She couldn't leave. Not yet. Not until she'd come up with a solution.
"Oh, but I—" Hannah began.
Jonas grabbed her off the horse and dropped her on her feet. "It's better that you just go, Hannah," he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear him.
Looking up into the clear, cold blue of his eyes, Hannah could only nod. He'd won this round, but the game was hardly finished.
"All right," she said, her voice as low as his had been. "But I'll be back tomorrow."
"Hannah…"
"You never know," she said, lifting one hand to push her hair out of her eyes. "Juana may change her mind about taking some time off."
"Like I said," he muttered with a shake of his head. "Stubborn."
"Birds of a feather," she pointed out.
His lips tightened and he turned back to his horse.
"What about that?" Elias asked.
"What now?" Jonas demanded.
The older ma's gray gaze shifted to the cat still clinging to Jonas's shirt. He'd almost forgotten about the damned thing. But then, who could blame him? Reaching up, he pulled at the animal and then, one by one, released its clawed paws before handing the animal to Hannah.
The little cat yowled its displeasure.
Hannah smiled. "She likes you."
Jonas shook his head again, tipped his hat to her, swung back into the saddle, and turned his horse toward the herd. "Hannah," he said with a half smile, "it's been real interesting."
Then, with a jab of his heels, he set the horse into a trot that carried him quickly away.
She watched him for a long moment, studying his easy posture in the saddle and the muscular width of his back. She sighed gently and tried to ignore the tiny ripples of awareness shifting and tugging at every nerve in her body.
The Mackenzie was much more man than she'd expected. She only hoped his skills as a warlock compared in kind.
"Ma'am," Elias said, and Hannah tore her gaze from her retreating would-be bridegroom. "You come with me, I'll see you get to town."
"Thank you," she said and dutifully followed him. It didn't matter where she went today. Tomorrow she would be back. Because by then, she vowed—a little guiltily at the thought of the poor, unsuspecting Juana—Jonas Mackenzie would be needing a cook.
* * *
Her campfire was a small one, just big enough to boil water for the tea she'd purchased in town. Digging into the carpetbag she'd had to ask Elias to retrieve from the field for her, she pulled out a small leather pouch and carefully opened the ties holding it closed.
Instantly, the combined scents of several dried herbs lifted from the pouch and teased her nostrils, reminding her of the home that was too far away. Hannah closed her eyes and brought up the mental image of Aunt Eudora, sitting in her favorite rocker in a corner of their cozy kitchen. She could see the flickering shadows of firelight playing across the older woman's features and could almost feel the serenity that always seemed to surround her aunt.
A long, mournful howl somewhere in the distance splintered Hannah's comforting daydream and she opened her eyes to stare off into the darkness just beyond her fire.
Only a few hours ago, she'd been filled with delight at being free of the almost suffocating atmosphere of dark power hovering over Creekford. It had been too long since she'd felt the urge to run or dance in a field. Wolcott had stolen even that from her. Now, though, as she looked into the darkness surrounding her, Hannah wished fervently that she was home again.
Evil warlock or no, Wyoming was too big. Too… dark. Tall trees marched in formation for as far as she could see. It had rained that afternoon and the smell of the damp forest floor plucked at her nerves in its strangeness. Again, that distant animal howled and this time Hepzibah mewed and curled up on Hannah's lap as if looking for protection.
"It's all right," she whispered, needing to hear the words herself. "Whatever that was won't bother us," she hoped aloud.
Shifting her gaze from the black shadows of the
"Oh, but I—" Hannah began.
Jonas grabbed her off the horse and dropped her on her feet. "It's better that you just go, Hannah," he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear him.
Looking up into the clear, cold blue of his eyes, Hannah could only nod. He'd won this round, but the game was hardly finished.
"All right," she said, her voice as low as his had been. "But I'll be back tomorrow."
"Hannah…"
"You never know," she said, lifting one hand to push her hair out of her eyes. "Juana may change her mind about taking some time off."
"Like I said," he muttered with a shake of his head. "Stubborn."
"Birds of a feather," she pointed out.
His lips tightened and he turned back to his horse.
"What about that?" Elias asked.
"What now?" Jonas demanded.
The older ma's gray gaze shifted to the cat still clinging to Jonas's shirt. He'd almost forgotten about the damned thing. But then, who could blame him? Reaching up, he pulled at the animal and then, one by one, released its clawed paws before handing the animal to Hannah.
The little cat yowled its displeasure.
Hannah smiled. "She likes you."
Jonas shook his head again, tipped his hat to her, swung back into the saddle, and turned his horse toward the herd. "Hannah," he said with a half smile, "it's been real interesting."
Then, with a jab of his heels, he set the horse into a trot that carried him quickly away.
She watched him for a long moment, studying his easy posture in the saddle and the muscular width of his back. She sighed gently and tried to ignore the tiny ripples of awareness shifting and tugging at every nerve in her body.
The Mackenzie was much more man than she'd expected. She only hoped his skills as a warlock compared in kind.
"Ma'am," Elias said, and Hannah tore her gaze from her retreating would-be bridegroom. "You come with me, I'll see you get to town."
"Thank you," she said and dutifully followed him. It didn't matter where she went today. Tomorrow she would be back. Because by then, she vowed—a little guiltily at the thought of the poor, unsuspecting Juana—Jonas Mackenzie would be needing a cook.
* * *
Her campfire was a small one, just big enough to boil water for the tea she'd purchased in town. Digging into the carpetbag she'd had to ask Elias to retrieve from the field for her, she pulled out a small leather pouch and carefully opened the ties holding it closed.
Instantly, the combined scents of several dried herbs lifted from the pouch and teased her nostrils, reminding her of the home that was too far away. Hannah closed her eyes and brought up the mental image of Aunt Eudora, sitting in her favorite rocker in a corner of their cozy kitchen. She could see the flickering shadows of firelight playing across the older woman's features and could almost feel the serenity that always seemed to surround her aunt.
A long, mournful howl somewhere in the distance splintered Hannah's comforting daydream and she opened her eyes to stare off into the darkness just beyond her fire.
Only a few hours ago, she'd been filled with delight at being free of the almost suffocating atmosphere of dark power hovering over Creekford. It had been too long since she'd felt the urge to run or dance in a field. Wolcott had stolen even that from her. Now, though, as she looked into the darkness surrounding her, Hannah wished fervently that she was home again.
Evil warlock or no, Wyoming was too big. Too… dark. Tall trees marched in formation for as far as she could see. It had rained that afternoon and the smell of the damp forest floor plucked at her nerves in its strangeness. Again, that distant animal howled and this time Hepzibah mewed and curled up on Hannah's lap as if looking for protection.
"It's all right," she whispered, needing to hear the words herself. "Whatever that was won't bother us," she hoped aloud.
Shifting her gaze from the black shadows of the
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