the family and then pushed hard to get Meg back for care. He deserved sleep.
She moved closer and studied his face in the moonlight. Bonnie had been right. He was handsome, but even in sleep there was something about him that drew her and warned her to stay away at the same time. He wore his gun low as though he had regular occasion to use it. His clothes were worn and dark as if he dressed to move unnoticed among people and through the night. There was danger about him she would have found fascinating when she’d been younger, but now she realized she’d put adventure aside.
Slipping past him, she crossed to the washroom. After pouring water into a basin, she stripped down to her satin underclothes. Before marriage, she’d always worn cotton next to her skin, but a few days before her wedding she’d decided to replace all her camisoles with silk and satin, wickedly choosing cream and black instead of all white.
Sage stared at her reflection. She’d wasted her money. Her purchases had gone not only unnoticed but unseen.
Slowly, taking care not to miss a spot, she washed. When she finished, she slipped into one of her old shirts and a worn pair of trousers that she’d pulled from a trunk. Whoever delivered the trunk to the hotel must have ordered all her things washed. She could smell a hint of soap and the sunshine air they must have dried in.
The clothes felt strange somehow, as if last worn when she was a hundred years younger. Some might say twenty-three was still young, but Sage had experienced too many days lately when she’d sworn she could see herself aging in the mirror: long days studying in medical school, endless hours of work learning to be a doctor, longer hours practicing beside her husband who never allowed her to slip or leave a single detail undone, and then the later months watching him die without being able to help him.
She was old, she realized, not in years but in life.
The door creaked open. She saw Drummond leaning against the frame. His hair was a mess, his eyes still half asleep. “You all right?” he asked.
“I’m ancient,” she whispered. “I don’t even remember the girl I was when I last wore these clothes.”
“You look about the same to me.” He took the time to study her from toe to top. “I remember when I saw you in those trousers. It was dark in the barn, and your brother had been trying his best to pound some sense into me. I thought you were a boy until I got a look at the way you filled out that shirt.”
“You shouldn’t be looking at my shirt. It’s not something any gentleman would do.”
“I’m not a gentleman, Sage, but I doubt any man would fail to notice that beneath those clothes, which you probably inherited from one of your brothers, is a woman’s body.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “The kind of body made for passion, I suspect.”
Sage stepped to move past him, thinking of Barret and how he never touched her. “You’re wrong,” she said simply.
He followed her into the shadows of the sitting room. “About what?”
The darkness made it easier to tell the truth. “About any man noticing me.”
He moved behind her and placed a light grip on her upper arms. The warmth of him brushed against her back.
She could have pushed away, his fingers rested gently, but she didn’t. She wasn’t afraid of him, she never had been, and it was time he knew. Words of anger formed, but she held them in. Drum wasn’t to blame for the way it had been between her and Barret. No one was, she told herself. She’d loved a man who hadn’t loved her, at least not in the way she’d wanted him to . . . needed him to.
“I’ll ask again,” he said so close she could feel his words. “Are you all right, Sage?”
Just once she wanted to lean into the warmth of a man. She’d had to be strong for so long. She’d had to be alone. It couldn’t be a crime just to feel for one minute.
As if he read her mind, he pulled her to him, folding his arms around
She moved closer and studied his face in the moonlight. Bonnie had been right. He was handsome, but even in sleep there was something about him that drew her and warned her to stay away at the same time. He wore his gun low as though he had regular occasion to use it. His clothes were worn and dark as if he dressed to move unnoticed among people and through the night. There was danger about him she would have found fascinating when she’d been younger, but now she realized she’d put adventure aside.
Slipping past him, she crossed to the washroom. After pouring water into a basin, she stripped down to her satin underclothes. Before marriage, she’d always worn cotton next to her skin, but a few days before her wedding she’d decided to replace all her camisoles with silk and satin, wickedly choosing cream and black instead of all white.
Sage stared at her reflection. She’d wasted her money. Her purchases had gone not only unnoticed but unseen.
Slowly, taking care not to miss a spot, she washed. When she finished, she slipped into one of her old shirts and a worn pair of trousers that she’d pulled from a trunk. Whoever delivered the trunk to the hotel must have ordered all her things washed. She could smell a hint of soap and the sunshine air they must have dried in.
The clothes felt strange somehow, as if last worn when she was a hundred years younger. Some might say twenty-three was still young, but Sage had experienced too many days lately when she’d sworn she could see herself aging in the mirror: long days studying in medical school, endless hours of work learning to be a doctor, longer hours practicing beside her husband who never allowed her to slip or leave a single detail undone, and then the later months watching him die without being able to help him.
She was old, she realized, not in years but in life.
The door creaked open. She saw Drummond leaning against the frame. His hair was a mess, his eyes still half asleep. “You all right?” he asked.
“I’m ancient,” she whispered. “I don’t even remember the girl I was when I last wore these clothes.”
“You look about the same to me.” He took the time to study her from toe to top. “I remember when I saw you in those trousers. It was dark in the barn, and your brother had been trying his best to pound some sense into me. I thought you were a boy until I got a look at the way you filled out that shirt.”
“You shouldn’t be looking at my shirt. It’s not something any gentleman would do.”
“I’m not a gentleman, Sage, but I doubt any man would fail to notice that beneath those clothes, which you probably inherited from one of your brothers, is a woman’s body.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “The kind of body made for passion, I suspect.”
Sage stepped to move past him, thinking of Barret and how he never touched her. “You’re wrong,” she said simply.
He followed her into the shadows of the sitting room. “About what?”
The darkness made it easier to tell the truth. “About any man noticing me.”
He moved behind her and placed a light grip on her upper arms. The warmth of him brushed against her back.
She could have pushed away, his fingers rested gently, but she didn’t. She wasn’t afraid of him, she never had been, and it was time he knew. Words of anger formed, but she held them in. Drum wasn’t to blame for the way it had been between her and Barret. No one was, she told herself. She’d loved a man who hadn’t loved her, at least not in the way she’d wanted him to . . . needed him to.
“I’ll ask again,” he said so close she could feel his words. “Are you all right, Sage?”
Just once she wanted to lean into the warmth of a man. She’d had to be strong for so long. She’d had to be alone. It couldn’t be a crime just to feel for one minute.
As if he read her mind, he pulled her to him, folding his arms around
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