She didn't like Cole's ability to stay away from her. She wanted to fight with him. She wanted to do anything just to bring him close to her again. It was an effort to turn away from him, to find some trivial thing to discuss with Jamie and Shannon.

Cole remained in a foul temper all day. With winter coming on, there was a lot to do. Cole was anxious to have it all done before he left for the East and before Malachi and Jamie had to leave to rejoin their units. They spent the day gathering up as much of the herd as they could for Pete to drive to market. Kristin had been surprised that Cole was willing to let her sell the beef on the Union side of the line, but he had reminded her that the ranch belonged to her brother, Matthew, and that Matthew was fighting for the Union. Cole couldn't go north himself, but Pete could handle the cattle drive, and Malachi and Jamie would be around until he got back at the end of the week.

By dinnertime, Cole seemed to be in a somewhat better mood, and Kristin maintained a polite distance from him. Cole, Jamie and Malachi all sat down to dinner with Kristin and Shannon that night. Delilah refused to sit and made a big fuss over everyone. Jamie made the meal a pleasant affair. He told the two girls about a pair of hammers his mother had bought for Cole and Malachi when they were boys and about how the two of them had used their hammers on one another. Even Shannon laughed and refrained from engaging in verbal warfare with Malachi. Cole listened to the story with a smile on his face, and at one point his eyes met Kristin's and he gave her an entrancing grin and a sheepish shrug.

After dinner, Kristin played the spinet and Shannon sang. She sang a few light tunes, then gave a haunting rendition of "Lorena", a ballad about a soldier who returns from the wars to find that his love is gone. When it was over, they were all silent. Then Cole stood up and told Shannon in a strangled voice that her singing was very beautiful. He excused himself and left them.

Kristin bit her lip as she watched him leave the room. Jamie gave her an encouraging pat on the knee, and Malachi practically shoved Shannon out of the way and began a rousing chorus of "Dixie."

When he had finished, Shannon regained her place and sang "John Brown's Body."

"Shannon McCahy, you are a brat," Malachi told her.

"And you're a rodent," Shannon replied sweetly.

"Children, children!" Jamie protested with a sigh.

But Shannon said something, and though Kristin could see that Malachi was striving for patience, he replied sharply, and the battle was on once again.

Kristin rose and left them bickering. She went upstairs and was surprised to find that Cole was already in bed. She thought he was asleep, but when she crawled in beside him, trying not to disturb him, he turned over and took her in his arms. She tried to study his eyes in the darkness, but she could see only their silver glow. She tried to speak, but he silenced her with a kiss. Tenderly at first, and then with a growing passion, he made love to her. When it was over, he held her close, his bearded chin resting against the top of her head. He didn't speak, and neither did she. She knew he lay there awake for a long time, and she wished she could reach out to him, wished she knew what to say to him. She could not apologize, for she had done nothing wrong. She kept silent.

Eventually Kristin fell asleep.

Sometime later, something woke her. She didn't know what it was at first. She heard something, some hoarse, whispered words that she didn't understand. Struggling to free herself from the web of sleep, she opened her eyes, just as Cole's arm came flying out and slammed against her shoulder.

She sat up in bed, calling out his name. He didn't answer her, and she fumbled for a match to light the oil lamp on the bedside table. The glow filled the room and fell on Cole.

The bare flesh of his shoulders and chest was gleaming with sweat. The muscles there were tense and rigid and knotted. His fingers plucked at the sheet that lay over him.

His features contorted, his head tossing from side to side, he screamed, "No!" His entire body was stiff and hard.

"Cole!" Kristin pleaded, shaking him. "Cole —"

"No!" he screamed again.

She straddled him, took him by the shoulders and shook him hard, determined to wake him.

His eyes flew open, but he didn't see her. He called out again, and then he struck out at her, and the force sent her flying to the floor. He jerked upright as she fell. Stunned, Kristin sat on the hard floor, rubbing her bruised behind.

"Kristin?"

He whispered her name slowly, fearfully.

There was something in his voice that she had never heard before, a frightened tone, and it touched her deeply.

"I'm here," she whispered ruefully.

He looked over the side of the bed and swore. He leaped swiftly from the bed, and took her in his arms. She felt the pounding of his heart, felt the tremors that still racked him as he laid her down on the bed again.

"I hurt you. I'm so sorry."

His voice was deep, husky. She felt her own throat constrict, and she shook her head, burrowing more deeply against his naked chest. "No. You didn't hurt me. I'm all right, really."

He didn't say anything. He didn't even move. He just held her.

She wanted to stay there, where she was, forever. She had never felt so cherished before. Desired, admired, even needed. But never so cherished.

"You had a nightmare," she told him tentatively.

"Yes," he said.

"I wish you would tell me —"

"No."

It wasn't that he spoke so harshly, but that he spoke with absolute finality. Kristin stiffened, and she knew he felt it. He set her from him and rose. She watched as he walked over to the window, and as he stood there in the moonlight a dark web of pain seemed to encircle her heart. He walked with a pride that was uniquely his. He stood there for a long time, naked and sinewed and gleaming in the moonlight, and stared out at the night. Kristin watched as his muscles slowly, slowly eased, losing some of their awful rigor.

"Cole —" she whispered.

He turned back to her at last. He walked across the room, and she was glad when he lifted the covers and lay beside her again, drawing his arm around her and bringing her head to his chest. He stroked her hair.

"Cole, please —"

"Kristin, please. Don't."

She fell silent. His touch remained gentle.

"I have to leave tomorrow," he said at last.

"Where are you going?"

"East."

"Why?"

He hesitated for a long time. "Kristin, there are things that you probably don't want to hear, and there's no good reason for me to tell you."

"No questions, no involvement," she murmured. He didn't answer her, but she felt him tighten beneath her.

"It's late," he said at last. "You should —"

She rose up and touched his lips with her own, cutting off his words. She wondered if she should be angry, or at least cool and distant. Nothing had changed. He had married her, but he still didn't want any involvement.

That didn't matter to her. Not at that moment. She only knew that he was leaving, and that in these times any man's future was uncertain at best. She ceased the flow of his words with the soft play of her tongue and leaned the length of her body over his, undulating her hips against his groin and the hardened peaks of her breasts against his chest. She savored the sharp intake of his breath and the quick, heady pressure of his hands upon her back and her buttocks.

Now it was her turn to inflame him. She nuzzled her face against his beard, and she teased his throat and the hard contours of his shoulders and chest. She tempted him with her tongue and with her fingertips and with the entire length of her body. She moved against him, crying out again and again at the sweet feel of their flesh touching. She teased him with her teeth, moving lower and lower against him. He tore his fingers into her hair and hoarsely gasped out her name. She barely knew herself. She was at once serene and excited, and she was certain of her power. She took all of him without hesitation. She loved him until he dragged her back to him and kissed her feverishly on the lips, then drew her beneath him. There was a new tension etched into his features, and a new blaze in his eyes. Taut as wire, he hovered above her. Then he came to her, fierce and savage and yet uniquely tender.

She thought she died just a little when it was over. The world was radiant, painted with shocking strips of sunlight and starlight, and then it was black and she was drifting again.

He held her still. He didn't speak, but his fingers stroked her hair, and for the moment it was enough. His hand lay over her abdomen. Tentatively she placed her fingers over his. He laced them through his own, and they slept.

But in the morning when she awoke, he was gone.

Three days later, Kristin was pumping water into the trough when she looked up to see a lone rider on the horizon, coming toward the house. For a moment her heart fluttered and she wondered if it might be Cole returning. Then she realized it couldn't be him. It wasn't his horse, and the rider wasn't sitting the horse the way he did.

"Malachi!" she called. He and Jamie would be with her for another few days. She frowned and bit her lip as she watched the approaching rider. It wasn't Zeke, she knew. Zeke never rode alone. Besides, there was no reason for her to be afraid of Quantrill's boys. Cole had gone through with the wedding to protect her, and anyway, Quantrill was supposed to be moving south for the winter. There was no reason to be afraid.