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  Unwilling to admit he enjoyed the feel of her skin against his, he took hold of her hand again, and gently squeezed her fingers, "Now try to open those pretty brown eyes."

  Lillian hesitated but did as he asked and waited for her vision to focus on the man before her. When his face became clear, she looked at him in bewilderment. Had anyone ever gazed at her with such naked concern as he did at this moment?

  "Is it any better? The pain I mean, with it being darker?" He worried.

  She squeezed his fingers and offered a small smile, "Yes, thank you."

  Her eyes traveled over his features, settling on his beautifully shaped lips. How would it feel if he were to press them to hers? The thought surprised her.

  After what she'd experienced so far, she never wanted to deal with the experience of kissing ever again, or so she had believed before meeting Sawyer.

  Licking dry lips, she grimaced, realizing he must find her repulsive with the damaged and bleeding skin adorning her mouth. Lillian gave herself a mental shake at her foolish thoughts and reminded herself she had no interest in kissing—none what so ever. All right, maybe there was a slight interest, but just a small one.

  Hearing Abigail shouting outside startled Lillian from her thoughts.

  Steadily, the words became more clear, punctuated by Abigail's hurried footsteps echoing across the porch as she yelled, "SAWYER, DOC'S HERE."

  The front door open opened a moment later, followed by brisk, heavy footsteps. Doc blocked what little light that came through the doorway when he entered the room with Abigail directly behind him.

  Doc hurried to the bed and set his bag down on the nearby table, "Abigail told me Miss Lillian had an episode?" Opening the latch, he withdrew a stethoscope and touched Sawyer's shoulder, "A little room, if you please."

  Sawyer reluctantly released Lillian's hand as he stood from the bed to allow Doc access to his patient. "Yes, she was convulsing. I moved the bed so she wouldn't fall off and do more damage." He motioned lamely to where the bed now stood, then explained further, "I blocked the window when she complained of the light hurting her eyes." He waited helplessly, watching as Doc performed his examination.

  Lillian didn't want Sawyer to leave and stopped herself from protesting as he moved to the opposite side of the room. Her skin still tingled where he had touched her. Unable to help herself, she sought him out, wanting the solace his presence so easily offered.

  Sawyer offered Lillian a smile when she turned to look at him.

  "Perhaps you'd like to get properly dressed, Sawyer?" Abigail whispered, motioning to his lack of attire, her mouth more pinched looking than usual.

  Startled, he looked down and noticed for the first time his shirt gaped wide open, his suspenders hung useless at his sides, and his feet were bare against the wood floor. He'd forgotten all about his state of undress.

  "It simply isn't decent," Abigail said, just loud enough for him to hear.

  Sawyer scowled as he began buttoning his shirt, "I'll go check on the children."

  Abigail's frown followed him out of the room.

  Chapter Seven

  Almost a month passed without any further problems or convulsing episodes to darken Lillian's days further. The scar on her forehead was looking better every day, but Lillian knew she'd always have it to remind her of the hellacious months she'd suffered in getting to where she was now.

  Nightmares plagued her, tormenting her in gruesome detail, replaying moments that stained her soul. The only time she found a modicum of peace was when she was in the presence of Sawyer and the children. But she worried about what would happen should they ever discover the truth about her past or the terror that held her firmly in its grip.

  She could deal with the nightmares, but the thought of having to verbalize any of it was more than she could handle. Her refusal to speak of what had happened proved to be a sore subject with Sawyer, but Lillian feared what retelling and reliving of the events would do to her.

  Verbalizing the atrocity of the past four months in the light of day was more than she could endure. More than anything, Lillian feared the stress would bring about another convulsing episode. She would rather wither up and die than speak of it.

  Lillian knew her unwillingness to tell him anything other than her name, irritated Sawyer. It seemed that on a daily, if not weekly basis, he was asking her questions. Where had she come from? What had brought her to them in such a terrible state? And who he should notify of her health?

  The terrible fact of the matter was that she had no one. Her parents were dead for almost seven years now, and her husband had died earlier that year in February.

  There was no one left to miss her and not one soul alive that she needed to worry about sending word to. Worst of all, Lillian had learned several weeks ago from Abigail that her cousin Maggie had died over two years ago.

  Her entire reason for even making the impulsive, dangerous trek out West was gone, and it had exacted a steep price. There had been many times in the past four months she’d almost paid with her pathetic life while trying to finish her journey, determined to believe she'd be rewarded for her perseverance and have the life she'd always dreamed of.

  But it was all for naught now that Maggie was dead and her children were unknowingly caring for her.

  Lillian hung her head. What was she to do now? The question had replayed repeatedly in her mind every day since Abigail's revelation. She had nothing to give them; Sawyer was able to care for Paul and Kitty in a manner she could never offer them on her own if she divulged her relationship to them.

  The sad truth of it was, they would all be better off to believe her to be a stranger; for her to leave them with nothing other than the memory of helping a woman who'd been near death, and then had mysteriously left one night.

  And if that realization wasn't torturous enough, the remnants of the nightmare that had forced her from her fitful sleep slithered through her mind, leaving her unsettled and lost. Standing alone in the kitchen with her miserable thoughts, Lillian stared blankly out the window overlooking the field to the back of the property.

  Stars twinkled bright and happy in the midnight sky as the moonlit night cast an eerie spell around her in the silent house. Everyone slept. Everyone but her, she amended.

  Doc Brennan had told her just the other day that after her injured arm should only need a few more weeks in the splint, although he cautioned it would take a few months to get the strength back.

  Currently, it rested in a sling across her chest, making her skin itch where the bandages kept the sturdy boards in place to stabilize the bones.

  She stood in confusion, forgetting why she had come into the kitchen so late at night other than to escape her room that was slowly becoming a prison, but she didn't want to return to her room just yet.

  "Oh, I'm sorry," Sawyer whispered behind her.

  Startled, she spun around to face him and blinked against the darkness. "Did I wake you?"

  Sawyer told himself to turn around and go right back to bed before he did something foolish but stammered "No. I—I was looking for a snack."

  He stood in the doorway, wearing only his long johns with the top half roughly cut off, which allowed them to sit low on his waist. The cotton material reached his ankles but hugged his thickly muscled thighs, accentuating their hidden strength.

  Lillian swallowed and dragged her eyes from where they had wandered down his heavily muscled chest back up to meet his eyes in the darkened kitchen.

  Even fully clothed and sweaty after a hard day's labor, the man could scatter her wits to the far corners of the earth. Seeing him in nothing other than his underwear, she had to remind herself to breathe.

  Sawyer was unable to take his eyes off her and had to tell himself that she was not the snack he had in mind. She looked delectable standing in a nightgown that had belonged to his much shorter wife, and which length fell only to her calves and revealed shapely ankles.

  Thank heavens Mrs. Richardson was no l
onger staying in the house and only came in the mornings. He couldn't hold back a smile at the thought of the hysterics the older woman would have if she were to witness the unplanned midnight meeting happening in the kitchen.

  Smiling mischievously, Lillian crossed the room to the pantry and withdrew the leftover apple pie from dinner, grabbing two forks before heading back toward the table. "Do you think Abigail will notice if the pie is gone when she arrives in the morning?" She teased, handing him a fork as she took a seat.

  "I'm sure she's accounted for every last morsel," He snickered, sitting in the chair next to her, "We'll both be in so much trouble we better make it worth it."

  The smile that he bestowed on her nearly had Lillian swooning in her chair. How had she not noticed he had such marvelous dimples? He'd smiled at her plenty of times since she'd been here, and yet not once had she noticed those two perfect imperfections on his face that seemed to go straight to her heart and tug sharply.

  She could barely draw breath because he was sitting so close that his thigh brushed softly against hers every time they leaned in with their forks to take a bite. Her heart hammered in her chest as she watched him.

  Never able to observe him without Mrs. Richardson always monitoring her actions, Lillian now took the time to study him unabashedly. Even in the moonlight, he was strikingly handsome. His eyes and lips both fought for being his best feature.

  But even his crooked nose, which leaned slightly to the left, was attractive. His eyebrows were intense black slashes with a somewhat dramatic arch on a dominant brow bone, making his eyes appear deep-set and lending them a mysterious quality.

  'He's nothing like Richard,' she couldn't help but think. Sawyer was a sinful confection with the promise of heaven, while Richard had been worse than three-day-old milk toast with the promise of a bellyache.

  After swallowing a healthy bite, Sawyer wiped his face self-consciously with the back of his hand. "Do I have pie on my cheek or somethin'?"

  Giving herself a mental shake, Lillian forced her gaze to the table, "No." She dug her fork into the pie and took a large mouthful to keep herself from saying more.

  Watching her out of the corner of his eye, Sawyer took another bite and talked as he chewed, "I know I've asked you before, but now that you're nearly healed," he swallowed and continued, "I'd like to send word to your family; to let them know you're safe and alive and where you are."

  Lillian nearly choked on her pie as she swallowed.

  Sawyer reached over and pounded her back, "Careful, I'd hate for you to choke to death on a little bit of pie after all the effort I went through to keep you alive." His eyes locked with hers as he licked a crumb from his lower lip.

  She smiled weakly and coughed, "I'm better now." She averted her gaze and covered her mouth, still holding the fork in her hand. Clearing her throat, she glanced at him and found him watching her as he ate another forkful of pie.

  Hoping he'd let the matter drop if she gave him an answer, she focused on her fork, willing her voice to be steady as she replied softly. "My parents died over six years ago."

  He grimaced, "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Thank you," she murmured, forcing down another bite.

  They ate in awkward silence; the tick-tock of the clock the only sound in the stillness around them.

  Suddenly he turned to her, his dimples making another glorious appearance when he smiled sheepishly, "I've stolen all the fun out of our midnight pie stealin'. Haven't I?"

  Her heart lurched in her chest, and she slammed her eyes closed. Those damn dimples! She had to stop looking at him; she would stop looking at him.

  He reached up a hand and touched her cheek, "You feelin' all right?"

  An electric current raced down her body at his touch, and she stood abruptly and quickly blurted out, "I should go to bed."

  But escape was not going to be easily obtained. He rose and stood next to her, causing her pulse to race even faster as his body heat reached out to her, beckoning her to step closer.

  During her time here, she'd come to know him better than any other man in her life, including her father. From the moment they'd found her, he'd done nothing but keep her safe, fighting for her to live when she was sure she had been too weak to fight for herself.

  She'd seen the way he cared for Paul and Kitty and had been surprised to learn they were not, in fact, his natural-born children because he loved them as though they were. When she'd found out whose children they were, she'd been relieved that they were so well taken care of.

  Now, Lillian couldn't stop from wanting him to care for her as well, and wondered if perhaps in some respect he did. She told herself she would be gone soon and not to get too attached to the man. 'Too late,' her heart dreamily sighed as she gazed into eyes that she knew were as green as new spring grass.

  The longer she stayed near him, the more she grew to adore him. Realizing she was heading down a dangerous path and needing to blot out Sawyer's face before her, Lillian tried to think of what Richard looked like. Panic set in when she was unable to see Richard's face in her mind without Sawyer's quickly replacing it.

  Lillian raised her hand to cover a fake yawn and croaked, "I'm so tired. I really should go back to bed." She moved quickly around him to retreat to her room and stumbled, stubbing her toe against his chair. Her heart skipped when he gripped her waist to steady her.

  His hands shifted to span her lower ribs as they rose and fell with each rapid breath she took. "You sure you're feelin' all right?"

  Lillian stared up at him, quietly admitting he was the perfect complementary height to her own. She'd always felt awkwardly tall around everyone and usually stood a full foot taller than most women and even most men. Except for Richard. They’d been precisely the same height, although Richard had been slighter in frame, making her always feel large and awkward.

  But Sawyer stood almost a head taller, and for the first time in her life, she realized that she could be feminine and dainty like other women. She'd always wondered what it would feel like and now she knew—it was wonderful.

  "You're tremblin'," he mumbled, unable to tear his eyes from hers. His hands gripped her waist more tightly of their own accord. The lavender soap she used in her bath, along with something that was purely her, tantalized his senses.

  If he were honest with himself, he'd admit that Lillian was quickly becoming his favorite smell, heck, she was his favorite anything. The desire to press his lips to hers was driving the air from his lungs in its intensity. Mrs. Richardson's special liniment had healed Lillian's beautifully shaped lips, and they were begging to be kissed.

  "I'm cold," she lied, willing her feet to move her body and return to her room, just as she prayed they would continue to disobey her.

  Sawyer nodded. "It is chilly..." His right arm wrapped securely around her waist while his left caressed its way up her arm to her neck.

  Her bandaged arm, cradled in the sling across her chest, became the only barrier preventing him from pulling her any closer. He threaded his fingers into her hair, cradling the back of her head, and drew her mouth to his.

  Lillian’s hand had made its way to his cheek, she realized in a daze, sinking her fingers into the thick hair at his nape, completely enthralled as his mouth descended.

  Sawyer watched her with heavy-lidded, desire-filled eyes. His breath fanned across her lips as his mouth came ever nearer to her own. He'd waited for this opportunity to present itself, and he didn't want to rush it now that it was upon them.

  He wanted to savor the emotions swirling through him now that he finally had her in his arms, knowing her lips would soon be pressed against his.

  His nose brushed hers as his lips inched close enough for her to feel their warmth, one single breath away.

  Her eyes drifted closed in anticipation as a breath hitched in her throat. Any second now the waiting would be over.

  "Papa?" Kitty cried softly from upstairs.

  Lillian's eyes shot open in alarm, and she pus
hed weakly against Sawyer's chest, gasping when his naked flesh scorched the palm of her hand.

  Sawyer closed his eyes and cursed under his breath at Kitty's timing.

  "Papa?" Kitty called fearfully, from the top of the stairs.

  Forcing his hands to release Lillian's waist, he stepped away from her, disturbed that she refused to look at him as she scurried down the hall to her room where the door closed firmly behind her.

  Chapter Eight

  Several minutes passed before Kitty saw Sawyer at the foot of the stairs. He stopped briefly then resumed his way up to her. "What's wrong, honey bear?" He whispered, scooping her up in his arms and kissed her cheek.

  "I had a bad dream," Kitty whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and whimpered tearfully, "And you didn't come when I needed you."

  He kissed her cheek again, "I'm sorry, sugar," he murmured, hugging her close, "Want to tell me about it?"

  She shook her head against his shoulder.

  "All right." He patted her back and held her close as he softly asked, "Have I told you what my daddy swore cured bad dreams?"

  Kitty pulled back in his arms, her hands caressing his cheeks as she shook her head, "No."

  "I haven't?! Well, goodness, gracious!" Sawyer exclaimed quietly, "It's a secret that you can only share with someone after a bad dream; otherwise, it doesn't work." He leaned close and whispered in her ear, "You promise to keep it a secret until you find another person in need of it?"

  Kitty nodded, her fingers poking and then tracing the dimples that emerged with his mischievous grin.

  Sawyer gazed at Kitty in adoration. He loved his little girl and the way she'd unknowingly changed his life and brightened his days. He would do anything he could to drive away her bad dreams and unpleasant memories. "Let's go get us some apple pie, honey bear. Chase those bad dreams away."

  Her eyes grew wide. "Apple Pie?!" She whispered in delight.

  "Mmhmm," Sawyer smiled and carried Kitty down the stairs, "best cure for bad dreams this side of the Mississippi, according to my daddy."