Authors: Lindsay McKenna
Once seated at Matt’s left, Lark leaned toward him, keeping her voice low. “Apaches would never stare at me like some of these people are doing!”
Matt smiled. “Even Apaches would if they saw you in that dress.”
Not sure how to respond, she stared down at the fine china plates and silverware. Everything about this hotel shouted of wealth. “I—I should thank you for buying this dress for me.”
“The other one was dirty. I didn’t think you’d want to wear it.”
She toyed with the lace at her wrist. “This one is so pretty. I mean—it’s expensive.”
“Consider it a gift.”
“A gift?”
“Yes.”
“Oh…”
“Why?”
“Well, Apaches give gifts to one another all the time.”
“So do white people. Especially on holidays like a birthday or Christmas. I told you before, Lark, these are your people, too. They aren’t all murderers like Shanks or cheats like Cameron. Has anyone else given you a hard time on this trip?”
“No,” she said eagerly, and launched into a description of her encounter with Cyrus and Melinda McDonald in the lobby. She saw approval in Matt’s features as she finished.
“Give us a chance, Lark. Believe me, there are more people like the McDonalds than you know. I get the impression that your father was highly respected here in Prescott. And even though the townspeople have had little contact with you, they still want to reach out and help you at a time like this.”
“I think you’re right,” Lark admitted faintly. “I’ve committed a terrible error, haven’t I?”
Matt shook his head. “If you hadn’t accepted the McDonalds’ help and friendship, then you would have made a mistake. Right now, you’re learning just how many people loved your father, Lark.”
“Do you think they will accept me, then?”
“I think they already have.”
Contrite for the way she had thought of whites for so long, Lark hung her head and said softly, “Yes…”
Matt saw the regret written all over her face. “They’ve forgiven you. Forgive yourself, Lark. No permanent damage has been done. Come on, give me a smile.”
Rallying beneath his coaxing tone, she lifted her head and managed a small smile.
“Good. Ah, here’s our waitress. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry as a bear.”
Lark’s smile grew over their shared joke.
The waitress, a buxom blonde dressed in a gaudy red-and-white outfit, sauntered over to them and smiled winningly at Matt. “The name’s Ezzie, short for Esmerelda. What’ll it be, mister?”
Matt glanced over at Lark, who was staring like a child at Ezzie’s low-cut, tight-fitting dress. “We’ll each have a proper steak with all the fixings, Ezzie.”
She smiled, batting her eyelashes in Matt’s direction. “Anything else? You’re a strapping man, mister. Maybe you want a little more?”
Matt caught the innuendo. Lark did not. She was like a child in a new world. “That’ll be all, thanks.”
Pouting playfully, Ezzie turned and wriggled away.
“What are those things on her eyes?” Lark whispered fiercely under her breath.
He grinned. “The ladies of the night sometimes snip off a bit of their hair, hand knot it into some silk thread, and glue it to their lashes.”
Lark blinked. “But…why?”
He shrugged. “I guess they think it makes them look prettier.”
“They looked like yellow caterpillars!”
He grinned. “They did, didn’t they?”
Lark stared at Ezzie as she flounced dramatically around a corner. “And did you see how low-cut her dress was?”
“Yes.”
“Why, you could see—I mean, you could almost see…” Matt’s gray eyes had filled with amusement, but she knew he wasn’t laughing at her. She glanced circumspectly around the room. There were a number of well-heeled women sitting with men, all of them dressed beautifully. She leaned over, cupping her hand to her mouth so that no one else could hear her. “The other women don’t wear their dresses so low. Why did Ezzie?”
“It’s her way of catching a man’s attention,” Matt drawled, enjoying Lark’s discoveries.
She frowned, thinking about that answer for a long moment. “Then these other women don’t want to catch a man?”
For her sake he held on to his laughter. Lark’s expression was so serious and naive. “There are many ways to get a man’s attention. Ezzie’s is one way, but there are others.”
“But their clothes are like mine. Why do the men sit with them, then?”
“Why am I sitting with you?”
Lark frowned, meeting his smiling eyes. “Because you have to.”
“Because I
want
to,” Matt amended gently.
“Then, what a woman wears doesn’t catch a man anyway?” She was completely confused.
“Clothes can help,” Matt explained, getting serious, “but what’s in the woman’s heart and head counts most.”
“Oh…that makes sense. Apaches feel the same way about the women they take as wives. It helps if she can grind corn well and cook, but that isn’t everything.”
Matt drolly agreed. “White men like to know that their woman can cook also.”
Pleased with what she was learning about the white world, Lark relaxed in the upholstered chair and smiled up at Matt. Lark drowned in the dove-gray depths of his eyes.
A few minutes later, Ezzie returned carrying a huge tray piled high with food. Lark watched her intently, mesmerized by the “caterpillars” on her eyelashes.
Lark wiped her mouth with a napkin when she was finished eating. Her eyes narrowed.
“Cameron,” she warned Matt.
Scowling, he looked up. Jud Cameron was making his way directly to their table. He smiled at them, his hat in a gloved hand.
“Evening, Miss Gallagher, Kincaid.”
“What do you want?” Lark demanded in a fierce, low tone.
He smiled genially. “Just came to see how you’re doing, Miss Gallagher. After that unfortunate shootout in Abe Harris’s store, I thought you might be feeling a bit peaked.”
She didn’t understand the word
peaked
. “I felt fine until you came in.”
Matt placed a hand on Lark’s arm. “Let the man tell us why he’s here,” he counseled her. “What do you want, Cameron?”
Tension vibrated. Cameron kept smiling. “I see I’m too late to buy you dinner, but I’d like to buy you a drink.”
Lark fumed, glaring up at the banker. He was an oily snake, from his slicked-down black hair to his bear-grease-polished boots.
“You’re not too late to buy us dinner, Cameron,” Matt said with a smile. “Ezzie hasn’t brought the bill yet.”
Cameron hid his annoyance and sat down between Matt and Lark. “I’d be happy to.” He knew Kincaid was laughing at him. It was in his eyes. A gunslinger’s eyes: sharply focused, narrowed and icy. Yes, the breed had hired herself a gun. “My pleasure,” he said smoothly, setting his hat on the table.
Ezzie came flouncing into the room, picked up all the dirty dishes, and left cups of coffee. Cameron ignored Lark, who sat glaring at him, her eyes hard with hatred, and focused instead on Kincaid, who was leaning back, relaxed.
“So, I hear you’re the new foreman for the Gallagher Ranch.”
“Business manager,” Matt corrected. “Paco Hernandez is foreman.”
“Yes. Unfortunate accident Paco had. I understand from the doctor that Paco will be all right. But his accident’s going to leave you a bit shorthanded at the ranch, isn’t it, Miss Gallagher?”
Lark opened her mouth to tell him it wasn’t any of his business, but Matt interrupted her. “I’ll be filling that capacity until Paco can handle his duties again, Mr. Cameron.”
Lark jerked her head around, openmouthed. Would he? She had the wisdom to remain silent, understanding that Matt was somehow playing a game with the banker. She sat back, arms folded across her breasts.
“I see. Then you’re going to be in the area for quite a while.”
“Until things quiet down.”
“Tell me, Kincaid, where did you come from originally?”
“I don’t think a man’s past is important, Cameron. What counts is what he’s doing now.”
Cameron toyed with his coffee cup and grinned. “You strike me as a man who was in the war.”
“Who wasn’t?”
“North or South, Kincaid?”
“I always make a point of being on the winning side.”
“I see….”
Matt sat up, resting both elbows on the table, nailing Cameron with a black look. “I think you do see. Where I come from, Cameron, men aren’t shot in public and defenseless women aren’t attacked in broad daylight. Next time Shanks comes prowling around, you’ll have to bury him six feet under. Understand?”
Shifting uncomfortably, Cameron held Matt’s frigid stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kincaid. Shanks is a free agent.”
“He’s dead next time he tries to harm Lark or any of her ranch hands.”
Turning his attention to Lark, Cameron said soothingly, “Let’s talk of more pleasant things, shall we? Miss Gallagher, I have a check here in my vest pocket that could set you up for the rest of your life.”
Perplexed, Lark asked, “What are you talking about?”
Cameron placed a check in front of Lark. “Five thousand dollars for your ranch, Miss Gallagher.” He tapped the check smartly with his index finger. “With that kind of money, you could live like a queen in the East. In return, you agree to sell your ranch to me, and I’ll have the necessary water and grass for my growing herds of cattle.”
Lark grew rigid. She shoved the check back toward the banker. “I don’t want your money.”
Cameron felt some of his patience slip away. “No woman can run a ranch by herself! That’s unheard of. Further, I’ve got a bumper crop of calves this spring and I’ve got to have extra water or my entire herd will die.”
“Your cattle will die? My father’s been
murdered
.” Lark leaped to her feet, nearly upsetting the table. Her voice grew dangerously low, wobbling with anger. “As far as I’m concerned, Cameron, you’re responsible for my father’s death. He wouldn’t give you water rights and neither will I.”
Cameron itched to slap Lark Gallagher’s impertinent face. “Why, you little hellcat,” he rasped, snatching up the check and jamming it in his vest pocket. “You can’t run a ranch—”
Matt stood and took Lark firmly by the elbow. “Miss Gallagher has me to help run her ranch, Cameron. I’m taking over her father’s duties, and I don’t see any problem with her being able to maintain the integrity of the ranch. Do you?”
A gasp of surprise escaped Lark. Did Matt mean it? Was he going to take a more active role in her life? She searched his eyes, suddenly weak with relief. Not until that moment had she realized how much she worried about the ranch’s survival under her inexperienced hand.
“This is your last chance,” Cameron gritted out, glaring down at her stubbornly set face.
New strength and confidence filled Lark. Matt’s hand on her arm felt comforting, supportive. “Matt Kincaid’s giving me the chance I want to take, Cameron. Keep your money.”
Matt’s voice broke the look of hatred that burned between Lark and the banker. “Come on, it’s time we turned in,” he told her.
Lark stood in the doorway to her room as Matt investigated the shadowy depths. He stepped back out in the hall.
“You can go in now.”
“You don’t trust anyone, do you?”
He smiled. “I don’t trust Cameron. Right now, we’re on his territory.”
“Shanks is in jail.”
“Men like Cameron often have more than one hired gun around, Lark.”
She agreed. “Did you mean it down there, Matt? That you would help me run the ranch?”
He warmed to the hopeful look in her eyes. The need to place his arms around her, to draw her against him, weakened his resolve. She looked too pretty, her blue eyes shining. Matt fought with himself not to take advantage of her. “I meant it. With Paco severely wounded, he won’t be able to carry out his duties for at least another three months. Though my leg is healing fast, I won’t be able to ride for at least two of those months. But I can fill in where you need me, Lark. That is, if you want me to.”
She nodded, unable to hold his intense gaze. “Then you’ll leave when Paco resumes his duties?” It hurt to think that Matt would eventually leave.
With a sigh, he lightly touched her cheek. “Yes. But until then, I’ll help you in any way you want me to, Lark.”
She managed a strained smile, holding his gaze. “You’ve answered so many of my prayers, Matt. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You’ve earned the help through your own actions. Do you realize that?”
Lark shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“People need people, no matter what their color or race, Lark. You saved my life and put up with a hell of a lot from me at first. If I try to repay all that you’ve done for me in the next two months, it still won’t be enough.”
“I won’t have much money to pay you,” she reminded him.
“You didn’t take me in because I could pay you money, did you?”
“No. It’s the Apache way to help those less fortunate than themselves.”
“Debts to another person can be paid in many ways.”
“Apaches do that,” she said softly, with a growing awareness of the similarities between her Indian ways and the ways of her father’s people.
“Now you’re getting the idea,” Matt said. “Get some sleep. You have a ranch to run.”
“So now you protect me as a dog would its master?”
“You could say that.”
Lark nodded, sobering. She reached out, sliding her hand down his arm. “Matt, I have so much to thank you for.”
“Shh, let’s get some sleep.”
“But—”
“Let’s save any more serious conversation for the trip back to the ranch.”
She acquiesced, not understanding his sudden reluctance to let her thank him for all he’d done. “All right.”
With an inward groan Matt moved away from her provocative figure. “I’m right next door to you, Lark. If you need anything, just bang on the wall.”
Disappointed by his sudden distance from her, she nodded halfheartedly. “I will. Good night.”
A few days later, to Lark’s surprise, Melinda McDonald met her downstairs in the hotel lobby, just as they were preparing to leave for the ranch. Paco was resting comfortably at Doc Friar’s, who had urged Lark to allow the foreman to remain in Prescott for another week. After introducing Matt, Melinda gripped Lark’s hand, excitement dancing in her green eyes.
“Come outside. I’m just dying to show you what the ladies of the church were able to gather for the families on your ranch.”
Lark couldn’t hide her surprise. There, standing proudly on the wooden sidewalk near a wagon, were five other women. They wore neat dresses, with hats and gloves in abundance. Lark felt out of place without such trappings, but swallowed her pride as Melinda introduced her.
“I went to Father Mulcahy and told him that you were unexpectedly in town. He asked all of these ladies to come and help sort through the clothes we had been gathering for your father.”
Matt stood back, resting against an oak support beam in front of the hotel, watching Lark’s shy expression change to one of open gratitude. Melinda, dressed in a green silk skirt with a white blouse and matching green jacket, was the epitome of fashion. She took Lark to the wagon and talked at length about the clothes, then pointed to a small sack of toys.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Mrs. McDonald,” Lark began. “Father never said anything about this—”
“Of course he didn’t! Roarke had been planning a huge surprise for everyone. Two months ago he came to speak to Father Mulcahy about the poverty of some of the families. We’ve known of Roarke’s generosity to the poor and aged for a long time.” She smiled gently. “The ladies of the church decided to do something about it.”
Lark looked over the neatly bundled packages. “My father never turned down anyone who asked for a meal and a place to sleep,” she said softly, stunned by such generosity.
Patting her arm, Melinda nodded. “Abe’s son, Hastings, will drive this wagon out to your ranch for you and then return the same day.”
“You’ve done so much, I don’t know how to thank you. I know the families will be—”
“Don’t thank us, Lark,” Melinda chided. “It’s about time this town showed their thanks to Roarke Gallagher. Your father was a man of honor and integrity. We can’t tell him that now, but we
can
help his daughter.”
She looked at Melinda for a long moment, then at the other women who had surrounded her. “I—I owe all of you an apology,” she began. “For so long, I thought only the Apache could be unselfishly giving to those less fortunate than themselves.” Her voice grew strained. “I was wrong. So wrong…”
Millie Harris came forward and slipped an arm around Lark’s waist. “No tears, dearie, or we’ll all stand here weeping on the sidewalk with you!”
Laughter replaced the tears among the women. Lark took each of the women’s hands in turn, squeezing hard, trying to convey her heartfelt thanks. Hastings came over from the dry goods store and took his place on the wagon seat.
At fifteen years old, he was a strapping youngster, and he sat with the traces in his hands, waiting for Lark to give the signal to proceed.
Matt stepped over to Lark and gave her a gentle smile. There were so many things he admired about her. She had grit and determination, and a courage that Katie had lacked. It left him in awe. “Ready to head back to the ranch?” he asked huskily.
Nodding, unable to trust her voice, Lark allowed him to guide her toward their own buckboard.
The moment Lark got back to the ranch, there were problems to resolve. Maria came flying out of the house, wanting to know how Paco was coming along. And then Primo came riding up.
“Patronal
” he shouted, pulling his horse to a halt.
Lark had her arm around Maria, trying to assuage the woman’s tears. “Yes, Primo?” she asked, irritated because the Mexican wrangler wouldn’t wait his turn. Couldn’t he see how upset Maria was?
“Paco must be avenged!” He pulled out his gun, waving it recklessly. “This has gone too far! I’ve already talked to the other men, and we’ve agreed that this must stop.”
“You’ll do no such thing!” Lark ordered. “There’s no justice in Prescott, Primo. Sheriff Cole’s as crooked as Cameron, and Shanks won’t be prosecuted. But if you try to do anything, Cole will dump all of you in jail and throw away the key.”
The young wrangler’s thin brown face wrinkled with concern.
“Sí
, we know that. That’s why we’re going to ride into Prescott, find Shanks, and string his filthy hide up on the nearest tree!”
Matt came around the side of the wagon after handing over the mule team to Ramone. He saw the desperation in Lark’s face and heard it in her voice. Primo was angry and it was obvious Lark wasn’t going to make the wrangler obey her orders. He stepped up on the porch beside Lark.
She shot him a desperate look. “Matt—”
“Hold it, Primo.”
Primo scowled. “What is it,
señor?
”
“Miss Gallagher has hired me to take over Paco’s job while he’s recovering. I’m foreman now and what I say goes. If she doesn’t want you or the men going into Prescott, you stay here.”
Primo’s sorrel danced nervously, picking up on the tension between the two men. The wrangler’s brown eyes grew as dark as a thundercloud. “
Patron
Gallagher would not let you or Paco be harmed,” he declared.
“My father never once resorted to bloodshed, Primo,” Lark said. “And I won’t either. What Mr. Kincaid says, goes. Do you understand?”
Primo’s hand clenched into a fist on his chaps. His angry gaze went from Lark to Matt. “I will think about it,
Patrona
.”
Matt stepped off the porch and stood directly in front of the wrangler. “There’s no thinking to be done, Primo. You either obey the lady’s order or you can pack up your gear and leave right now.”
Glaring down at Kincaid, the Mexican cursed. He yanked his gelding around and galloped off toward the corrals, where the rest of the men were branding newly captured mustangs.
Maria blotted her eyes with a kerchief. “I’ll be fine now,
Patrona
. I’m sorry for so many tears.”
Distracted by what Matt had told Primo, Lark patted the woman’s shoulder absently. “Paco’s going to be fine. In another week, we can send a wagon to bring him home. If you want, I’ll have Hastings take you back into town to be with him. Would you like that?”
“Sí
.”
The day passed swiftly. Lark didn’t even have time to take off her dress, so involved was she in taking care of the many small but important details that concerned her people. Toward evening, she ran into Matt once again. He was limping heavily from the barn to the house. She picked up her skirts and ran to meet him halfway.
“You look so tired,” she told him, slowing her steps to match his.
“You’re tired, too.” He gazed hungrily down at her. All day he had watched her deal patiently and skillfully with each problem that was presented to her. Now Maria was bound to Prescott with Hastings Harris, the new clothes for the ranch families had been distributed to everyone’s satisfaction, and the petty squabbles that had arisen in her absence had been settled. He was so proud of her.
“Did the men accept you as the new foreman?” Lark asked.
Matt took the wooden steps one at a time. His leg was hurting like hell. “I think they have.”
“Primo was very angry. I’ve never seen him so upset.”
“He was letting off steam, that’s all.” Matt gave Lark a faint nod as she opened the door for him. “Let’s go to the office. We’ve got some things to discuss.”
Lark followed him. Matt sat down carefully in the chair, propping his wounded leg on a stool. She stood in front of the desk, hands clasped.
“What’s wrong?” she asked fearfully.
He took off his hat and set it aside. “Nothing’s really wrong,” he corrected, trying to get Lark to relax. “This last herd the wranglers brought in are confined to too small a pen, that’s all. Another, larger pen needs to be built immediately, otherwise those mares are going to injure themselves. They’re wild and jumpy. We need to get them settled down if we’re going to breed them to those two studs of yours.”
Tiredness overwhelmed Lark. Outside the window, she could see dusk rapidly settling over the fertile valley. “My father had a number of plans for the herds we would capture.”
“Did he discuss any of them with you, Lark?”
“No.” She sighed and rested wearily against the chair. “Now I wish I’d taken a greater interest in the ranch. My first love was the horses. That’s all I know about.”
Matt wanted to say:
It doesn’t matter, Lark
. She looked so excruciatingly feminine in the dress, which in no way diminished the spirit and courage she’d displayed all day. “You know about more than horses,” he began quietly. “I saw you dealing with the women and children.” With a slight smile he added, “You’d make a great mother. Did you know that?”
Heat stole into her cheeks and she bowed her head. “No…I didn’t.”
“You dried the tears of the women, kissed the hurts of the children, and got the ranch back on its feet. Your ability to deal with both animals and people is special, Lark. Very special.”
Warming to his compliment, she raised her chin. “But without your help, this ranch won’t survive. What else needs to be done?”
“We need another barn.”
She sat up. “What?”
Matt nodded, noting her shock. “You need more room for hay this coming winter. There’s no place else to store it. All the room has been taken up with young foals and weanlings.”
“Oh, no…” The burden on the already strained financial resources would be too much. Where would she get the kind of money needed to buy the necessary lumber? And diverting the wranglers from horse hunting to building a barn would completely destroy her plans to provide the Army with a goodly number of horses in the next few months.
Getting slowly to his feet, Matt came around the end of the desk. Lark’s shoulders were hunched and he knew she was close to tears. “Come here,” he ordered gruffly, pulling her to her feet and into his arms.
Blindly, Lark sought Matt’s embrace. “W-we can’t afford it, Matt. Do you know how much it would cost? And the men—they don’t have time to…to—”
Matt felt Lark tremble. It struck him that, despite the shocking events of the last few weeks, he’d never seen her cry. Rubbing her back in slow, circular motions, he whispered, “We’ll think of something, Lark. Come on, now, let it out. Cry for everything that’s happened….”
The roughness of Matt’s voice triggered the deluge. Lark buried her face against his massive chest, quickly soaking his cotton shirt with her tears. Terrible sobs were wrenched from deep within her. Lark was lost in the blackness of all her losses, clinging to the only person who had given her sanctuary from all the pain she’d carried for so long by herself.
Rocking her gently in his arms, Matt felt new tendrils of distress grow around his own aching heart. He fought against the wonderful perfume that lingered in her hair, fought against the pull of her enveloping softness. “Easy, my beautiful cougar. It’ll pass, I promise you.”
He closed his eyes. But when Lark unconsciously nuzzled her cheek against his jaw, the last of his straining control disintegrated. He pressed a kiss to her hair and found the strands clean and sweet beneath his mouth. Heat throbbed through him and he groaned, gripping her hard against him. The firmness of her small breasts, the soft rounding of her belly, and the curve of her slender hips all sent a molten ache through his loins.
Lark sobbed, seeking Matt’s protection. He had offered his strength when she had none left herself. Burrowing against him, she felt her senses fill with the masculine scent of him, a scent that made her dizzy with new, unexpected needs.
She heard Matt groan and felt him press against her, and out of some feminine instinct, she lifted her lips to him. His mouth covered hers with fiery urgency, shattering her, triggering a burning sensation between her thighs that spiraled up to her breasts, making them taut and aching against his chest. With hungry abandon, Matt parted her tear-bathed lips and drank deeply, heating her very blood. Lark’s knees gave way beneath his powerful assault and she sagged against him. Her fingers clenched and unclenched against his chest. Moistness collected between her thighs, and a sharp, throbbing yearning centered there as his lips continued to explore the sweet, warm cavern of her mouth.
With another groan, Matt tore his lips from Lark’s, his breath coming in ragged gasps, like hers. Her breasts were rising and falling beneath the dress she wore, and her lips were wet and swollen from his branding kiss. He was suddenly contrite. Trying to gather his own scattered emotions, he gripped her arms.
“I—I’m sorry, Lark,” he rasped. “I didn’t mean to kiss you….”
Stunned by wave after wave of heat flowing through her, Lark stared uncomprehendingly up at him. Dizzied by the assault, she gripped his arms, swaying.
“Here, sit down,” Matt ordered thickly, leading her to the wing chair.
Lark avoided his turbulent, stormy eyes as she sat down. A kaleidoscope of sensations whirled through her. A gnawing hunger begged to be satiated. “W-what happened?” she asked, her voice wispy, unsteady.
Angry with himself, Matt said, “Something that shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry, Lark. I got carried away with the situation.” Matt turned away to avoid the luminous, dreamy expression in her eyes. “Too much has happened to both of us recently. We’re vulnerable in ways we wouldn’t ordinarily be.”
Confused by the anger in his voice, thinking he was angry at her because she had responded to his kiss, Lark nodded. She clenched her hands in her lap. “I—I’m sorry, too. When you told me we needed a new barn, I just started to unravel.” She felt tears dribbling down her cheeks again and tried without success to wipe them away.
“It’s all right, Lark. You’ve been through a lot. You needed a good cry.” Matt winced, torn in two by the anguish pouring out of her. Damn his rampant emotions. Damn his lust. No woman had ever triggered those feelings like Lark had. Every time he was near her, he could feel himself unwinding like a ball of yarn. Even now, he longed to put his hands on her shoulders and comfort her. My God, he wanted to take her down on the floor and love her until she cried out in ecstasy. He’d seen the fires of arousal burning deep in her eyes, had felt her banked passion stir as he’d kissed her. Every inch of her soft, firm body had responded to him. Matt was unable to stand Lark’s nearness. He was blind to everything except his raw, aching heart and her desire for his closeness and strength. He limped back behind the desk and sat down, scowling.