he added wood, the dwindling fire snapped in appreciation. The light changed from orange to gold, haloing him like heaven’s touch, caressing his strong profile and the steeled length of his back, shadowing his warrior’s face.
As if he felt her gaze, he pivoted toward her. The corner of his mouth edged into a slow, lopsided grin. “Good morning. Or should I say, good afternoon?”
She pulled the quilt to her chin. Should she mention how inappropriate it was to be alone in a room with him? While she was in bed? Her face heated, but Hennessey didn’t seem aware of it as he added more wood to the fire with a steady competence, the way he did everything.
He concentrated on his task, handing one stick of pine after another into the flames, unconcerned by the heat as the fire licked higher and higher.
When his job was done, he unfolded his big masculine frame and pinned his attention on her. “How are you, pretty lady? You look whiter than those pillow slips.”
“I’m simply tired, is all.” At least that’s what she hoped.
“Seems like it’s more than that to me.” His boots issued a warning as he dared to approach the bed.
“Truly, I am fine.” She had to be all right. To prove her point, she pushed up from the mattress. She felt a sudden warm rush as dizziness swirled through her head, stealing the light and the room from her sight.
“Here, lie back now. That’s it.” His hands on her shoulders pressed her into the pillows. His words were a comfort as she waited for the spinning blackness in her head to cease. It hurt too much to think. She could only endure the wave of pain as it crashed through her.
Her vision cleared to see the man bowing before her, like a knight before royalty, his shoulders strong and broad enough to manage any burden. The long column of his neck, where his black hair was gathered back with a single leather band, made him appear strangely vulnerable at the same time.
The room righted itself and the light returned. It was no knight of old kneeling before her, but Hennessey, his wide fingers folded around hers, his touch like an anchor keeping her safe.
“A little more than tired, are you?” One brow quirked on his stony face. There was tenderness written there in the corners of his mouth and the pinch of his eyes. “Just close your eyes, angel, and rest.”
“But-”
“Hush. The last thing you need right now is to be troubled by a packful of worries.” His callused fingers could have been harsh, but when he squeezed, the power in them was comforting. “I’ll take care of anything you need. You say the word, and I’ll do it. How’s that?”
Tears welled up, filling her throat and her eyes. He was kind. Kind, when she was helpless and he so strong.
“I brought up a full tray from the kitchen. Figured you might be hungry. I was. Ate the diner out of their entire stock of eggs and bacon, I’d bet money on it. That was some storm we came through, wasn’t it?”
She nodded, the scrape of her hair on the pillows all the effort she could manage. Her vision blurred so that he was streaks of gray and black, backlit by the cheerful glow of the fire.
“It wasn’t luck we made it here by nightfall. My horses have traveled in a lot of blizzards.”
He moved away, the heat of his hand leaving hers. She rubbed the wetness from her eyes as he ambled through the half light in the room, his step a comforting knell on the wood floor, his drawl luring her attention away from the pain she was feeling.
“They’re used to traveling, just like me. We’ve been over most of the West. That gelding and me have been through flash floods in New Mexico, an avalanche in Colorado, prairie fires in Texas. We’ve borrowed rides on the railroads from here to Mexico.” There was a scrape of ironware and the sound of water pouring.
“Here.” He knelt beside her, a cup cradled in his hands.
Her hands shook. The ironware cup was full nearly to the brim. She’d spill it for certain, but as if he could read her thoughts, Hennessey guided it to her mouth and held the cup steady while she sipped. The cool water tasted delicious across her dry tongue.
“Want to try some of that soup I brought?”
Her chest began hurting, too, at his kindness. She managed to nod. What manner of man was he? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t afraid to be alone with him. The sounds of his movement in the room and the rise and fall of his voice comforted her.
Ironware rattled, flatware scraped and he returned. The rim of the bowl brushed her bottom lip and the fragrant broth steamed her face. Not too hot, just right as she sipped slowly, letting the soup glide all the way to her stomach, warming her up. Soothing. Comforting.
There was that word again. She didn’t want to be comforted by a man.
She couldn’t seem to turn away as he held the bowl steady. She watched him over the curve of the rim. “It’s good to be back. I was raised here. It’s the reason I took the job on your father’s ranch. Figured it would do me some good to be close to home for a change. I could ride over and stay at my place now and again.”
Her stomach began coiling up. She didn’t feel right. She didn’t feel good.
“You’re looking more pale, if that’s possible. I reckon it’s a good thing I asked the doc to stop by.” The callused pad of Hennessey’s thumb traced away wetness at the corner of her eye.
“I can’t pay a doctor.” When she spoke, her words came rough and raw, and so quiet he had to lean forward to hear her. “I just need rest. No doctor.”
She wasn’t only tired, Dillon figured. She was weak. She was in pain. Her gold hair fanned along the crisp pillow slips that were shockingly white against her gray pallor. Fear wedged in his chest as he lowered the bowl.
“Katelyn? You rest. That’s right. Sleep all you need to.” He intended to make damn sure the doctor took good care of her. Where was that man? He should be here by now. If he didn’t hurry up, Dillon vowed to march through the snowdrifts and haul him back by the collar.
Her eyelids drifted closed, fluttering half moons against her cheeks. Dark circles bruised the delicate skin beneath her eyes. Exhaustion dug deep furrows into her soft brow and bracketed her lush mouth.
Maybe he’d been wrong to help her. If he’d known her health was this frail, he would have hauled her back to that house, and no amount of pleas and empathy for her would have changed his mind.
She was more important than anything, a good kind woman like her. Why would anyone cast her aside?
His fingertips drifted to her brow. He knew it was wrong to touch her like this, as if he had the right. He couldn’t stop his thumb from trying to rub out the worry deep in her brow. He hated that she was ill. Hated that she was worrying even as her breathing changed to a slower, deeper rhythm.
Right here, right now, until his last breath, he would watch over her. Keep her safe.
A light knock rattled the door. The doc ambled in, set down his black bag and shrugged out of his coat.
“’Afternoon, Hennessey.”
“Hi there, Haskins. Appreciate you coming over.”
Dillon stood, jarring the bed, and Katelyn heard his easy gait ringing on the wood floor. Pain washed over her. She really wasn’t feeling well. She tried to open her eyes and through the curl of her heavy eyelids she saw a man about Hennessey’s age, competent looking as he unbuttoned both sleeves and began rolling them up his forearms.
“Are you responsible for this woman?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, she’s mine.” Hennessey’s rumbling baritone was nearly a whisper, but the impact of his words shouted through her.
That was the reason he’d been caring this morning. Noble, as he knelt at her side. Dependable, as he’d held the cup to her lips.
Mine, he’d said. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face into the pillows, but the image of him standing before the door remained. The image of Hennessey watching her, hat in his hand, heart on his sleeve.
Chapter Eight
Hell, yes, she was his. Saying it was different than hoping for it. Saying it gave a man
