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That only a promise made to his father in
the last hours of his life had brought him back to stay. But that
had been a long time ago. Tyler had been young and idealistic then,
with no experience to make him value what he already had. He'd also
had no idea of the grief that lay ahead.
    He urged the horse forward, down the slope to
the last quarter mile home. The ranch slept, but he was met by his
dog, Sam, who gave one loud bark in greeting. Sam's tail wagged
with joy that shook his entire length.
    Ty got off his horse and patted the front of
his shirt. The delighted dog stood to put his two huge forefeet on
his master's chest. He laughed at the canine smile, then pulled his
head back as his dog's tongue lapped at his chin. “Okay, Sam,
that’s enough. I can get my own bath.”
    After he unsaddled the pinto, fed him, and
turned him loose in the paddock, Ty went to the kitchen for a piece
of soap and bucket of warm water from the reservoir on the stove.
Standing on the back porch, he was filled with the contentment of
homecoming. The only sound was the wind sighing through the miles
of rich grassland that surrounded him on this landlocked island he
loved.
    He pulled off his clothes, then lifted the
bucket and poured some water over his head to rinse off the travel
dirt. The breeze that stirred the grass felt like a winter gust on
his wet skin. Shivering, he hurried with his makeshift bath. He
hadn't remembered to get a towel and he looked inside the kitchen
door for one. What he found instead was a white apron on a hook by
the stove and he dried himself off with that.
    A delicate scent whispered to him, giving
rise to a fleeting memory of windblown sheets flapping on a
clothesline. A face he hadn't seen in years flashed through his
mind, then was gone. Puzzled, he decided the fragrance must be
Callie's perfume on his shirt. He picked up his clothes off the
porch rail and padded naked through the kitchen to the stairway. He
didn't bother with a candle. He knew there would be enough
moonlight coming through the hall window to let him find his
bed.
    When he came up to his room and fell on the
big four-poster, he only had time to pull a corner of the quilt
over himself before he was asleep.
    *~*~*
    Libby Ross carefully closed her door and
tiptoed back to her bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she
put her hands to her hot face.
    Being a stranger in the house, and thus alert
to every sound, she'd heard the dog bark outside and a noise in the
kitchen. When she detected the quiet creaking on the stairs, with
her heart stuck in her throat she got up and opened her door a
crack to peek into the hallway.
    She was unprepared for the sight of the
long-muscled, naked man who passed her room and went into the one
next to hers. An oblong shaft of moonlight fell across his lean
body, leaving his face in the shadows.
    But she had no doubt as to his identity.

Chapter Three
     
    T y rolled over
and burrowed into the feather mattress, pulling the quilt with him.
His eyes still closed, he was caught in the comfortable void
between sleep and wakefulness that is sometimes more satisfying
than sleep itself. He knew he was back in his own bed, and after
ten days of hard travel and rented rooms, it was sweet luxury he
could have wallowed in for hours. But responsibility prodded him,
forcing him to full consciousness. He trusted Joe to keep the
operation running in his absence but there was so much to be done,
and he knew human nature made the men slack off if he wasn't
around. He needed to see what had happened while he was
gone.
    Shoving back the quilt, he sat up in the
chill blackness and scratched the stubble on his jaw. The
suggestion of a fragrance drifted past him again, as subtle as a
memory. It faded, so quickly he wondered if he'd dreamed it.
Shaking off the feeling, he groped around the big bedroom in the
last few minutes of night and found his clothes.
    A crimson ribbon of light edged the eastern
horizon when he pulled open his