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business was known before she knew it herself. “It’s my house. Why shouldn’t I live there?” She should have said “we,” but his expression was so hard she couldn’t.
    “I’ll leave you two alone.” Mae didn’t give them time to argue. In spite of her bulk, she could be quite swift when she wanted to.
    Quillan hadn’t moved, hadn’t shifted his expression. “Have you considered the risks?” There was no deep concern in the question, simply a business tone with a hint of condescension.
    “The risks of what?”
    “Living alone.”
    It hurt. She should have expected it, prepared for it. But she hadn’t, and it sank deep. She waved a hand, refusing to show her pain. “I am safe here? With canvas walls?”
    He glanced briefly out the door Mae had passed through. “Is it habitable?”
    “I’ve made it so.”
    “I’ll have a look.”
    Carina startled. “That’s not necessary.” Somehow the thought of him inside those walls . . .
    He took up his hat and started for the doorway. Helpless to stop him, she followed. Just outside the door, the brown-and-white dog jumped up and followed, too. They crossed the short distance, circled to the front of the little house, and Quillan pushed open the door. “Do you have a key?”
    “No, I—”
    “I’ll get you one made.”
    He stepped inside with a hand motion to the dog to stay out. “Where did you get the furniture?”
    Her chest heaved with indignation. Who was he to walk in and ask? What was she to him that it should matter? She waved both arms. “I got it. What does it matter where?”
    He turned and eyed her. “Is it on credit?”
    “No.”
    He tucked his tongue between his side teeth, then, “Carina, as long as you insist on this flawed liaison, I’m responsible for you.”
    Her breath left in a rush. She wanted to kick him, imagined her foot striking his shin, hard! Signore, it is more than I can stand. This once, just this once, let me kick him! But she didn’t. Instead she drew herself up. “It was your decision to marry me .”
    “Don’t think I haven’t pondered that.”
    “Bene. Then you might consider what it means.”
    His eyes narrowed. “I know very well what it means. That’s why I offered to let you out.”
    “You would divorce me?” She splayed her fingers, palm upward, a gesture of fury and exasperation.
    “The dissolution of folly is hardly contemptible. What have you to lose?”
    She dropped her hand clenched to her side. “I have lost one thing already. Or did you forget our wedding night?”
    He turned away and his throat worked as he studied the wall. “Where did you get the furniture?”
    She snorted her derision. “Fisher’s General Mercantile.”
    “How did you pay for it?”
    “I borrowed from Mae.”
    “I’ll pay that back, and I’ll leave you something to use at your discretion.”
    “Un gross’uomo.”
    “Carina . . .” He raised his hand, then dropped it. “Do you have your Sharps?”
    She shook her head. The gun had been lost the night the vigilantes struck.
    He unbuckled his gun belt and removed it, then refastened it and hung it on the bedpost. “Do you remember how to shoot?”
    “Sì.” Yes, she remembered, though it would do her little good. She couldn’t hit anything at the best of times, and in the stress of the moment . . .
    “This caliber has quite a kick. Use both hands. I’ll leave you extra loads.”
    He would leave her this, leave her that. But he wouldn’t stay himself. Bene. Let him go. “When do you leave?”
    “In the morning.”
    “What about Mr. Makepeace?”
    He raised his brows slightly. “We’ve met already.”
    She wanted to ask about his business with a mining engineer but didn’t. “Where will you stay tonight?”
    One side of his mouth pulled in an insolent grin. “Here. Since you insist.”
    Her pulse suddenly rushed in her throat.
    “By the way, I brought you a dozen eggs.” He put on his hat and walked out the door.
    Carina sank down to the bed, her