“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