She served him butter and honey for his pancakes and then saw to Janna’s breakfast—a bowl of hot porridge sweetened with molasses and bits of dried apple mixed in. Caitlin was right, Heather thought optimistically. Her situation did look better this morning. She intended to make a place for herself, if not in Sloan’s life then on his ranch. She would not live on his charity. She would salvage her tattered pride by providing something of value to their relationship. Starting with his daughter.

“Come, sweetheart, why don’t we let your papa eat his breakfast? You can sit on my lap. Would you like that? I’ll wager you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

With unexpected willingness Janna allowed herself to be transferred onto Heather’s lap. Sloan watched guardedly as the duchess fed his daughter and pretended to feed the doll. She showed not a trace of awkwardness with the child, he noted with surprise, until he remembered that she’d helped raise his nephew Ryan from a baby. He felt his tension ease. Still, it hurt to see her holding Janna, her blonde head so close to the small raven one.

Sloan took a swig of coffee, strong and scalding just the way he liked it. She could cook, too, just as she’d promised—a far cry from the monotonous range food he’d gotten used to eating on the run during the past year.

“When we’re through with breakfast,” he said more gruffly than he intended, “I’ll show you the house.”

Heather shook her head. “I’m certain you have work to do. I can find my way around.”

A pleasant silence filled the kitchen for a time. Sloan cleaned his plate and then rose to strap on his gun belt.

“Can you handle a gun?” he asked, seeing her eyeing his Colt revolvers.

“I can shoot a derringer. My father taught me.”

“A peashooter won’t do you much good here. I’ll teach you to use a rifle.”

“Are you certain that’s necessary—”

“You’ll learn,” he said brutally, not inviting debate on the subject. “My daughter will be under your care, remember?”

“My memory is quite adequate,” Heather returned coolly, raising her chin. She might have surrendered any dreams of love, but she would not be Sloan McCord’s doormat.

He shrugged on his coat. “I’m leaving one of the hired hands behind for your protection. Rusty will be within shouting distance if you need anything. And in case of real trouble, the signal is to fire two quick shots in the air. There’s a loaded rifle in the pantry.” Sloan hesitated. “Will you be all right here? I may be gone all day.”

“We’ll be fine.” Heather smiled down at his daughter. “Won’t we, love?”

Janna gave a toothy grin.

“What about dinner this afternoon?” Heather asked him.