Heather closed her eyes. Even knowing Sloan was deliberately making her feel guilty, she couldn’t fight that argument. Janna did need her.

She let out her breath slowly, wishing there were another alternative. Some swift painless way to break with Sloan. A way to separate herself from him that wouldn’t mean ripping out her heart.

“Very well,” she said, her murmur quiet with despair and resignation. “I’ll return to the ranch with you. I’ll stay until the election is over.” She could see the tightness of his features start to ease and held up her hand. “But as your housekeeper, not as your wife.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll care for Janna and do the household chores, but I won’t share a bed with you. You aren’t to touch me. Is that clear?”

For a moment he didn’t reply.

“And I mean to accept the additional assignments at the newspaper. Those are my conditions, Sloan. If you can’t agree, then you can look for someone else to care for Janna.”

Sloan took a deep breath. It was too much to expect that she would forgive him so soon after his cruelty. He would have to prove he was sincere about wanting her. But at least if Heather was living with him, he would have the chance to persuade her.

“All right then,” Sloan said finally. “If that’s what you really want, I won’t touch you.”

Heather wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake by returning to the Bar M with Sloan. It wrung her heart to realize how glad Janna was to see her, but being in such close proximity to Sloan all through supper was akin to torment. It wasn’t specifically anything he said or did—or perhaps it was. He was as solicitous and agreeable as any woman could wish a husband to be. Too solicitous and agreeable. Too kind. He was trying to make up for the cruel things he’d said and done last night, she knew. But he couldn’t mend the rift between them. He couldn’t make it right. He couldn’t tell her he loved her.

She had just put Janna to bed and escaped to her own room for the night when she found the gold piece half concealed beneath her bed.

Almost fearfully Heather bent to pick it up. Sloan’s harsh words rang in her ears as she stared at it mutely. What do you say to ten bucks a shot? That’s one hell of a price for a few minutes on your back.

The bright metal seemed to burn her fingers, but she curled her fingers around it purposely, letting the hard edges bite into her palm. She would keep it to remind her of that night, of all that was wrong in her marriage—

She flinched when she heard the soft rap on the door. Reluctantly she went to open it.