Sloan found himself torn by the same conflicting emotions. He wanted nothing more in that instant than to fold Heather in his embrace and kiss her endlessly, to taste those lips and reassure himself that she was all right. The danger to her had reminded him violently of Doe’s death—and it had shaken him to the core. Heather could be lying in the dirt right now, her dark blood draining from her body….

He gave a silent curse of anguish. Maybe she was right. Maybe it would be best if she left. Hell, he ought to send her away for her own safety. He couldn’t bear to see her hurt the way Doe had been hurt. Until the election was over at least, he couldn’t guarantee he could protect her. Maybe he never could.

Breaking the spell between them, he eased a step back and settled Janna higher on his hip.

His eyes were shadowed when he finally met Heather’s gaze again. “Were you telling the truth? Did Randolf really call here today?”

The air suddenly pulsed with renewed tension as the tender moment shattered.

“Yes,” she replied quietly. “And he gave me a draft to redeem the mortgage note on the ranch.”

“The hell he did.”

Through aching despair she saw the gathering of raw anger in Sloan’s light, breathtaking eyes. Her chin came up. “I think it rather generous of him, actually.”

“He has some scheme in mind that will only benefit him.”

“I believe you’re mistaken. He meant to benefit me. Evan offered his financial assistance so I wouldn’t have to work in order to repay my debt to you.”

Sloan stared at her, and the chill was back in his blue eyes. “I told you once, I’ll be damned if I’ll take money from that bastard—or let my wife take it.”

“No? I suppose you would rather lose your ranch, perhaps even your life? Would you really risk your daughter’s life because of pride? Can you possibly be that foolish?”

He didn’t answer, but a muscle flexed furiously in his jaw.

Seeing Janna’s small forehead pucker with concern, Heather softened her voice but not her resolve. “Evan gave me the money to do with as I see fit, Sloan. And I intend to settle with the bank tomorrow—unless you physically prevent me.”

“I won’t try to stop you,” he said through gritted teeth. His expression had hardened to ice, while his eyes held that wintry look she dreaded.

“No, you won’t stop me,” she agreed hollowly. “Because you don’t really have a choice, do you? Any more than I had when I married you.”

She gave him one last bitter glance before turning on her heel to walk toward the house.

Chapter 18