Adrienne deWolfe by Texas Lover

children had spent all of their play time the day before shadowing Wes. And Wes had spent his work time charming, entertaining, and educating them, God forbid.
    She would have to speak to her hired hand about her children.
    "Miss Rorie!" Merrilee called again, panting as she ran into the garden.
    When Rorie saw the child's eyes, as big and dark as eclipsed suns, she knew immediately that disaster had struck. Jumping to her feet, she all but forgot Wes as Merrilee skidded to a halt before her.
    "Bee sting!" the child cried.
    "Where, Merrilee?" Rorie caught the girl's shoulders. "Where did the bee sting you?"
    Shaking her head, Merrilee gulped down air. "Not me. Mr. Wes!"
    Rorie frowned. "Mr. Wes?"
    Merrilee nodded vigorously. "He was looking for medicine in your private cabinet."
    Surprised by this information, Rorie decided she must have misunderstood. "You mean he's in the dining room?"
    Merrilee looked close to tears. "Yes, ma'am. Hurry!" She tugged on Rorie's hand. "Mr. Wes could get very, very sick!"
    Rorie obliged, letting the child pull her into the house. She knew Merrilee was remembering the previous summer, when Topher had been stung by a bee and had swelled up like a bull frog. The boy had been feverish for several days, and Merrilee had huddled by his bedside, afraid she would lose her playmate.
    "It's all right, Merrilee," Rorie said soothingly. "I'm sure Mr. Wes will be fine."
    She'd no sooner said this, then a pitiful moan came from the dining room. Merrilee's uneven legs churned even faster as she pulled Rorie down the hall.
    "Hurry, Miss Rorie. Hurry!"
    Much to her secret amusement, Rorie spied Wes sitting on her desk, swinging a long, muscular leg and frowning perplexedly at the taffy box she'd filled with sewing notions.
    "Damn," he muttered before realizing he'd acquired an audience.
    "Does it hurt, Mr. Wes?" Merrilee asked, dragging Rorie all the way to his side.
    He nodded woefully, but she saw the amusement dancing in his eyes. Rorie suspected then that there'd been no bee and no sting, and that he was the only pain.
    Merrilee stepped onto the stool by the desk and pressed a small palm to his sun-baked cheek. "He's real hot, Miss Rorie!"
    The child turned anxiously to her for guidance.
    Wes had the audacity to smirk behind the child's back. "That's not the only place I'm hot, Miss Rorie."
    She shot him a quelling glare. "Merrilee, sweetheart, why don't you gather up all your flowers and put them in a vase for Ginevee."
    The child looked torn between her patient and her chore.
    "Go ahead, Miss Merrilee," Wes said in a brave voice. "Miss Rorie will fix me."
    I'll fix you, all right, she thought, helping the child fill her basket.
    When the flowers were all gathered, Merrilee hesitated once more, glancing back at Wes. "Would it be all right if I draw your pony?"
    "You mean Two-Step?" He chuckled. "Why, I think ol' fiddle foot would be right pleased to have his portrait made."
    Merrilee turned eagerly to Rorie. "Can I, ma'am?"
    Rorie nodded. What harm could come to the child as long as she stayed clear of the gelding's hooves? Besides, Rorie had been encouraging Merrilee's gift for drawing. It was the only way to get her to discuss the phantoms in her nightmares.
    "You may take a slate to the corral," Rorie said, "but you must promise not to go inside."
    "I promise." Merrilee eagerly retrieved a board and chalk from the table and slipped them into her basket. "Thank you, ma'am. 'Bye, Mr. Wes."
    After Merrilee had left, Rorie planted her fists on her hips and glared at the scapegrace sitting on her desk.
    "Ah, my angel of mercy."
    "Mercy's the last thing you'll get from me, Wes Rawlins."
    "You sure have a lot of flash in those eyes. Reminds me of a Winchester when its brass receiver catches the sun."
    "Don't change the subject." She tugged the taffy box from his hands. "Don't you have any scruples?"
    "Now don't go spitting smoke. I was only going to eat one tiny little piece..."
    She glowered at him, but it