“No, but I’ll have Stubs hook up the team to the sled. It’s not fancy, but it’ll get you there.” Her soft “thank you” followed him out the door. Gavin didn’t like being confused, but it seemed that confusion had been his constant companion since he first met Rachel Harris. Before that, his life had been carefully arranged. He had his few friends. He had his ranch. With the exception of Dru’s illness, he’d been able to control the events of his life. He’d even been able to control his emotions. Until Rachel. He didn’t know what he felt anymore. He wanted her. He hated her. He needed her. His hand closed around the latch on the barn door, and he jerked it open with fury. Hell, no! He didn’t need her. He wouldn’t need her. Gavin Blake wasn’t the sort of man to ever need a woman.
He’d been right about women and love and marriage all along. Shoot, if Charlie hadn’t died and left a sick widow and two children, Gavin wouldn’t have ever married. Not even Dru, no matter how much he liked and admired her.
“Stubs!” he shouted. The barn was empty. He spun on his heel and marched toward the bunkhouse. He never should have let Dru hire Rachel. The blasted female was driving him crazy. He didn’t know what he wanted, what he felt anymore. Damn, maybe he should just tell Rachel to forget her promise to Dru to stay until spring. Maybe she should just marry Patrick now and get out.
“Stubs!” He rapped once and opened the door. His grizzled friend was leaning back in a chair, whittling a piece of wood. He raised a curious eyebrow at Gavin but remained silent.
“Hook up Patch and Checker to the sled and take Rachel over to the O’Donnell place.” He stormed out, making a beeline for the barn, without giving Stubs a chance to respond. Before Stubs ever got to the barn, he’d saddled Scamp and was headed out for a quick look at the herd and more solitude. But it was impossible to escape his troubled heart. She felt Stubs’ disapproving gaze but didn’t offer any explanation. She had to talk to Patrick before she could try to set anything else right.
And if that meant she had to endure Stubs’ unspoken condemnation, then that was what she would do. The Blake sled was nothing more than a wagon box set on crude runners, and the two big workhorses didn’t exactly glide over the snowy terrain. The journey was long, tense, and silent. Despite Rachel’s anxiety over the anticipated confrontation with Patrick, she was relieved to crest the hill and see Killarney Hall come into view. Once they’d stopped in front of the house, Rachel didn’t wait for Stubs to help her from the wagon seat. She scrambled to the ground, then turned to look at him.
“You needn’t wait, Stubs. I … I don’t know how long I’ll be. I’m sure Mr. O’Donnell will see that I get home.” Home. Home to the Lucky Strike. Home to Sabrina and Petula and Gavin. Home. But it couldn’t be her home until she talked to Patrick. Maybe it couldn’t ever be her home, but she had to try. She turned, squaring her shoulders, and climbed the steps to the veranda. Insides aquiver, she knocked on the door. Patrick knew what was going to happen the next time he saw Rachel. He’d known it the day they’d found Rachel and Gavin at the line shack. That was why he hadn’t hooked up the sleigh and driven over to the Lucky Strike today or yesterday or the day before that. He wanted to postpone the inevitable as long as possible.
Perhaps, with a little more time, he could change fate.
“Mr. O’Donnell?” He looked up from the papers strewn across his desk.
“What is it, Crandal?”
“Miss Harris is here, sir. I’ve shown her into the solarium.” He couldn’t stop the chain of events simply by staying at home. She’d come to him.
“Thank you, Crandal.”
“I’m getting some tea for the young lady, sir. Can I bring anything for you?”
“No.” He had a feeling he would need something stronger than tea to brace him for this meeting. But he didn’t pour himself a tumbler full of Irish whiskey, despite how much he wanted to. Sure but you can take this like a man, O’Donnell, he thought as he left his office and walked down the hall toward the solarium. She was standing at the window, gazing out across the range. She looked as sweet and lovely as he’d ever seen her, perhaps more so. She turned her head when she heard him enter, and he saw the trouble brewing in eyes of blue.
“This is a surprise, Rachel. Have you come alone?”
“Stubs drove me over.” Patrick glanced around the room.
“I sent him back to the ranch. I was counting on you for a ride home.”
He wanted to take her in his arms and keep her there. Instead, he motioned toward the brocade sofa.
“Crandal is bringing tea. It’ll warm you. I’d not have you takin’ cold after comin’ all this way to see me.”
“Patrick…”
“What did I tell you? Here he is.” She’d been like a dream. He’d known it wouldn’t last. He would have to awaken one day and she would be gone. He guessed he’d known it from the first time he saw her in Challis. She was in love with Gavin. He wondered if she’d known it then. He knew Gavin well enough to know he hadn’t guessed yet, and Patrick had hoped he could win Rachel for himself before Gavin saw it too. Well, the dream was about to end, but he meant to prolong it a few more hours if possible. Just a few more hours was all he asked. It seemed to Rachel that they’d talked about almost everything under the sun except the reason for her visit. Her insides were coiled as tight as a spring, and her head was throbbing painfully. It was getting late. She had to take care of this and get home. She stood abruptly.
“Patrick, I must speak with you about something important.” The smile left his face.
“You don’t have to, my lovely.
“Tis already clear why you’ve come.” He rose from the sofa to stand before her, taking her hands into his as she looked up at him. ““Tis no surprise to me.” Could he truly know and understand?
“We’ve been foolin’ ourselves. At least, I have. I’ve known your heart belonged to another, but I hoped I could change that. I thought myself a lucky man when you said you’d marry me. I knew you were weak with sorrow at the time, and I took advantage of it. You’ll have to forgive a man for tryin’.”
“Oh, Patrick… You’ve always known,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.
“I thought I could marry you and make you happy. I really did.”
“I know, lass.” Tears traced her cheeks.
“Take me home, Patrick. Please.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rachel prepared a roast and fried potatoes with onions for supper, but Gavin wasn’t there to eat it. She scarcely touched the food either. Her stomach was balled into knots.
“He prob’ly decided to bed down in a line shack. Don’t s’pose we’ll see him for a day or two,” Stubs said when she took some of the supper over to the bunkhouse. At nine, she put the children to bed. She read to them for a short time, then turned out the lamp. At ten, she changed out of her dress into her nightgown and crawled into bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. At eleven, she put on her robe and went to sit by the fireplace in the sitting room. She tried to read a novel, but she couldn’t keep her mind on the plot. Finally, she put the book aside and simply stared into the fire, wondering where Gavin was and how long it would be before she could talk to him. It was nearing midnight when the dogs lifted their heads toward the front door, ears cocked forward. Joker got up and wandered across the room. Rachel held her breath. She wasn’t ready, she realized as the latch lifted and the door opened. Gavin paused on the threshold, letting in a gust of cold air. He stared at her for what seemed a very long time, although later she would guess it had been only a matter of seconds. Finally, he closed the door and removed his warm coat and gloves. He hung his hat on one of the pegs next to his coat, then turned around. Just how did she begin to tell him all she was feeling? Did a woman dare to speak of love first? Should she simply tell him she wasn’t going to marry Patrick? He crossed the room, his gaze locked once again with hers. He looked unhappy to see her sitting there. Perhaps it was already too late. Perhaps he would never want to hear what she wanted so desperately to say. Perhaps he wouldn’t care one way or the other about whom she married. She pushed herself up from the chair.