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But . . . well, it feels strange not being needed.”
    “I need you.” John pressed a kiss to her temple.
    Hannah smiled at him. “I know.”
    She returned to her meal. “There’s something not right about Deidre. She’s too eager, too devoted. I don’t trust her.”
    “Are you sure you’re not just jealous?”
    “Jealous?” Hannah snapped. “Absolutely not.” She shrugged. “All right. Perhaps I am a little. It’s just that everyone seems so taken with her. Even Lydia. Since we married, things have been different between us, and now she seems even more distant.”
    “You can’t expect them to be the same. Lydia’s not married and you are. And soon you’ll be moving to your own place. Plus you’re free and she’s not. You can’t forget she’s taken over the housekeeping duties. She has more to do. A lot has changed.”
    “I know. I just hoped we could remain good friends. Now with Deidre . . .” Hannah stirred her stew. “It’s not Deidre’s fault. Perhaps you’re being too hard on her.”
    Hannah flashed John a look of irritation. “I suppose you’re smitten with her too.”
    “I’m smitten only with you.” John leaned close and kissed Hannah on the lips. “Only you.”
    Hannah leaned against him and then straightened. “I don’t know how word got out so quickly, but there were a number of men who seemed to have errands of one kind or another that required they speak to the housemaid. And Deidre was clearly pleased by all the attention.” She rubbed her temples. “I know she’s not who she seems to be. I can feel it. I don’t trust her.”
    “I’d say it’s time to talk about something else.”
    Hannah sighed. “You’re right. My fretting won’t help.” She managed a tight smile. “So, shall we plan to visit our property tomorrow?”
    “Absolutely.”

4
    With one final swing of the ax, the acacia wood popped and split. John pulled the blade free and then pushed against the smooth bark of the young tree. Stepping back, he watched it fall. He used his shirtsleeve to wipe sweat from his brow and moved to the downed tree and began the job of cutting away branches.
    Finally, John hauled the limbless acacia to a pile of other logs. “That ought to do it.” He grabbed a flask hanging from the mule’s harness, unscrewed the top, and took a long drink. After replacing the lid, he draped the flask over the yoke and stroked the animal’s neck. “You ready to get to work?”
    Chaining logs together in a bundle, he attached the main line to the harness, and then, giving the mule a friendly pat on the hindquarters, he lifted the reins and stepped around behind the logs. John clicked his tongue and slapped the lines gently, and the animal plodded forward, straining in its yoke. When he reached a partially completed cabin, John pulled back on the reins and the mule stopped.
    Using a handkerchief to mop sweat dribbling down the back of his neck, John studied the small cottage that stood fifty yards from the Parramatta River. There was still a lot to be done before it was finished. Only three walls were up. They
    were made of small logs standing upright side by side and tied firmly together with twine. There were gaps he’d need to fill, but that would come later.
    The more John stared at his work, the more frustration he felt. It was a pathetic dwelling and not remotely fit for someone like Hannah. But it would have to do. He didn’t have enough funds to build a proper house. For now, this would shelter them.
    He glanced at a pale blue sky and a blazing sun that baked him and the hard ground. He longed for clouds and a cool rain. His stomach felt hollow, and he wondered if Hannah would arrive soon.
    The jangle of harnesses gave him his answer. He turned to see her driving a buggy up the rough path that led to the house from the road. He smiled. How like her to arrive at just the right time. Although pleased to see her, John worried about her being out on the road alone. It wasn’t