looking back over her shoulder with big, serious eyes. Varina would know soon enough.
The baby whimpered, squirmed and spat out his mother’s nipple, providing a welcome distraction. A tender smile wreathed Varina’s face. “It appears the little mite’s had enough. You can hold him now, if you like. But you’d best lay this cloth on your shoulder. He tends to spit after he’s eaten.”
Putting aside her cloak, Sarah draped the cloth over her shirtwaist and gathered the tiny, squirming bundle into her arms.
“Oh!” she whispered, snuggling the baby close as the sweet, milky aura enfolded her. “Oh, he’s beautiful!”
For Sarah, holding new infants never lost its wonder. She loved their softness, the incredible lightness of their little bodies, their tiny, puckered faces and clasping fingers. What would it be like to cradle a baby of her own? Would it ever happen?
But she could not even think about such a miracle, Sarah reminded herself. She was twenty-eight years old, a woman whose past would haunt her to the end of her days. No honorable man would ask for her hand in marriage. The best she could hope for was a lifetime of cuddling other women’s babies and teaching other women’s children.
Varina’s son stirred in her arms and opened round indigo eyes to gaze up at her. Sarah brushed a finger across the velvet scalp, teasing the delicate fuzz that showed promise of growing in fiery red like Varina’s hair and Katy’s.
And Virgil’s.
With cooing whispers, she lifted the infant to curl against her shoulder. Her hand gently patted the tiny back until she was rewarded by a wet little baby belch.
Varina chuckled. “I declare, Sarah Parker, you need babies of your own! You’d make a wonderful mother!”
“I seem to have my hands full just now,” Sarah murmured, muffling her words against the baby’s satin cheek.
“Listen, Sarah.” Varina’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I should probably just be quiet and let nature take its course, but I’ve never been one to keep a thing to myself.” She leaned close to Sarah’s ear. “My brother hasn’t been the same since you were up here the other night. He’s been as restless as a tomcat under a full moon. Now, I know Donovan pretty well, and I’d say he’s taken a real shine to you!”
Sarah lowered her face, struggling to hide the hot rush of dismay that flooded her cheeks. From outside, Donovan’s furious hammer blows punctuated the pounding of her own heart. For all her stage experience, she found herself tongue-tied.
“Varina, I—”
“You what? He likes you. I can tell.”
“No.” Sarah shook her head, writhing inside. “You’re wrong, Varina. I’m not Donovan’s kind of woman at all.”
“Nonsense! You don’t know how many ladies have tried to trap that man over the years! Pretty ones! Wealthy ones! None of them seemed quite right. But you, Sarah, you’re different. You have an inner beauty that shines through your face. If you’d only show some interest in—”
Varina’s words were shattered by the crash of splintering wood and falling timbers against the outer wall. The sound galvanized both women. They stared at each other in alarm.
“Here—” Sarah thrust the baby back into Varina’s arms. “You stay put. I’ll go see what’s happened.”
Sarah gathered up her skirts and raced outside with the three children at her heels. The sight that met their eyes as they rounded the corner of the cabin stopped her heart cold.
Donovan was lying on the ground beneath a tumble of heavy beams. Lying as still as death.
“Stay where you are!” she ordered the children. “Annie, run back inside and get my medical kit. Don’t tell your mother what’s happened. Not till we know—”
Annie was gone like a streak. Katy had begun to whimper. “Miss Sarah…is Uncle Donovan dead like my pa?”
“Dead? Don’t be a little goose, Katy!” Sarah threw her full strength against the topmost beam, straining her tight corset stays as she swung the heavy end around and rolled it to one side. She had to hurry. She had to get the weight off Donovan’s chest before it crushed the breath out of him.
“Don’t let him be dead, Miss Sarah!” Katy whined.
“Be still and hold on to Samuel!” Sarah wrestled frantically with the next timber. She could see Donovan’s face now, white and still, the eyes closed. A small gash at his hairline was oozing blood.
No—with Virgil long since buried and Charlie Sutton not two months gone, they couldn’t lose Donovan, too. It would destroy Varina and her little ones. She had to get him free, had to save him…please…please…
Donovan’s head moved slightly. He groaned.
Sarah froze. As her heart began to beat again, she remembered the frightened children looking on. “Katy, Samuel, it’s all right!” she gasped, heaving the last timber aside. “He’s breathing! He’s alive! Tell Annie to hurry!”
She flung herself to the ground beside Donovan. He was alive, yes. But how badly was he hurt? He could have broken bones. He could have head injuries. He could-He groaned again as she placed a trembling hand on his chest. His skin was wind chilled, but his heart throbbed steadily against her palm. Sarah was dimly aware of Annie thrusting her medical bag into reach. Willing her emotions to freeze, she snatched it up and rummaged inside for the vial of smelling salts.
The big, stubborn fool! What business did he have trying to frame a cabin alone when he obviously knew nothing about it? He could have been killed. He could have-Sarah’s hands shook as she yanked out the stopper and waved the vial a finger’s breadth from his nostrils. Donovan’s face twitched. A shudder rippled his long, muscular body. His eyelids fluttered. Sarah held her breath as he opened his eyes and looked up at her.
For the space of a heartbeat his gaze held hers—warm and open, as if he saw into her soul and understood everything. But the bond was as fleeting as a moonbeam. His mind was clearing now. As he recognized her, his eyes glazed over with hatred.
“What the devil—?” He thrashed against her, struggling to sit up.
“Don’t try to move!” Sarah ordered in a frigid voice. “You could be hurt.”
“Blast it, I’m not—” His words ended in a grunt of pain as he collapsed back onto the ground.
“What is it? Your ribs? Keep still a minute.” Her fingertips slid over his sun-burnished flesh as she fought to detach her feelings, to make believe this was just another injured man she was touching, and not Donovan Cole.
But try as she might, Sarah could not close her mind to the manliness of his body—the finely sculpted curve of arm and shoulder, the splendor of his broadly muscled torso, the shadow of coarsely curling chestnut hair that trickled along the midline of his flat, tan belly to disappear in-Stop it! Sarah tore her eyes away from the distinctly male bulge that rose below his belt line. There was no part of a man she hadn’t seen before, she reminded herself bitterly. Donovan would be no different from Reginald Buckley, or from anyone else, for that matter.
He
