He couldn’t teach her of the art between a woman and a man. He’d never taken the time to learn. Somehow, he missed that lesson in school, or life, or wherever a man is supposed to learn how to make love to a woman. It was obvious he’d missed them, he didn’t even know where the lessons were taught.

Wes stopped and widened his stance, as if facing a firing squad. All he could do was protect her. He was good at that. If he did more, he’d be the harm that came her way.

The trapdoor behind him rattled. Victoria Catlin stepped out onto the flat walkway.

‘‘Miss Victoria?’’ Wes couldn’t believe what he saw. Not only blind, but frail and crippled with age, she walked into the sun like it was not only her right but her duty to do so.

‘‘Stop looking at me like I’m a fool,’’ she snapped.

Wes laughed. ‘‘How do you know how I’m looking at you? You’re blind.’’

‘‘Of course I am. I don’t need reminding, young man. But even blind, I can guess how a man looks at me. Always have been able to. When I was young, I could read what men were thinking as clear as if they were shouting from the rooftops.’’ She took a step and reached for his arm.

He offered his support.

‘‘Which in your case is no great feat since you’re up here doing exactly that.’’

Wes couldn’t help but like the old woman. Victoria was full of vinegar and meaner than a two-headed rattler, but she had a point. ‘‘Should you be up here?’’

‘‘I’ve been coming up here for fifty years. I like the feel of the sun on my face by day and the nearness to heaven by night.’’

‘‘So you came up for some sun?’’

‘‘Of course not.’’ She slapped his arm. ‘‘I came up to talk to you. I have a few questions.’’

‘‘If it’s about Allie, she doesn’t need your money. As soon as it’s safe, we’ll be out of your hair. We only came back because of Hardy.’’

‘‘Stop trying to answer before I give the questions. That’s always been a habit of men that has pestered me from time to time.’’

‘‘Yes, ma’am.’’

‘‘Maxwell told me how you found Allie tied in a cage and what, he guessed, she’d been through before you came along.’’

‘‘She can handle it.’’ Wes felt somehow disloyal to Allie talking about her. ‘‘It’s none of your concern.’’

‘‘Of course she can handle it,’’ Victoria said. ‘‘But the question is, can you?’’

For a moment, he thought she was looking directly at him as she repeated, ‘‘Can you handle all that’s happened to the girl?’’

Wes fought the urge to turn and run. He didn’t want to talk about Allie with anyone, much less some withered-up old woman who wouldn’t claim her for a grandchild.

‘‘I don’t have to handle anything. I promised to see her safely home. That’s all. Since this isn’t her home, I’ll search until I find another.’’

‘‘And if her home is by your side?’’

‘‘She doesn’t want that.’’

‘‘Doesn’t she?’’ Victoria’s hand tightened on his arm. ‘‘Are you sure?’’

Wes could only guess at how much the old woman heard from her bedroom next to theirs. She seemed to hear everything that was said in the house. He hardened his jaw, forcing the truth out. ‘‘She doesn’t want me. I’m sure about that.’’

‘‘If you believe that, Wes McLain, then you are a fool and someone does need to shoot you right now and put you out of your misery.’’

‘‘I don’t know how…’’ He couldn’t say the words. How does a man admit he never bothered to learn how to love?

‘‘Of course you don’t. No man does. Believe me, I’ve had enough men to prove the theory.’’

Her voice softened. ‘‘All you have to do is open your arms. She’ll show you the way. I had to teach every one of my husbands everything. A woman feels deep down in her gut what’s right. She’ll let you know when it’s time.’’

Wes couldn’t tell her that it wasn’t that way between Allie and him. They weren’t meant to be lovers. He wasn’t even sure how it happened. Allie wasn’t the kind of wife he needed and he sure wasn’t the kind of husband for her.

Victoria pulled at his arm. ‘‘Get me off this roof, young man. What kind of fool takes a blind woman up to the roof?’’

‘‘At least we agree on one thing: I’m a fool.’’

‘‘Don’t let it bother you. Half the population has the same problem.’’ She carefully lowered herself down the ladder steps.

Without another word, she walked down the hallway and disappeared into her room.

Wes watched her go. She measured her steps so that she didn’t have to touch a wall to know where she needed to turn.

He didn’t see Victoria again until nightfall, when she took her turn at Maxwell’s side. Jason gladly gave up the watch. Wes had told the boy he could sleep with the army tonight. Hardy had been right, the man called Cutler was full of horse stories. Jason thought it a great honor, but Wes knew that if Michael came, his two targets would be Hardy and Allie, and Jason would be safest away from them. Plus, the men would take care of him if any trouble did come riding in.

Wes had walked the grounds so many times he felt he could do it blind as easily as Victoria did. He’d checked and rechecked each of the doors opening out. The main gate was bolted with a log it took two men to lift. The two side doors framing the main gate had double guards to keep each other awake. The corral doors and barn were the least fortified, so Wes put not only guards, but most of the sleeping army along that wall.

There was also a small door off the kitchen and another by the well. Both were old solid doors with thick bolts. Anyone breaking them down would make enough noise to wake up everyone in the headquarters.

At sunset, Wes sat across from Allie and ate a few bites of supper. He couldn’t think of anything to say, and she never wasted conversation. Someone had placed a stack of clothes on their bed. She now wore a soft blue dress that fit her as though it had been made for her. It was simple, with old-fashioned lines but made of finequality material and workmanship. The dress molded to her body perfectly, showing off the balance as Nichole’s clothes could never do.

Wes shoved his plate away. ‘‘I like the dress.’’ He’d finally thought of something to say.

Allie didn’t answer.

‘‘I like the way you’ve done your hair, too.’’ She’d let one of the housekeepers tie the sides back, leaving it down, but no longer in her face.

She stared at her plate.

‘‘Allie, are you ever going to talk to me again?’’ He tried to keep the anger from his voice.

She looked up at him. The dress made her eyes even bluer.

‘‘I thought you were mad at me.’’ She studied him carefully. ‘‘Are you?’’

‘‘Hell… I mean, no. I’m not mad at you.’’ He leaned toward her, hoping no one else listened. ‘‘When this is over, we need to talk. I feel like someone poked a stick in me and stirred up all my insides.’’

She stood without a word and moved next to his chair. ‘‘I know how you feel.’’ Her hand stroked his hair as though she’d been longing to touch him for hours.

He didn’t react as her touch grew bolder.

She was doing it again, he thought. Proving she wasn’t afraid of him, testing, pushing the limit. Her fingers combed through his hair once more and he circled her waist with his arm, pulling her onto his lap.

‘‘Say it, Allie,’’ he insisted. ‘‘Say you want me near. That I didn’t make you so afraid of me you never want to set eyes on me again.’’

‘‘I want you near,’’ she answered a little breathlessly.

He didn’t kiss her, although the need to do so washed over him like flood water. He only stared at her, hoping she could read his feelings as easily as he could read hers.

She leaned against his chest and allowed him to hold her.

A moment later, he heard footsteps and lifted her up. When he stood her on her feet, his hand spread out across her back to steady her.

‘‘I like the dress,’’ he commented as though their conversation had just started.

Gideon hurried to the table as Allie whispered, ‘‘I’m glad.’’

Their talk was at an end. Wes pulled himself back to the problems at hand. He knew he would not see her again or have a chance to talk with her until the night was over. But somehow in the few words they’d said, they’d made a peace.

Gideon drew him back to reality.

Just after midnight, Wes made the rounds again. He took his time, even stopping to visit with the one-eyed man called Dillon at the door near the kitchen, though the man was still short on being friendly and long on being irritating.

At least in the dark he looked better, Wes thought as he returned to the house. It would have to be a moonless night at the bottom of a well before that man would ever find a woman to couple with.

Wes swore. With two eyes, he was doing little better.

Walking the ten feet to the kitchen door, he stepped inside, deciding he needed more coffee to stay awake. He was halfway through his second cup when Dillon clambered in.

‘‘I’m here,’’ he grumbled. ‘‘What’s so all-fired important?’’

Wes stood, smelling trouble. ‘‘Why’d you leave your post?’’

‘‘Miss Katherine said Miss Victoria sent for me. Said you had a dangerous job only I might be able to do. Katherine brought two replacements. Slone and one of the stable hands.’’

Wes grabbed his rifle and ran for the door, almost knocking Dillon out of the way.

‘‘Wait just a-!’’ Dillon shouted as he grabbed Wes’s collar.

‘‘I didn’t send for you!’’ Wes jerked free.

Realization dawned in the old man’s one eye. ‘‘Hell’s fury!’’ Dillon breathed the war cry in like liquid rage. He swelled up, shoved Wes hard, and ran from the room. The old soldier had only been gone from his post for a minute, maybe two, but it might have been a minute too long.

Wes was a step behind him when they stumbled over the body of the huge bald man. The gun belts across his chest had done him no good. He’d been stabbed in the back.