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After fumbling for a few moments he said, "Oh, the hell with it," then raised his foot and kicked the door in. "Fat lot of good a lock does," he muttered, then stumbled toward the big cast-iron stove along the far wall. But of course the stove was cold; the coals had been banked for the night. With hands that were like pieces of wood, he tried to pick up the iron lifting handle and insert it into the plate so he could throw some kindling on the coals and get a fire going. But his hands weren't responsive, and he dropped the plate so it went clattering onto the stone floor. The crash of the iron plate knocked about half a dozes homemade Christmas decorations down with it.
"Take another step and I'll shoot you," came a woman's voice from the shadow of the doorway.
"Go ahead," Cole growled. "Might as well kill me since you're trying to starve me anyway."
"Oh, it's you," Kathryn said flatly. "I thought you were—"
"I was who?" he said angrily as she lit a lantern and golden light flooded the room. But she didn't waste any time looking at him; her interest was in the door. "Look what you've done! "You've broken it Now the lock won't work." Bending, she picked up the wreath that had fallen when the door crashed back.
"Lock?" He half yelled at her. "Can you tell me why the hell you need a lock when there are armed guards around the place night and day? And where the hell did you get a gun?"
After Kathryn put the wreath on the end of the table, she pushed the shattered door closed against the wind, then braced it shut with a kitchen chair. "I don't have a gun. It was a bluff." When she had the door relatively well shut, she turned toward him. "Well then, good night," she said stiffly and started toward the doorway.
But when she glanced at him, she paused, her eyes widening as she stared at him. He was thoroughly wet, and ice had formed on some of his clothing and in his
hair. He was holding his gloved hands close to his chest, as though they were lifeless things somehow attached to the end of his arms. With a glance at the pot handle and the stove lid on the floor, it didn't take much to figure out what he had been trying to do.
With a grimace, she said, "If you get sick and die, I'll be out of a job so I guess I’ll have to help you."
If Cole hadn't been so cold he would have laughed. As it was all he could do was curl one corner of his mouth up in amusement. "That would be very sensible of you," he said, then stepped away from the stove as she quickly moved to stand in front of it and build up the fire.
Standing to one side, he stood there looking at her for a few moments. Her thick dark hair was in one fat braid down her back; she was wearing an old robe that looked as though it had been made from a blanket, and the front was gaping open so he could see the front buttons on her flannel nightgown. Cole was sure he'd never seen a more beautiful or desirable woman in his life.
But then he'd felt that from the first moment he'd seen her. When he'd turned that first day and seen the woman who had called out and warned him that Bartlett was about to shoot him, Cole had been shocked at the beauty of her. No, not just her beauty. There were lots of pretty girls in Legend. But what Cole saw in her eyes that day was the kindness of her, the sweetness—and the strength. At that moment if someone had told him that he'd die if he kissed her, he still would have done it.
"Are you just going to stand there?" she snapped.
But all Cole did was stand there and stare at her. For these last weeks he had been able to stay angry enough to keep away from her. And he'd used trips to Denver and working from early to late to keep himself out of the house. Anything to keep from seeing the coldness in her eyes. He couldn't bear seeing that day after day.
And he couldn't bear to hear the laughter of her and the two boys as they decorated the house for Christmas, a Christmas that didn't seem to include him.
"Sit down," she said, then half shoved him into a chair and began to pry the gloves off his frozen hands. "If one of the boys stayed out until he was this cold I'd turn him over my knee," she said, sounding like the teacher she was.
"Feel free to do the same to me," he said softly to the top of her head as she bent over his hands.
"Stop it!" she said, looking into his eyes, which were almost level with hers. "And if you make any attempts at… at…"
"At what?" he asked softly.
Kathryn tossed his cold gloves on top of the wood box, then moved away from him. "Seduction, that's what."
As the kitchen began to fill with warmth, feeling was returning to Cole's body. "Seduction?! How can you accuse me of such a thing? Ifyou've lived with me—lived with me!—for weeks, and I've never so much as touched you. I've seen you bent over your desk and reaching for apples and asleep in your bed, and I've never so much as laid a finger on you. So how can you accuse me of trying to seduce you?"
In spite of herself, Kathryn had to turn away so he wouldn't see her smile. Cole Jordan was a difficult man to hate. Just seeing the way he loved his son was enough to melt a woman's heart. And then there was what he was doing, anonymously, for the people of Legend. How many men paid for retired "ladies of the evening" to be taken care of?
Kathryn didn't bother to answer Cole as she raked the coals then added kindling and began to build up the fire in the stove. Turning toward the pantry, she said, "I'll see what Manuel has left for you to eat."
But before she could take a step the door blew open, and she ran for it, but Cole beat her to it. Leaning over her, he shoved the door closed, then told her to pull the loose board off the kindling box and to fetch hammer and nails. Kathryn scurried to obey him, then held the board up as he nailed it in place across the door.
When he'd finished she turned to walk away, but her body was pinned between the door and him, and it didn't look as though he was about to move.
"What is it you want?" he asked softly.
Kathryn tried to look around him, but that was nearly impossible considering how big he was. "Please let me by," she said, trying to still the trembling in her voice.
"No, you can't go. Not until you talk to me. Not until you tell me why you've turned against me."
That made her look up at him! "Turned against you? "You tried to deny me a job that was rightfully mine. You called me a liar and worse in front of the whole town. You humiliated me in front of…"
