“Hello. I’m here to see Rachel Harris. Is she in?”
“Who’ve you?” the youngest asked. Before he could reply, he heard another voice, this one feminine.
“Colin. Sheridan. Ask whoever is there to come in. It’s too cold to make them stand outside.” The door swung wide and he caught a glimpse of emerald skirts on the stairway. A moment later, the woman wearing those skirts materialized beside the door. He knew the moment she recognized him. The smile vanished from her mouth and her gray eyes narrowed.
“Mr. Blake.” He nodded.
“Mrs. Branigan. I’ve come to see Rachel.” She stepped back into the foyer.
“Come in.” She motioned toward the parlor.
“Have a seat. I’ll have Cook prepare some tea.”
“Don’t go to any bother for me,” Gavin answered, feeling uncomfortable.
He hadn’t given any thought to facing her family. That had been stupid of him, but he’d been on his own for so many years, he didn’t think about families and sisters and brothers. He should have known that she would come back to Boise and tell Maggie everything that had happened. Everything? Had Rachel told her sister everything? From the look he’d seen in Maggie’s eyes, he guessed Rachel hadn’t held anything back.
“Colin,” Maggie said, still standing in the entry hall, “go up to Aunt Rachel’s room and tell her she has a visitor. Ask her to come down. Sheridan, go with your brother.” She turned and entered the parlor. Maggie moved with a kind of natural grace and had an air of confidence about her. She was beautiful, like her sister, although their coloring was different. It was easy, looking at her, to imagine what Rachel would look like in another ten or fifteen years. Of course, if Rachel married him, she wouldn’t have the life of ease her older sister had. She wouldn’t be free to sit in an elegant house and let the cook prepare supper. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to ask her to give up so much, even if she did love him. Perhaps Dru had been wrong about that being the most important thing. Perhaps… “Please be seated, Mr. Blake. We may have a few moments to wait. Rachel hasn’t been down today and isn’t dressed.” She sat on a rose-colored sofa across from him.
Not dressed? He glanced toward the stairs. It was midafternoon. Was Patrick wrong about Rachel getting well? Could she have had a relapse?
“Rachel has been ill since she returned home,” Maggie answered, as if he’d asked the question aloud.
“Patrick told me, but he thought she was over the worst. Is she—is she going to be all right?”
“You needn’t worry, Mr. Blake. She’s doing much better. Now. Why don’t you tell me what’s brought you to Boise?” Gavin knew from the sound of her voice that Rachel was in no danger and his concern vanished. He met the woman’s direct gaze with one of his own.
“I wanted to see Rachel.”
“All that way in the middle of winter for a visit?” The question was asked in an innocent voice, but he wasn’t fooled.
“I want her to come back to the ranch with me. We need her.” For the first time, Maggie flashed a genuine smile. As she rose from the sofa, she said, “I doubt it will be easy to convince her to return with you, Mr. Blake.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.” He stood.
“You’ll have to.” She stepped away from him.
“Excuse me while I see about the tea.” Rachel was tempted to tell Colin to send down her regrets. Ever since her talk with Maggie the previous night, she’d been overwhelmed with lethargy. She didn’t want to see or talk with anyone. She just wanted to be left alone. Still, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt her to at least make an appearance, since someone had been kind enough to come out to see her. Perhaps it was Fiona and Myrna. She would love to see the baby again. She dressed in a simple day dress of yellow linen and tied back her hair at the nape with a ribbon. She pinched her cheeks, hoping to give them a little color. Then she left her room and descended the stairs. As she stepped beneath the archway of the parlor, she came to an abrupt halt. She felt as if the wind had been knocked from her. There he stood, so tall, so gloriously handsome, his black hair unruly as usual. He needed a haircut weeks ago. He was watching her with those intense gray eyes of his. He looks tired.
“Hello, Rachel.”
“Gavin.” She hated the breathless sound of her voice. She didn’t want him to know what seeing him again was doing to her. She didn’t even want to acknowledge it to herself.
“Where’s Maggie?” He took a step toward her.
“She went to see about some tea.”
“What are you doing in Boise?”
“I came to see you. We need to talk.” The anger came, sudden and
unexpected, a fury so great she felt on fire with it.
“I don’t think we have anything to talk about, Mr. Blake.”
“We do, Rachel. I made a mistake. If you’d just give me a chance to explain.” She gave a sharp laugh.
“Explain what?” She stepped forward, her chin thrust high in the air as she glared up at him.
“Nothing you could say would make any difference to me.” He winced as she flung his own words back at him. The strength born of anger disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Rachel sank into the closest chair.
“We haven’t anything to talk about. Go back to the Lucky Strike.” Gavin moved toward her. He stopped only a foot away, towering over her, but she refused to look up. She was too tired to look up. She didn’t want to fight with him. She just wanted him to go away. He knelt down on one knee, bringing himself to her eye level. She inhaled, surprised by his action. Or perhaps it was the expression on his face. Almost afraid. Somehow vulnerable. Nothing like the Gavin she’d grown used to seeing.
“I was wrong, Rachel. I hurt you because I wanted you to leave.
“I—I didn’t understand. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry,” she repeated softly, feeling the hurt of his rejection all over again.
“The girls miss you. They need you.” He paused.
“I need you.” She shook her head, scarcely hearing him.
“I would have come sooner, but Pet and Brina were sick. They had the influenza, like you.
There’s been an outbreak of it up in the mining camps.” Rachel covered her mouth as she gasped.
“Oh no! Are they-”
“They’re well now, but they want you to come back with me.” It wasn’t fair of him. He was using her concern for the children against her.
“It’s better if they don’t see me again,” she replied bitterly.
“They would only have to see me leave again later.” His voice deepened, hardened.
“All right. What about your promise to Dru? She hired you to take care of her girls until we returned to the basin. You made a promise to her, even as she lay dying.” He stood.
“And if it’s me you’re worried about, I promise not to—not to make any more improper advances. You’ll be safe while you’re there. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you or your advances, Mr. Blake.” She rose from the sofa.
“And you needn’t remind me of my promise to Dru. You’re the one who threw me out, if you’ll recall.” She spun away and hurried toward the doorway.
“Rachel-” For some reason, she stopped, turning back to look at him.
“I’ve gone about this all wrong. I want to make it right with you. You don’t understand. It’s not easy for me to put it into words.” It was only guilt that had brought him here. Guilt and the need for a woman to watch his children. She wished she could hate him, but she couldn’t. She loved him. She loved him as much as she’d ever loved him, but she swore he would never hear those words falling from her lips. She might be a thousand kinds of a fool for loving him, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. Once again she turned her back on him.