< previous page page_323 next page >

Page 323
the baby will have a name: mine. And, if you think I'd stay in this wilderness without even a decent bathtub, you're even more foolish than I thought. I could only be interested in a man who's reliable to me, not just to some antique, selfdestructive sense of what's right. I want to go home. To my time, when chivalry, thank heavens, is dead!"
She stalked from his house, slamming the door behind her.

Mariah sat on her bed in her room in the stable. It was the first time she had been there in a couple of weekssince she'd been wounded.
Why, she wondered, had she ever admitted she loved Thorn?
Oh, the fact she'd told himwell, that didn't matter. Much.
What really hurt, though, was that, all those weeks ago, she'd admitted it to herself. And now he'd said he loved her, too. But he would do nothing to stop this foolishness.
One way or another, she was going to lose him.
Most likely, he was going to die.
If she were only able to return to her time before then, she could always delude herself into thinking that his life wasn't really cut short in his prime. That Will Shepherd came to his senses, even if Thorn never did, and never called him out in a duel. That Thorn died a crotchety old man, here at his inn.
She threw back her head, closed her eyes and called out, "Pierce, I've had enough. Come and get me. Send me home."
She opened her eyes and looked around. Nothing, of course. She was still alone.
She listened. No sounds other than the restless stamping of the single horse in the stable next door.
Pulling her piece of paper from beneath the mattress, she stared at it. Maybe there was a clue in her recollections.
But nothing jumped out at her. Except her memorialization of that hideous duel.
To think that she was beginning to like it here, in this time. To feel, almost, that she had finally found a home.

 
< previous page page_323 next page >