The Horseman

night.

He put down the book, blew out the light and huddled beneath the blankets. Gradually the covers warmed from his body heat, and the rest of the hired men stumbled to their frosty beds. The bunkhouse was dark and filled with the sounds of drunken snoring and the scouring snow against the outside walls.

Exhaustion settled on him like a dead weight, but he couldn’t sleep. Blood pumped through his veins, and he was still hard. He refused to think of her. Wouldn’t resort to lusting after her. He had too much respect for her for that. And yet…

He leaned toward the window. Yep, her light was still gleaming like an invitation in the night. Was she in bed, beneath frilly lace-edged sheets and a fancy blanket? Was she wearing that white ruffled nightgown that had to feel as soft as her skin?

That way of thinking was only making his situation worse. Uncomfortable now, he sat up, shoving away the covers to let the frigid air cool his sizzling blood. Surely that ought to help.

Even as his teeth chattered, and he shook from head to toe, he still had that particular problem. It didn’t look likely to go away any time soon.

He sat up and rested his face in his hands. He had a big day tomorrow. He had to be ready for it. If only he could stop wanting her, then maybe he could at least get some sleep.

Maybe, what he wanted tomorrow couldn’t wait.

Tonight’s conversation with Willman troubled him. He remembered feeling Katelyn’s shocked silence in the dark kitchen. Dillon wasn’t the kind of man who’d buy a wife, that was for sure. But if she were willing…

Had he gone plumb loco?

A movement through the window snagged his attention. What was it? The faint shadow flashed briefly in the impenetrable storm and vanished before he could hop off his bunk and scrape at the frosty glass with his thumbnail. It was her. A thin wisp of a woman, hardly more than shadow and night, but she called to him. Made his heart move in a way it never had before.

Katelyn couldn’t go back to her bed. She couldn’t sleep after that. She couldn’t stand to be in the house, as weak as she was, and headed for the back door.

She’d already been out of bed too long today, and pain gripped her chest. She let the dark and cold scud over her. Welcomed the freezing wind into her soul as her stepfather’s words echoed over and over. Anger hammered through her, blurring the world of night and shadow into one blackness. The bastard had taken her jewelry, all she had in the world. All she’d been wearing when she’d left her husband’s house. She had nothing more of value. She had no other family, no friends, nowhere to go.

Forcing back those horrible memories, she made it to the stable, grateful, sagging against the door before she opened it to catch her breath. If she could leave, she would. She’d buy a ticket on the train and hurry far away.

The doctor had told her she had to rest. He’d told her the complications he feared, and she closed her eyes, willing away the panic of remembering the blood staining the nightgown and sheets and-

Don’t think of it, Katelyn. She willed the image away, but the truth of it remained. She shivered deep, afraid, while the wind gusted her as strong as a human touch to her back. Well, she’d heeded his advice. She’d been too weak to do little else, and where had it gotten her? Now that she had regained some strength, however tenuous, she was penniless.

What would become of her now? She was still too weak to travel.

“Ma’am.” A deep baritone penetrated the force of wind and snow.

It was his touch on her back, she realized. The horseman towered over her, shielding her from the brunt of the cold.

“We best get you back to the house where it’s warm. It’s mighty cold out here. A man well bundled would freeze to death in no time. It isn’t safe for a little fragile thing like you.”

“I can’t go back yet.” She didn’t know why she told him that. He wouldn’t understand.

“Pretty bad in that house, is it?”

“It always was, that’s why I married. I thought any place would be better than living with those people.” I was wrong. She kept back the truth. There was worse. Living with a man who wanted a son more than anything. Anything. And watching how that had destroyed him, and then her.

“Desperation can bring out the bad in a man,” the horseman said thoughtfully. “Or it can bring out the best. It tests the mettle, anyhow.”

“The best? That I’d like to see.” She didn’t believe it. Had stopped believing in anything.

Why hadn’t she moved that jewelry? Mad at herself, mad at Cal, it felt near to breaking her. Without her health and anything of value, she was at the complete mercy of her stepfather. The man who’d offered her to Hennessey like a horse to be traded.

The horseman reached over her head and dragged open the heavy wood door enough for the comforting warmth of hay and horse to float through. “You don’t believe in a man’s goodness?”

“No.”

“Never? You think there isn’t one good man in this entire territory?”

“There was one.” Affection warmed her, chasing away the cold and pain and taking her back to a simpler part of her life, when the summer had seemed to last forever and when she’d known kindness. “My father was a good man.”

“Is that so? Come inside, out of the wind, why don’t you, and tell me about him.”

She saw what he was up to. The steadiness in his voice, the interest. He wasn’t here out of the goodness of his heart. No man did anything for free. Not without expecting something in return.

And she feared what it was. What had gone on between the horseman and her stepfather? Had Cal paid Hennessey with cash? Or not?

“What are you doing out on a night like this?” she asked instead, tucking her memories away to keep safe.

“Couldn’t sleep. Have a lot on my mind.”

“Your next job, perhaps?”

“No. I figure I’ll head home for a bit. I’m not worried about my next job. They tend to find me.” He nudged her elbow, guiding her into the darkness.

She inched away, refusing to lean on him. She knew what he was thinking. “You would be better off with the horses. Even with the jewelry. It would fetch you a few hundred if you were to sell it.”

“I don’t want a lady’s bracelet. I’ve got enough horses.”

Why didn’t he have a wife? The dark hid him from her, and he moved with the slightest sound into the aisle. She listened to the rustle as he moved, to the tap of his solid boots on the floor and the scrape of metal as he found the lantern.

A match flared, and light danced across his rugged features. My, he’s handsome. She’d always thought he was nice looking, but this close, he was devastating. A generous forehead over dark, expressive eyes. The high, sharp cheekbones of his native ancestors and the same proud look. A straight nose that wasn’t too big, but fit his face well. Over a mouth that was hard enough to be cut in stone, but suited him and didn’t look harsh. A jaw as strong as he was, and he clenched it hard so that muscles bunched in his throat while he studied her.

“I’ve been cast aside, you’re aware of that.” It was only the truth. “I did not make a good wife.”

“I suspect that’s a matter of opinion.”

“I don’t want to marry again.”

“What? If your stepfather offered you to me, he may do the same to someone worse. Ever think of that?”

Her stomach rolled. It was logical, of course. The horseman was right. She hadn’t considered the possibility. Cal had said he was looking for a situation. One that suited him financially, no doubt.

While her stepfather could not force her to marry anyone, he could make her life so miserable she would choose anything as an escape. Just as she’d chosen Brett. As an escape. As the one chance at happiness she thought she’d ever get.

“Come on up to the loft. There’s a good view from up there.”

“I don’t want to sit with you. I came here to be alone.”

“Me, too. We can be alone together. Come on.” He carried the battered lantern with him, sending light swinging back and forth across the dirt floor. Horses inside their shadowed stalls snuffled and shifted in protest, for their sleep was disturbed. Hennessey stopped at the end of the aisle. “Why don’t you come on up and make me