Heaven help her, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t leave Sloan. Even with all the heartache he’d caused her, the pain of living with him was preferable to the pain of living without him. She couldn’t leave.

Dashing the tears from her eyes, she rose and resolutely put on her bonnet. Then she caught up her reticule and made her way downstairs.

The hotel lobby was crowded, mainly with gentlemen in business suits, although there were a few ladies like herself. Heather glanced around her uncertainly, anxious to speak to Evan. Fortunately it was only a moment before she spied him in a sitting area, half hidden by a potted palm. He was reading a newspaper, but he tossed it aside when he saw her.

“Evan, forgive me,” she murmured when she reached him, “but I’ve made a mistake.”

Rising abruptly, he took her hands and surveyed her tearstained face with concern. “My dear, what is the matter? You appear distraught.”

“I am. I can’t do this.”

“You can’t attend the interview? Mrs. Sharp is expecting you shortly, but I’m certain we could postpone it to another day.”

“No, I mean I can’t stay here, in Denver.”

“It’s that McCord fellow, isn’t it? You can’t bring yourself to forsake him.”

“Yes… Sloan is my husband, Evan. I’m sorry, but my place is with him.”

“Heather … I fear this is pure folly. Is there nothing I can do to persuade you otherwise?”

“No. I must go back.”

Evan gave a long sigh. “Very well. I will have your baggage loaded into the carriage and escort you home.”

“Please, I couldn’t allow you to go to such trouble after all you’ve done for me—”

“But I couldn’t permit you to travel on your own. I would never forgive myself if harm came to you.”

Filled with gratitude, Heather raised herself up and pressed her lips against his cheek. “I can never thank you enough for your kindness.”

Evan responded with a pained smile. “I only wish you could feel something more for me than mere appreciation—”

The words had barely left his mouth when he was suddenly hauled backward, his hands torn from Heather’s grasp. She watched in shock as a hard fist contacted his jaw and he went flying to land with a thud on the floor.

A hush fell over the hotel lobby. Evan lay sprawled on the elegant carpet, staring up at his assaulter, who stood towering over him, his expression fierce and dangerous.

Heather had quit breathing. Sloan. Dear heaven….

“I’ll thank you to keep your hands off my wife,” Sloan grated through his teeth.

“It wasn’t… what you think,” she managed to murmur.

Wincing, Evan rubbed his bruised jaw. “Indeed. I must say, Mr. McCord, this is getting to be a most annoying habit of yours.”