“I quite understand, Miss Athena. Quite. We are all most grateful for your kind care of our Caitlin.”
“It is nothing.” She paused and looked at each of them turn. “As for that other matter… Niall has agreed.”
Harry grinned. “Wonderful. Most wonderful. Yet another debt we owe you, my dear.”
“I will not be seeing… a great deal of you over the winter. I promised my brother that I would remain in Denver while the troupe is at Long Park. I know you can be comfortable there. I will make sure of it, even if I cannot be present.”
So that was how she’d sealed the bargain—with a promise to stay apart from the people her brother did not trust. It was no more than Morgan had expected.
Why, then, did he feel like tearing the tent apart with his bare fingers?
“It was the only way,” she said, meeting his stare. “Caitlin will have plenty of rest among her friends, and she will be as good as new by spring.”
“He’ll let you come to see us later,” Caitlin said. “I know he will.”
“Perhaps.” Athena continued to gaze at Morgan. Her lips parted, full and moist. His body remembered, vividly, how they had tasted. How they had responded.
Harry cleared his throat. “Perhaps you had better take Caitlin to my tent, Morgan, until we can get her to the hotel.”
“I will arrange transportation,” Athena said. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip. “Everything will be made ready at Long Park, and you’ll have a guide through the pass. There may be some snow, but the weather should not be too severe.”
Morgan broke the almost painful connection between them and knelt to gather Caitlin in his arms. She sucked in her breath at the motion, but her gaze darted from Athena to Morgan with avid attention. Athena noticed and turned quickly to Harry.
“Good-bye, Mr. French. Mr. Wakefield, Caitlin… Morgan.”
“Good-bye for the time being,” Harry said. “Thank you, my dear.”
Morgan didn’t remain for the end of the scene. He carried Caitlin out the back door and to Harry’s tent.
“It’s that bad, is it?” Caitlin murmured.
He grunted and laid her on Harry’s cot. “Worry about your leg, not me.”
“I worry about you denying what anyone can see.”
The cold, relentless stare that Morgan frequently used to great effect did not work with Caitlin. “And what is that?”
For once her expression was perfectly sober, and not just because of the pain.
“Why, my friend,” she said, “only that you’re in love with Athena Munroe.”
Chapter 12
Morgan seldom laughed. He did so now, a bark that sounded half cough and half growl. He could not have confirmed Caitlin’s diagnosis more completely.
She had seen it coming, of course. At first the sparks between him and Athena had seemed mere attraction, the kind of curiosity a person might have about someone the very opposite of oneself. Like me and Niall Munroe.
But somewhere along the way curiosity and attraction had turned into something far more serious. Serious enough to frighten both of them. Badly.
As it frightened Niall.
“You are making this much more difficult than it needs to be,” she said, trying to settle her aching leg more comfortably. “For once in your life you had better be willing to take advice. I understand Athena as you cannot. I am a woman too, you know.”
“So Munroe has observed.” He glared at her. “Are you in love with him?”
“That is foolish,” she said lightly. “And even if I were, he’d have nothing to do with me.”
“No? The way he stayed close to you, when you were hurt…”
“Means nothing.” She shrugged. “And we are talking about you, so don’t try to change the subject.”
“You are wasting your breath. Athena will not be coming to the ranch.”
Caitlin chuckled, though the motion jarred her leg. “I have a feeling that she’ll find a way.”
Morgan muttered under his breath and paced up and down the short length of the tent. “You are her friend,” he said. “If you speak to her again, tell her not to come.”
“Why? She likes the troupe, and we like her. I have no right to even suggest it—unless you have a very good reason for me to give her.”