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kissed her cheek, and Abby smiled.
    "Cut that out, now! You get on out of here."
    The voice again. Samuel.
    "C'mon, Abby. You're commencin' to worry me some, Abby. Wake up, now."
    She stirred and for the first time felt a rhythmic patting on her right hand. She pulled away, but the patting continued. Her eyes opened then, and the first thing she saw was Samuel's worried face.
    "What happened?" she asked quietly.
    "What happened? You fainted clean away… that's what happened." Relief crashed over Samuel with the force of a hurricane. She was making sense, anyway.
    "I never faint," she countered as she pushed herself up to a sitting position.
    "Then how come you're on the floor?" His bushy blond brows quirked up.
    She looked around quickly, her surprise evident.
    "I tried to catch you," he went on, "but you went over too damn fast."
    "For heaven's sake," she mumbled as she struggled to her feet.
    "Now, hold on, Abby."
    She wobbled and he reached out to steady her.
    "No need to rush about, now. Go slow, will ya?"
    "I'm perfectly well, Samuel."
    "Yeah, well… " He studied her carefully. She was still a little too pale to suit him. But stubborn as she was, she wouldn't be staying on the floor, he knew. So he scooped her up in his arms. One part of his mind marveled at how light she was…how tiny… while another part was fully aware of the soft curves of her woman's body pressed so close to him. Reluctantly he placed her gently on the nearest chair.
    Samuel immediately poured her a cup of coffee and threw in plenty of white sugar. He set it in front of her and ordered her to drink every drop.
    One sip and her face screwed up. "Too sweet."
    "Drink it," he said again, "or I'll let Maverick get back to washin' your face to bring you around."
    The dog sat on his haunches at her feet, his head tilted curiously. "Maverick?" She looked back at Samuel. "Oh. I thought… “
    "Thought what?"
    "Nothing. Nothing." She lowered her head and took another sip.
    Samuel watched her for a moment, then, satisfied that she wasn't going to keel over again, allowed his gaze to wander over what used to be his home.
    Curtains. A rag rug. Flowers in an old pot. Everything so damn clean it hurt to look at it. He shook his head. She'd stuck more damned froo-froo around the place than he'd seen in most bawdy houses. It amazed him to realize that in less than a day, she'd managed to make his house look like he'd never lived there at all.
    "Do you like it?" she asked.
    "Huh? What? Oh… the cabin. What you've… done to it."
    "Yes. Isn't it lovely?"
    He wanted to tell her what he really thought of it, but looking into those gold-colored eyes of hers... eyes so full of hope... he couldn't. No matter how badly he wanted to have his home to himself again. She'd worked so hard. "Yeah, Abby," he said finally, "it looks real nice."
    She rewarded him with a smile that was lit from within. Her color was better, too. That pleased him. Samuel wasn't quite sure what he would do if she fainted again. Without an other word he got up, filled two plates with the beef stew she'd made, and sat back down. He waited for her to begin, then he, too, started eating.
    After the first bite it was all he could do not to wolf the food down. He had no idea what she'd done to it, but that stew was the best he'd ever eaten. In minutes he'd finished his plate and had gone back for a second helping. In between bites Samuel asked, "Why'd you tell me you'd done that stitchin' up before, Abby? That was the first time, wasn't it?"
    She chewed thoughtfully for a moment before answering. "You seemed so nervous, I didn't want you to be scared."
    "Scared? Me?" He dropped his spoon onto the plate with a clatter. "You thought I was scared of the pain?"
    "Well…"
    He chuckled deep in his throat. He couldn't even remember the last time someone had been concerned about him. Hell, if she only knew how many times he'd set his own bones or stitched up a tear in his skin by himself.
    If he hadn't, he'd