Redemption's Edge by Shirleen Davies Page B

dismounted, settled under a stand of pine, drew out his rifle, and leaned against a boulder. The position gave an excellent view of the pasture below, as well as the majestic skyline of the Territory Range. He could just make out Luke’s form opposite him. He glanced up at the darkening sky and thought more of Rachel, wishing he could find a way to purge her from his mind.
     

Chapter Seven
    For hours, Rachel had failed to fall asleep. The combination of too many thoughts rambling through her head and worry over the town made it difficult for her to relax. Her tired body drifted off more than once yet, each time, something woke her.
    She felt herself sinking into sleep again, then gave up, tossed her thin blanket aside, and walked to the window, opening it enough to let a cool breeze wash over her. She stood, her nightdress billowing as soft waves of air entered her room.
    A quiet knock sounded. She turned, watching as the door to her room cracked open just a few inches, enough to make out the figure of a man. She stifled a gasp, wondering, hoping she knew the identity of the intruder. He strode toward her and stared down, letting his hands rest on her waist.
    “You’ve been waiting for me.” He let his gaze wander over her, his body tightening at the sight.
    Rachel locked on the face she dreamed of each night and nodded. “Yes.” The word came out as a soft whisper. “How did you get in here?”
    “Does it matter?” He let his hands move up her arms in an intimate caress. “Do you think of me often?” His gentle, southern voice washed over her, drawing her eyes to his full lips, hovering inches from hers.
    She didn’t answer, her heart hammering in her chest as he closed the distance between them and began to caress her lips with his. She let the sensations build, wanting him to do more, yet he held back.
    “I’ve wanted this since I first met you.” He lowered his head once more for what she’d been waiting…
    “Rachel? You going to sleep the morning away?”
    She jolted and sat up, rubbing her eyes as she noticed the bright sunlight filtering through her drawn curtains. Morning. She’d had another dream. The same one about Dax she’d had almost every night. Still somewhat disoriented, Rachel threw off the covers and trudged to her nightstand, splashing water on her face and scrubbing hard in an attempt to rid her thoughts and mind of the man. Although it had been several days, it still stung the way he’d told her in that calm, yet still commanding manner of his, he regretted his request to call on her.
    In her world, men did not ask to call on a lady, then tell her they no longer had an interest. Behavior such as that was unthinkable.
    What galled her the most was the realization that his lack of interest bothered her so much. He’d changed his mind, and rescinded his request—nothing more. It wasn’t as if he’d broken off an engagement or anything of note. All he did was imply she no longer appealed to him.
    Rachel groaned, dropped the brush on the dressing table, and covered her face with her hands.
    She hurried to the kitchen, smelling fried bacon and seeing a stack of flapjacks waiting on a plate. Her uncle stood at the wood stove, concentrating on his task. It was the same stance she saw each time a new patient came into the clinic—thoughtful and questioning.
    “You all right?” Rachel asked as she stood on tiptoes to place a quick kiss on his cheek.
    “Tired. Couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the situation in town and our lack of a sheriff.” He turned toward her, looking down into her eyes, pleading. “It would relieve me a great deal if you’d leave Splendor and go home. Your idea of approaching the Pelletiers made sense. If they won’t do it, we need to face the fact it may be too dangerous for you to stay.”
    She took a seat and spread butter across the flapjacks before covering them in syrup. She cut a bite-sized stack, speared it with her fork, and took the mouthful.