Free Lonesome Rider and Wilde Imaginings by Heather Graham Page B

this place is worth fighting for. I haven’t seen ranch land quite so fine since—”
    â€œSince?” she asked softly.
    â€œA different life,” he murmured. “Let’s get down there.”
    Twilight was with them even as they reached the house. They worked together in silence, getting the candles and lamps first so that they could see what they were up to. Blade cared for the horses, taking them into the stables he had swept out to give them water and grain.
    Jessica began to sweep the house. It was filthy, years of grime and dust having accumulated on the furnishing. Nonetheless, it was a fine house. There was a kitchen with a sink and a pump that drew fresh water from the well.
    Charlie had furnished the place. There was a big leather sofa that sat before the fireplace, two rockers at its sides. There was a knit rug on the wooden floor, and a dining table with six well-carved seats. Down the hallway there were four bedrooms, two of them fully furnished with cherrywood bed frames and dressers, and one even had a beautiful washstand with a marble top. The largest bedroom also had a screen that surrounded a big wooden tub, and Jessica promised herself that it would be one of the first things she cleaned in the morning. That night, she swept and scrubbed the floors and countertops, stripped the bed, plumped up the mattress, and put new sheets on it. When she turned, he was there. He stood tall and strikingly handsome in the lamplight.
    â€œHorses are all taken care of,” Blade said. “A hinge was off the front door so I took care of that, too.” He smiled suddenly, watching her with a new interest “Then I smelled something good from inside. Can you actually cook?”
    â€œYou didn’t think I could?”
    He strode to her, picking up her hand. His fingertip traced the bubblelike blisters, and she winced. “You’ve had servants your whole life,” he said softly.
    She wrenched her hand back. “Fine. Don’t eat.”
    â€œI’m a gambling man,” he reminded her.
    She strode by him quickly. She’d set the ham and beans in a pot above the fire as she wasn’t too sure about her stove yet. The mixture was bubbling, and she found two of the plates she had cleaned and filled them, bringing them to the table.
    â€œI’ll get some water,” she said, eyeing him nervously. “The glasses are right there. They’re washed. Or—I suppose you might want whiskey. The coffee is on now, but it will take a minute—”
    â€œNever mind,” he told her, “I bought something from Mrs. Peabody this morning myself.” His saddlebags lay near the door. He pulled out a bottle of red wine and brought it to the table. “Will you join me, Mrs. Dylan?”
    She nodded. He poured the wine. She sat down and sipped it quickly. Then, sliding a napkin onto her lap, she dipped into her food. Across the table, Blade joined her.
    Warm, flushed and exhausted, Jessica quickly drank a glass of the wine. She could feel his eyes on her. He took a spoonful of the ham and beans, still watching her.
    â€œWill it do?” she whispered.
    â€œIt’s excellent.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œWhat are you really doing here, Jessica Dylan?” he asked suddenly.
    â€œYou just said that it was good land. You said—”
    â€œGood land. But you’re rich. You must have had some decent life back East.”
    â€œI want to be here. Is that so difficult to understand?”
    â€œJust difficult to believe,” he told her dryly.
    â€œAnd what about you?” she demanded. “Are you some kind of outlaw?”
    â€œYou tell me,” he replied.
    She drained a second glass of wine. It was getting to her tonight. Perhaps because she was so very tired. She set the glass down and stood uneasily. “I’ll get the coffee,” she murmured.
    But he was beside her, a subtle grin on his lips, sweeping her into