"Maybe I just didn't care enough to know, or want to know. I was wrapped up in becoming a mother, then in being one. He was already hitting me. We hadn't been married long when that started, but I didn't think there was anything I could do about it. My mother said... well, it doesn't matter what she said. I stayed, then Emma came along. He only wanted me a couple of times after Emma... He forced me."

"Oh, Cassie. Honey, why didn't you tell me?"

"Ed, I was too ashamed. He was my husband, and I had it in my head that he had a right to do what he did. I know different now." She took a long breath. "You see, when I went to Devin last night, I didn't think... I knew he wouldn't hurt me, at least not like Joe had. I thought going to bed with him would make him happy, and it didn't matter to me. I mean, I thought he would just... that I would just..."

"You had yourself a real man last night," Ed finished. "And it changed things."

"Yes." Relieved, Cassie smiled. "He was so gentle, so patient. You know, it mattered to him what I was feeling. It really mattered. And he made me feel beautiful. Ed..." She bit her lip, even as it curved again. "It matters to me now. I'm already thinking about next time."

Ed let out a cackling laugh and squeezed Cassie's hand. "Good for you."

"He says he loves me," Cassie said quietly. "I know men say those things when they want you, or they think you need to hear it. But do you think he could?"

"I think Devin MacKade's a man who says what he means. What about you?"

"I don't know. That part of me is so confused. I didn't love Joe, Ed. I never did. I used him."

"Cassandra—"

"No, I did. I used him to get out of the house, because I wanted to have a family of my own, and he was there. I wasn't fair to him. I don't mean that gave him the right to beat me," she added, noting the warrior gleam in Ed's eye. "Nothing gave him that right. But I didn't love him, not the way a woman should love her husband."

"He didn't do anything to deserve love."

"No, he didn't. With Devin, I feel so many things, so many different things, and I don't know if one of them is that kind of love."

"Then you take all the time you need to sort it out. Don't you let anyone push you into anything you're not ready for. Not even Devin."

"How will I know?"

"Sweetie pie, when the time comes you'll know. Take my word for it, you'll know."

While Cassie was talking with Ed over coffee, Devin was pulling up at the farm. He'd felt a need for home. The sky was losing its dawn haze when he walked into the milking parlor. Shane and two of the 4-H students he often took on as help were finishing up the morning routine.

Patiently Shane showed one of the boys how to detach cow from machine without causing irritation. The parlor smelled of warm milk, animal and hay.

"You're going to check her teats after, just like you did before, to make sure there's no infection." He did so himself, demonstrating. "When she's dry, you see to her feed." He cocked a brow at Devin. "You can see the sheriff wanders in when most of the work's done. Y'all lead them out now."

Devin gave the cow an easy swat, then helped Shane clean and disinfect the machines. It was routine, companionable work.

"Remember when Dad had us milking by hand?" Devin asked.

"He figured we'd better know. Machines break down, but cows fill up regular. You're up early," Shane commented. "And you've got a stupid grin on your face. Looks like you got lucky."

Devin only angled his head. "I'm feeling too good to pound on you this morning."

“Good, because I've got to finish up here and get to the hens before breakfast. You and Cassie," he said, grinning again. "Who'd have thought it?" "I've been thinking about it for a long time." Devin helped Shane secure the fresh milk in the stainless-steel tanks. "I've been in love with her a long time."

Shane straightened, winced. "Man, don't start that. Every time I turn around, somebody's falling in love. It's giving me nightmares."

"Well, get used to it. I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Shane rubbed his hands over his face, pulled off his cap, dragged hands through his hair. "What is it? Something in the water around here? First Rafe, then Jared. Now you. I turn my back for a minute and everybody's getting married, having babies. Get a hold of yourself, Dev."

"Afraid it's going to rub off?"

"Hell, I'm going to start to take shots. Look, Cas-sie's as sweet as they come, and as pretty as fresh milk, but let's not go crazy."

"I love her," Devin said, so simply Shane groaned. "It seems I always have. There's nothing I could do about it even if I wanted to."

"You know what kind of trouble this is going to cause me? Don't you have any consideration?" Shane demanded. "I'll be the only one of us left. Women home in on things like that. I won't be able to get myself a snuggle without the woman thinking it's going to lead to orange blossoms."

"You'll have to tough it out."

"What in sweet hell's so appealing about marriage?" Grumbling, Shane headed out of the milking parlor. "I mean, think about it, Dev. Really think. You've got one woman for the rest of your life. Just one. And there're so many out there. Tall ones, short ones, round ones."

Amused, Devin slapped a hand on Shane's shoulder as they walked toward the chicken coop. "And with me out of the way, there'll be more for you."

"There is that." Taking it philosophically, Shane shrugged. "I guess it'll be up to me to maintain the MacKade legend. I'll just have to make the sacrifice."

"You're up to it, bro."

Cassie never lingered in the library. She was much too conscientious to skim over her cleaning there, but most often she tried to arrange her schedule so that someone was in the house when she dealt with that room.

There was no one in the house now. Her children were in school and the guests were busy with their sight-seeing for the afternoon. She made excuses in her head for why she should see to a dozen other things besides that one room. But she knew the library had been used the day before. She knew there were books that needed to be put back on the shelves, plants that needed watering, windows that needed washing.

She told herself it was foolish. She knew the emotions and moods of the house better than she knew her own. There was nothing here that could hurt her. In fact, the house had changed her life, and all for the better.

Armed with her cleaning basket, she went in. If she left the door open wide behind her, it was only because she wanted to be able to hear if one of the guests returned and wanted anything.

It wasn't because she was afraid.

She set the basket aside and tidied the books first. She knew guests often liked to borrow one to read on a rainy afternoon or to help them drift off to sleep at night. Rafe and Regan had provided a variety of books for a variety of tastes. She, too, was free to borrow any she liked, whenever she liked. But she rarely did.

Nor, she thought suddenly, did Connor, though he was a voracious reader. It occurred to her that he, too, avoided this room, even though he was thoroughly at home in the rest of the inn.

It was a feeling, she supposed. Something that lingered in the air. Shaking it off, she carried her basket over to the twin philodendrons that trailed their leaves from pots set in stands by the tall window that overlooked the side garden.

They needed to be dusted. She'd been putting it off.

As she began, she felt the chill, down to the bone.

And knew she wasn't really alone.

She thought she could see him, out of the corner of her eye. The big body going to fat, the wide face set in hard, dissatisfied lines.

Joe.

The terror came so quickly, she dropped the basket at her feet as she whirled around.

He wasn't there. Of course he wasn't. No one was. But it was so bitterly cold. With numb fingers, she reached for the window to open it to the warm breeze.

She fumbled, couldn't work the latch, and discovered her breath was coming in short gasps.

You let him touch you, didn't you? Whore.

She hunched her shoulders automatically against a blow that didn't come.

Did you think I wouldn't know? Did you thinkyou could cuckold me in my own house? You, with your innocent face and fancy Southern manners. Nothing but a slut.

Shaking, she backed slowly away from the window. Her eyes darted around the room, searching corners. There was no one there. But how could she hear the voice so clearly in her head?

Know this. You'll never leave me. I'll see you dead first.

You don't love me, Cassie wanted to say. You despise me. Let me go. But the words wouldn't come.

I'll kill you both. Remember that. Till death do us part. And death is your only escape.

"Cassie."

On a strangled shriek, she spun around. Devin was just inside the door, his eyes narrowed in concern. Without a thought, she ran into his arms.

"Devin. Devin, you have to go. Go quickly, before he sees you. He's going to kill you."

"What are you talking about? God, you're shaking like a leaf. It's freezing in here."

"You feel it?" Her teeth were all but chattering as she drew back. "You can feel it?"

"Sure I can. It's like an icebox." He rubbed her hands in his to warm them.

"I thought it was Joe. I swear I saw his fist coming toward me, and then—" The room spun; her knees buckled. The dizziness lasted only an instant, but she was already up in Devin's arms. "I'm all right. It's gone."

The room was warm again, sunny and bright, with the scent of roses and polish. Very gently, he laid her down on the soft leather sofa. "Let me get you some water."

"No, I'm all right." She thought she might jump out of her skin if he left her alone there. "It's just this room." She steadied herself, sat up. "I thought it was Joe, but it wasn't. It was Barlow."

She was still too pale, Devin thought, but her eyes had cleared. His heart had dropped to his knees when he'd seen them roll back in her head. "Has this happened before?"

"Not like this. Not this strong. I'm never very comfortable in this room. Even his bedroom is easier. But this time, I heard... You're going to think I've lost my mind."

"No, I won't." He cupped her face in his hands. "Remember who you're talking to."

"All right." She blew out a breath. "I heard him talking, in my head, I think. It sounded so much like Joe—the tone, the meanness in it. He called me— her—a whore, a slut. He knew she was in love with someone else, but he wasn't going to let her go, ever. He said he'd kill her first, kill both of them."

"Come on, let's get out of here. Let's go upstairs."

"I haven't finished—"

"Leave it, Cassie. Just leave it." He would have carried her, but she got to her feet. Still, her hand reached for his. "The other day, when you were talking to the old ladies?"

"Mrs. Cox and Mrs. Berman, yes."

"You talked about Abigail being in love with someone. I thought you'd made it up, to add a little romance to the story."

"No. I can't explain it, Devin. I just know it's true. I saw him."

He paused at the back stairs that led up to her apartment. "You saw who?"

"The man she loved. I was in her room, and then I looked and he was at the door. He was looking right at me, talking to me as if I were Abigail. I could feel her there. Her heart was broken, but she let him go. Made him go. Devin... Devin, I think she killed herself."

He sat her down in a chair in her living room. "Why do you think that?"

"I can't explain that, either. Just a feeling. She didn't know how else to get free. And maybe because I thought about it once."

The blood drained from his face. "Good God, Cassie."

"Not for very long," she said quickly. "And not very seriously. I had the kids to think about. If I hadn't had them, I might have thought about it longer. When you're trapped, Devin, you get crazy ideas about escape."

Nothing he knew about her had ever frightened him more. "I would have helped you. I wanted to help . you."

"I wouldn't let you. I wouldn't let anyone. You, Ed, Regan. There were others, too, others who were willing to do whatever they could. I was wrong not to accept the help, but that's over now." She curled her hands over his. "I'm not telling you this to upset you, but to try to help you understand how I know she did it. She didn't have people to help her. He'd seen to that. He made sure she was cut off from the women in town, made sure the servants were too frightened to do anything but stand back."

Somewhere in her mind, she could almost feel it, see it. "He hit her, too. It was his fist I saw today. Not Joe's. But it's the same, you see. So much the same. When he killed that boy in front of her, she knew he was capable of anything. She gave up, Devin. Eventually even her children weren't enough to keep her from escaping in the only way she knew."