Remington said nothing for a time. The silence was not a particularly comfortable one, but neither of them sought physical distance. “I think there is something more to this than holding these moments close to your heart or Fiona’s objections or even the fact that I’ve barely started my goddamn list of things we need to discuss. What is it, Phoebe? What is it that you’re not telling me?”
She shook her head. “It’s not for me to say. It’s never been my secret to tell.”
“All right,” he said flatly. “You want to know what I did that put me in Fiona’s bad graces?”
“I never accused you of—”
Remington interrupted her without apology. “I turned her away, Phoebe. She tried to get me into her bed—myfather’sbed—and when I would not oblige her, she came to my room, to my bed, and I came as close as I ever hope to striking a woman.”
Phoebe pressed a fist against her mouth to keep from howling. She felt as if her heart were being squeezed. Tears sprang to her eyes; she blinked them back.
He went on relentlessly. “I don’t pretend to understand her motives. I don’t believe for a moment that she wanted me in any real way except as she could use me. Her overtures were so bold, so likely to be discovered, that I thought she wanted to make Thaddeus jealous, or make him send her away, or make him send me away. Maybe she was driven to do it by something in her that I can never comprehend. Maybe she was simply bored. I pity her, and I told her so, and she will not forget nor forgive that as long as she’s drawing breath.”
Now Remington drew a breath and waited for his heart to settle into its natural rhythm. “That’s all of it,” he said. Urgency was absent from his voice. “What I did. What she did. It’s done.”
Phoebe lifted her hand from her mouth but only a fraction. “I think I am going to—” She did not finish the sentence, couldn’t finish it. She kicked at the blankets, found a way out, and leapt out of bed before there was any chance that he might stop her. Her hands trembled, the one that covered her mouth, and the one that fumbled with the door to the bathing room. She barely reached the sink before she began to retch.
Remington left the bed more slowly than she did, but he also had the presence of mind to take a quilt with him. He stood beside her at the sink, held back her hair, and laidthe quilt across her shoulders and kept it there. When she stopped shuddering and heaving and could hold the blanket closed herself, he poured her a glass of water and tilted it against her mouth. She gulped, rinsed, and spit, and did it two more times before she was ready to swallow. Afterward, he made to lead her back to the bedroom, but she stopped at an overstuffed chair in the sitting area and curled there instead. Remington left her long enough to put on his trousers, and when he returned, she hadn’t moved.
He found her shift in the wardrobe and gave it to her. “You can keep the quilt, “he said, “but you’ll be warmer with this.” She did not object, but neither did she do anything with it once she had it in her hands. It was left to Remington to help her into it. When he was done, he laid the quilt over her and tucked on all sides. The sitting room had a rocker, an upright chair at the writing desk, and an ottoman large enough to seat two. He pushed it toward Phoebe and sat facing her.
“Give me your feet,” he said. “Like on the porch swing.” When she didn’t, he reached over, slid them out from under her, and placed them on his lap. He warmed his hands by rubbing his palms together before he laid them over her toes and the balls of her feet. He was satisfied when she closed her eyes and sighed.
“I don’t think you were surprised,” he said. The shake of her head was almost infinitesimal, but because he was looking for some reaction, he saw it. “But I don’t know if you allowed yourself to suspect.”
“I couldn’t,” she whispered. She stole a glance at him. “Ben?”
He knew what she was asking. “I don’t know if she approached him. He’s never said, but he took to sleeping in the bunkhouse a lot. Then again, he’s willing to escort her into town.”
“You never said anything to Thaddeus.”
“No.”
“He would have believed you. Even now, after all this time, he would believe you.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll never hear it from me.” He pressed his thumbs along the arch of her feet. “Too much?” he asked when she squirmed just a bit.
“Almost.”
Remington resisted applying more pressure. He worked his thumbs up and down her soles and watched her sink more heavily into the chair as she relaxed.
Phoebe watched him from under the sweep of dark lashes. “Why do you want to be with me, Remington? Knowing her the way you do, why in the world would you ever want to be with me?”
“You are not her.”
“But she’s...” Phoebe stopped, shook her head, helpless to continue in that vein. “You said I was like her.”
“I know what I said, and I know what I meant. I don’t think you ever did. You are nothing like her and exactly like her, but you arenother. There’s never been once that I thought so.”
“Marriage to me will tie you to her. Forever.”
“So? It will be a long leash. Your list, remember? I have an idea about building our home in the valley beyond the first pasture. That’s Frost land but well away from the ranch house. It’s green and lush in the spring and summer and has a fast running spring that even a harsh winter has not been able to freeze. I would have taken you there, made sure you agreed about the location, but I didn’t think you were ready to ride out with me when there was no good excuse for going.”
“Beyond the first pasture?” she asked. “How far is that?”
“About five miles.”
“So a very long leash.”
