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one was so eager, she was giving off steam.
    Or, he thought, maybe that was from his near state of hyperventilation. He was no good at social calls. “I’m more at home in a roundup, ma’am, or riding a trail. I don’t get invited into parlors much.”
    “Then you’re not married.” She sounded real happy about that.
    “No.” He reckoned she would be glad to help him remedy that, so he backed up a few steps doing his best to escape while he could. Dragging his gaze from Noelle, who looked even lovelier in the soft lamplight. He didn’t want to bring her more pain. Best just to leave. “Well, I’ve got to be on my way. Nice seein’ you again, ma’am.”
    “Soooo,” she dragged the word out thoughtfully. “You’re not married. We have not been properly introduced. I’m Henrietta Worthington, that is my lovely daughter, Matilda, in the parlor and you already know my niece, Noelle.”
    “Yes. Good to meet you, miss.” Tongue-tied, he tipped his hat, backing away, avoiding looking at Noelle again. The frozen tundra of his heart remained solid. In place. It was probably best if he didn’t notice how her apple-green dress brought out the emerald flawlessness of her eyes and emphasized the creamy complexion of her heart-shaped face. Or how the dark hints of red in her chestnut hair gleamed in the firelight from the hearth.
    No, it was best not to notice all that. Which was why he’d planned on leaving the goods on the front step and riding away without announcing himself. Too bad it hadn’t turned out that way. He didn’t know how, but he had to disappear from Noelle’s life the way he’d come into it. He hadn’t forgotten that he’d been the one to leave her waiting to elope with him.
    “Let him go, Aunt.” Noelle looked at him with a quiet, confident air as if she saw him perfectly. Her gently chiseled chin hitched up a notch. “I’m sure you have Mr. McKaslin trembling in his boots at the thought of being alone with so many eligible young ladies.”
    So, he hadn’t been as nameless as he’d hoped. She had recognized him. Don’t let that affect you, man, he told himself, but it was impossible. He’d hoped to spare her this, nothing could come of digging up the past, rehashing things that could not be fixed. They were both changed people now. Strangers.
    Why, then, was the small flame of tenderness in his chest struggling to life again? It was tenderness in a distant sort of way, in a wish-her-well sort of way. It could never be anything more. He wouldn’t let it be.
    All he had to do was to look around. When he’d been here before, a blizzard’s heavy downpour had cut off his view of this grand home, the elaborate spread, the plentiful fields that would yield quality wheat. Such a place could not compete with the claim shanty he lived in now, behind his brother’s modest home. Such a place could not compete with the land he planned to buy—when he found the right place that he could afford, that is.
    No, there was no storm now to hide the differences between him and Noelle. The differences, which had always separated them, always would.
    Henrietta Worthington gasped. “Noelle! Shame on you. You’ve known who this man is this entire time? Why haven’t you said anything? And why don’t we know this friend of yours? Come in—”
    “He is no friend of mine. Not anymore.” She cut off her aunt with her gentle alto, giving no real hint of the emotion beneath.
    Anger? Bitterness? Or was it nothing at all? Probably the latter, Thad realized. Lost love first left hurt and anger in its wake, then bitterness, and finally it was forever gone, leaving not so much as ashes to show for it or an empty place for all the space and power it had taken over one’s heart.
    Proof that love was simply a dream, not real or lasting at all.
    “I’d best be going.” He gave Noelle one last look. Figured this would be the last time they would come face-to-face. He didn’t intend to spend much time on this