Pulling away suddenly, Kora was shocked at her own boldness. Touching a man was something Jamie might do. She was the one who always followed her feelings and desires, not Kora. Kora always followed duty.

Silently she slipped from the room, thankful Winter had been asleep and would never know of her actions. She’d never done anything so insane or so bold. He’d wanted a marriage because of the house. He’d shown no interest in her, and if he had, he would have probably frightened her to death. But despite what they’d agreed on, he belonged to her now. Legally this wild, powerful man was hers.

Running up the stairs, Kora felt her face redden with embarrassment as her heart pounded wildly. What if he had awakened? Or what if he’d thought her mad? She’d always been the logical one, always done what had to be done, never letting her feelings interfere. But when she looked at Win, she thought of what might be.

She had to keep her distance. He’d shown no sign of wanting to be near her. He was wealthier than anyone she’d ever known. He commanded an empire built on strength and honesty. Jamie was right. If they did sleep together, she’d have to explain about how she had never lain with her first husband, and Winter would find out what a lying, conniving opportunist she was. No honest man like Winter would want a wife who fooled the world into believing a dead man had married her.

Kora reached the attic and took a long breath, determined never to do anything so foolish as touching him again. She would keep her distance from Winter McQuillen. For her own sake, she could never afford to touch him as she had again. Fate and her past seemed to have stacked the deck against her, and the ante for a love that might not be returned was too high a price to pay.

SIX


KORA LAY DOWN ON THE PILE OF COLORFUL QUILTS she’d brought up to the attic. The blankets were beautifully done in rainbow colors and smelled of the cedar chests she’d found them in. She curled into a ball and smiled at the warm sun shining through the windows. There was a time that Kora thought they’d never see the sun again. The year they’d first been on their own, Kora managed to get work in a bakery just a bottle’s throw from New Orleans’ Bourbon Street. She had gone to work before dawn and never left until after dusk. She hadn’t hated the work, only the city. Dan’s ghosts were bad back then. Many nights she walked home after work only to find him and little Jamie asleep on the step of what had been their apartment when she’d left at dawn. The memories chilled her now with a cold reality that not even the quilts could keep at bay.

After an hour she gave up trying to sleep, washed carefully, and fixed her hair in a neat bun. Since she only had one dress other than the one she’d been married in, she put it on and hoped she looked presentable. The blue once matched her eyes, but the material was now faded to a gray color.

The house was quiet, sleeping like a lazy cat in the morning sun. Last night’s rain made the air crisp and clean. She tiptoed down the stairs, smiling at the unbelievable possibility that she might be allowed to live in such a place even for a little while.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, someone rapped on the door with an impatient sound, startling her.

Kora glanced around, unsure of what to do. Slowly she walked to the front entrance. The rapping came again, more impatient this time. Her hand touched the knob.

Winter bolted from the study, pulling his shirt on as he moved. ‘‘Hands come to the kitchen door,’’ he said as he lifted his gunbelt from the rack. ‘‘And I’m not expecting company.’’

As he buckled on the gunbelt, he nodded once, telling her to turn the knob.

She pulled, intending to open only slightly, but the door suddenly flew toward her with a shove and Kora found herself pushed backward by the force.

A woman in her mid-twenties hurried in with white lace and red ruffles flying. She was tall with raven hair and ivory skin. Pretty, in a staged way.

‘‘Winter!’’ the intruder shouted, lifting her arms in greeting.

When he didn’t move toward her, she slowed and touched him on the shoulder, as if trying to brush away his coldness.

‘‘I know I’m late and this is the last day, but I couldn’t stay away. I had to come to you in your hour of darkest need.’’

He seemed to be made of stone as the woman in frills wrapped her arms around one of his like fast-growing ivy. She moved against him, pressing his sleeve between her breasts.

‘‘I know I was cruel to you, but I thought you’d care enough to try harder.’’ Her voice rose to a cry and her body rocked against him. ‘‘Then I decided you were too broken to ask again and I’d have to be the one to come to you. How could you believe I’d be so heartless as to let you down?’’

Winter looked over the woman’s hat to Kora. There was no emotion in his stare, making Kora wonder if he’d ever seen the intruder before. For an instant, Kora wanted to laugh, for this strong man she’d married flashed her a ‘‘help me’’ expression she’d thought she would never live to see.

‘‘I’ll make it up to you, darling.’’ The woman backed a step away from him and pulled off her white kid gloves. ‘‘While I was riding out here, I thought I’d go to Dallas as soon as possible after we’re married and buy all new furnishings for this place. If it were fixed up, it could be livable.’’ She glanced around. ‘‘Of course, we could always build another house. A far bigger one and let a foreman have this. As soon as we’re back from our honeymoon, I’d make the house twice as grand as Miss Allie ever thought about it being.’’

Winter stared at her as though she spoke in an unknown tongue. ‘‘I don’t have a foreman,’’ he mumbled.

‘‘Oh, but we will,’’ the woman said matter-of-factly. ‘‘But that man on the porch will have to be fired. He acted as if he didn’t even notice me or hear me when I spoke to him. Honestly, Winter, the ranch is yours, but a hand like him simply can’t be tolerated.’’

‘‘Mary Anna,’’ Winter finally found his voice, ‘‘the will said a month from the captain’s death, not his funeral. You’re a day late.’’

Mary Anna shrieked in horror. ‘‘That can’t be! Oh, that can’t be! You’ve lost the house. Oh, Winter, how dreadful!’’

‘‘No, I didn’t lose anything.’’ Winter folded his arms in blockade. ‘‘And the man on the porch isn’t a hand. He’s a guest.’’

‘‘That’s the way to stand tall, dear.’’ Mary Anna seemed very near tears. ‘‘It can’t be all lost. There’s some way around that will. The captain was a crazy, bitter old man and everyone knew it. We’ll hire a lawyer. Or we can sell off some of those cattle you’ve got and buy the house back.’’

‘‘I won’t be selling any cattle,’’ he whispered between tight lips. ‘‘I don’t want to buy the house away from its present owner.’’

Kora saw something new in him then, an Irish temper blended with a warrior spirit. The mix of his ancestry was disquieting. She knew it was time to move before she witnessed more than a hint of his fury. She could almost see the anger in his voice crackling the air like dry lightning. His eyes narrowed and the muscles beneath his sleeves tightened.

‘‘He won’t have to buy back the house.’’ Kora could see that she startled Mary Anna with her words. ‘‘The current owner would give it to him if he asked.’’

The woman seemed thrown off balance as she realized someone else was in the foyer. She whirled, staggered slightly, then appeared to brace herself for something horrible.

Mary Anna glared at Kora with first fear, then disgust. She lifted her nose, as though being forced to talk to the help. ‘‘I wasn’t aware we had company.’’ She moved closer to Winter. ‘‘We prefer to have our discussions alone, miss.’’

Kora knew Mary Anna thought her the housekeeper. She recognized the look… that blank stare folks who think themselves above others give their help. A look that seems to see through someone they think of as unimportant.

Kora swallowed hard and faced Mary Anna. ‘‘I said he won’t have to sell cattle or buy back the house.’’

‘‘And why is that, Miss…?’’

Kora smiled, knowing she should feel at least a tiny bit of guilt for enjoying the woman’s sure-to-come shock. But she’d taken a great dislike to Miss Mary Anna. Everything about the lady, from her dress with one too many ruffles to her overblown speech, told Kora that Mary Anna made self-centeredness a life’s calling.

‘‘Not Miss,’’ Kora said quietly as she leaned and picked up the gloves Mary Anna had tossed aside. ‘‘Mrs.’’ She glanced at Winter and caught the hint of a smile. ‘‘Mrs. Winter McQuillen.’’

Color drained from Mary Anna’s face so completely her patches of rouge looked like warpaint.

‘‘No!’’ She shook her head and directed all her rage toward Winter. ‘‘You didn’t marry another!’’

All the anger vanished from his eyes as he winked at Kora. ‘‘It appears I have, Mary Anna. Kora became my wife before midnight last night.’’

Mary Anna glanced from Kora to Winter and sighed. The back of her hand covered her eyes as she melted slowly with practiced grace.