She reminded herself to bring up fresh flowers. Even when the room wasn't occupied, there were always flowers on the table by the window. She'd forgotten them that morning.

Yet the room smelled of roses, powerfully. A sudden chill had her shivering. She felt him, and turned toward the door.

"Devin." Relief, confusion, sorrow. She experienced them all as she took a step toward the doorway.

But it wasn't Devin. The man was tall, dark-haired and handsome. But the face wasn't Devin's, and the clothes were formal, old-fashioned. Her hand went limp on the handle of the vacuum, and the sound of it buzzed in her ears.

Abigail, come with me. Take the children and come with me. Leave this place. You don't love him.

No, Cassie thought, I've never loved him. Now I despise him.

Can't you see what this is doing to you? How long will you stay, closed away from life this way?

It's all I can do. It's the best I can do.

I love you, Abby. I love you so much. I could make you happy if you'd only let me. We'll go away from here, away from him. Start our lives over, together. I've already waited for you so long.

How can I? I'm bound to him. I have the children. And you, your life is here. You can't walk away from the town, your responsibilities, the people who depend on you. You can't settle for another man's wife, another man's children.

There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. I'd kill for you. Die for you. For God's sake, Abigail, give me the chance to love you. All these years I've stood by, knowing how unhappy you were, knowing you were out of reach. That's over now. He's gone. We can leave and be miles from here before he comes back. Why should either of us settle for less than everything? I don't want to sit in the parlor with you and pretend I don't love you, don't need you. I can't keep being only your friend.

You know I value you, depend on you.

Tell me you love me.

I can't. I can't tell you that. There's nothing inside me any longer. He killed it.

Come with me. And live again.

Whatever was there, whoever was there, faded, until there was only the doorway, the lovely wallpaper and the strong, sad scent of roses. Cassie found herself standing, almost swaying, with one hand reaching out to nothing at all.

The vacuum was still humming as she sank weakly to the floor.

What had happened here? she asked herself. Had she been dreaming? Hallucinating?

She laid a hand on her heart and found it was beating like a wild bird in a cage. Carefully she let her head drop down to her updrawn knees.

She had heard the ghosts before, felt them. Now, she realized, she had seen one. Not one of the Barlows, not the poor doomed soldier. But the man Abigail had loved. The man who had loved her.

Who had he been? She thought she might never know. But his face had been compelling, though filled with sorrow, his voice strong, even when it was pleading. Why hadn't Abigail gone with him? Why hadn't she taken that hand he reached out to her and run, run for her life?

Abigail had loved him. Cassie drew in a deep breath. Of that she was sure. The emotions that swirled through the room had been so powerful, she felt them still. There had been love here. Desperate, helpless love.

Is that why you weep? Cassie wondered. Because you didn't go, and you lost him? You didn't reach out, and then there was nothing to hold on to?

You were afraid to love him, so you broke his heart.

Just as she had broken Devin's heart today.

With a shudder, Cassie lifted her head. Why? she asked herself. Out of fear and doubt. Out of habit. That was pathetic. All Devin had wanted was affection. But she hadn't told him that she cared. Hadn't showed him she cared.

Would she close herself away, as Abigail had, or would she take the chance?

Hadn't she been a coward long enough?

Wiping her damp face, she got to her feet. She had to go to him. She would go to him. Somehow.

Of course, such things are never simple. She had children, and could hardly leave them to fend for themselves. She had guests at the inn, and a job to do. It took her hours to manage it, and with every minute that passed, the doubts weighed more heavily.

She combated them by reminding herself that it didn't matter how clumsy she was. He wanted her. That would be enough.

"I'm so grateful, Ed. I know it's a lot to ask."

"Hey—" Already settled down in front of the television with a bowl of popcorn, Ed waved a hand "—so I closed a little early. I get a night off."

"The kids are asleep." But still Cassie fretted. "They hardly ever wake up after they're down."

"Don't you worry about those angels. And don't worry about the people downstairs," she added, anticipating Cassie. "They want anything, they'll call up here and let me know. I'm going to watch this love story I rented, then hit the sack."

"You take the bed. You promised," Cassie insisted. "I'll just flop down on the couch when I get back."

"Mm-hmm..." Ed was betting that wouldn't be until dawn. "You say hi to Devin for me, now."

Cassie twisted the collar of her blouse in her fingers. "I'm just going over to his office for a little while."

"If you say so, honey."

"He's angry with me, Ed. He's so angry with me, he might just boot me out."

Ed stopped the videotape she was watching, turned around on the couch and gave Cassie one long, summing-up look. "Honey, you look at him like that, and he's not going to boot you anywhere but into that cot he's got in the back room." When Cassie wrapped her arms around her body, Ed only laughed. "Oh, you stop that now. Devin's not going to push you into anything. A man like that doesn't have to push. He just has to be."

"How did you know I was going over there to... to try to..."

"Cassie, honey, look who you're talking to here. I've been around this block plenty. You call me, ask if I'd settle in here for the night because you need to see Devin, I'm going to figure it out. And it's long past time, if you ask me."

Cassie looked down at her plain cotton blouse and simple trousers. Her neat flat-heeled shoes. Hardly the garb of a femme fatale. "Ed, I'm no good at this sort of thing."

Ed cocked her head. "I'd wager Devin's plenty good at it, so don't you worry."

"Regan said I should let him set the pace. Maybe I shouldn't be going over there."

"Sweetie pie, sometimes even a real man needs a little kick. Now you stop second-guessing yourself and wringing your hands. Go on over there and get him."

"I should do something with my hair," Cassie fretted. "And I've chewed off my lipstick, haven't I? Maybe I should put on a dress."

"Cassie." Ed tipped down her rhinestone glasses, peered over them. "You look fine. You look fresh. He doesn't care what you're wearing, take my word for it. He's only going to care that you're there. Now go get him."

"All right." Cassie squared her shoulders, picked up her purse. "I'm going. I'm going now. But if you need anything, just—"

"I won't need a thing. Go."

"I'm going."

Ed wiggled her bright red brows as Cassie went out the door. Poor kid, she thought. She looked like she was walking out in front of a firing squad. With a cackle, Ed tipped her glasses back up and flipped the video back on.

Her money was on Devin MacKade.

Chapter 7

He really should just give it up and go back and crawl into his cot. That was what Devin told himself, but he kept right on sitting at his desk with his nose in a book. The story just wasn't holding his interest. It wasn't the fault of the author; nothing could have held his interest just then.

He knew it was foolish, and useless, but he'd had nothing and no one to vent his temper on. So there it was, still curdling inside him. He'd actually considered heading out to the farm and picking a fight with Shane. It would have been easy. Too easy. So he'd decided against it.

He told himself it was because he was a better man than that. He'd have done that sort of thing in his teens—hell, in his twenties. The fact was, he'd probably have done it last week.

But it just didn't suit his mood now.

He was just going to sit here, in his quiet office, with his feet up on his desk and the chair kicked back, and read. Even if it killed him.

It was after ten on a weeknight, which meant it was doubtful any calls were going to come in to liven things up. He didn't have to be there, but he liked the solitude of his office at night, the familiarity of it. And the fact that he could be there, behind the desk instead of behind the bars.

He hadn't even turned the radio on, as he often did to bring a little music and company into the night. The only light was the one on his desk, the metal gooseneck lamp aimed at the book in his hands. The book he wasn't reading.

He considered getting up and brewing coffee, since he wasn't going to bed. But it seemed like too much effort.

It was the first time in his life he could remember being so angry and so tired at the same time. Usually temper energized him, got his blood up and his adrenaline sizzling. Now he was sapped. He supposed it was because most of the anger was self-directed, though he still had plenty left over for Cassie.

When a woman hurt a man, it was the most natural thing in the world to cover it with anger.

He'd told other women he loved them. He wouldn't have denied it. The fact was that he'd tried to love other women. He'd worked hard at it for a space of time. The last thing he'd wanted to do was moon around over something he couldn't have.

Which was just what he was doing now.

Sulking, his mother would have called it, he thought with a grimace. He missed her more just now than he had since she'd died. And he'd missed her quite a bit over the years.

She'd have given him a cuff on the ear, he supposed, or she'd have laughed. She'd have told him to get his sorry butt up and do something instead of brooding over what he should have done. Or shouldn't have done.

Well, he couldn't think of anything to do, except count his losses. He'd moved too quick, pushed too hard, and he'd stumbled over his own heart. The hell with it, Devin thought again, and let the book lie on his chest. Shifting in the chair, he closed his eyes and ordered himself to think about something else.

He needed to talk to the mayor about getting a stop sign out on the end of Reno Road. Three serious accidents there in a year was reason enough to push for it. Then there was the talk he'd promised to give at the high school for the last assembly before summer hit. And he really had to help Shane with the early haying...

The dream snuck up on him, sly and crafty. Somehow he'd gotten from the hayfield to her bedroom door. Cassie? No, that wasn't Cassie. Abigail. Love and longing stirred in him. Why couldn't she see that she needed him as much as he needed her? Would she just sit there with her hands folded in her lap over her embroidery, her eyes tired and lost?

It seemed nothing he could say would convince her to come with him, to let him love her, as surely he'd been born to do. No, she would close herself off from him, from everything they could have. Should have.

Anger stirred along with the love, along with the longing. He was tired of coming begging, with his hat in his hand.

I won't ask again, he told her, and she just watched him. / won't come to you again and have you break my heart. I've waited long enough. If this is the way it has to be, I'm leaving Antietam. I can't keep running the law here, knowing you 're here, always out of reach. I have to pick up whatever pieces are left of my life and go.


But she said nothing, and he knew when he stepped back, walked down the hall and down the stairs that it was the end. Her weeping drifted to him when he left the house.

Cassie stood on the other side of the desk, twisting the strap of her purse in her fingers. She hadn't expected to find him asleep, didn't know if she would wake him or leave as quietly as she had come.

There was nothing peaceful about him. There should have been, the way his feet were propped on the desk, crossed at the ankles, the way the book was lying open against his chest, the desk lamp slanting light over it.

But his face was hard and tense, his mouth grim. She wished she had the courage to smooth those lines away and make him smile.

Then again, courage had always been her problem.

He opened his eyes and had her jumping like a rabbit. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep." At least he didn't think he'd been asleep. His brain was fuzzy and full of the scent of roses, and for a moment he'd thought she was wearing some full-skirted blue gown, with lace at the throat.