Chapter One

Independence, Missouri, April 1867

Elsa Meier gripped the railing on the riverboat’s hurricane deck and stared at the city beyond the dock. Independence shone in the afternoon sun, a sprawling metropolis with wide streets plied by wagons, riders on horseback, and carriages. The waterfront bustled with activity, and the excitement she always felt in a port thrummed the air. She’d come a long way from her family’s cottage in rural Germany to land in such a place. Hopefully, fortune awaited her in America, or at least enough money to send home to help her mother and the young ones.

She sighed. Leaving had been a hard decision, but she’d made it for her family. If only Peter had taken it better, she wouldn’t have this pang in her stomach. His reaction still mystified and troubled her. She had no taste for hurting another person, and especially not someone who had expressed the tenderest of sentiments for her.

“Come along.” Alicia Peabody tugged her arm. Her words sounded impatient, but she softened them with a smile. 

Alicia’s white teeth and creamy complexion were only part of her beauty. She reminded Elsa of the porcelain dolls she’d begged for as a child after seeing them displayed in a store window. That was before she’d grown old enough to realize that no amount of pleading could divert money for such a luxury from her parents’ constant struggle to fill their children’s bellies and keep shoes on their feet.

Grateful for the distraction, Elsa picked up her valise and joined the other young women traveling with the Peabodys. Red-haired Adele Wargel, who had been her neighbor, grinned at her. “You were daydreaming.” She spoke in German.

“I suppose so,” Elsa answered in the same language.

Adele walked beside her as the small group turned toward the stairs. “Thinking of Peter?”

Elsa lowered her voice. “I can’t figure out why he thought we were promised.”

Adele laughed. “Maybe it was the way you flirted with him during that sleigh ride at Christmas.”

“Oh, that.” Elsa frowned. “I won’t deny that I admired him, but it went no further. I have no idea how he came to the wrong conclusion.”

“Truly?” Adele’s eyes danced.

Elsa arched an eyebrow. “A person might expect to remember something so important. No, Peter chose to believe what he wished. I’m only sorry he’s hurting.”

The breeze off the water whisked strands of hair into Adele’s blue eyes. She clawed them away. “From the sound of it, Peter broke his own heart. I wouldn’t worry about that one. He needs humbling, if you want my opinion.”

Ida Henkel, a tall, blonde girl who had lived across town, looked back at the head of the stairs. “What are you two gossiping about?”

Adele shrugged. “Nothing much.”

“English please, ladies!” Alicia’s voice held a miffed note. For the past month, she’d forced them to speak only English while tutoring them in the language. Elsa had the advantage. Her beloved Papa, an Englishman, had taught her from childhood to speak his native tongue. “And you’d better keep up with the rest of us. We don’t want to make Mr. Peabody wait.”

Ida rolled her eyes and turned down the stairs behind Alicia.

Adele moved closer to Elsa. “I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t signed that contract.”

Elsa could offer no reassurances since she shared the same feeling. She pulled in a breath and mustered a reply for them both. “It’s too late for second thoughts. We’ll have to make the best of things.” She squared her shoulders and followed the others.

At the foot of the stairs, Miles Peabody waited with ill-concealed impatience. Alicia and her brother were both blond, but there the resemblance ended. Miles was elegant and handsome but lacked Alicia’s fine features.

The two differed in other ways. Even in the short time Elsa had known Miles, she’d become familiar with his peculiar habits. One in particular annoyed her. While Alicia always met her eyes when Elsa spoke to her, Miles glanced away as if neither Elsa nor anything she could say were worth his time.

Miles watched his sister approach with a smile that didn’t include Elsa or any of the other women in his charge. He picked up the twin valises at his feet and tipped his head toward the gangplank, which was thick with passengers. “Shall we?”

He had not behaved so dismissively when persuading Elsa to sign a contract to perform for miners in a gold-rush town. He and Alicia had approached after seeing her play the hurdy-gurdy and dance to draw attention to the brooms her family made. Other girls from her village had come home from entertaining the crowds in Frankfurt with their wares all sold, so she’d decided to try it. She’d been happy to help Mutter put food on the table more often but hadn’t earned enough for her own keep. Miles and Alicia offering to pay her passage to America if she signed their contract had seemed a godsend.

Elsa treaded with her newfound companions down the gangplank, wondering if she’d made a mistake in coming. Miles guided them across the street and turned aside toward the entrance of a brick building with a sign that read “The Hotel Imperial.”

Inside the lobby, Adele halted, causing Elsa to bump into her. “Are we really staying in such a grand place?” Adele whispered in an awed voice.

Elsa could understand her feeling. Dark paneling, plush carpeting, and a prism-bedecked chandelier proclaimed this hotel a fine establishment.

“Only for the night.” Alicia lowered her voice. “You’ll double up and avoid room service. Make the most of the chance to sleep in a bed, ladies. You won’t see another until we reach Salt Lake City.”

 

Bry stretched and pulled back the chintz curtains at her bedroom window. In the early morning, with the sky washed clean from the night rains and the river bathed in soft light, she could believe in a world where miracles happened. The new school for Indian children would do more good than harm. The town of Liberty, local settlers, and ranch would stay safe from attack. Her brother Con still lived and would return.

She rested her head on the pane and blew out a breath. “God, please watch over my brother.” Tears dampened her cheeks.

The door behind her opened, and boots thumped the carpet. She straightened, but her husband must have noticed her moment of sorrow.

“Come here, you.” Nick enfolded her in his arms. He didn’t ask what troubled her, having comforted her often enough to know.

She sheltered against her husband and poured out her grief, then dried her eyes with the back of her hand. “How much longer must we wait to find out what happened to Con?”

Nick kissed the top of her head. “As long as it takes.”

She turned in her husband’s arms and lifted her face to gaze into the warmth of his eyes. “You always know how to comfort me. What would I do without you?”

A smile dented the corners of his mouth. “God willing, you won’t have to find out.” He smoothed her cheek, then lowered his head for a kiss that brought her thoroughly awake. “I love you, Mrs. Laramie.”

She laughed. “That’s best, since we’re married.”

His eyes gleamed. “I need no reminder of that.”

“I hope you don’t mind being stuck with me.” She treated him to a flirtatious glance.

He tightened his arms. “Look at me like that again, and I’ll settle your mind on the matter.”

She smiled but refrained from taking his invitation. That was not easy with passion emphasizing the dark handsomeness of her half-Cheyenne husband. “I have a thousand things to do today.”

“Shouldn’t your husband find a place at the top of that list?” He nuzzled her neck.

“Of course.” She walked her fingers up his chest. “Don’t you have a list?”

Nick captured Bry’s hand and kissed each of her fingers in turn. “Mine can wait.” He claimed her lips in a caress that left her breathless, but then released her. “I came to tell you that your brother Rob is back from Liberty.”

She smiled. “He’s remembered to tear himself away from Maisey, has he?” Although Rob wouldn’t admit it, he was clearly smitten with Bry’s friend. Since the thaw, he had traveled to Liberty often to help build a cabin for Maisey, who taught children from the local tribes in the new Indian school.

“He’ll be in after he tends his horse. Seems like he has something on his mind. He wants to talk to you particularly.”

Bry’s forehead puckered. “What about, I wonder?”

“You’ll find out, I’m sure.” He gave her a wolfish smile. “Dress yourself, woman, and meet us downstairs.”

With Nick’s footfalls dwindling down the hallway, Bry topped her linen chemise with a soft dress made of green wool. Remembering Con’s disparaging remarks about the unflattering widow’s weeds she’d worn as a servant in Boston brought a smile to her face. He’d thereafter lavished clothing on her.

Bry’s smile vanished. After being kidnapped by the Cheyenne, she’d lost the trunk Con had bought her. She’d been forced to start over in so many ways, including her wardrobe. Almost a year later, memories still plagued her, the worst being when Con took an arrow and fell from his horse.

Pushing her thoughts away, she went downstairs and found Rob pacing in the parlor. Against walls papered in beige with a brown fleur-de-lis pattern, her brother seemed utterly masculine and, after his journey, rather unkempt. The ginger hair, so like Da’s, lifted in peaks, and red shot the whites of his blue eyes.

Nick watched Rob from one of the leather armchairs scattered throughout the room.

“It’s good to have you home, brother of mine.” Bry sank into a blue cushioned chair across a small table from her husband. “What brings you so early in the day?”

A sheepish look crossed Rob’s face. “I left Shane’s house later than planned. It seemed best to make camp before sunset instead of pushing on. I figured you wouldn’t want me barging in at midnight.”

“Very sensible.” Nick saluted him with his coffee mug. “Night travel holds too many dangers.”

“Yes, well. I almost came then anyway.” Rob ran a hand through his hair, a habit that probably explained its rumpled state. “I made a decision while on the road, and it presses my mind.”

Bry exchanged a glance with Nick. From the determined expression on Rob’s face, she could guess what he meant to do. “Oh?”

Rob plunked into the chair across from her. “It’s late enough in spring that I should make it to Fort Sedgwick.” His voice shook with eagerness.

Bry pulled in air. “I’d feel better if you waited for summer. Why go at a time of year at risk for avalanches?” What with Indian unrest, road agents, natural disasters, and predatory animals, many perils faced a lone traveler in the wilderness. Taking more chances than necessary made no sense to her.

Rob jumped to his feet and began pacing again. “We’ve already waited too long. If I’d gone after Con sooner, I might have found him before the snow set in. I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

Bry put a hand to her stomach to soothe its churning. She hated that Rob was right. Please, God. Don’t let me lose two brothers.

The man called Reilly stood outside the Fitzgerald homestead as light ebbed from the sky. Why did the reluctance to enter take hold of him? He should welcome an evening spent in the company of the family that had taken him in after the accident stole his memory. Finley had felt responsible, since it was his freight wagon that threw Reilly when it overturned.

Reilly shook his head. Whatever the cause, he couldn’t deny the feeling that he belonged elsewhere.

The lighted window framed Keira, the oldest of the Fitzgerald daughters. Black-haired and lovely, she possessed blue eyes put in, as the saying went, with a sooty finger. Whatever she was talking about lit her face with excitement, but then Keira always embraced life with enthusiasm.

He should go in. At the back door, he stamped the mud from his boots and reached for the knob. The world slid away, and he stood in another location, reaching for a different doorknob. A brisk wind shook the cottonwoods behind him, and a mourning dove raised its lament above the rushing leaves. He paused and glanced around with a feeling of pride. He’d built this ranch from nothing but love for the Bitterroot Valley.

A dog barked, returning Reilly to the present. He closed his eyes and tried to bring back the memory. Hope quickened his breathing, but the wisp of memory was gone. Reilly took a moment to compose himself. He didn’t want to explain what had happened to anyone, not when he needed time to absorb it himself. His hand shook as he turned the doorknob and went inside.

Chapter Two

Elsa’s feet sank into the red carpet in the corridor that ran down the main corridor of Salt Lake City’s Grand Hotel. Dark wainscoting topped by ornate molding gave way to wallpaper patterned in flocked burgundy medallions on a red background. Golden cages encircled glass globes at intervals along the wall. The lamps would later light patrons to their rooms.

Dusty and bedraggled after more than a week of stagecoach travel, Elsa felt like a street urchin amid such elegance. She made sure to keep the case of her hurdy-gurdy from banging into the wall. In her other hand she carried the worn valise her mother had insisted she take. It had belonged to her father.

Mutter could never have Papa back alive again, but his belongings remained. Elsa had seen her mother run gentle fingers over a scarf he’d worn, the Bible he’d cherished, and his beloved fedora. Elsa hadn’t wanted to take even this small part of Papa away, but the small reminder of her loving father soothed her as a foreigner in a strange land. When Papa had carried this valise on business trips, she’d been too young to wonder if he ever felt homesick for his family. Gripped by that very emotion, she could appreciate her father’s sacrifice.

She walked with the other women in a huddle behind Miles. Alicia brought up the rear, as if keeping watch to prevent their escape. Elsa cast a glance back at her and was awarded a frown. Alicia had seemed sweet at their first meeting, but after the ship departed for America, she’d become bossier each passing day.

“Hurry up, ladies.” Impatience overlaid Alicia’s voice. “Find your rooms.”

Ida, walking beside Elsa, rolled her eyes but held her tongue. Anything they said would carry down the hallway. 

Laughter caught in Elsa’s throat. She coughed instead.

Adele, on Elsa’s other side, patted her back. “Are you all right?” She scanned her face with an anxious look.

“Yes, of course,” Elsa hastened to reassure her. Of them all, Adele seemed least able to adapt to change. She’d remained hidden on the ship and spoken little throughout the stagecoach journey. Elsa gave her a bolstering smile. “Just think. Tonight we’ll sleep in a real bed.”

“I’m glad to share a room with you.” Adele’s gaze clung to hers. “In so large a hotel, I’d lose my way trying to find the stairs.”

Elsa laughed. “What makes you think I won’t?”

Ida glared across Elsa at Adele. “Try not to be such a frightened goose.”

“That’s not fair,” Adele protested.

Elsa frowned. “Leave Adele alone, Ida. Can’t you see that she’s tired and upset?”

“Quiet down.” Alicia turned back, her face red.

Elsa wondered if she meant to strike them.

Alicia divided her gaze equally among them all. “Remember to practice your English and try to show some manners. Create a disturbance, and you’ll have us thrown out.”

Adele hung her head. “Sorry, Miss Peabody.”

Ida gave Elsa a haughty look, then followed the others down the hall. Ida and the four other hurdy-gurdy girls turned aside into their rooms. Elsa was grateful when they reached the door that corresponded to the numbers on the key Alicia had given her.

“Once the porter brings your trunks, wash and change.” Alicia’s crisp command followed them through the doorway. “Then come up to the penthouse suite.”

Small but not cramped, the beige and pale-blue room created a soothing effect that should suit them both. Elsa released a sigh and lowered her valise to the carpet while she searched for a safe place for her instrument. On impulse, she laid the case on the bed nearest the door and unsnapped the clasps. Reaching inside, Elsa picked up the hurdy-gurdy Papa had brought home for her when she was ten. Its sturdy wooden body felt comforting in her hands. She ran her fingers lightly over the strings but refrained from turning the crank that spun the rosined wheel to give voice to the instrument.

Elsa sighed and put the hurdy-gurdy away, then propped her case against the wall in a corner where it wasn’t likely to fall. Safeguarding the instrument had become a habit. She valued its
worth in much more than coin.

Adele placed her own case in the opposite corner. “Do you think anyone will object if I play?”

“You probably shouldn’t risk it.” Regret laced Elsa’s voice. She would miss caressing music from the strings, especially before lying down to sleep.

“Do you care if I take the bed closest to the window?”

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you. I always slept by the window at home.” Tears welled into her blue eyes and threatened to spill.

“Did you notice the view?” Elsa tried a distraction. “Those are such lovely mountains.”

Adele went to look out the window. “They make me wish for home.”

“I know.” Her delight in the view gone, Elsa dropped onto the bed. “What do you suppose it will be like”—she hugged her pillow—“living in a gold-rush town?”

Adele shuddered. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“It might not be bad. We’ll be able to sing and play, after all.”

A knock came, and Elsa answered the door.

Two porters stood outside with a laden trolley. “Let’s see, yes. Here are yours.” They carried in the girls’ trunks and stood awkwardly until Elsa remembered the tip. She closed the door behind them.

Adele turned away from the window. “Why do you think she wants us to come to the penthouse?”

Elsa shrugged. “To feed us supper without parading the six of us through a restaurant?”

“That makes sense.” Adele swung her valise onto her bed. “I’m not sure I can bring myself to eat.”

“Try your best.” Elsa could sympathize. Her own stomach wasn’t feeling so well. After the train trip to Hamburg, followed by ten days at sea and another rail journey, then a riverboat ride, being on solid ground felt dizzying.

Elsa glanced in the mirror above the carved washstand  and grimaced. She looked rumpled, annoyed, and exhausted. A number of locks had escaped their pins, allowing curly auburn wisps to float about her head. Her gray eyes held a mutinous expression. Even her clothing refused to obey. Her lace collar had gone awry, and the blouse that had been ironed and white this morning showed wrinkles and stains. She squinted with the mild headache that afflicted her and wished she could climb into bed and sleep.

She sighed and pulled her gaze away from her reflection. “We’d better hurry or Alicia will come looking for us.”

Washed and changed, they left the sanctuary of their room. Despite Adele’s fears, they found not only the stairs but also an elevator. Adele refused to enter the movable room but changed her mind at Elsa’s insistence. Outfitted with paneling, benches, and a gilt chandelier, the elevator glided upward. A short while later, Elsa knocked on the carved oak door of the penthouse suite.

Alicia opened the door wearing a blue silk gown. Her golden hair shone as brightly as her eyes. She looked, Elsa decided with a touch of annoyance, fresh and beautiful.

Alicia frowned. “You’re late. The others are already here.” She ran her gaze over them and stepped back.

Elsa walked through the doorway with Adele at her heels. Oak paneling, a chandelier dripping with prisms, and a gilt mirror graced the tiled entrance. Alicia led the way past double doors that opened into a parlor. They trailed her down a short hallway, through an archway, and into the dining room.

Tall windows commanded a view of the river. In the countryside beyond, rooftops gave way to clustered trees and undergrowth interspersed with carpets of spring grass. The wild beauty
seen from this vantage point sent a thrill through Elsa. Soon she would travel to a point farther west than she could see from these windows.

The sense of someone watching drew Elsa around. She met the unwavering gaze of eyes so dark she couldn’t see their pupils. They belonged to a man seated with the others at the table. His
reddish-brown hair reminded Elsa of the foxes she had seen crouching outside her family’s henhouse. Something she couldn’t name about this man warned her that, in a similar way, he waited to pounce on unwary prey. She pulled in air, ready to announce a headache and the need to lie down.

Adele made a small, distressed sound beside her, and Elsa abandoned the idea of escape. For her friend’s sake, she would remain.

“Here are the last two of our hurdy-gurdy girls, Atticus.” Miles waved his hand. “All are lovely, as I’m sure you will agree.”

Alicia touched Elsa’s back. “Sit down and we’ll begin our supper.”

Atticus watched Elsa take her seat. “What is your name?”

She started at being singled out. “Elsa Meier.”

“You have the same hypnotic eyes as Ada Menken. Give you brown hair instead of auburn, and you’d be her very image. Have you heard of Ada?”

Elsa shook her head and looked down at her plate. “I’ve never met anyone by that name.”

Miles and Alicia laughed. The other women exchanged mystified glances.

“You wouldn’t have to meet Ada to know who she is.” Atticus’s voice thrummed with enthusiasm. “I saw her in Mezippa when she came to San Francisco. She was magnificent, and of course I fell in love with her. Everyone did.”

Elsa risked a glance at Atticus, whose lips were curved in an adoring smile. “Is Ada a performer?”

“She’s an actress, and a good one.” He scanned her face. “Your hair is a different color, or I’d swear you are her.”

“We all have a doppelgänger somewhere in the world.” A tremor ran through Elsa’s voice, despite her effort to keep her tone light.

“If Ada returns to the West, I’ll take you to meet her.” 

Elsa needed a moment to regain command of her voice. “I don’t understand.”

Atticus glanced at Miles. “I want Elsa, along with the others I’ve chosen.”

Alicia smirked. “Mr. Merrick is in town on other business, but when he and Miles chanced to meet in the lobby, he agreed to dine with us.”

Miles looked directly at Elsa for the first time since she’d signed her contract. “I promised he could choose the girls he wants for his dancehall.”

“I have other business in town before I can return to Virginia City.” Atticus appraised Elsa in a way that made her face heat. “We’ll leave for Virginia City in two days’ time.”

Shane walked along the path from the barn, his thoughts heavy as the dark clouds threatening rain. Bill Drury had closed his eyes in death an hour ago, another victim of the fever ravaging town. He’d left a bewildered widow and five children crying for a father who would not answer them in this life.

Shane shook his head. He’d held himself together for the family’s sake, saving his grief for the ride home, during which he discussed matters with the Lord. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so, and he doubted it would be the last. He relied on Archibald’s night vision and sure-footedness to carry them home through the cold and dark. The new widow had been too distraught to offer Shane a bed, and he preferred his own anyway.

The hour was late. He didn’t expect his household to be awake, but a light shone through the kitchen window. He knocked at the back door and called out his name. Leaving his family alone at night was not Shane’s favorite duty, and he insisted America lock the house in his absence.

Not that he had to persuade her. His wife never mentioned uneasiness at being left alone—sometimes for days—while he attended his flock. He could guess that it wasn’t easy for
her. Weddings, burials, and births all needed his attention. Shane’s congregation had crops to till, barns to raise, and fences to mend. When life became too difficult, they asked for help.

He didn’t begrudge them the time, but it meant leaving his own family to fend without him. 

He was thankful for a good flock however. When America came down with the fever, members of his congregation had brought food and taken care of his children.

The bolt thudded, and the door creaked. America, in her chemise and wrapped in a shawl, stood in the opening with the light spilling around her. He dropped a kiss on her golden head. “I hope you didn’t wait up for me. I could have slept in the barn.”

She clasped her arms around him. “I didn’t want that. Besides, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“I’m a silly woman, that’s why. I should have more faith that God will keep you in your travels.”

He pulled her more closely against him, enjoying her warmth after the coolness of night. “’I hate to put you to the worry.”

She laughed, a soft sound that sent a thrill through him. “I put myself to the worry. I wish I could trust more.”

“I feel the same when I leave you and the children. Don’t think it’s any easier for me to sacrifice for the Lord’s work.” 

He thought of Rob going off to find Con, alone. Shane had always been close to Con, and he would have preferred to go along to search for his cousin. With a funeral on Sunday and the new
widow’s crops to plant, however, he needed to remain in Liberty.

Keeping her arms around his neck, America leaned back to gaze into his eyes. Her own were deep and mysterious in the lantern light. “I will always love you, no matter what.”

“And I, you.” He lowered his lips to hers and tasted the salt of tears. Had she been crying? 

He suspected that she hid the depth of her feelings to spare him.
He would not burden her with his own sorrows.

Reilly slammed the axe down, cleaving the log in two. He paused for breath before tackling the next piece of firewood. The pile he’d chopped littered the ground. He ran a hand over his shoulder, which still pained him. Finley said his wound looked like he’d taken an arrow. Reilly had no memory of receiving the injury.

Pacer, the Fitzgerald dog—who had acquired his name for obvious reasons—had clearly worn himself out walking back and forth while guarding Reilly’s labors. The red coonhound sprawled in the sun with sides heaving. He periodically rattled out a snore.

Reilly smiled and lifted another log onto the chopping block.

“Here you are. I wondered.” Keira came around the corner behind the barn. She wore her black hair up as befitted her womanhood beneath the bonnet that protected her fair skin from the
harsh sun. “I thought you went fishing.”

“Good morning.” Reilly smiled a greeting. “I decided the harder task should come first.”

“If you’re not careful, you’ll sound like a preacher.” Her dimples showed, belying her frown. “Or maybe a school teacher.”

“Oh, I fully intend to fish, but a man should earn his keep.”

“Fishing is for food.” Her eyes sparkled.

He laughed. “Indeed it is, as I’ve proven before and will again.” He brought the axe down in a clean stroke, then looked back at her. “What did you want with me?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Nothing much, really. Just to talk.”

Her tone rang false, but which was the half-truth? That she wanted nothing much from him or that she only wanted to talk? Either way, he gave her his full attention. “Something on your mind?”

She glanced about, then jutted her chin in that peculiar way she had when getting into mischief. “It’s such a fine day. Can I not draw you away for a walk beside the river?” Tears glossed Keira’s eyes, and she turned her head away.

About to refuse on the grounds that strolling fell into the same category as fishing, he changed his mind. Had something gone amiss at the barn dance Friday night? Come to think of it, she’d been quiet since then.

Reilly laid the axe aside. “All right.” He stepped onto the path to the river, not entirely convinced he’d made the best choice in joining her. He determined to make this as short as possible.

She caught up. “Could you go a little slower?”

“Sorry.” He shortened his stride.

Keira walked beside him on the dirt path that skirted the field before it disappeared into the brush lining the Snake River. The foliage and grasses glowed green this early in spring, and the wind-ruffled river swelled its banks. Water scented the breeze that brushed his face.
A pheasant burst from cover with a rasping call.

Keira cried out and grasped his arm. “My word, but that startled me.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “Your thoughts lay elsewhere, I suppose.”

“If you’re going on about Tom Dougal again—”

“I wasn’t, actually.”

“Why do I doubt that?”

Reilly watched the pheasant wing above the river and out of sight. “I’ve no idea.” 

All right, he had teased her about their besotted neighbor a time or two. She hadn’t seemed to mind, despite her protests, until now. He scanned her flushed face. “He didn’t misbehave at the dance, did he?”

She crossed her arms. “Of course not, as you would know if you’d stayed.”

He shrugged. “I’m not much for crowds.” It was more than that, but Keira didn’t need to know how alone he felt in a gathering. Although the community welcomed him, he couldn’t escape the feeling of intruding among them.

“Tom asked me to marry him.”

“Did he now?” Reilly hid his delight at the news, certain she wouldn’t find it flattering. The two would make a good match. Tom Dougal was the steady sort of man able to stabilize a high-strung woman like Keira.

“I told him no.”

He blinked. “Why would you do such a thing?”

She glanced away. “I love someone else.”

“Are you certain? I thought Tom made quite an impression on you.”

“Honestly!” Her nostrils flared. “I know my own mind.”

“The mind is not the heart.”

She stamped her foot. “I don’t care about a turn of phrase.”

“This one matters quite a lot.”

Keira glared at him. “I know the man I want.”

He hesitated, choosing his words. “How does this person feel about you?”

She moved closer and tilted her face toward his. “That’s what I’ve come to find out.”

Reilly stared at her. “You can’t mean me.”

“Why not?” She thrust her lower lip into a pout.

“I’m too old for you, to start with.”

“How can you say that when you don’t know how old you are?”

He sighed, guessing how the rest of this conversation would go. “It’s obvious. I’m a man fully grown and you’ve barely come of age.”

“I don’t care about that, and Da doesn’t either.”

“’You’ve discussed this with your father?”

She lowered her gaze. “No, but I’ve heard him say that he’d welcome you as a son.”

“That’s kind of him, but I’m sure he meant it differently.”

Her eyelashes, clumped with tears, swept upward. “He’d be pleased. You know he would.”

He shook his head. “You need a man with more patience than I possess.”

“I love you, Reilly.” She flung her arms around his neck.
He gently disengaged himself and stepped backward. “I’m sorry.”

Keira stared at him with stricken eyes, her chest heaving. “Do you care nothing at all for me?”

“I’m not unfeeling.”

“Then why?” Her tears spilled over.

With her eyes shining and passion on her face, Keira had never looked more beautiful. It occurred to Reilly that she’d wept from the outset of their meeting, as if suspecting the truth herself. The thought gave him the push he needed to resist her charms. “It won’t work, more’s the pity.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Have you considered that I don’t even know my real name, or whether I have a wife and family awaiting my return? I must assume, for honor’s sake, that I do.” He shook his head. “I have no future until I know my past.”

Keira gazed at him, a tragic expression on her face. “I will wait for you to discover your identity.”

“Don’t put yourself on the shelf for me. What if I never remember who I am?”

“Then I will endure this life as best I can.”

He touched her cheek. “I am flattered to have aroused such devotion in one so tender, but we would never suit.” He left the bald fact to hang between them.

Circumstances might change, but dispositions never could. He and Keira would soon burn out, whereas Tom’s quiet manner would soothe her dramatic nature and steady her through the
trials of life.

Reilly wouldn’t dream of robbing Keira of the full life she deserved. As for him, the yearning to be elsewhere wouldn’t leave him alone.