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.

“I’ll keep my promise.”

“Maybe you could come with us.” He paused.

“The girls would miss you. Besides, they could use the schooling, even in summer and I-”

“No.” The word came out more like a croak.

“No,” she said again, stronger this time.

“I couldn’t come. I… I’ll be getting married in June.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out that way but she desperately needed her shield against the overpowering desires that flowed like hot lava through her body. She looked up at him then. His face was set like granite, unyielding and harsh.

“Who?” he demanded in a voice as hard as the look on his face. She whispered her response.

“Patrick.”

“I should have known.”

“He’s been so kind to us these past weeks. To me, especially.” Was she justifying it to Gavin or to herself?

“He’s a good man and he’ll make me happy.” It happened so quickly that she wasn’t aware of his rising, of his hands on her arms, of the way he pulled her up from the chair and against his chest. Just as suddenly his mouth was devouring hers, and she was helpless to prevent it. Unwilling to prevent it. She savored the taste of him the way a starving woman savors a succulent meal. His hands roamed over her back, then stroked up the length of her sides until his thumbs came to rest beneath the swell of her breasts. She gasped into his mouth but didn’t pull away, waiting for him to continue. She eagerly wanted more. Much more.

“Gavin,” she whispered, the sound pleading. And then he set her away from him. His tone was angry, almost hateful.

“He might make you happy, but I wonder if he’ll ever be able to make you feel like this.” Her eyes flew open in time to see him turn and stalk away.

Chapter Twenty

Patrick pulled the fur blanket over Rachel’s lap.

“Ready?” he asked. She nodded. He glanced behind them at the two girls snuggled beneath another lap robe in the back of the sleigh.

“Are the wee lasses ready?”

“Yes,” they cried in unison, both of them wreathed in excited grins.


“Good. Let’s go!” He picked up the reins and smacked them smartly against the rump of the dappled gray mare. As the sleigh slipped across the yard between house and barn, Patrick lifted his arm to wave at Gavin, who was standing near the barn door.

“He should have come with us,” he said loudly to Rachel.

But he was mightily glad that Gavin had refused the invitation. Patrick didn’t much care for the changes that had come over his friend since his wife died. Mourning was to be expected. Grief was a personal thing that had to be worked through. He hadn’t been particularly surprised by Gavin’s withdrawal from those around him, and he’d been willing to wait things out, give the man the time he needed to heal. But he’d seen something different this past week. Gavin was an angry man, his eyes cold and heartless, his words sharp, biting. And he seemed especially so with Rachel. It made Patrick want to knock some sense back into him. He glanced to his right, a warm happiness replacing his displeasure as he looked at Rachel. Her pale blond hair was hidden beneath a fur bonnet. The cold air had left splashes of pink on her cheekbones and the tip of her pert nose. Her blue eyes glittered as she squinted into the sun and wind. He couldn’t yet believe the lovely lass had consented to be his wife. He’d been in a dither ever since he’d left the Blake ranch on Christmas Day. He’d been over to see her every day this past week, and miracle of miracles, she hadn’t changed her mind on him yet. Today, New Year’s Day 1884, they were going to announce the news to his family. It had been hard to keep from telling his brothers this week, but he’d managed to keep that promise to Rachel, just as he hoped to keep all his promises to her for the rest of his life. And today he was going to show her the wedding ring—the prettiest damned ring she’d ever see. It had been in Patrick’s family for six generations and had come over from Ireland on his mother’s hand. As the oldest O’Donnell son, it was his honor to give it to his bride. He couldn’t wait for the day he’d be able to put it on Rachel’s finger. Patrick turned his attention back to the glistening white landscape before him. He didn’t want the horse leaving the beaten path and sinking into a drift. This was no day for accidents. He’d never thought he would find a girl like Rachel Harris who would consent to marry him. Not that he’d given much thought to matrimony until he’d met her. Faith and begorra! He’d thought Shane a blathering fool when he started spoonin’ over Pearl Johansen. But Rachel had changed his way of thinking fast enough. He’d seen how just a little slip of a thing could turn a man into a first-rate buffoon. Not that Patrick O’Donnell was running with blinders on. He didn’t have the fair maid’s heart-at least not completely. She’d never said she loved him. But he knew she was well enough fond of him. Most married folks were lucky to share that much between them, let alone be asking for the moon and the stars and love in the bargain. With time, she might grow to love him. He’d have to be satisfied with things as they were until then. Only he kept having this nagging feeling that all wasn’t as right as he’d want it to be. The months leading to June stretched impossibly long in his mind. They couldn’t be over too soon for his liking. Sure and if that wasn’t the truth. Rachel stared at the O’Donnell house as the sleigh sped toward it. This was the first time she’d been there since the day of Shane’s wedding, and it seemed even more impressive to her today. It sprawled against the backdrop of a tall mountain, its stone exterior a solemn gray against the pristine whiteness of winter. It resembled a castle more than the home of a cattle rancher, seeming very out of place here in the high country of Idaho. As if she’d voiced her thoughts aloud, Patrick said, “Killarney Hall.