hating himself to being angry at her for not warning him. She should have reminded him she was a virgin. She should have made him go slower. She shouldn’t have made him so half-mad from kissing her that he wasn’t thinking.
He was no lovesick cowhand who hadn’t seen a woman in months. She was driving him crazy with her soft manner and gentle ways. And after all, she’d been the one who came looking for him in the orchard with her soft plea for him to touch her. The more he thought about it, the more he saw this whole mess as her doing.
He’d told her from the first he would never love her, Win thought. He’d been honest about wanting to share her bed. So she better not come crying and complaining now. The way he saw it, all he’d done was keep his word.
Win marched at full attack across the yard toward the house. ‘‘She got what she asked for and agreed to,’’ he mumbled, figuring there was no need for him to say a word about last night. What happened to her happened to every wife.
As he stomped in the kitchen primed for a fight, the smell of home cooking was all that greeted him. He loved the smell of cinnamon and apples baking. Since she’d been here the aromas always washed over him when he came home, making him forget most of his problems.
Win frowned. Maybe her revenge would be to fatten him up. If he kept downing half a pie at a time, he wouldn’t be able to sit a horse come next fall.
Voices drifted from the dining room. Win tossed his hat and coat on the rack and moved across the room. He ran his hand over his gunbelt. He knew Kora wanted him to remove it before sitting down at the table, but tonight he refused. Maybe that was another thing she’d just have to get used to. She was married to a rancher, and the Colt strapped to his leg was a part of his life. He hadn’t married her under any false pretenses, and if she thought she was going to change him, she’d better start thinking again.
He advanced into the dining room and took his seat, but if anyone noticed his dark mood, they gave it no credit. Wyatt was in the middle of a story, and Kora seemed far too occupied slicing meat to greet him. He joined the group and ate silently without anyone making a comment about his late arrival. Kora sat at the opposite end of the table between Wyatt and Cheyenne. Both men complimented her meal but gave most of their attention to Jamie.
When the meal was over, Jamie helped Kora clear the dishes. Win nodded to Wyatt and Cheyenne, then disappeared into his study, saying he had work to do. He was suddenly sick of talking to people, and most of all to himself.
He tried first to work, then to read, but pacing was the only thing he could do with any ability. Win thought of going out to the barn, but with the rain, all he could do there was think. Also it was not his habit to return to the barn. Win had a feeling Logan would notice and comment come morning.
Logan would mutiny if he thought Win and Kora were having trouble. The old man would be on Kora’s side before he even heard what was wrong. Not that he, or anyone else, would ever hear a word about last night. What happened was driving Win mad, and no one seemed to notice, including Kora.
Over and over in his mind he retraced the uneventful evening. The way Kora hardly looked at him. The way everyone talked around him. He might as well be Dan. No one noticed him, and he was starting to pick up his brother-in-law’s habit of walking. It was only a matter of time before he and Dan would both be circling the house nightly. Who knows? Maybe it hadn’t been the war but a wife somewhere who’d made poor old Dan the way he was.
Why couldn’t Kora have yelled at him about the Colt, or about being late to the table, or about the mud he’d tracked all over her kitchen? Why’d she have to act like nothing was wrong when he knew she must hate him? But, hell, the woman even passed him the first piece of pie. That was about as far as he’d be pushed, he’d almost exploded.
Win could stand the study’s confinement no longer. He almost jerked the door from its hinges as he bolted out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen. He would allow her to drive him mad no longer. It was time she faced him and had her say. How was he supposed to defend himself if she didn’t take a swing at him? She’d probably thought out this strategy of kindness just to drive him insane. Well, he would stand for it no more.
The kitchen was dark except for the glowing fire in the corner and the flashes of lightning from the windows.
Win stormed back down the hall and up a flight of stairs. If she’d gone to bed without a word, it would be the last straw.
But when he touched the railing to the final staircase, he hesitated. What if she were packing? What if she’d already left him despite the rain?
Jamie opened her bedroom door only a few feet from where Winter stood. ‘‘Evening, brother. I figured you went over with Wyatt and Cheyenne to the bunkhouse for a game of cards.’’ She looked pouty. ‘‘They made it plain I wasn’t invited.’’
‘‘I didn’t go.’’ Winter looked up the stairs toward his bedroom. ‘‘I was working in the study and finally decided it was time to turn in.’’
Jamie laughed. ‘‘I never know if you’re going up or down. I figured you were sleeping downstairs again. You’re worse than a yo-yo. I’ve seen bedbugs stake claims longer than you do, cowboy. She kick you out again?’’
Winter frowned. ‘‘No.’’ He wished he’d managed to sound more definite. ‘‘I just had some work I needed to do in the study first.’’
‘‘Well, try to stay up there all night this time. You wake me up always tromping down these stairs.’’ She leaned against the door facing. ‘‘I could give you some advice.’’
‘‘I don’t need any!’’ Winter snapped. ‘‘I’m doing fine on my own.’’
He took the stairs two at a time, wishing his words were true. Kora probably hated him more than she had ever hated anyone. For all he knew, she’d blockaded herself in the room or would toss him out in the rain. But not without a fight. If that was what she wanted, he’d give her one.
When he reached the top of the stairs, the warm glow of several lamps greeted him. Kora was curled in a blanket in an overstuffed chair she’d set next to the bookshelves. She glanced over at him, and he saw the fear in her eyes. Raw, childlike fear.
Winter almost turned around, but he wasn’t sure he could stand another day of arguing with himself. He took a step toward her.
‘‘Win,’’ she whispered, and in one sudden movement she was up from the chair and running toward him.
He caught her in midair as her arms wrapped around his neck with such force, for a moment he wasn’t sure if she was hugging or attacking.
‘‘I was wrong about the room!’’ she cried. ‘‘It’s frightening up here.’’
Her words didn’t register. The feel of her against him, the smell of her surrounding him, the light dancing in her hair was all he could take in.
‘‘What?’’ he said as he held her.
Kora pulled away. ‘‘The lightning looks like it will hit the house at any moment, and the thunder rattles the glass. I don’t like this place anymore. Maybe we can both sleep in the study tonight? Up here, it’s like being in the middle of a thundercloud.’’
Winter smiled and lifted her off the floor in his arms. She wasn’t frightened of him; she was frightened of the storm. ‘‘It’s all right,’’ he whispered as he carried her back to the chair.
He sat down and pulled the blanket over them both. ‘‘The captain told me once that he ordered the glass for these windows all the way from Chicago. He said the wood in the frame will split before the glass will break. The house has stood for fifty years without a storm taking it down, and I think it will be all right tonight. But if the storm bothers you, I could have shutters put up for nights like this.’’
She cuddled into his lap, leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘‘I’m sorry to be such a fool. I usually don’t let storms bother me. It doesn’t seem so bad now that you’re here.’’ She placed her hand over his heart. ‘‘Jamie would make fun of me for being so childish. I like to see the sky, but when it’s stormy I feel closed in. Shutters might be a good idea.’’
Win thought of all the things he’d considered saying to her. How he’d argued with himself for hours. In his mind he’d apologized, blamed her, and organized his strategies all day. But now, with her curled in his arms, he couldn’t remember what he’d been going to say.
‘‘Kora,’’ he finally whispered as his hand moved comfortingly along her back. ‘‘About last night.’’
She raised her head and looked at him, blue eyes full of question. ‘‘I forgot to thank you for placing your shirt
