Free The Last Honest Woman by Nora Roberts

known of her husband's infidelities, and most particularly of his relationship with Lori Brewer. Protecting him? It hardly seemed feasible that she would protect a man who'd cheated on her, and one who'd cheated blatantly, in public, without a semblance of discretion.
    Was she, had she been, the kind of woman content to stay in the background and keep the home fires burning? Or was she, had she been, a woman with her eye on the main chance?
    And what kind of man had Rockwell been? Had he been the egotistical driver, the generous lover or the understanding husband and father? Dylan found it hard to believe any man could be all three. Abby was the only one who could give him the answers he needed.
    Dragging a hand through his hair, he pushed away from the desk. He wanted to get something down on paper. Once he did, he might begin to put it all in some sort of perspective. Dylan looked at his typewriter and the tapes. Coffee, he decided. It was going to be a long night.
    There was a low light burning in the hall. Automatically he glanced across the corridor to where Abby slept Her door was partially open, and the room was dark. He had an urge to cross over and push the door open a little wider so he could see her in the light from the hall.
    What did he care for her privacy? He poked and scraped at her privacy whenever he questioned her. She'd cashed a check that gave him permission to.
    No, he didn't give a damn for her privacy. But his own self-preservation was a different matter. If he looked, he'd want to touch. If he touched, he might not be able to pull back. So he turned from her room and started down the stairs, alone.
    The fire in the living room was burning low and well. He'd watched Abby bank it one night and had been forced to admit that she did a better job of it than he would have. He left it alone and walked down the hall to the kitchen.
    She was sitting at the bar in the dark. The only light came from the kitchen fire and the half-moon outside. She had her elbows on either side of a cup, her chin propped by both hands. He thought she looked unbearably lonely.
    "Abby?"
    She jumped. It might have been funny if he hadn't seen just how white her face was before she focused on him.
    "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
    "I didn't hear you come down. Is anything wrong?"
    "I wanted coffee." But instead of going to the stove, he went to her. "I thought you were in bed."
    "Couldn't sleep." She smiled a little and didn't, as he'd expected, fuss with her hair or the lapels of her robe. "The water's probably still hot. I just made tea."
    He slid onto the stool beside her. "Problem?"
    "Guilt."
    His reporter's instincts hummed, at war with an unexpected desire to put his arm around her and offer comfort. "About what?"
    "I keep seeing the tears welling up in Chris's eyes when I sent him to bed without letting him watch his favorite show."
    He didn't know whether to laugh at himself or her. "Odds are he'll recover."
    "The plate wasn't that important." She lifted her tea, then set it down without drinking. "I never use them. They're ugly."
    "Uh-huh. Maybe they should take a place setting or two out to the barn for the horses."
    She opened her mouth, then laughed. This time, when she picked up her tea, she drank. It soothed a throat that was dry and a little achy. "I wouldn't go quite that far. Janice gave them to Chuck. To Chuck and me," she corrected, a little too quickly. "They're Wedgwood."
    "And should be treated with due respect," he said. He hadn't missed her slip. "So what's the problem?"
    "I hate to lose my temper."
    "Did you? You never raised your voice."
    "You don't have to yell to lose your temper." She looked out the window again and wished fleetingly that it wasn't so cold. If it were spring she could go out, sit on the porch and watch the sky. "It was only a plate, after all."
    "And it was only a television show."
    With a sigh, she settled against the back of the stool. "You think I'm being foolish."
    "I suppose