“What nonsense,” Rachel said as she picked up the brush once again and quickly swept Dru’s hair into a smooth twist at the back of her head.

“Anyway, I’m not lending it to you. It’s yours to keep. Then I don’t have to worry about it being lost or damaged, do I?” Dru tried to shake her head, but Rachel stopped her with a light tug on her hair.

“Besides,” Rachel continued, “I look dreadful in brown and orange. I don’t know whatever possessed me to buy such a thing. You’ll be doing me a favor to take it and wear it. Otherwise, it’s just a waste.” As she talked, she took the object from Dru’s hand and slipped the comb into the knot of hair. Smiling, she leaned down and met Dru’s gaze in the mirror.

“There. It’s perfect with your hazel eyes. See? You make it look beautiful.”

“Yes,” Gavin’s deep, male voice said from the doorway.

“You do make it look beautiful.” Rachel straightened and turned around, half expecting to find him scowling at her as usual. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t even looking at her. There was a tender smile on his mouth, a soft look in the gray of his eyes as he gazed at his wife. Rachel felt like an intruder and slowly moved back from Dru’s side. But she stopped when Gavin’s gaze shifted to her. When the tenderness didn’t alter or disappear, she felt a strange warmth rushing through her veins, ending in a tight ball in her midsection. Her mouth felt as dry as dust.

“It’s a gift from Rachel,” Dru said softly, breaking the growing silence. Gavin glanced back at his wife.

“I heard.” He crossed the bedroom in several easy strides.

“I guess this means you won’t stay home.”

“I haven’t seen my friends and neighbors since last May. This may be my last chance before… before the snow falls. Please don’t argue with me, Gavin.” A wry grin lifted one corner of his mouth.

“Since when did it ever do anyone any good to argue with you, Drucilla?” He rested his hand on her shoulder. Her fingers came up to cover his.

“Never,” Dru answered as she leaned her head back to look up at him. Once again, Rachel felt her presence was intrusive and sought to quietly leave the room. And once again, she was stopped by a pair of compelling gray eyes. A maelstrom of feelings stormed through her in

response to his look. Pleasure, confusion, bewilderment, satisfaction. She felt warm and cold at the same time. Joy and sorrow mingled within her. She felt hope for what could be, despair for what could never be.

“I’d better get ready too,” she whispered, then retreated to her own cabin as quickly as possible.

“Good heavens,” Rachel said in a hushed voice as the wagon pulled to a stop on the crest of a hill.

“What is that place?” The two-story stone house, U-shaped and sprawling, resembled a medieval castle. It was set against a tree-covered mountain and surrounded by a sloping lawn. Threads of smoke drifted above numerous chimneys jutting up from the steep pitched roof. Green shutters bordered the many windows that looked over the panoramic countryside.

“That’s the O’Donnell ranch. They call it Killarney Hall. Pretty impressive, isn’t it?” Gavin responded.

“The Johansen girl didn’t do too bad for herself.” Dru jabbed him in the ribs, and he had the decency to be ashamed of himself. From all reports, Pearl was head over heels in love with her intended, and nothing he’d ever seen of the girl indicated that she would marry for any other reason.

“Is this where the wedding’s to be?” Rachel asked.

“I thought we were going into town.”

“There’ll be too many people at this wedding for the little Episcopal church to hold,” Dru answered.

“It’s not every day one of the O’Donnell boys gets married. Folks from miles around are going to want to see this.”

“Mr. O’Donnell is the groom,” Sabrina piped up from the back of the wagon, pleased to be supplying some information. “pattrick O’Donnell?” Rachel asked as she turned to look at Gavin. Was that disappointment he heard in her voice?

“No. His brother, Shane.” Sabrina stood and leaned her head forward between her mother and Rachel.

“Patrick O’Donnell is the oldest one. He must be as old as Pa. Shane O’Donnell, the one who’s getting’ married, is next. Then comes Jamie and then Trevor. Trevor’s about sixteen.” It would be hard not to be impressed with the O’Donnell ranch, Gavin thought as he slapped the reins against the horses’ backsides. The house was enormous and the many outbuildings looked nearly new. Success and wealth were written on every nook and cranny. He glanced quickly to the side. Rachel would fit right in with these people, he thought as he looked at her profile, her blond hair tucked up beneath a pretty indigo bonnet. As soon as they pulled into the yard, the front door of the house opened and three of the O’Donnell brothers—strapping, tall men with matching thatches of red hair—came out onto the porch.

“Gavin!” Patrick called to him, his usual friendly grin in place.

“Sure and I told Shane you wouldn’t miss seem’ him trussed up and married.” The big man jumped down from the porch, ignoring the five steps that led to the ground below. Even as the horses drew to a stop, he was lifting a giggling Petula from the back of the wagon, swinging her high in the air before setting her on her feet.

“This can’t be the wee lass, can it?”

“I’m Pet!” she squealed in delight.

“And can this be Sabrina? Faith but she’s become a young lady while up in the basin.” He lifted the older girl to the ground as he spoke. Sabrina blushed even as she turned her eyes toward the two younger men still standing on the porch.

“Hello, Trevor,” she said in a soft voice.

There was something about her tone that brought Gavin up short. He’d been so caught up in looking at the O’Donnell ranch and wondering what Rachel must think of it in comparison with the Lucky Strike that he’d scarcely noticed what Sabrina had been telling her governess about the O’Donnells. Trevor’s about sixteen. He heard it again in his head and felt a sudden alarm. Sabrina was hardly more than a baby! Dru seemed to read his mind.

“Puppy love,” she whispered as her hand touched his knee.

“It won’t hurt anything.” Patrick stepped over to the side of the wagon just then, his arms outstretched toward Rachel. ““Tis pleased I am to see you again, Miss Harris. I’ve been meanin’ to come callin’ on you like I promised, but my brother has had the whole place in a turmoil. Such a fuss over takin’ a bride.” And with that, he lifted her to the ground as easily as he had the children. Gavin stepped over Dru and jumped down from the wagon seat, then turned back and helped Dru descend. Patrick let out a low whistle.

“Faith and begorra. This can’t be Sabrina’s mother. You’re lookin’ no more than a girl yourself, Drucilla Blake.” Dru’s laughter filled the air.

“Leave off your Irish blarney, Patrick O’Donnell. It’ll get you nowhere with me. I’ve known you for too many years to have my head turned by your flattery.”

“A shame you feel that way, lass, for I meant it from the heart.” He turned toward Gavin. ““Tis not fair you should have so many beautiful women at the Lucky Strike, mate, while I’ve got nothin’ but brothers to look at.” He motioned with his hand for Gavin to follow, then hooked Rachel’s hand through his arm.

“Come in out of the cold. You’ve a house full of friends who’ve eager to see you again.” Gavin hung back for a moment while Patrick squired the ladies inside. There wasn’t any reason for him to be feeling so much antagonism toward Patrick; in fact, he’d always considered him a friend in years past. What had changed? Ever since he’d seen the man in Challis several weeks ago, there’d been something stuck in his craw that wouldn’t go away. Was he jealous of what the O’Donnells had here? He’d never thought so. He’d always felt great contentment with his ranch, his home, his way of life since settling down. Still, he hadn’t wanted to come to the wedding, and he sure as heck didn’t want to go inside and listen to Patrick lavishing compliments on the womenfolk. Womenfolk? Or just Rachel? Pressing his lips together in a grim line, he climbed the steps and entered the house. Dru hadn’t been exaggerating when she said folks would come from miles around to see an

O’Donnell get married. The house seemed to be bursting at the seams with people, young and old alike, all of them in good spirits as they gathered close to hear the tiny, dark-haired bride promise to love, honor, and obey the strapping, red-headed groom. After the brief ceremony, servants carried vast platters of food to the long tables set up at the back of the great room that made up the center of the house. People milled about, chatting with neighbors, sharing gossip, eating and laughing and, in general, enjoying themselves immensely. Rachel’s head was swimming with names. It seemed that in the past two hours Patrick, who’d been at her side throughout most of the afternoon, had introduced her to nearly every person who lived within a hundred square miles of Challis. There were even some dignitaries from the state capital. Patrick had just introduced her to Senator Brewer when his brother Jamie called to him from across the room.

“Excuse me a moment, Miss Harris. Senator.” Senator Brewer rubbed the whiskers on his chin as he grinned at Rachel.

“Of course, Mr. O’Donnell. You can be sure I’ll take good care of Miss Harris in your absence.”

“I won’t be long,” Patrick promised as he moved away.

“Don’t believe I’ve seen you in these parts before, Miss Harris. And I’m sure I’d have remembered a pretty little thing like you. You look like you just got off a train from the East.” Rachel tried to quell her instant dislike for the rotund man with the sagging jowls and prying eyes.

“Actually, sir, I grew up in Boise City.”