Hunter's hand was warm to Perry's fingers. As they walked, he brought her hand to his face and blew his warm breath over her icy fingers. Though his actions were caring, his mind seemed far away.

After an almost untouched lunch he began pacing the large living area, as though he'd been assigned it as duty. One by one the neighbors came to pay their respects, each telling of his own sorrow. Hunter listened quietly and thanked each for coming; yet he remained detached. Perry stayed in the background. She had Eva serve tea and greet the guests while she moved about in unnoticed silence.

By mid-afternoon, clouds covered the sky, the wind grew colder, and the visitors stopped coming. When a door slammed somewhere in the front of the house, Perry moved to the kitchen window in time to see Hunter heading toward the barn. In another minute she watched him ride out like a man being chased. He vanished into the foggy gray air.

She worked around the house the rest of the afternoon, making an early supper, then sending the exhausted maids home. They were anxious to reach their small cottage before the dark clouds began to vent their wrath. Perry told them to sleep late tomorrow, for she would prepare Hunter's breakfast.

As night came, so did a steady rain, slamming into the house with vigor. Perry paced in front of the windows after she'd given up all other efforts to keep busy. Minutes dragged by as she studied the darkness for any sign of Hunter.

At ten Perry gave up waiting downstairs and decided to go up to her room and read. Hunter may have stopped somewhere for the night, she reasoned. Maybe he didn't want to return to this house filled with memories. Whatever his reason, Perry thought, he probably would be no more interested in seeing her tonight than he had been all day. She felt she'd been of little comfort to him.

Removing her shoes, she curled her legs underneath her in the comfortable chair in her room. She picked up one of the books of poetry and began to read.


The old clock in the hall was chiming midnight as she heard the front door open and close. At first she sighed with relief at Hunter's coming in from the storm. Then the thought occurred to her that it might not be him. Suddenly the realization that she was alone in the house struck her.

Slipping silently off her chair, she reached for her derringer on the nightstand. A noise echoed from across the hall. She moved out of her room and into the darkened hall without making a sound. What if someone had been watching the house? They might think this is a good time for a robbery.

She saw a dim light coming from the room across from hers. She cautiously moved to the half-open door. Peeking in, she breathed a sigh of relief. Hunter sat by the small fire, his legs spread wide as he relaxed in a chair. He'd removed his boots, and a soaked coat lay on the floor beside him. His hair was wet with rain and his face as stormy as the clouds outside his window. He watched the fire, studying its every pattern.

After a few minutes he glanced up at her with tired gray eyes. "Come in if you wish," he said flatly. Looking down at her gun, he laughed without humor. "Planning to threaten to shoot me again with my mother's gun?"

Perry looked surprised and lowered the gun. "Oh, no, I thought you might be a robber." She moved closer. "I didn't know this belonged to your mother."

"I didn't tell you because I wanted you to have it." He stared into the fire, yet his body seemed oblivious to its warmth.

"You're dripping wet." She grabbed a towel from the washstand. "You'll catch cold." Moving behind him, she rubbed his hair with a towel. "You need to get out of those clothes. I'll get you something warm to drink."

An iron hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her. He pulled her arm down, away from him. "Something hot to drink would be nice, but don't mother me." He almost spat the words.


Anger flared in Perry. "I'm not mothering you, but someone needs to take care of you. You haven't slept in two days, and then you go out riding in the middle of a storm-"

"Stop!" Hunter shouted as he stood and leaned close to the fire. His clothes clung to his hard, muscular body as he gripped the mantel. "I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me."

Perry threw the towel down. "Fine, Hunter Kirkland, don't let anyone feel anything for you." Her hands balled into fists at her side "You've made it plain you don't need anyone, so good night."

"And you've made it plain that you only take people on your own terms," he shouted at her retreating back.

Perry whirled to face him, her eyes wide in anger. "If you weren't so headstrong, you'd see that I just want to help. Why is it so terrible to believe someone cares for you?"

"Cares? Cares on your terms," Hunter said, his anger flashing. "I'll not come begging for handouts of caring. Every time I've looked up today, I've expected you to say you were leaving. I thought you would be gone by now, glad to have a damned Yankee like me out of your sight.''

"What do you want of me, Hunter?" Perry asked, exasperated.

"No, madam, the question is, what do you want from me?"

A long silence fell between them as Perry's heart burned with a mixture of pride and pain. Finally Perry gave up any hope of understanding. "I want nothing from you, Hunter. Nothing you are capable of giving."

She would have moved away, but she heard Hunter whisper to himself, "I want you to stay with me. But you'd accuse me of trying to molest you again."

The sadness in his words brought tears to her eyes. His loneliness mirrored her own as he stared into the fire, unaware he had voiced his thoughts. He'd lost two people he loved dearly, and he was too tired to fight with her anymore. He moved across the room to his bed, threw the covers wide, and dropped on his back onto the sheets.

Perry turned slowly. "It's cold in here," she stated matter-of-factly. She crossed to the fire and put another log on, then waited for it to catch. She moved to his wet jacket and carefully dropped it over the back of a chair.

Hunter watched her with a frown, resenting her kindness. He placed his hands under his head but made no comment. No matter how tired he was, he would never tire of watching her move. Even through his anger and grief he was aware of her beauty. She seemed so kind and caring, yet he knew that if he touched her, she'd vanish like a dream.

To his shock she didn't leave, but stood for a moment beside his bed. Then, with a determined suddenness, she crawled, fully dressed, into the other side of the bed and reached for the covers he'd thrown aside. She spread the blankets carefully over them both and lay down on the pillow opposite him.

When she turned her face toward him, he didn't miss the challenging look in her eyes. She was daring him to say anything. Her chin was high and her eyes were bright in the firelight. As usual she'd made her decision and would stand by it. She was telling him by her action that she cared and, more importantly, that she trusted him.

Hunter slowly pulled his arm from under his head. She lifted her head off her pillow and moved under his arm to lie closer to him, her head resting on his shoulder. Hunter's body tensed as her warm breast pressed lightly against the cool dampness of his shirt. He reached with his free hand and pulled the ribbon binding her hair. As he gently spread her curls over his arm and onto the pillow, he whispered, "Are you sure you hadn't rather sleep with a bolted door between us?"

Perry's voice was soft, barely audible. "Do you need me here, Hunter?"

He lay silent for several minutes, holding her in his arms. He wanted to say he needed no one, but he couldn't lie. If he admitted how totally, truly, and desperately he needed her, he might frighten her away. Finally he stopped the battle within him by whispering against her velvet hair. "I need you, my angel, as dearly as man needs air."

In response she molded closer to his damp clothes, sending a warmth through him that no fireplace could provide. Placing her arm lightly over his chest, she whispered, "Good night," and her body relaxed next to his.

Hunter lay awake, trying to understand the woman at his side. Finally from lack of sleep, combined with the warm feeling surrounding him, he closed his eyes. There would be no need to dream tonight, for all his fantasies lay beside him.

Chapter 33

Early morning sunlight drifted through an opening between the curtains as Perry awoke. At first she was only aware of how wonderfully warm and rested she felt. Then, slowly, she realized where she was. Hunter's arm rested across her as he lay on his stomach beside her. She turned her head slowly to watch him sleep. This strong, complicated man looked so open and boyish now. His tight jaw was relaxed, his mouth slightly open. His sun-bleached hair curled across his forehead and along his neck. As she touched a single strand she realized how very much she loved him. Closing the inches between them, she lightly kissed his cheek. "I love you, Hunter Kirkland," she whispered as he slept. Someday maybe she'd say the words when he was awake.

Perry snuggled close in contentment and gazed lazily around the room. She had no wish to leave her warm nest or the man sleeping at her side. The room obviously had been Hunter's when he'd stayed here as a child. Though the toys were removed, books remained, lining the shelves along each wall. A beautiful pair of swords were crossed on one wall above the dresser. Perry could almost see him as a boy, fencing with his shadow. He could have fought many an imaginary pirate with such grand swords.

Wiggling around to see the other side of the room, she found sleepy gray eyes watching her. She loved the look of wonder on his face before he fully awoke, blocking out all his feelings from the world.