Goodness. Her heart did indeed lie elsewhere. She wasn’t merely enamored with Garth Mackenzie’s kisses. She was in love with the man.
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Completely in heart-wrenching love with a man who’d offered her his body, his name, but not his heart.
How in the world had this happened? She barely knew him. Hadn’t even liked him at first. Still thought he was gruff, callous, and didn’t treat his daughter properly. His touch set her afire, that much was true. But then the wild flames had nearly torched his farm, nearly torched him, and Ruth hadn’t been able to rest until she knew he was safe. She’d told herself it was Mary Alice who concerned her, not the child’s father. But here it was, plain as day, as though she’d known it the first time she gazed into his troubled bronze eyes.
She loved him.
Could she marry him? Her heart would break a little each day knowing he didn’t return her feelings.
She couldn’t marry Doc, though. That much was clear. Such a commitment wouldn’t be fair to either of them. She was in love with another.
“I’m sorry, Doc.”
“For what? That I asked to hold your hand?”
“No, not that. But no, I…I don’t think you should hold my hand.”
“I understand. We don’t know each other that well yet, and—”
She touched her finger to his lips. An intimate gesture to be sure, but she had to stop him.
“What in the name of God are you doing, Ruth Blackburn?”
She and Doc turned toward the deep timbre. Garth. She gasped and dropped her hand to her side.
“Where did you come from?”
“Your pa’s. I came to see you. He said you were out walking.”
“I assume he told you with whom?”
“No, he did not.”
Doc cleared his throat and looked at his boots. “Mr. Mackenzie, how is your daughter?”
“Fine. Just fine, thank you. What are you doing out here with Ruth?”
“Mr. Mackenzie,” Ruth said, “I fail to see how that is any business of yours.”
Doc looked up, his diminutive stature apparent in the shadow of such a magnificent creature as Garth Mackenzie. “We’re on a walk. I am courting Miss Blackburn.”
“This true, Ruthie?” Garth’s maleness permeated the entire prairie. “Is he your beau?”
“Mr. Mackenzie—”
“Damn it, stop calling me that!” He gripped her shoulders and turned her. His chiseled face was taut, tense. His bronze eyes burned. “Is this who you want to be with?”
“Garth, don’t hold me so tightly. Please.”
He loosened his grip but did not let her go. “I asked you a question.”
Doc stepped forward. He was clearly no match for Garth, but Ruth admired his fortitude.
“I need to ask you to leave, Mr. Mackenzie. Miss Blackburn and I—”
“Are done with whatever business you had tonight,” Garth said. “I need to speak to Ruth.”