Megan Chance Read Online Free

across the darkened grass. He had come all this way because he needed something from her—she'd been right about that. He needed Michael, and he would not leave this place without him. Conor owed his father that much. Michael would find his way to his sister eventually. He always did.
    Conor's gaze turned hard and cold as the icy air. It was why he'd lied to her about the blackmark. He'd wanted to scare her into letting him stay. He needed to be close enough to know if Michael contacted her by letter or messenger.
    Or in person. Conor had to make her believe his threats, false as they were.
    He got to his feet, slapping his freezing hands on his thighs, startling the gelding. There was a telegraph at Fort Morgan, and a man in Greeley he had to talk to.
    He had no time to lose.
     

Chapter 2
    S ari glanced through the tiny window, searching for Charles's familiar form. It was growing dark, but she could still see him beyond the yard, fighting with a bale of barbed wire. She saw his shoulders strain and knot with the effort, the surety of his gloved hands on the tearing fence. He seemed so strong, so vibrant, but Sari knew it was only an illusion, habits born more from routine than from strength. Charles never complained, but she worried about the toll settling this land was taking on him. It was a hard life, and he'd already done his time when he'd settled the farm in Pennsylvania.
    She pushed away the worry, as she did every day, and rose wearily from the table. Neither of them had anyone else, and she'd been glad when Charles had said he needed a new challenge .and insisted on joining her. It had been a kind lie. He'd been worried about her going off into the world alone, she knew, especially now that he was almost the only family she had left. Almost.
    Her brother's face flashed through her mind, and Sari squeezed her eyes tightly, willing it away. But Michael's image was as hard to banish as the man himself. She saw his burning, zealot eyes, heard his impassioned pleas, and once again her words of a year ago came back to haunt her. "This is the last thing I'll ever give you, Michael, do you hear me? You're dead to me now."
    A pot boiled over on the stove. Sari pushed away from the window restlessly and opened the door.
    " Onkle !" The echo of her voice bounced over the windy plains. " Onkle ! Supper!"
    By the time Charles trudged through the front door, bringing with him a gust of cold evening air and the smell of leather, a platter of ham and dumplings was steaming in the center of the table. Charles paused in the doorway, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.
    "Ah, Liebling ." He smiled. "This smells good."
    He pulled off his coat, sinking into a chair at the table. Sari joined him, cradling her chin in her hands. Her worries seemed groundless when she saw him this way. She focused on his strong, unshaking hands, on the smooth confidence of his blunt fingers as he ladled food onto his plate and broke open a biscuit. There was no reason to worry about the Mollies, but if there was, she had every confidence that between the two of them she and Charles could handle any threat.
    Damn Roarke for giving her one more thing to worry about.
    Charles glanced up. "His visit still bothers you?"
    Sari started. "His visit? You—"
    "You are too quiet," he explained. "And it does not take a seer to know what you are thinking about."
    "He was here ages ago, Onkle ."
    Charles tried to hide his smile. "Two days. Not long."
    Sari watched as he smeared a biscuit with butter and took a bite. "It's already forgotten," she said irritably. "There's no reason to remember it."
    "Hmmm." Charles nodded sagely. "You do not think he is right about the blackmark?"
    "I don't know." Sari took a deep breath. "Maybe he is, though Michael loves—"
    "Michael loves only himself."
    Sari nodded distractedly. "Perhaps. But he wouldn't hurt me. I know it."
    "There are his friends to worry about. They all believed you betrayed them to Roarke."
    Sari sighed.