had worried she might be hungry after the wedding journey.
He had lived with agony for twenty-nine years while the man who had possibly caused it told the world he was half-mad.
Rosalie set her jaw.
So am I.
For a moment Gideon simply looked at her.
Then, unexpectedly, the corner of his mouth moved.
A smile.
Small.
Brief.
But real.
It was the first she had seen.
The storm trapped them at the ranch for two more days.
During that time Gideon’s pain eased dramatically.
Rosalie kept the wound clean with boiled water and diluted alcohol, though she refused to disturb the metal fragment.
The swelling receded enough that he slept for six uninterrupted hours the second night.
The following morning she found him standing outside splitting wood.
“You stubborn fool.”
He could not hear her.
She marched over and took the axe from his hands.
Gideon raised an
