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Page 147
For a quickly discarded instant, Thorn wished that she would regard him with such warmth.

''Miss Walker, me and the boy would have a whiskey."
Mariah had just returned to the common room after clearing the supper dishes to find Mr. Rafferty and his son Zeb leaning against the polished bar. Surprisingly, Thorn had helped her, and he was still in the kitchen. She didn't know what his policy on serving drinks was, nor whether Zeb was legally old enough for hard liquor in this time, so she said, "I'll find Mr. Thorn. He'll take care of you."
Zeb swaggered toward her. His shirt was spotted with food he'd aimed toward his mouth that night, and his trousers were damp from where he'd spilled half a tankard of alewhich he apparently was permitted to drink. "I'd like you to take care of me, Miss Walker. Maybe you'd like a whiskey, too. We could go outside and drink in private."
His father guffawed. Mariah didn't look at his mother, who still sat at the table where they'd eaten dinner. She was sure she'd see mortification on the poor woman's face, and she didn't want to add to her pain.
"Thanks, but I only drink with people old enough to keep their pants dry." With that, Mariah flounced from the room.
The older Rafferty's laugh followed her. He didn't care at whose expense he gained amusement, even his own family's.
How could his poor wife stand him?
She heard quick footsteps behind her. Obviously Zeb didn't take well to being insulted. She cringed a little and hurried into the kitchen.
Thorn was there scraping plates. He turned, and for a moment her heart leapt, for he seemed glad to see her. But then his expression hardened, and Mariah deflated. Yet again. A while earlier, when he'd objected to her leaving, she'd also felt a glimmering of pleasuretill he'd expressed his ulterior motive. He didn't want her to saddle him with poor Holly. Otherwise he didn't care whether she stayed or left.
His wishes shouldn't matter in the least. Maybe she was relating to him as a kidnap victim might with her captor;

 
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