Jane continued to gather up the detritus of her medical attention. She did not look at him. “How is that?” She returned the soap to the sink, emptied the basin of water, and washed and dried her hands.
Morgan waited until she was done and held up a gingersnap. “These. The last man tortured by so much kindness was me. I know your methods.” He broke the cookie in half, grinning when it snapped rather loudly. “I was watching him. It hurt him like hell to chew on one of these, and you gave him three. Four, if you count the one he left with. He’s probably sucking on that one like a lozenge since he’s got nothing to prove to an audience.”
“I’m not saying I did it on purpose, you understand, but if I had, it would serve him right.”
“Uh-huh.” Morgan put both halves of the cookie in his mouth and savored the flavor before he chewed. He waved a hand over the table as Jane began to return gingersnaps to the tin. “What’s all this anyway?”
“Chips. Max and Jessop were teaching me to play poker to pass the time.”
Morgan picked up the five cards scattered in front of him and looked them over. “Who was sitting here?”
“I was.”
“Did you know you had straight flush?”
She nodded. “I discarded an eight of clubs and Max gave me a six of diamonds. I told them I had five cards almost in sequence but not in the same suit. They advised me to fold.”
Morgan chuckled. “Diabolical and lucky. They didn’t realize you were holding four diamonds and one club. Even so, it wasn’t the wrong thing to tell you. The chances of drawing to a straight flush are awfully small.”
Jane reached across the table and plucked the cards from his hand. She laid them on top of the ones in front of her, squared off the deck, and pushed it aside. She gave Morgan her full attention and frank regard. “Are you going to tell me what happened tonight?”
“You heard Jem.”
“I did. Now I want to hear what Jem did not, could not, or would not say. I am imagining you used the ride home to be very clear with him about that, but because you are a cautious man, and Jem is…well, Jem…you stood over my shoulder so you could cue him in the event he forgot his lines.”
“There’s nothing to tell—” He stopped because Jane was already getting to her feet. “Where are you going?”
“To bed. I don’t want to hear that ‘there’s nothing.’ It is the beginning of an evasion. You do not seem to understand that you make me vulnerable when you try to protect me from the truth.” Jane stepped behind her chair and pushed it under the table. She set her hands firmly on the top rail. “The only time you offend me, Morgan, is when you doubt my strength.”
Morgan’s eyes followed her, but he did not. He sat where he was, listening to her words as they echoed in his mind. Was she right? Clearly it was her opinion, but was she right?
Still stiff from his ride after so long an absence from the saddle, and feeling every thread of tension between his shoulder blades, Morgan stood slowly. He rubbed the back of his neck, rolled his shoulders, and then went to the sink to begin washing up all over again. This time there was no interruption, and when he was done, he picked up the lamp and headed to his room.
On the point of entering, he hesitated. He held up the lamp. The bed was still neatly made. He always threw the covers over it, and sometime during the day, Jane would go into his room and smooth and tuck and plump. At first it amused him that she would give so much attention to a bed that was going to be slept in again that night, but later he came to appreciate it, even found it oddly comforting.
But not tonight. Tonight there was nothing about the sight of that perfectly made bed that Morgan found either comforting or inviting. Just the opposite. Morgan did not want to disturb it. He wanted to move on. Lamplight flickered as he inhaled deeply. By the time he slowly released that breath, his decision was made.
Jane had not closed her door. Morgan wondered if it was an oversight or a hopeful sign. Lamp in hand, he stepped into the room. Jane did not look so very different from the last time he had seen her in bed. She was sitting up with the headboard behind her to support her back. The bedcovers were pulled across her lap. Her robe lay at the foot of the bed, folded as neatly as before, but the room was colder than it had been earlier, and now Jane had drawn a quilt around her shoulders and tucked it under her arms. She did not glance up from the book that was open in her lap, although Morgan believed she was aware of his presence. If nothing else, the addition of more lamplight gave him away.
“I’ve been thinking about something,” he said.
Jane’s eyes remained on her book. “Oh?”
“I remember what you said about taking your opinion into account.”
Jane closed the book, but she marked her place with her finger. She looked up. “I am listening.”
“I want to sleep here. With you. Tonight.”
“I see. And what about what I said in the kitchen? Have you taken any of that into account?”
“Still trying,” he said. “I’m not sure I’ll ever come around to your way of thinking, Jane. It could be that the best we’re going to make of it is to agree to disagree.”
“There is a part of me that wishes you would tell me what I want to hear, but I appreciate that you are being honest about the struggle. It will do,” she said. “For now.” Her eyes fell to the lamp in his hand. “Put that down before you drop it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Morgan saw that amusement made her lips quiver. He used his heel to kick the door closed before he crossed the room and set the lamp on the dresser. He turned back the wick to extinguish the flame. That left Jane bathed in the golden glow from the lamp on her bedside table. When he looked at it, he noticed the book she had been reading was now beside it.
“Which side?” asked Jane.
