.

from his lungs. He rubbed a hand over his face and the four days’ worth of growth on his chin. He must look like a polar bear. He’d clearly displayed all the manners of one.

      Maybe Duce was right and he needed to find himself a steady girl at the Gilded Lady. He’d given it a shot, but after having his own woman in his own bed, weekend romps just didn’t appeal to him. A hell of an inconvenience for a man with no wife. The thought of seeking out any of the single young ladies in town left him cold and irritable. He flat didn’t trust those inviting smiles and batting lashes.

      Instead of carousing or courtship, he’d assaulted a decent woman who’d saved his life.

       What a fine mess.

      He ate the last of his stew wondering all the while what had happened to Grace for her to end up alone in this cave. Done up as it was, the stone enclosure was still a cave in the heart of wild country. And she shouldn’t be out there in that wind!

      He stood, his sore muscles complaining as he collected the empty dishes on the table. It would take another day before he’d be of any use. A full stomach didn’t do anything but sap the last of his strength. Not that she’d welcome his help.

       Damn it.

      Spotting her shotgun still propped inside the door, he knew he was lucky she hadn’t reached for her gun and loaded him full of buckshot after the liberties he’d taken. Would have served him right.

      He stepped up to a washstand wedged between her pantry and the empty wood box. Finding a jar of dishrags, he took one and wiped out the bowls then set them in the basin. He lifted the kettle from the stove and scalded the tin with the hot water. Grace returned as he was stacking the dishes in her pantry. Didn’t take but a glance at her wide blue eyes to gauge her wariness.

      Boots trotted in before her, his wet paws tracking prints across the floor she’d already mopped up once today.

      She kicked the door closed behind them and stood there, her arms loaded down with wood.

      “I’ll wipe up the floor,” he said, turning to find another rag.

       “No.”

      The single words stopped him.

      “You should lie down.”

      He figured that was her way of telling him to get the hell away from her. Tiny thing that she was, he didn’t doubt his size made her nervous. He backed toward the bed. His dog seemed to know the routine, having lain back down in his corner without prompting.

      She didn’t take a step forward until Garret eased onto the mattress. She dropped the firewood into the box beside her stove, her gaze moving over the sink basin and the dishes he’d rinsed and put away. She fetched the drying sheet from the back of her chair and dropped it on the damp floor. Her foot dragged the cloth across the puddles as she watched him.

      “If I can help with anything—”

      “You can help by resting.”

      “Two days abed should have been enough,” he said, hating that he felt so damn useless.

      “You were sick.”

      Red rimmed her eyes. He imagined she hadn’t slept much in the past three days.

      “Doesn’t look like you’ve had much sleep at all.”

      “I’ll sleep just fine once you’re gone.”