Clara buried the dream with him.
She told herself motherhood had never been intended for her.
Now Gideon Stone wanted precisely the one thing she believed she could not give.
He returned the next week.
And the week after.
Sometimes with supplies.
Sometimes without excuse.
He repaired the barn door.
She resoled a tear in his glove.
He brought venison.
She sent him home with bread.
He replaced the cracked window in the kitchen.
She shortened two of his shirts because whoever had sewn them apparently believed a giant needed sleeves to his knees.
By early December, Raven Pass had received its first serious snow.
Clara expected Gideon less often.
He came more.
One afternoon, she found him splitting wood.
Shirt sleeves rolled despite the cold.
She stood on the porch.
“What are you doing?”
“Wood.”
“I can see that.”
“You need more.”
“Your ranch is fifteen miles away.”
“Fourteen.”
“You rode fourteen miles to chop wood?”
“Yes.”
She approached.
“You own twenty ranch hands.”
“Seventeen.”
“Do you correct everyone?”
“Mostly you.”
Clara took the second axe.
Gideon frowned.
“Your hands.”
“Healed.”
“You shouldn’t.”
She swung the axe cleanly through a log.
Gideon watched.
“What?”
“You make that look easy.”
“It isn’t.”
They worked side by side.
After an hour, Gideon removed his heavy coat.
Then his overshirt.
Clara tried not to stare.
Failed.
He was built exactly as rumor claimed.
Massive shoulders.
Thick chest.
Muscular arms marked by old scars and hard work.
Gideon noticed her attention.
Said nothing.
Clara eventually realized.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Very much.”
She looked away.
“You are shameless.”
“You were staring.”
“I was evaluating whether the stories were exaggerated.”
“Which stories?”
“That you could lift a steer.”
“I cannot lift a steer.”
“I knew it.”
“Not a full-grown one.”
Clara laughed.
Gideon stopped chopping.
He simply watched.
The laugh faded.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like…”
She stopped.
“Like what?”
Clara shook her head.
He walked closer.
“Say it.”
She looked up.
“Like I’m beautiful.”
Gideon’s expression changed.
“You are.”
“Don’t.”
“You asked.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Clara stepped away.
Gideon caught himself before following.
He lowered his voice.
“Who convinced you otherwise?”
“Everyone.”
“They were wrong.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“No.”
He set down the axe.
“Do you know what people say about me?”
“That you’re enormous.”
“Among other things.”
“Terrifying.”
“Yes.”
“Cold.”
“Yes.”
“Violent.”
“Sometimes deserved.”
Clara frowned.
“My point is people decide what they see, then call it truth.”
He stepped closer.
“I see you.”
Her throat tightened.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“What do you see?”
Gideon’s gaze moved over her slowly.
Not crudely.
Not apologetically.
“A woman who could probably run half my ranch better than I do.”
“That is not difficult.”
He smiled.
“A woman who laughs with her whole body when she forgets to stop herself.”
Clara’s eyes softened.
“A woman who wears cream when everyone says widows should live in black.”
“I hate black.”
“I know.”
“A woman with the prettiest hazel eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“Gideon.”
“And hips I’ve been trying very hard not to think about since October.”
Clara froze.
Gideon cleared his throat.
“That part may have been too honest.”
She surprised him.
“No.”
His eyes met hers.
“No?”
Clara moved closer.
“You came here offering marriage.”
“Yes.”
“Children.”
“Yes.”
“A bed.”
“I was hoping.”
Her cheeks flushed.
Gideon looked almost painfully controlled.
Clara rested her fingers lightly against his bare forearm.
“You have spent two months acting like you don’t want to touch me.”
“I have spent two months trying to make sure you know I’m capable of not touching you.”
The answer affected her more deeply than any flirtation could have.
She whispered:
“And if I asked?”
Gideon inhaled slowly.
“Clara.”
“If I asked you to?”
His voice roughened.
“I’d probably forget every gentlemanly intention I’ve had since October.”
She smiled.
Then stepped away.
“Good.”
Gideon stared after her.
“That was cruel.”
She picked up the axe.
“You’ll recover.”
“I might not.”
For the first time, desire did not make Clara ashamed.
It made her feel alive.
But the secret remained.
Three days before Christmas, Gideon invited her to Stone Ridge.
Clara almost refused.
Then curiosity won.
His ranch shocked her.
The main house stood two stories high, built from dark timber and stone beneath towering pines. Barns stretched along the eastern slope. A smokehouse, bunkhouses, forge, stables, and grain sheds formed nearly a village around the property.
Inside, the house was warm.
Too warm.
Clara removed her shawl.
Gideon’s housekeeper, Mabel Dunn, immediately embraced her.
“So you’re Clara.”
Clara looked toward Gideon.
“What have you been saying?”
“Nothing.”
Mabel laughed.
“He’s a terrible liar.”
Dinner included six ranch hands, Mabel, the foreman, and two orphaned brothers Gideon employed in the stables.
Clara noticed something.
Everyone talked to Gideon freely.
Nobody behaved frightened.
They mocked him.
He mocked them.
When one hand knocked over a glass, Gideon helped clean it.
The Mountain everyone described as terrifying was apparently loved by his employees.
After supper, Gideon showed Clara the house.
He opened several rooms.
Guest rooms.
A library.
A nursery.
Clara stopped.
The room was empty except for a cradle stored against the wall.
Gideon immediately realized his mistake.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
Clara stared at the cradle.
“How long?”
“How long what?”
“Have you kept this room?”
“Six years.”
“Why?”
“My mother gave me that cradle.”
Clara touched the wood.
“She expected grandchildren.”
“Yes.”
“Did she live to see any?”
“No.”
Clara’s chest tightened.
Gideon stood behind her.
“This is what you want.”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
He heard the pain in her breathing.
“Clara.”
“I cannot give you this.”
The words finally came.
Gideon did not move.
She turned.
“I can’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Jonah and I tried.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
Gideon’s expression changed.
Clara continued quickly before courage vanished.
“Five years.”
“Nothing.”
“I saw a doctor.”
“He said something might be wrong.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“Something?”
“He didn’t know.”
Clara’s eyes filled.
“But Jonah believed him.”
“And eventually I did too.”
Gideon stared.
She forced herself to continue.
“You came onto my land promising sons.”
“I should never have said that.”
“But you meant it.”
“At the time.”
“You want children.”
“Yes.”
“And I cannot promise them.”
“No woman can.”
“That is different.”
“Is it?”
“Gideon.”