"Was that Mistress Tessa I heard?" Thomas' voice came from the shadowed library. "Has she good news of Father's condition?"

"Nay." Only two candles flickered against the darkness. Jonah hadn't the heart to light more. Now he saw only the shadow of his brother, broad shouldered and far more capable than he himself could ever be. "He is ailing. I am off to fetch a surgeon from Saybrook. Tell Andy. Tessa will need help if Father worsens."

" 'Tis foolish for you to leave." Thomas stepped into the ribbons of light, solemn eyes unflinching. "I will go after a doctor."

"Nay, I shall do it-"

"I have been here these last few years, Jonah. I can spare the time away from him. You cannot."

Shame crept around his heart and squeezed like a grip. "I must go." He reached for his cloak.

"I know the way best." Thomas' hand stopped him. "Night will come before long, and I can find my way better than you through the dark. I have traveled the roads more. Trust me, Jonah, I will ride faster and return more quickly. 'Twill be best for Father."

" 'Tis only sensible." Shame tightened its grip inside his chest. "Thank you, brother. I will find Andy and carry in more firewood. Make myself useful somehow."

"You are too harsh with yourself. It can be no easy task trying to fill Father's footsteps. Do not try so hard to be somebody else." Thomas' voice dipped, and kindness shone in his eyes. "I will saddle one of the stallions and leave immediately."

"Godspeed, brother." Jonah listened to Thomas' steps in the kitchen, heard the back door bang shut, felt silence creep through the house.

He heard the slightest footfall on the ceiling above. Tessa. Until the surgeon came, Father's fate lay in her caring hands.


She recognized Jonah's step in the hallway. She only had time to brace herself before he strolled through the door, all brash and spellbinding brawn.

"You look exhausted." Kindness flickered in his compelling eyes.

Little bubbles of heat popped in her blood. Why did she react strongly to him? He made her think of her most secret dreams, of how good his body had felt against hers, hard and strong and so wondrously male. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

"Any change?" Jonah demanded from the threshold, his voice tight.

"Nay."

"You're angry at me." He winced. "Because I hurt you. I didn't mean it. I didn't know I was bruising you."

Of course not. He'd held her with a possessive strength she'd never felt before, claiming and unyielding and filled with heart-deep need. No one had ever held her that way. No one ever would again.

"You need not worry," she said quietly, folding the used towel in careful thirds. "I know that there is not a single man alive who would hold me on purpose."

She'd meant it as a small joke, but no humor shaped his grim, well-shaped mouth.

"Mayhap you should stop doing your best to scare off all the men." His gaze bore into hers, glimmering with knowledge.

"I do no such thing." She jumped up from the low bedside stool so fast she nearly knocked it to the ground. "Just because I do not dally with every available man, the way you do with women, does not mean-"

"Do you think I like being forced to marry?" In three strides he'd crossed the room.

"Forced?" She knelt before the fire, hating that she now gazed at his booted feet. "Your father wants grandchildren. I hardly call that having a gun to your head."

"To me it is the same."

"Then you live too easy of a life." Forced to marry? The dolt knew nothing. Living in a fine house, a hero in his family's eyes, so handsome any woman would fall at his feet and be honored to feel his love. "No one is threatening to toss you out if you do not marry."

Silence. Perhaps he would leave now, go so that she need not see him and fight memories of his rock hard chest, so male and so fascinating. And how amazing it felt simply to be touched by a man, by him.

Truly, a foolish thought. He'd held her and it meant nothing to him. There would be no man to love her. No family of her own built on happiness and trust.

She lifted a stick of chopped maple from the ornate brass wood box, something far too fine for holding a stack of wood.

Big fingers curled around her own. Beautiful, blunt-tipped fingers that snapped heat through her bones. Tessa's blood warmed as Jonah knelt beside her and lifted the wood from her grip.

"Allow me." His voice could caress all common sense from a woman.

"I will allow you nothing." She released the wood, hoping he would release her hand. He did. He'd meant nothing by touching her. Why did she feel so disappointed? "We are nearly out of wood."

Dark eyes sizzled, drawing her closer. "My brother is bringing more."

"Aye, I'm not surprised." Tessa stood, determined to keep her distance. "A hero such as yourself is too important to carry an armload of wood."

"That is not what I meant-"

"I doubt you know what a good day's work feels like. No, hard labor is beneath Major Jonah Hunter." Anger felt easier than admitting what was truly bothering her, what was ripping her heart in two.

"I never said I was so fine," he ground out. "The damn truth is-"

"You have every girl in town pining after you, batting her eyes, trying to win your favor. And look at you, soaking it up when your father is so gravely ill." What right did he have complaining about having to marry? How dare he complain when he could have what she would not?

"That is not true and you know so, Tessa."

"I know nothing. Do you think I will melt at your feet the way Violet and her friends did?"

His eyes sizzled. "I doubt you would melt for any man, Tessa Bradford."

His hand clamped on her wrist, and her breath wedged in her throat. His bare skin scorched hers, the heat absorbing into her body.

Why was she behaving this way? Was she so desperate for his touch that she would imagine Jonah Hunter as a man capable of giving love? Anger tore at her.

"I'm too wise to melt for a man. Especially a handsome one." She fetched a clean washcloth from a pile of linen.

"So, you think me handsome?"

She clenched the cloth in her fist. "I do not," she lied. "But I bet that you think yourself handsome. And admit it, you liked how those young girls flocked around you, simpering for your attention."

"I don't give a damn for those girls playing dress up and thinking that I am some tasty meal ticket," he ground out, fury so tight in his jaw he could barely form the words.

"Now, you are lying."

Fire burned in his eyes. "Nay, I'm telling the truth. I hardly care what you think of me. You're in this house to tend Father, not render judgment on me. Is that clear?"

"I am not one of your indentured servants, bought and paid for, so don't treat me as if I am." Her fingers trembled from fatigue, surely not emotion, as she rung moisture from the cloth. "I may not be pretty and young, but at least I'm not like those ridiculous girls hoping to be your bride."

"Tell me how you are smarter, Tessa." His shadow fell across her, claiming her as swiftly as his touch.

Her skin burned. Her blood tingled. Was there no stopping her body's response to him? "I am not fooled by a man's false heart. Especially a man thinking of his earthly needs when his father is lying so ill."

"What know you of a man's earthly needs?" His voice boomed through the room, echoing off the papered walls.

Tessa blushed. "Hand me the towel over there, please. Jonah, I shall have no more-"

"A woman such as you must know a lot about a man such as I," he interrupted, his big body so near to hers she could feel the power thrumming through his tensed muscles.

"Jonah, keep your voice down. Your father is fast asleep." Heavens, she should not have risked his temper.

His teeth ground, clacking together. "I will not. I want to know about you, so strict and pious on the outside, but I know differently. How dare you judge me as if I were mere mud at your feet?"

"I never said you were mud," she protested and tried to step away. His hand caught her, held her close. Way too close to that solid wall of his chest.

"Tell me what you were doing in the woods last night? What foul business were you about? I think I have a clue. Since you know so much about a man's earthly needs, then mayhap you've been tending to them."

Heat popped across her skin as he closed the distance between them. He dipped his face toward hers. She stumbled back. He caught her by the elbows, his firm grip twice as possessive and as unyielding as before. Was there no escape? Jonah leaned closer. The breath stalled in her chest. She tried to protest, but his lips claimed hers in a burst of heat and velvet and possession. Heat swept across the surface of her lips where their mouths joined. Hot, bubbling pleasure that somehow twisted low in her stomach.

Sweet heaven. Tessa melted against him. He was all rock-solid muscle and powerful man, but his mouth brushed hers with such surprising tenderness that she could not move.

"You taste sweeter than you look," he murmured.

She tasted his every word, every breath. Jonah's hand curled around her neck, cradling the back of her head. Heat pulsed in her blood as his lower lip caught hers and sucked it into his mouth. Sweet Mary, she'd never known such scorching heat. Never known such a touch. Was Jonah Hunter such a man that he could bring fire to her cold heart?

His tongue brushed velvet heat along the seam of her lips. This was like a kiss she'd dreamed of on those unhappy nights when she lay unable to sleep in her bed. This kiss was like a dream, and it sizzled like magic wonder along her lips, fired her blood, and made her bones melt. Overcome, Tessa laid her hand against his jaw and felt the curious texture of his unshaven whiskers, wondrous and rough against her palm.