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.