lot cheaper than a
hundred pounds of beef.” Duncan deliberately slowed his
pace when he realized he was getting angry al over again.
“Apparently the woman’s so desperate that she’s wil ing to
risk jacking deer out of season.” He frowned over his
shoulder. “Did you know she’s been finishing off the house
her husband started building before he died? Al by
herself?”
Mac pul ed them to a stop when they reached an open
ledge and shot him a grin. “Are you that much of your
father’s son, Duncan, that you believe the house is going to
col apse because a woman is building it?”
“She’s climbing ladders and messing with electricity and
plumbing torches all by herself. She could fal and break
her neck or set her clothes on fire, and her kids would be
the ones to find her.”
Mac gestured dismissively. “Since the beginning of time,
widows have been doing whatever is necessary to provide
for their children.”
Duncan turned away, striding to the center of the ledge
as he remembered Peg inserting prostitutionfor
destitution. “Yeah, wel , I don’t want her breaking her neck
on my watch.” He shot Mac a glare. “Because the last thing
I need is to find myself trying to explain what happened to a
pissed-off theurgist at her funeral.”
Mac arched a brow. “Is it Peg’s neck you are worried
about or yours?”
“That woman is reckless and stubborn and too damned
proud; and from what I’ve seen so far, those are her good
qualities.”
“Then you, my friend, are either blind or dead. Peg’s
beauty and courage and generous heart clearly outshine
her more … spirited qualities.” Mac folded his arms on his
chest, his silent regard causing the fine hairs on Duncan’s
neck to stir in alarm. “You’re attracted to her,” the wizard
said quietly.
“I just met her.”
“And that scares you.”
“I am notafraid of Peg Thompson.”
“No, you’re afraid of your attraction to her.”
Knowing he wasn’t going to win this crazy argument,
Duncan tried anyway. “I’m a thirty-five-year-old red-blooded
male who’s been attracted to more women than I can count,
so what makes you think Peg is different?”
“You tel me.” Mac’s eyes fil ed with amusement. “You’re
the one who’s angry at her for building a house all by
herself.” He eyed him speculatively again. “Might it have
something to do with the fact that you’re a first-generation
Maine highlander who finds it difficult to have one foot in his
father’s world and the other in this one?”
“Both of my feet are firmly planted in thistime—including
my attitude toward women. I didn’t ask to be born a
MacKeage, and I sure as hel don’t intend to perpetuate a
bunch of antiquated traditions. There are enough magic-
makers running around these woods already, so Laird
Greylen is going to have to rebuild his clan without my help.”
“Ah, I see. It’s not the antiquated traditions you are
opposed to so much as the magic. Tel me, Duncan, what’s
your particular gift?”
“I was hiding behind the door when Providence was