Breed True by Gem Sivad

wooden floor in the cabin left off in this room. Huge flagstones, like those used in the mammoth fireplace, were fitted together in a mosaic pattern, giving this room an exotic look. Except for an outer door, there were no openings or windows, but Jewel marked that exit and turned to leave.
    The outside door opened, and she looked up, startled when Grady Hawks stood in the doorway. Big flakes of snow floated to the ground behind him, covering the ground rapidly.
    "What are you doing in here?" He scowled at her and searched the corners of the room as though looking for others. "Where are the babies?"
    "Asleep." The word was barely a whisper. His frown changed to a speculative look she had seen on too many male faces.
    A light shone behind him in the building that Jewel assumed was the barn. She took her time answering, aware that his interest was more than concern for her daughters. His eyes appraised her openly, measuring the woman he'd bound to him.
    "What is this room?" Jewel tried to distract his attention from her. She was swaying on her feet, ready to fall down, covered in the scent of breast milk, and he still looked at her with lust. It was hard to hide her disgust, and he must have gotten her silent message.
    "Sweat lodge," he growled, but then he surprised her when he turned to leave, grunting, "You look like you're done in. Better clean up and get to bed before you fall down."
    As a welcome to her new home, it wasn't much, but it was the best offer Jewel had heard in a long time.
    He left the room through the same door, and she gritted her teeth as she hurried to the kitchen, swallowing the thick knot of resentment that constricted her throat. This arrangement with Grady Hawks is one I agreed to. What was it Hamilton Quince had said? Want takes a poor second to need.
    If Alan Michaels was hunting her, it was for one reason only. I know he murdered a man in cold blood. Jewel shuddered at the thought.
    She surely needed a place to hide until she could leave the area. But looking around at her temporary home, she realized that Grady Hawks hadn't exaggerated. Hawks Nest really was a fortress, just as he had said.
    In the kitchen, she pumped water into the sink and used a wet cloth to clean herself, getting out of her smelly dress and into her ragged nightgown, the only change of clothing she owned. Before she quit, she washed out the borrowed dress and soft chemise belonging to Comfort Quince and laid them out to dry in the big room before the fire.
    As she changed, she was calmed by the knowledge that the ranch was isolated. Right now, her clothing, or lack thereof, seemed of little consequence. Alan Michaels can't follow me here.
    Jewel went into the bedroom where the twins slept and curled around them, sharing her heat under the covers. She fell asleep immediately. The tumult of the day, the death of one husband, and his immediate replacement with another, was too bizarre for her to analyze.
    Julie Fulton Rossiter Hawks gave herself up to oblivion and hoped that the next day would prove it all a bad dream. No one bothered her or her daughters, and she slept soundly, waking the next morning when Emerald flipped over on her belly and began to fuss.

Chapter Seven
    Jewel fed and changed the girls, who promptly went back to sleep. She put the bolster up to keep them from falling and crept silently to the outer room, hurrying to the fire to grab her still-damp clothes.
    The first thing she saw, bathed in golden light, was the double-sized cradle sitting in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled invitingly, and she felt the heat on her body through the thin folds of her night clothes. She knelt next to the baby bed and explored the craftsmanship, afraid to believe in good deeds.
    It was made to hold both daughters. Gratefully, she went back to the cold bedroom, gathered up the sleeping babies, and returned them to the big room where she could hear them when they woke.
    Then she shimmied into the dry chemise and damp