Protecting Peggy by Maggie Price

They’re fine.”
    A crease formed between her brows. “You fixed a cheese plate?”
    â€œTo tell you the truth, I can’t take all the credit. O’Connell helped.”
    â€œAre you serious?”
    â€œTotally. He’s also in charge of lighting a fire.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œNo buts.” Placing his hands on her shoulders,Rory steered her toward the small table in the alcove just off the kitchen. “Don’t act so shocked, Ireland. Some men are perfectly capable of getting around a kitchen.”
    â€œAnd there are some who won’t lift a finger and depend on their wives to do everything.”
    â€œWell, there is no Mrs. Sinclair. That means I have to fend for myself. Like unwrapping a hunk of cheese and cutting off a couple of slices. It’s not a big deal.”
    When he pulled a chair out from the table, she hesitated. “Oh.”
    â€œOh, what?”
    â€œNothing.” She settled stiffly into the chair.
    â€œI still owe you that second cup of tea.”
    â€œYou don’t owe me anything, Mr. Sinclair. In fact, I owe you.”
    He crossed his arms over his chest. “What exactly do you think you owe me, Mrs. Honeywell?”
    â€œFor one thing, my thanks. For rescuing me in the greenhouse. Thank you.”
    â€œMy pleasure,” he said smoothly. “Although, by the time I got there, you didn’t need rescuing.”
    â€œI also owe you dessert tonight.”
    Rory stared down at her, saw the shadows beneath her eyes. “I figure you’ve had a full day already.”
    â€œA deal’s a deal.”
    â€œTrue.” Turning, he walked back to the center island. There, he filled the cup with water, slid in a tea bag, put the cup in the microwave and punched its controls. “Tell you what. I’ll trade tonight’s dessert for lunch tomorrow.”
    â€œLunch.”
    â€œRight. I plan to work in my room most of the day, running preliminary tests on the water samples I collected at Hopechest Ranch.”
    â€œSpeaking of that.” Peggy patted a manila envelope lying beside her on the table. “Suzanne Jorgenson brought this by. She said they’re the toxicology reports you asked for.”
    â€œGood. Add those to the list of things I need to take a look at tomorrow. With all the work I’ve got ahead of me, it would be a real inconvenience to have to go somewhere and pick up lunch.”
    Peggy ran a fingertip across the envelope. “It’s a deal, Mr. Sinclair.”
    â€œRory.”
    â€œMomma!” Samantha burst through the back door, then swung it shut with a clatter. “Guess what Gracie ’n’ me baked?”
    Clad in a powder-blue thermal jacket and gripping a paper plate covered with foil, the little girl rushed across the kitchen to her mother’s side.
    â€œGracie and I, sweetheart,” Peggy said, deftly accepting the plate tilted precariously toward her lap. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”
    â€œIt’s cookies!” Samantha announced, dancing from foot to foot in anticipation before Peggy had a chance to pull off the foil.
    â€œThey look delicious.”
    â€œYeah, they taste real good.” Samantha shoved a tumble of dark curls behind one shoulder. “Mrs. Warren let me put the frosting on all by myself.”
    Rory arched a brow. From where he stood, it lookedas if at least an inch-deep glob of chocolate frosting covered the top of each cookie.
    â€œAnd you did a wonderful job.” Smiling, Peggy slid the plate onto the table, then unzipped Samantha’s jacket and tugged it off. Rory saw a flicker of pain in Peggy’s eyes when Samantha bumped against her hip.
    A hard knot formed in his throat. He remembered the desperation in her eyes, the absolute fear in her voice when she’d looked up at him in the greenhouse and said, Samantha. All I could think about was Samantha. How alone she’d be if I