Malachi didn't wear his cavalry butternut and gray while he was with them at the ranch. He fit into Matthew's breeches fine, and since Federal patrols had been known to wander over the border, it seemed best for him to dress in civilian clothing. Two weeks after his arrival, Kristin heard hoofbeats outside and hurried to the porch. To her vast astonishment, Jamie sat whittling on the steps while Malachi held Shannon in a deep engrossing embrace, kissing her as hotly as a newlywed. Stunned, Kristin stared at Jamie. Jamie pointed to two men in Union blue who were riding away.
"She started to mention that things might not be all they seemed," Jamie drawled. "Malachi didn't take kindly to the notion of spending the rest of the war in a Yankee prison camp."
There was a sharp crack. Kristin spun around to see that Shannon had just slapped Malachi.
Her sister's language was colorful, to say the least. She compared Malachi Slater to a milk rat, a rattlesnake and a Texas scorpion. Malachi, her fingerprints staining his face, didn't appreciate her words. Kristin gasped when he dragged her onto his lap and prepared to bruise her derriere.
Shannon screamed. Jamie shrugged. Kristin decided she had to step in at last. Kristin pleaded with him, but he ignored her at first. She hadn't the strength to come to physical blows with him, so all she could do was appeal to his valor. "Malachi, I'm sure she didn't mean —"
"She damned well did mean!" Malachi shouted. "And I may fall to a Yankee bullet, but I'll be damned if I'll rot in a hellhole because this little piece of baggage has a vicious heart!"
His palm cracked just once against Shannon's flesh.
"Rodent!" Shannon screeched.
"Please —" Kristin began.
Malachi shifted Shannon into his arms, ready to lecture her.
Then Jamie suddenly stood up, dropped his knife and the wood he'd been whittling and reached for his Colt.
"Horses!" he hissed.
A sudden silence settled over them. Malachi didn't release Shannon, but she froze, too, neither sniffling in indignation nor screaming out her hatred.
Kristin glanced at Jamie. She could tell he was afraid that the Union patrol was on its way back. That Malachi's act just hadn't been good enough. That Shannon had exposed them all to danger.
They all saw the riders. Two of them.
Kristin saw Jamie's tension ease, and then Malachi, too, seemed to relax. Even his desire for vengeance against Shannon seemed to have ebbed. He suddenly set her down on the wooden
step, not brutally but absently. Still, Shannon gasped out, startled. Malachi ignored her. Even Kristin ignored her. Kristin still couldn't see the riders clearly, but apparently Malachi and Jamie knew something.
Then she realized it was Cole's horse. It was Cole, returning.
Instantly she felt hot and then cold. Her heart seemed to flutter in her breast. Then butterfly wings seemed to soar within her, and she was hot and then cold all over again.
Cole…
No matter what she wanted to think or believe, she had thought of nothing but him since he had gone away. Waking or sleeping, he had filled her heart and her mind. She had touched the bedding where he had lain and remembered how he had stood, naked, by the window. She had remembered him with the length of her, remembered the feel of his fingers on her flesh, the staggering heat of his body against hers, the tempest of his movement. She had burned with the thoughts and she had railed against herself for them, but they had remained. And in her dreams she had seen him naked and agile and silent and sleek and coming to her again. And he would take her so tenderly into his arms…
And in her dreams it would be more than the fire. He would smile, and he would smile with an encompassing tenderness that meant everything. He would whisper to her, and the whispers would never be clear, but she would know what they meant.
He loved her…
He did not love her.
He rode closer, a plump, middle-aged man at his side. She barely noticed the other man. Her eyes were for Cole, and his rested upon her.
And her heart ran cold then, for he was staring at her with a startling dark hatred.
Her fingers went to her throat, and she backed away slightly, wondering what had happened, why he should look at her so.
"Cole's back," Jamie said unnecessarily.
"Cole!"
It was Shannon who called out his name, Shannon who went running out to him as if he were a long-lost hero. Kristin couldn't move.
Cole's horse came to a prancing halt, and Shannon stood there, staring up at him in adoration, reaching for him. To his credit, Kristin admitted bitterly, he was good to Shannon. His eyes gentled when they fell upon her, and if there was a certain impatience about him, he hid it from her well. He dismounted from his horse in front of the house. Both Jamie and Malachi stood there watching him in silence, waiting for him to speak. He stepped forward and greeted both of his brothers.
"Malachi, Jamie."
He grasped both their hands, and Jamie smiled crookedly while Malachi continued to observe him gravely. Then Cole's eyes came to her again, and she would have backed up again if she hadn't already been flush against the door. His gaze came over her, as cold as the wind of a twister, and perhaps, for just a second, with the same blinding torment. Then the emotion was gone, and all that remained was the staggering chill.
Her mouth was dry, her throat was dry, and she couldn't speak. She was grateful then for Shannon, who told Cole how glad she was to see him, how grateful she was that he was back.
Then she was suddenly still, and Kristin realized that the pudgy middle-aged man was still sitting atop his horse, looking at them all. She was the hostess here. She should be asking him in and offering him something cool to his throat from the dust and dirt of his ride. She should be doing something for Cole, too. If she could only move. Cole should be doing something, too, she thought, not leaving the little man just sitting there.
She forced her eyes away from Cole's to meet those of the man. She even made her lips curl into a semblance of a welcoming smile. "Hello, sir. Won't you come in?"
Jamie smiled. "Welcome, stranger. Cole, you're forgetting your manners. Who is this man?"
Cole turned to the man on the horse. "Sorry, Reverend. Please, come down."
"Much obliged," the man said, dismounting from his horse. Jamie stepped forward to tether the horses. The wind picked up and blew a handful of dirt around.
"This is the Reverend Samuel Cotter," Cole said. "Reverend, my brothers, Malachi and Jamie. And Miss Kristin McCahy in the doorway there, and Miss Shannon McCahy here by my side."
The reverend tipped his hat. "A pleasure, ladies. Gentlemen."
Then they were all just standing there again. The reverend turned his hat awkwardly in his hands. He had a nice face, Kristin thought. Heavy-jowled, with a nice, full smile and bright little eyes. She wished she could be more neighborly, but she was still having difficulty moving.
"Maybe we should all move into the house," Jamie suggested.
"Perhaps the reverend would like a sherry," Shannon murmured.
"The reverend would just love a whiskey!" the little man said, his eyes lighting up.
Malachi laughed. Cole came forward, his hands on his hips. He stood right in front of Kristin, and his eyes were just like the steel of Malachi's cavalry sword. His hands fell on her shoulders, and she almost screamed.
"You're blocking the door, Kristin," he said.
"Oh!" She moved quickly, jumping away from his touch. Her face flushed with color. She looked at the little man. "Forgive me my lack of manners, sir. Please, please, do come in." She paused, looking at Cole's hard, dispassionate features, then back at the reverend. "Um… just what are you doing here, sir?"