would have been a hell of a lot more comfortable on the sofa, he couldnât allow himself to take off his shoes and relax. If he did that, heâd be asleep in minutes.
Leaning forward with his elbows resting on his thighs, he listened. Both doors to the bedrooms were ajar, and he could hear Abby and Fiona shifting in their beds. He thought of Fionaâs long hair spread across the pillows, and her graceful body stretched out across the sheets. Her face in repose. Her lips.
He hadnât planned to kiss her, but he didnât regret that moment. It tasted right. And the sensual jolt to his system had gotten his heart pumping and his blood circulating. He felt better now than he had since he woke in the hospital. If he made love to her, heâd probably be completely cured.
A sound outside the window interrupted his reverie. The wind rattling the bare branches of the aspens near the front door? He wouldnât take any chances. Gun in hand, he went to the curtains and peered around the edge. From this limited vantage point, he saw nothing suspicious.
One-man guard duty was difficult. If Wentworth had been here, one of them could have gone outside to check while the other stayed here. Alone, he couldnât risk leaving the house unprotected.
He checked his wristwatch. Wentworth was supposed to be here any minute.
He sank into the rocking chair again. Waiting. Listening.
The next sound seemed to come from overhead. A tree squirrel running across the roof? He looked up.
It was quiet again.
Then he heard the tires from Wentworthâs vehicle pulling up the gravel drive. He stood at the front door, watching as Wentworth got out of the car, and motioned him inside.
With the door bolted, Jesse said, âI heard something on the roof.â
âHow big?â
âDonât know. It was a scraping noise.â
Wentworth exhaled a weary sigh. It had been a long day for him, too. âWhat should we do about it?â
âYou stay here. Iâll go out and take a look around.â
Though Jesse would have preferred using a rifle, his left arm wasnât steady enough to be trusted. He took his handgun and stepped outside. Earlier today, heâd had an opportunity to check out her house from various angles, figuring out which direction an intruder might take. But he hadnât considered the roof.
The cold night air was bracing. After taking a moment to allow his eyes get accustomed to the moonlight, he circled around to the rear of the house. None of the aspens at the front of the house were good for climbing; the branches started too far from the ground. At the back, there was one tall pine tree.
He stared into the depths of its branches. Nothing there.
The roof of Fionaâs one-story house formed a shallow peakâjust enough of an angle to encourage the snow toslide off. He saw nothing in the back or the front. But he sensed a threat.
When he returned to the inside of the house, Wentworth escorted him into the kitchen. âHereâs the deal, Jesse. Iâll change those dressings. Then you go to bed. Iâll wake you in three hours to relieve me.â
âYou should go back to the Carlisle Ranch.â
âThey donât need me. Our man, Neville, is there. And Burke. And a whole mob of cowboys with rifles.â
Though Jesse didnât like to admit that he needed help, he wasnât a fool. âI wonât lie. I could use some rest.â
He had the feeling that the next couple of days werenât going to get any easier.
Chapter Nine
By dawn of the following day, Jesse felt damn good. The aching lessened. His drumming headache was gone. Heâd recovered a decent range of movement in his arm and shoulder but continued to wear the sling as a reminder to be careful.
Best of all, his appetite had returned. He sat at the table in Fionaâs cheery tangerine kitchen, scarfing down the excellent pancakes sheâd whipped up. On the other side of the