Free Harper's Bride by Alexis Harrington

to keep her wits about her or she would be utterly and
irretrievably lost.
    But before she could formulate any other
ideas, she heard Dylan coming up the stairs again. He'd been gone
only a moment—strange that she had already learned the sound of his
steps.
    He flung open the door, then maneuvered an
oak rocking chair through the narrow doorway. His sun-streaked hair
fell forward, obscuring his face as he wrestled it into the room.
"I had this downstairs," he said, straightening. He carried it to
the window and angled it so that it faced the street. A mild breeze
drifted in. "Rafe will probably miss it, but I thought it might
help."
    Melissa gaped at him, taken by complete
surprise. She sat motionless, still perched where he'd left her,
and stared at Dylan's handsome face. She saw no anger there, no
threat.
    He came closer, slowly and carefully. Then he
held out his hand. "Come and sit by the window for a few minutes.
It might make both of you feel better." He didn't raise his voice
over Jenny's squalling, but Melissa heard him perfectly.
    "I'm sorry your dinner got cold," she
babbled. "I can put it back in the—"
    "It doesn't matter, Melissa. I'll take care
of it." He pushed his open hand closer to her. She hesitated, then
shifting Jenny to one arm, put her own hand in his palm. His
fingers closed around hers, and he helped her to her feet.
    "Thank you," she murmured as she settled in
the rocker. Giving a push with the heel of her shoe, she set the
chair in motion. It felt welcoming and soothing, and even Jenny
began to quiet.
    He turned to walk to the table, then stopped
and fixed her with a direct look "I've never hit a woman in my
life. I sure as hell don't plan to start now."
    Dylan sat down at the table and poked a fork
into his cold dinner. It tasted good, but he wasn't very hungry.
The sight of Melissa huddling over her child, obviously trying to
protect them both, had stolen his appetite. And the naked gratitude
and relief he'd seen in her eyes when he brought in the rocker had
startled him. Did she really believe that all men were like Logan?
Was that the only way of life she had known?
    His gaze fell on her again. She sat in a
shaft of sunlight that slanted through the open window. It cast a
bright halo over her blond hair as she looked down at the baby and
rocked her, stroking her silken head with her hand. For just an
instant, he wondered what it would feel like if her hand stroked
his hair. Would it heal? Would it bring forgetfulness?
    Presently, he heard Melissa humming softly in
a voice so sweet that he put down his fork to listen. The picture
of mother and child was perfect in that moment, and Dylan felt a
stirring in his soul. Once, a long time ago it now seemed, he'd
envisioned his own wife holding their baby like this. He dragged
his gaze back to his food. Once, a long time ago, Dylan had let his
love for a woman drive him to distraction.
    It was a mistake he swore he would not
repeat.
    That night Melissa lay in Dylan's bed, made
with the clean new sheets she'd bought. The quiet, semi-dusk of
midnight gave the room a mellow pink glow. Jenny slept. She had at
last exhausted herself when Melissa had calmed down too.
    The sack of rice still separated her from the
fierce, sun-blond man on the other side of the mattress. But he
didn't seem quite as frightening now, and she didn't cling so
tightly to the edge of the bed. She heard his slow, even breathing
and knew he slept, too.
    There were no guarantees in life, but tonight
the agreement into which they'd entered at the Yukon Girl Saloon
had been sealed.
    And it had been accomplished with the gift of
a rocking chair.

Chapter Five

    Over the next few days, with decent food and
a little peace, Melissa began to regain her strength. She still
jumped at loud voices and noises, but not every time, and the
bruise on her face had finally faded.
    The rocking chair had proved to be a godsend.
After that one horrible night, Jenny had settled down again into
her