“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.