“This is between Callie and me,” Duncan said, “I don’t think we need the handyman to weigh in.”

I moved closer to Bill and put my hand on his arm. “Bill’s right. I think you should leave.”

Duncan narrowed his eyes at Bill, clearly assessing the threat he represented. The muscles in Bill’s forearm clenched under my fingers, turning hard as steel. I could practically smell the testosterone in the air. Any second now the two men would fly at each other. I stepped in between them and felt the hair on the back of my neck rise. “If the two of you are going to fight over me like two dogs fighting over a bone I’m going to talk to you like dogs. Go home, Duncan. You stay here, Bill.”

Duncan lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile/half snarl and walked past us, getting close enough to brush against Bill’s arm. I felt Bill tense, but he remained still. We both turned, though, to watch Duncan walk down the stairs. When he got to the bottom he turned around and looked over his shoulder at me. “Remember that this was your choice, Callie.” Then he turned and walked across the street to the Hart Brake Inn.

It wasn’t until he was halfway across the street that I felt a release of the tension in the air and then I nearly collapsed. If Bill hadn’t steadied me with his arm, I’d have slumped to the floor. “Let’s get you inside,” he said, helping me toward the door.

“Okay,” I said, leaning against him and letting him practically carry me over the threshold. I felt weak. It wasn’t just the release of tension, it had something to do with the power I’d used pushing Duncan away. “Thank you for coming to my defense.”

“You looked like you were doing a pretty good job yourself,” he said. “I’d have stepped in sooner, only I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”

“You were watching us?”

Bill pointed up. At first I thought he was pointing at the fanlight, which I saw to my dismay was indeed cracked. A splinter had come loose from the stained glass eye of the young man, making it look as if a single tear was falling from his eye. “I was on the porch roof,” Bill explained when he saw me staring at the fanlight. “I didn’t mean to listen in, but I couldn’t help but hear … I heard you say you thought you loved someone.”

“Oh, that,” I said. “I thought Duncan Laird was someone else …” I looked up at Bill. “I’ve been pretty confused lately. I seem to keep making mistakes …”

“Do you think last night was a mistake?” he asked, his face pained.

“No! I didn’t mean that. Last night was great … lovely … but …”