Humming a soft Celtic tune, she sets the broth to boil, and drops in the vegetables she thinks will be good. Next, she moves to the small table and begins the biscuits. Chase wakes up and smells heaven. He follows the sound of her voice and stares at her. Standing in the kitchen barefoot with her hair damp from a bath she looked to him like an angel. When she turns to smile at him, his heart drops to his stomach. He doesn't see a witness in need of protection, but his future.
“What are you doing Bronnah, we’re being hunted!” He blows out two of the lanterns and casts the tiny two-room house into darkness, except for the fireplace flickering in the living room. She jumps as if he slapped her.
“I’m sure they couldn’t have followed us this quickly, Marshall. Not in the storm raging outside.” Bronnah hides her hurt and begins cutting the biscuits and placing them on the tin she found.
Storm? He was so caught up in the image she represents that he didn’t even notice the raging storm blowing around them. “That may be exactly what they wish for you to think. Did you even look at those girls, Bronnah?”
“I did not need ta look, Marshall, I lived it.” She ignores him and kneads the remaining dough to roll it out once more. Determined not to fight with him she simply listens and lets him vent.
"We have to be vigilant. That means not too much light or fire." Bronnah nods and hands him a cup of hot coffee. "Thank you. If we're lucky, we can replenish here and catch a train to the Marshall's office in Kansas."
That catches her attention, Bronnah slides the pan in the oven and turns to look at him. “You’re out of your mind if ya think I’m going to the headquarters of the U.S. Marshall’s office. We’ll go our separate ways before then.” She turns away from him once more and stirs the soup. Tapping the spoon on the pot, Bronnah grabs two bowls and fills them with the steaming liquid.
Chase eyes her over the rim of his coffee cup and slowly steps into the small kitchen, invading her space. Bronnah ignores him as he sets down his coffee. She sets the table waiting for him to respond. His hands grip her shoulders gently and run down both arms. Bronnah leans back into the steel strength of his body when he his whispers in her ear, “Over my dead body.”
Bronnah ignores the wave of chills that erupt all over her body, and she attempts to whirl, but he holds her tight. "Bronnah O'Dalaigh, you are a federal witness under my protection. You will do exactly as I say if you wish to survive." Fury rages with the common sense in her mind. She knows that he has the right to arrest her and force her to testify but staying with him is out of the question. It will only place him in danger, and she's afraid that she will grow to need him.
“Say it, Bronnah. Say you are under my protection.” He growls and smells the fresh scent of soap and Bronnah. She leans back into him and closes her eyes, tilting her head to offer her neck. His hot mouth nips at her and her body jerks.
“Nay, Chase Rivers. I’ll not be owned by you nor anyone else!” She groans when he bites her neck a little harder and releases her in frustration. Bronnah sighs in relief and moves around the table to put some space between them.
"Be reasonable, woman! They aren't going to let you walk away."
"I know that Chase, I may be Irish, but I'm not stupid." A blush of outrage covers her cheek as she stomps closer to him. "Listen to me, please. I will give you the ledger, but I know what I heard. They said that a U.S. Marshall had been paid off…" Bronnah's eyes fly open wide with horror, and she starts to back away, shaking her head.
“No!” She gasps and picks up the knife she was cooking with. Why else would he be pushing her so hard to go to Kansas?
“Don’t be ridiculous, woman. I’m here to help you!” His silver eyes take in the look of panic in her eyes and the way her breathing has increased. She looks to him like a deer about to bolt. He backs away with his hands raised. “I’ve only tried to protect you, Bronnah. You know that!”
"Do I? All I know is that you are a Marshall and you are trying to take me to the one place I shouldn't go." Bronnah begins to back away to the doorway, hoping to make a break for it if she needs too. A single tear escapes and the knife is shaking in her hand. "I trusted you."
The simple statement in those three words cut deeper than any knife could. Bronnah runs for the door, but he's ready. Chase kicks a chair in front of her, causing her to fall over it and sending the knife skidding across the wooden floor. Bronnah rolls over swinging at him just as he traps her to the floor. She's sobbing now and struggling to fight him off.
"Damnit, woman! You're going to hurt yourself. Stop! Look at me, Bronnah. You know I wouldn't hurt you!" Chase demands, and she grows still. Looking into his eyes all she knows is that he's threatening her freedom. The storm outside matches the intensity of the fury raging between the two of them.
Chase realizes what he's doing and sits up pulling her with him. She gasps in pain and clutches her ribs. To his horror, her hand covers a blood stain on her shirt. "Chase?" she murmurs before passing out. He catches her and carries her into his bedroom. Laying her on the bed, he lifts the white
