Like a smitten schoolboy, he lay in bed at night hoping to hear her sigh or catch a whiff of her sweet fragrance. Not even the wall between them could block out the nearness of her.

She’d made it perfectly clear that theirs was a marriage in name only, and he had no intention of doing anything that would jeopardize the ranch. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be married to Emily in every sense of the word.

The thought was as worrisome as it was surprising. She wasn’t even his type. She was too independent for his taste. Too unsuited to ranch life. Too much of a spitfire. So why was he wasting time thinking of her when he had work to do? When did thoughts of a woman become more demanding than the call of duty?

Whatever hold she had on him had to stop. When working with cattle, a man had better keep his mind on the job or suffer the consequences. Cattle were unpredictable and spooked easily. One moment, they could be perfectly peaceful, the next, on a rampage.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cloud of dust, signaling a visitor. Narrowing his eyes against the bright morning sun, he watched the horseman head his way. It soon became clear it was his uncle. Considering the early hour, whatever Uncle Baxter had on his mind couldn’t be good.

Hi uncle reined in his horse and greeted Chase with a nod. “Morning.”

As usual, he was dressed for business in a dark suit, complete with a bow tie and a felt derby hat. Against the backdrop of cattle, the business attire looked absurd.

His uncle tossed a nod at the gaping hole in the fence. “Any idea who’s responsible this time?”

“The usual activists.”

His uncle scoffed. “If you ask me, it’s that bloody Englishman. He’s caused nothing but trouble.”

Chase shook his head. “Fisher couldn’t cut a lame cow from the shade of a tree, but that don’t make him a fence cutter.”

“Maybe not, but I still think he should go back to the old country to raise sheep and leave the cattle to us Texans. That’s what the good Lord intended.”

Chase raised his eyebrows. When had his uncle ever lifted a finger to help around the ranch? In no mood to argue, he shook the thought away. “What brings you all the way out here so early?”

“There’s talk in town. Your brother—”

“Stepbrother.”

Uncle Baxter’s mouth thinned. “Royce has been shootin’ off his mouth and telling folks your marriage is a farce.”

Chase shrugged. “He can say what he wants.”

“The will states the marriage has to be a real one. Your father was very clear on that.”

“My marriage is real.” It certainly had all the challenges of a real marriage. The only thing missing was some of the pleasures.

His uncle hesitated, his gaze on the men attaching the barbed wire to a post.

“What?” Chase asked, his voice edged with impatience. “Tell me.”