Free Where the Wind Blows by Caroline Fyffe Page A

rocker and removed his boots. Easing down on the tiny bed, he grimaced as it creaked under his weight. He hesitated, watching to see if the movement would wake her.
    Being gentle, he pushed her arm over to her body and tucked the blanket like a cocoon around her. She still didn’t stir, so he lay back on top of the cover, stretching his legs out the best he could. With his fingers locked behind his head, he listened to the noises of the night.
    The hoot of an owl somewhere far off.
    The ticking of the clock over the fireplace mantel.
    The breathing of Nathan’s widow lying inches away…
    Nathan! Chase almost sat up when he remembered Nathan’s bankroll. That’s what had been dogging his thoughts. He needed to give it to Jessie tomorrow, first thing. If she thought him a hound, so be it.
    As the hour grew late, the temperature in the cabindropped. Jessie’s scent, soft and feminine, kept Chase in a constant state of awareness. Taking a deep breath, he released it slowly, trying to concentrate on anything but what was keeping him awake.
    He thought of his past and some of the mistakes he’d made along the way. “Killing don’t make a soft pillow at night,” he whispered in the darkness. “Regardless of who draws first.”
    That was a mistake. Jessie mumbled something and snuggled in close to Chase’s side. He rolled over to avoid her, but her arm slid up over his side.
    She’s testing my willpower and doesn’t even know it.
    He was leaving, his good sense reminded him. This was Nathan’s widow. Even though she’d granted him some husbandly rights, physical closeness certainly wasn’t one of them. Against his good sense, he rolled back. Jessie’s face, close to his, was intoxicating.
    “Jessie. Wake up,” he breathed.
    Jessie made a little sound.
    That was enough invitation for Chase. Leaning forward, he brushed her lips lightly with his. “You taste as sweet as a sugarplum pie.”
    Jessie’s eyes flew open. As comprehension dawned, she gasped, her hand covering her mouth.
    Chase reached out to quiet her, to tell her nothing had happened, but she struggled against his embrace and pushed against the restraining blanket. Chase drew back.
    “It’s all right, Jess. I’m sorry. It was all my doing. Please don’t cry.”
    And he was sorry. She was the new widow of a trusting friend. He felt wretched.
    At that moment, Sarah cried out from the other room.
    Jessie and Chase both hurried out to Sarah. Gathering the child up, Jessie rocked her in her arms. Gabe, waking fromthe commotion, looked as if he was having a hard time coming out of his sleep.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked, pushing his hair from his eyes.
    “Sarah’s having a nightmare,” Jessie said. “You can go back to sleep. I’ll take care of her.”
    Clasping Sarah to her breast, she felt the wild beat of the girl’s heart against her own. She soothed the brown curls out of her face and stroked them down her back.
    Chase was watching her. He looked unsure. The next time Jessie looked up he was gone, back into her room.
    “Shhh…Please don’t cry,” she crooned, echoing the words Chase had whispered to her just moments ago. “It’s all right, sweetheart. It was just a bad dream.”
    “Dark, dark root,” Sarah cried.
    “No, no, there’s no root cellar here, honey. You don’t have to think about that anymore, ever again.”
    From out of the past, a montage of nightmares descended. Jessie remembered vividly her last day at the orphanage.
    “What have we here? One shoe?” Mrs. Hobbs’s voice fairly crackled as she advanced on Sarah, only two years old. “Jessie, take her and put her in the root cellar until after breakfast. Children must learn responsibility.”
    Jessie had to control her rage. If she spoke out in Sarah’s defense, it would only make things worse for Sarah.
    As she hugged Sarah close, the other children regarded her with sympathy. None of them liked to be left in the root cellar. But Sarah, who was so afraid of the