“You Daltons always expect to get your way.” Amelia’s tone was resentful, and she didn’t care.

“Not always.” Seth smiled sardonically. “But we usually do.” He took both her hands in his. His palms had the calluses of a workingman on them.

She smiled with nostalgic sadness remembering the sixteen-year-old girl she’d once been. The one with the crush on Seth.

“What are you thinking?” Seth asked quietly. To her surprise, he cupped her face and gazed into her eyes for a few seconds before leaning closer and touching her lips with his. The kiss was the gentlest she’d ever known and caused a rain of tears inside her.

When he lifted his head, he said enigmatically, “I’m not the person you think I am.”

With that, he was gone.

She touched her lips as if she could feel the imprint of his kiss there. “Then who are you?” she murmured.

Dear Reader,

We’re delighted to feature Jennifer Mikels, who penned the second story in our multiple-baby-focused series, MANHATTAN MULTIPLES. Jennifer writes, “To me, there’s something wonderfully romantic about a doctor-nurse story and about a crush developing into a forever love. In The Fertility Factor (#1559), a woman’s love touches a man’s heart and teaches him that what he thought was impossible is within his reach if he’ll trust her enough.”

Sherryl Woods continues to captivate us with Daniel’s Desire (#1555), the conclusion of her celebrated miniseries THE DEVANEYS. When a runaway girl crosses their paths, a hero and heroine reunite despite their tragic past. And don’t miss Prince and Future…Dad? (#1556), the second book in Christine Rimmer’s exciting miniseries VIKING BRIDES, in which a princess experiences a night of passion and gets the surprise of a lifetime! Quinn’s Woman (#1557), by Susan Mallery is the next in her longtime-favorite HOMETOWN HEARTBREAKERS miniseries. Here, a self-defense expert never expects to find hand-to-heart combat with her rugged instructor….

Return to the latest branch of popular miniseries MONTANA MAVERICKS: THE KINGSLEYS with Marry Me…Again (#1558) by Cheryl St. John. This dramatic tale shows a married couple experiencing some emotional bumps—namely that their marriage is invalid! Will they break all ties or rediscover a love that’s always been there? Then, Found in Lost Valley (#1560) by Laurie Paige, the fourth title in her SEVEN DEVILS miniseries, is about two people with secrets in their pasts, but who can’t deny the rising tensions between them!

As you can see, we have a lively batch of stories, delivering diversity and emotion in each romance.

Happy reading!

Sincerely,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

Found in Lost Valley
Laurie Paige

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To our own Galadriel: May fantasy light your path forever….

LAURIE PAIGE

Along with her writing adventures, Laurie has been a NASA engineer, a past president of the Romance Writers of America, a mother and a grandmother. She was twice a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist for Best Traditional Romance and has won awards from Romantic Times for Best Silhouette Special Edition and Best Silhouette. She has resettled in Northern California.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter One

Amelia Miller glanced up when the wind rattled the windowpanes of the Victorian house. The old mansion had withstood fiercer storms than this one in its hundred and twenty years. Although, she admitted, this first rain of October was not a gentle one.

She stuck her toes closer to the glowing gas-log fireplace. The temperature was thirty-eight degrees outside, the rooms of the bed-and-breakfast were filled for the weekend and the guests were snug inside, the last one arriving little more than an hour ago.

All was well in her little corner of the world.

Most of her clients were couples who’d come up from Boise for a weekend of hiking. The colors of autumn covered the hills, and the aspens and cottonwoods were especially beautiful this year. She hoped the rain didn’t spoil the outing for the nature lovers.

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was nearly eleven o’clock. She yawned, finished off the herbal tea and closed the novel she’d been reading. The historical romance story was about knights and ladies and honor, which the hero had in abundance, perhaps to the point of obstinacy.

There were worse faults, she mused. For a moment, she remembered being twenty and swept off her feet by a handsome cowboy in town for the rodeo trials. After knowing him all of two weeks, she’d married him and taken off on an exciting adventure.

The excitement had lasted about two months, the marriage nearly two years, mostly due to her own stubbornness in refusing to give up. Her dashing cowboy had a temper and a mean streak. When she’d urged him to go to anger management counseling, he’d hit her. She’d packed and left, finally admitting she’d made a serious mistake.

At thirty-three, she had few illusions about life. Now, happiness was a full house and a roof that didn’t leak. So much for young love and the dreams that went with it.

She smiled at her long-ago idealism, somewhat saddened by the loss, then yawned again. Time for bed. Five-thirty came early—

The br-r-ring of the doorbell startled her. Slipping on fuzzy scuffs, she went silently down the hall into the main room, making sure her robe was securely closed as she did.

Then she peered out through one of the etched glass panels of the door.

The carriage lamps on each side illuminated a lone man standing there, his head tilted down as if he was deep in thought, his hands in the pockets of a trench coat that glistened with rain across the broad shoulders.

“Yes?” she said without opening the door.

“Amelia? It’s Seth Dalton.”

At sixteen, her heart had nearly leaped out of her body each time she’d encountered the oldest of the six Dalton orphans. At present, she was only mildly surprised. One or another of the Dalton clan was often at her place. She unlocked the door and stood aside.

“What a terrible night to be out,” she said when he entered the lobby, after carefully removing the raincoat and shaking off the water droplets on the porch.

He closed the door, dropped a duffel bag at his feet and hung the coat on a hook. “Yeah, terrible,” he agreed, with a smile that was definitely weary.

“Uh, was I expecting you?”

“No. I was heading for the ranch but got out of the city later than I’d planned. With the rain and the Friday night traffic, there was a big wreck. I sat on the freeway for nearly three hours. Since it’s so late, I decided to stop here.”

She made sympathetic noises.

“I hope you have a room. I’m beat,” he continued.

“Well, actually, we’re full this weekend. People come up for the turning of the leaves,” she explained, when he gave her a surprised glance tinged with a bit of annoyance, from those dark eyes so at odds with the usual Dalton sky-blue, to-die-for color.

“What about the single room?”

“It’s taken, too. A lone hiker showed up earlier this evening. About an hour ago,” she added as a frown formed a line between those thick, black masculine eyebrows.

Seth heaved a sigh and nodded. “I guess I’ll go on to the ranch then.”

Nicholas Dalton, who had taken in the orphans when his two younger brothers were killed in a freak avalanche some twenty-two or so years ago, lived on the original Dalton homestead, which was thirty miles from the tiny town of Lost Valley.

On country roads that wound into the Seven Devils Mountains of Idaho, the trip would take an hour in the pouring rain. If the road was washed out somewhere along the way, it might be impassible. Seth would be stranded for the second time that night.

In the rain. In the mountains. In the chilling cold.

Amelia glanced at the furniture in the great room, consisting mostly of tables and chairs, with a Victorian sofa and divan for period ambiance in front of the fireplace, and made a decision. “There’s a sofa bed in my sitting room. You can sleep there if you like.”

“I would,” he at once agreed.

His grin flashed in the dim light, his teeth brilliant in contrast to his dark hair and swarthy skin tones. Seth’s mother had been Latino or Native American—Amelia wasn’t sure which—and he’d inherited his dark good looks from her.

An inch under six feet, he was a bit shorter than his male cousins, but his build was the most muscular. In his senior year in high school, he’d played quarterback in football, and, with the strength in those broad shoulders, he’d become known for long, accurate passes that often saved the game for the home team. All the girls had had terrible crushes on him, including Amelia.

“Lead the way,” he suggested, picking up the duffel bag and giving her an expectant glance.

Rebounding to the present, she locked the door and led him along the hall to the back of the house and into her quarters, which consisted of a sitting room looking out on the garden, a bedroom and a bath. She’d converted the butler’s pantry into a walk-in closet, so there was ample privacy for her and space for her personal belongings.

“Would you like to take a warm shower?” she asked. “Or dry your hair? There’s a blow dryer in the bath.”

“That would be great.”

“Through here,” she said, going into her bedroom and pointing out the bathroom door. “Towels are in the basket beside the tub.”

While he disappeared into the other room, she quickly collected sheets, blankets and a pillow, took them to the sitting room and made up the bed for him after unfolding the mattress part of the short sofa.

She wondered if she should offer him her bed, since it was queen-size and the sofa wasn’t. But then, she would have to get to the bathroom and her clothing in the bedroom closet and would probably wake him in the morning, while from her bedroom she could quietly dress and sneak out through the sitting room without disturbing his sleep.

The shower stopped, and the whine of the hair dryer came on a minute later.

Amelia crossed the hall to the kitchen. There, she made a cup of hot cocoa, then prepared one for herself just to be companionable. She warmed muffins in the microwave and returned to the sitting room, tray in hand.

“That smells delicious,” Seth told her.

He stood in the doorway to the bedroom, dressed in gray sweatpants but no shirt. Dark hair formed an enticing pillow on his chest. He placed his shoes and duffel beside the bed. His long, narrow feet were clad in thick socks. Her heart fluttered a bit as it had when she was a girl.

“Banana-nut muffins. I thought you might be hungry after the long trip,” she said.

“I wasn’t, but I am now.”

His voice seemed deeper, somehow darker and more mysterious suddenly. She wondered if she imagined it. She set the tray on the coffee table and took a seat in her favorite chintz-covered rocker near one corner of the brick hearth. Drawing a deep breath, she picked up a mug and invited him to help himself.

He pulled on a sweatshirt, then sat in the chenille easy chair and propped his feet on the bricks close to the fire. Behind them, the sofa bed beckoned the weary to stretch out and relax. The clock on the mantel ticked in its friendly fashion.

Amelia became aware of the lateness of the hour and the intimacy of the setting as a fresh assault of wind and rain hit the windows.

“Not a fit night for man or beast,” Seth said, peering out at the wet landscape lit by carriage lamps and tiny spotlights along the paths and among the foliage.

“True,” she said, sipping her cocoa since she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

His laughter caused her hand to jerk. The hot liquid splashed over the rim of the cup. She quickly licked it away before it could drip on her robe.

“Sorry,” he said softly, amusement still in his eyes.

“That’s okay.” She wondered what he found funny. Since he’d been looking at her, and continued to do so, she self-consciously wiped her mouth and chin. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I know we Dalton boys have questionable reputations, but Uncle Nick doesn’t allow us to pounce on women, especially those who come to our aid and give us refuge during storms.”

For a second of insanity, Amelia wished he would do just that, then was appalled at herself. The Daltons were a prominent family in this part of Idaho. Other than during one long-ago incident, Seth had never displayed any attraction to her—a vagabond child who’d been shipped to Lost Valley to stay with her grandparents each time her parents had quarreled and split up. She’d spent most of her high school years here, but in two-to six-month stretches as the marriage waxed and waned.

The despair and resignation of that child rose in her, reminding her that, other than her grandparents, she’d never been able to depend on anyone in her life….

She stopped the morbid thoughts and wondered what had brought such gloom to her spirits. The storm, she decided, observing the torrents of rain against the window. Summoning a smile, she murmured in a teasing tone, “It would never occur to me that you would act less than a gentleman.”

The dark eyebrows rose. “Don’t be too sure of that,” he warned, a thread of humor in his voice, but something more, too—an edginess that had nothing to do with the long trip and fatigue, but everything to do with being a man alone with a woman at a late hour, with a bed tantalizingly close.

His eyes swept over her, pausing at the ridiculous pink fuzzy scuffs that had been a gift from her mother last Christmas. Her mom liked frivolous things and thought Amelia was much too staid.

Thinking of her mother’s cute, flirty ways that so intrigued men and drove her dad crazy with jealousy, Amelia wished she could think of a sassy comeback. Unfortunately, she never could until long after the opportunity had passed.

Her face warmed, and she hoped the blush wasn’t noticeable. With her red hair and fair skin inherited from her grandmother, Amelia found her emotions seemed to lie too close to the surface for her personal comfort.

The wind caused the flames to dance wildly in the grate. She realized she felt the same way inside—sort of wild, as if her spirit wanted to dance, and hot, as if a fire burned in a secret furnace inside her.

“Wasn’t that once a wood fireplace?” he asked. “I cleaned the chimneys here one year when your grandparents were still alive.”

“I—” She had to clear the huskiness from her throat. “I had it converted to gas this summer. It was too much work to take care of the wood and ashes, but I do enjoy a fire on cold evenings like this.”

He nodded in understanding, his eyes half-closed as he gazed at the natural-looking, flaming logs. He had heavy eyelids—bedroom eyes, the girls at school had called them—and the shifting light gave him the dangerous look of a rogue or pirate.

His jawline was strong, his cheeks rather prominent, with interesting shadows beneath them. His lips were evenly matched and his smile entrancing. His hair was curly, which he tried to disguise by keeping it cut short. In school, it had flowed in ripples to his shoulders. She’d wanted to run her fingers through the shining strands.

The telltale heat climbed her neck. Fortunately, he was still gazing into the fire. She found herself staring when he raised the mug to his lips. His throat moved as he swallowed, then he held the mug in both hands, his fingers caressing the smooth porcelain idly, his thoughts faraway as he absently observed the flames.

Her skin tingled all over as if he was stroking her body the way he did the cup. Hunger and longing and a mixture of feelings exploded in her, urgent and reckless. Shocked, she leaped to her feet. “Good night,” she said.

He glanced up, surprised at her abrupt action. But Amelia fled to the bedroom and closed the door. She hesitated about locking it, then realized that was silly. He would hardly come charging in after her.

“Good night,” she heard him call. “Sweet dreams.”

Dreams, she scoffed silently as she climbed into bed a few minutes later. She’d had enough of dreams to last her a lifetime. She was owner of a thriving bed-and-breakfast business, one that she’d built with her own hard work and planning. Who needed dreams?

Everyone, the wind whispered against the dark window, its piping notes somehow sad and more than a little lonely.

Another night flooded her memory, haunting her with the sweet nostalgia of times past, of being sixteen and so very much in love.

Seth turned off the gas to the fake logs in the fireplace and snuggled into bed. The sofa mattress was surprisingly comfortable. He bunched the pillow behind his head, his mind on the woman who slept in the next room.

His libido had acted up while he used her shower. The bathroom was filled with pleasant, feminine scents from shampoo, powder and cologne. Other facets of her personal space also tweaked his imagination, such as the scented candles dotting the wide border of the tub.

The fact that the candles had been used conjured up several intimate scenes. He could picture her relaxing in the tub, that tangled mass of auburn curls pinned up on her head, the candle glow highlighting her fair skin, which looked as delicate as peach petals.

A shudder ran through him and heat erupted deep within. He sucked in air like a man who’d been in danger of smothering. His libido paid no attention to the calming effect this was supposed to produce. The sheet tented as his body responded in blatant hunger.

Good thing his hostess couldn’t see him now. Uncle Nick or no Uncle Nick, Seth would be tempted to forget honor and all that stuff in favor of caveman tactics.

He laughed silently, mockingly. The devil had nothing on his uncle when it came to fury. Uncle Nick was a stickler for proper behavior around the female sex.

Seth agreed with that sentiment. He would never hurt a woman, not intentionally. But there had been one time when he’d been tempted to take all a girl offered.

Amelia at sixteen had been almost more than his seventeen-year-old will could withstand. He could see her now as clearly as he had that night….

Seth had found her standing in the shadows outside the community center, where the Harvest Moon dance was in progress. Even in the dark, he recognized her at once.

“Amelia? What are you doing out here? You’ll freeze.” Like the hero of a novel, he took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. The cool night air felt good to him. The dance floor was crowded and all those gyrating bodies caused the temperature to rise.

“Thank you,” she murmured, “but I’m okay. Really.” She returned his jacket.

The fast number ended and a slow love song began. On an impulse, he held out his hands. “Dance?”

She shook her head and moved more into the shadows.

The rejection intrigued rather than repelled him. “Come on. We’d better go inside before one of the chaperons finds us and sends us to the principal for skulking in the bushes.”

The attempt at humor failed.

“No, thanks,” she said. “I think I’ll go home.”

With that, she turned and started across the school parking lot, with only a thin shawl around her shoulders. He tried to recall where she lived. Oh, yes, on the other side of town in a two-story white house with her grandparents.

He’d been on a student council committee with her last year and had delivered some papers to her home. She’d disappeared in March, apparently leaving the area, but had returned a couple of weeks after the start of the new school year. At sixteen, she was nearly a year younger than he was, and a year behind him in school. Like him, she was a member of the Honor Society.

Smart. He liked that in a girl. Last year, as an honor society project, he and Amelia had researched and presented a report on poor scholastic achievement to the school authorities. He’d found her compassionate and thoughtful as well as intelligent. There was also a mystery surrounding her. She appeared and disappeared frequently from the town. When he’d tried to get to know her better, she’d become cool and distant, her manner warning him not to encroach on her privacy. Even so, there was something fragile and beguiling about her, something that had always intrigued him.

He trotted across the pavement and caught up with her. “Your dress is a knockout,” he said. “I heard Jennifer Rinquest say she’d kill for it.”

“It’s my grandmother’s,” Amelia replied in her usual serious manner. “The taffeta is woven with two different colors so that when the light hits it one way, it looks bronze, but from another angle, it’s violet.”

“Neat idea.”

“Yes.”

They were out of the parking lot and on Main Street now. At nearly midnight, there wasn’t a car or person to be seen. The shadows were deep between the streetlights, then deeper when Seth and Amelia turned onto the side street where her grandparents lived.

He wondered at her silence. Most girls tended to chatter, he’d found. He didn’t feel unwelcome around Amelia, but she didn’t try to engage his attention. She had a mysterious aura about her, as if she existed in a time and place that only she could see.

When the light breeze brought her scent to him, his body stirred with a hunger that startled him. Not that that was unusual—Uncle Nick had explained all about hormones and how it was with guys, but different for girls. However, this girl didn’t do anything to cause it…other than just be herself. A thought occurred to him. Perhaps the reason she hadn’t danced was simply that she didn’t know how.

“Uh, would you like me to teach you to dance?”

“No, thanks. I’ve had lessons,” she said in that soft tone that told him nothing. And she turned onto the sidewalk leading to the two-story Victorian.

He stayed with her. “You got a broken leg or something?”

She nimbly climbed the front steps, then turned with a frown. “No.”

He grinned. “Sorry. I just wondered why I didn’t see you on the floor at the dance.”

“No one asked.”

Her blunt honesty left him with nothing to say. When she sat in the old-fashioned swing hanging from hooks in a rafter, he joined her. “You didn’t have a date?”

She hesitated. “My grandmother arranged for a boy down the street to take me. He disappeared as soon as we got inside the gym.” She shrugged. “I didn’t mind. It was interesting to watch for a while. Then I decided it was time to come home.”

She must have stayed almost four hours, he realized. Long enough that her grandparents wouldn’t question why she’d come home early. He propped an arm behind her on the swing. His fingers touched the smooth skin of her shoulder, only partially covered by the cap sleeves of the dress. She was cold. He dropped his arm around her and pulled her close.

“You’ll catch a chill,” he scolded, sounding very much like his protective uncle.

“I never get sick.”

This was said with such world-weary resignation, he was intrigued all over again. What was it with her?

She looped her arms across her middle as if holding inside all that she was so he wouldn’t see. He touched her cheek, lingered to stroke the softness there, then tilted her face up to his. Then he kissed her.

The kiss was amazing, shocking, alarming, dazzling, as if stars were falling around them….

The very air went from October cool to July hot in an instant. The warmth of the stars, he thought hazily.

She didn’t caress him or even uncross her arms, but her lips…Lord, but those lips were pure liquid fire under his, hesitant at first, then moving, returning the pressure, opening to allow their tongues to meet. It was a kiss unlike any he’d ever experienced, and he’d kissed a lot since becoming cocaptain of the football team last year.

When he lifted his head and gazed down into her face, his heart thudded even harder. In the moonlight, her skin was the pure white of the marble veins he found running through the granite in the mountains. There was something so remote and unexpected about her….

He kissed her again, then groaned and pulled her closer so that they were half lying in the swing, her softness on top, pressing into him. For the first time, he knew, really knew, why kisses weren’t enough.

Her breasts were firm against his chest, her lips like cool fire dancing under his. Shifting, he pushed a cushion behind his back and lifted her so that he could slide one leg between hers. Half turning, he captured her body between his and the swing, the movement setting up a brief, wild gyration that broke the kiss.

They clung to each other and, as their eyes met, smiled. For a second, he couldn’t breathe, then they were kissing again…and touching in ways he’d never let happen with other girls.

When the need became unbearable, he pulled back enough to ask, “Where can we go?”

“There’s a carriage house,” she murmured, pressing kisses onto his chest.

He didn’t know when or how his shirt became unfastened. The cold air rushing across him brought back a measure of sanity. He held her face between his trembling hands and looked into her eyes.

Hot golden arcs of passionate intensity were visible in those moon-dark depths, along with a sweet vulnerability that reached to his soul. He realized how dangerously, desperately close to the edge they were.

“I have plans,” he said, summoning the only defense he could think of. “College. And law school. It’ll be years.”

Her expression changed in the blink of an eye, the raw honesty of passion was gone. Sense and caution returned. He felt the loss like the sharp pain of a paper cut.

She sat up and, with quick, precise movements, fitted the bodice of the old-fashioned dress into place, covering the delectable flesh he’d kissed and explored so thoroughly.

“I know,” she said in a flat tone that gave nothing away. “It doesn’t matter. Thanks for seeing me home.”

With that she was gone. He heard the click as the door locked behind her, observed her outline through the etched glass panes as she turned away. That was the last he saw of her until spring. At that time, she returned to school and finished the year, a straight-A student who looked at him with cool blue eyes that didn’t invite friendship or confidences anymore.

After graduation he left town on a construction job, then entered the university that fall. He rarely was back for more than a week at a time after that.

Rolling now to one side, then the other, his body tense with the haunting hunger from tonight and the dance long ago, Seth knew he was in for a restless night. Memories and the knowledge that Amelia was only steps away would see to that.

From that intriguing here-today-gone-tomorrow girl, she’d grown into a lovely woman, her gaze still cool, her hair a halo of curls surrounding a heart-shaped face just the way it had that enchanted evening so long ago.

For the oddest moment, he was filled with regret that they hadn’t shared everything the night of the Harvest Moon ball, when their passion had been innocent and honest and so very sweet in a way he couldn’t describe. But it was better that they hadn’t. Both of them had had a long way to go before they could think seriously of involvement.

So. He’d become an attorney as planned. She’d married, divorced, then returned to Lost Valley and started a very successful bed-and-breakfast inn after her grandparents had passed away within months of each other seven years ago. He’d handled the settling of the estate.

Amelia had changed quite a bit in the intervening years, becoming friendly and outgoing. She’d even played her guitar and sung in a community musical that summer. The appealing vulnerability of youth had disappeared, replaced by the confidence of a woman who knew exactly who she was and where she was going.

Seth wondered what other changes life had made in her, and fell asleep still wondering….

Chapter Two

Amelia opened the door as quietly as possible. It was six o’clock, her usual time to start the workday.

The sitting room was silent and dim in the predawn hour. Treading carefully, she made sure her loafers didn’t make a sound on the carpet as she crept by the sofa bed.

Seth lay with one bare arm across his face, the other to the side. The sheet and blanket were pushed halfway down his chest, which was also bare. His long-sleeved shirt lay over the back of the sofa. One leg was outside the covers, the sweatpants apparently providing enough warmth for him.

When he stirred restlessly and kicked the blanket aside, she noticed the definitive ridge on his lower body, clearly outlined by the gray sweats.

A thrill of…shock? surprise? excitement? raced through her entire body with the speed of light. She stood there staring as if she’d never seen a man’s aroused body in her life.

Certainly not this man’s, some cynical part of her observed, although once they’d kissed and caressed each other with the greatest intimacy she’d ever known. But that was long ago. She’d avoided him after that, just as he had her, his manner pleasant but remote the few times they’d met.

Pulling her gaze from his sleeping form, she hastily stepped forward before her thoughts went even further off track, as her dreams had done last night. Her foot landed on something unexpected, an object that flipped to the side, causing her ankle to turn with a sharp pain.

She flailed her arms, but it was too late; Amelia landed with a muffled grunt right on top of her guest.

With a muttered curse, he sprang instantly awake and into action. Before she could say a word, she was caught in bands of steel, tossed onto her back and held captive against the mattress by hands on her wrists and a long, powerful, masculine body pinning her in place.

She stared at him as if he were indeed a predator about to rip her to shreds. “I’m really sorry,” she said in a strangled voice. “I tripped.”

His chest moved against her as he inhaled deeply. The ridge she’d noticed was now pressed into her abdomen. It took only a split second for the fact to register; and her eyes flew to his.

He observed her with a harsh, unblinking stare, then slowly relaxed—though not in the lower extremities—and finally he smiled slightly. “You’re up early.”

“I always get up at five-thirty.” Her voice was stilted and defensive. “Please,” she added, and moved slightly.

He rolled off her and rose in one smooth motion. She scrambled to a sitting position, pulling her sweater into place over her slacks, then stood, careful to set her feet on the carpet rather than his classy wing-tipped shoes, which, she now realized, were what had tripped her up.

A fierce pain shot up her leg and she sat down abruptly in surprise at this additional indignity. This was not going to be her day.

“What is it?” he asked, kicking the shoes aside and settling on his haunches in front of her. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“My ankle, I think.” She thought of all the work that had to be done that morning.

“Let me see.”

She froze when he lifted her foot, removed her loafer and probed gently. His fingers were long and lean, the skin deeply tanned in contrast to her paleness. Heat swept up her leg to lodge in some turbulent place inside her.

“I’m fine—ouch!” she said.

“There’s swelling and bruising already starting along each side of the ankle bone,” he told her, examining the place again. “We need to ice it down before it gets worse.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I don’t have time. I have to help Marta in the kitchen, with breakfast and all.”

He shook his head. “You won’t be doing anything on this foot today, or for the week, probably. Maybe we should have Beau take an X ray. It could be fractured.”

“It isn’t,” she insisted. “I can walk it off.”

She pushed him away before she did something really stupid, like drag him back onto the bed and… Well, beyond that, she couldn’t think.

He glanced up at that instant. His hair was mussed, and one stubborn curl fell over his forehead. She swallowed hard as she recalled a time when she’d caught those shiny strands in her fists and pulled his lips to hers.

Her eyes locked with his. His bare chest moved against her knee as he inhaled sharply.

She realized he must have seen the blatant hunger that had swept through her at his touch, and she quickly looked away. She wasn’t sure which pained her the most—the sprained ankle or the need that twisted her insides into knots.

A door slammed in another part of the house.

“Marta’s here,” Amelia said, relieved. “I have to go.”

“Give me ten minutes,” he requested.

When he grabbed his duffel and headed for the bathroom, she hobbled out of the suite and down the hall to the kitchen. Her ankle wasn’t so bad, she decided. She could handle standing on it.

“What happened to you?” her helper asked, already mixing muffins to go in the oven.

“Tripped,” Amelia reported wryly.

“Huh, maybe you’d better take it easy today,” Marta suggested. “I can get the stuff on the buffet.”

Amelia shook her head. Wonderful smells were coming from the oven, where cinnamon apples had baked to perfection. She’d put them in the night before and set the timer so they’d be ready that morning. She loved the way they scented the whole house and brought her guests hurrying to the great room to sample the simple but delicious fare.

After making a cup of tea, she slipped on mitts and did fine getting the baking dish out of the oven. But when she turned and stepped forward, pain shot up her leg, so harsh she gasped aloud. Her ankle gave way.

Hands closed over the mitts and steadied her until she could set the dish on the counter. “I told you to stay put,” Seth snapped, his dark eyes shooting sparks at her.

“Seth Dalton?” Marta said, looking from him to the hallway behind him. There was only one bedroom in that wing of the house.

“In the flesh,” he said in that same snarly tone. “Sit here,” he told Amelia, practically tossing her onto a stool and yanking off her shoe, only to throw it aside in one fluid motion. “Where’s some ice?”

Marta pointed wordlessly.

Grabbing a dish towel, he filled it with ice chips, then wrapped it around Amelia’s ankle, ending by tying another around the whole. “There,” he said.

Amelia stared at her foot in consternation. “I can’t work with this on.”

“Good. Because you’re not going to.”

With that, he lifted her from the stool, carried her to the sofa in the great room, placed her on it, removed her other shoe and carefully propped both feet on a velvet pillow. He grabbed a chenille throw from the shorter divan, gave it a shake and settled it over her legs.

After giving her a threatening scowl that told her she’d better stay put, he turned on the gas to start the logs in the large fireplace burning.

“Anything else you need?” he demanded.

She shook her head.

“Breakfast,” Marta called out, observing all this from the kitchen doorway.

He nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

Feeling utterly stupid, Amelia stayed where she’d been plunked and wondered what she’d done to deserve this. Her ankle throbbed fiercely, the icy coldness added its own ache, and she felt really, really wretched.

“Marta says you drink tea.”

A cup was thrust under her nose. She took it, but not before giving the overbearing Samaritan a glare.

He grinned and disappeared into the kitchen. For the next half hour, Amelia watched as he brought out trays filled with muffins and loaves of Marta’s special breads, as well as bowls of fruit and yogurt, jars of homemade jams and jellies and the baking dish filled with apples. Soon the sideboard, which she used to let her guests help themselves buffet-style, was filled. Coffee, tea and juice were placed on a granite-topped table close by.

Right on time at six-thirty, breakfast was ready. Seth went into the kitchen and returned with a tray, which he placed across Amelia’s lap. The cook followed at his heels and gave Amelia a significant glance before handing him a second tray. Marta headed back to the kitchen while Seth hooked the rung of a chair with his foot and pulled it close to the sofa.

“Ahh, delicious,” he said, using his fork to cut off a bite of baked apple, and eating it with relish. “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked, seeing her watching him.

Amelia picked up her fork. “I usually just have fruit in the morning.”

“You could stand to gain a pound or two,” he advised.

Huh, that was easy for him to say. If he only knew how hard she worked to keep the weight off!

But the scrambled eggs looked perfect, as did the sourdough English muffin, which Marta knew she loved. Not to mention the apple oozing with butter and sugar and cinnamon and sitting on a square of flaky crust. After the first bite, Amelia was lost. She cleaned up everything on the plate.

Seth removed the tray and refilled the teacup without a word, although one black eyebrow did arch upward a bit in a superior male manner. He checked the amount of melting in the ice pack on her ankle, gave a grunt that she assumed meant it was okay, and left to assist Marta.

For the next three hours, he kept the buffet supplied, her ankle iced and her cup full. Amelia hardly noticed the ache as guests came and went, all of them sympathetic over her fall, their curious glances going often to Seth as he returned to her side between every chore.

When the meal was over and the nature lovers were out hiking in the blustery wind, since, fortunately, the rain had stopped, she dropped off to sleep, content for the moment.

Shortly after noon, Beau Dalton entered the B and B, black doctor’s bag in hand. It didn’t take a lot of smarts for Amelia to know why he was there.

“Ah, the patient,” he said, smiling as he spotted her lying on the sofa like the heroine of a novel.

“Hi. I didn’t know doctors made house calls anymore. Or still had black bags, for that matter.”

He waved the bag at her. “Sure, that’s what makes us official.” He glanced hopefully toward the empty buffet table. “I was promised lunch if I stopped by. Got any of those baked apples left?”

Seth came out of the kitchen. “I saved you one, but it was a struggle. I had to arm wrestle two paying guests for it.”

“I’ll remember you in my will,” Beau promised. He came to Amelia and lifted the chenille throw. “Let’s see what the problem is with this ankle.” He whistled appreciatively when he saw the bruising.

“Bad, huh?” Seth asked, squatting beside his cousin.

Amelia waited anxiously for Beau’s diagnosis. He probed gently, moved her toes, tickled her instep by running his nails lightly across it, then studied the bruising again. Opening the bag, he removed a stretchy bandage and proceeded to wrap her ankle securely, making her whole foot nearly immobile. And impossible to fit into a shoe.

“Not bad at all, considering,” the doctor announced when he finished. “Keep the ice on it today and tomorrow. That’s held the swelling down nicely and will speed the recovery better than anything. As a nurse, I’ll give you a recommendation anytime, bro,” he told Seth. “In fact, I could use someone in the office.”

“Huh.” Seth only grunted in response to this amused suggestion.

“As for you,” Beau said, turning back to Amelia. “Stay off the ankle for at least a week, then take it easy about getting back to work. If it isn’t better by Monday, stop by for an X ray. Listen to your body,” he advised. “In a few days, we’ll start you on some physical therapy exercises so the joint doesn’t permanently tighten up on you. Six months and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Six months!” She was aghast. “I can’t lie around for six months. I have a ton of work to do. Honey and I are going to remodel the carriage house this winter.”

Honey was married to another Dalton cousin and rented the carriage house for a dance and exercise studio.

“No way,” Beau said quite cheerfully. “You can’t lift drywall or anything heavier than a mop bucket for the next several weeks. You’ve pulled some ligaments and it’ll take time for them to heal. If you’re careful and do the exercises, you’ll be fine. If not…”

Amelia felt her spirits sink as Beau shrugged, indicating it was up to her. Money was an issue. She’d managed to break even after three years and had made a profit during the four years since then, but it wasn’t a big profit. Other than part-time help, she did everything herself, which was how she’d been able to survive.

“She’ll do exactly as you tell her,” Seth said in his no-nonsense manner. “It was my fault she fell. I left my shoes beside the bed, and she tripped on them.”

A beat of silence followed this statement. It wasn’t until Beau glanced from his cousin to her, humor and speculation rife in his gorgeous blue eyes, that Seth’s words—and their implication—dawned on her.

“No,” she quickly corrected, “he didn’t mean… It wasn’t like that.”

“Right,” Seth chimed in. “I meant the sofa, not Amelia’s bed. I left my shoes by the sofa in her sitting room, not her bedroom.”

“I understand.” Beau bent forward and closed the black bag, but Amelia knew he was hiding a smile.

“All the rooms were full, so Seth slept on the sofa bed in my sitting room,” she explained.

“It was late when I arrived,” Seth added, “so I thought I would stay here rather than go out to the ranch in the storm.”

“I tried to sneak out without disturbing him this morning,” Amelia continued, “but without a light on, I didn’t notice his shoes. I tripped and fell right on top of him.”

“Scared me out of a sound sleep. I thought I was being attacked and grabbed her, pinning her to the mattress. I didn’t realize she was hurt.”

Beau grinned openly. “Not a bad way to wake up—having a beautiful woman fall into your bed and your arms. I’ll mention it to Shelby.”

The doctor had recently gotten engaged to his nurse. With two Daltons married and a third engaged, Amelia knew their uncle Nick was pleased. He planned on getting them all settled before he kicked the bucket, as he so delicately put it. At the thought, her eyes went to Seth.

He was looking at her, too. As clearly as if she could read his mind, she knew he was recalling those moments when, surprised out of sleep, he’d rolled her under him, his strong masculine body covering hers like a living shield, holding her there while his consciousness caught up with his instinctive self-protective reaction.

A tremor assailed her as she also relived those breath-stealing moments. The intimacy of the early morning hour. The mussed bed. The sleepy warmth of his body. The hardness that pressed into her abdomen. The excitement that had drummed through her. And through him.

“Where’s that lunch?” Beau demanded.

“I’ll get it.” Seth went into the kitchen and returned with a loaded tray. He served soup, made by Marta before she left, and tuna salad sandwiches. He gave Amelia a big glass of milk and told her to “drink up” when she asked for tea, as if she were a child who needed the extra nourishment.

“You’re in for it now,” Beau warned her. “When Seth takes you under his wing, there’s no escape. He’ll boss you around and drive you nuts until you realize he’s relentless. It’s best to just give in from the first.”

“Yeah?” Seth challenged. “The way you guys do when I suggest ways to maximize your savings and minimize your taxes?”

Beau rolled his eyes heavenward. “A dollar a week isn’t a reasonable amount for spending money.”

Amelia listened to the affectionate give and take between the men while they finished the meal. She’d once wished desperately for a family like that. She’d been twelve before she’d accepted that it was never going to happen. She was always going to be the only child of parents who argued over every decision, every turn in their marriage.

“Enough of this frivolity,” Beau declared shortly, glancing at his watch. “Time for me to be back at work.”

After he left, Seth cleaned up their dishes, then disappeared for a few minutes. When he came back, he hoisted Amelia into his arms. She instinctively flung her own arms around his neck and held on.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded. Her voice came out husky instead of stern.

“To bed.” He grinned and raised one thick black eyebrow in challenge. His eyes, so close now, met hers briefly, then returned to the hallway. “Time for your nap.”

She found that the sitting room had been put to rights and the gas logs blazed merrily. He placed her on the restored sofa with a pillow under her head, then fluffed the blanket he’d used during the night over her supine form.

“Sleep,” he suggested, his voice also husky.

She hesitated, then said, “Thanks for your help this morning. I never would have made it.”

“No problem. Yell if you need me.”

He left her alone in the sitting room, which had been her grandparents’ bedroom during their fifty-six years of marriage.

The African violets on the windowsills were a personal legacy from her grandmother. Gran had loved the flowers, and Amelia did, too. They were the one thing she prized and took infinite care in growing. They rewarded her efforts with profuse blooms.

Like children, she thought, they thrived under loving care. That part of her life was empty, and she wondered if she missed it. She’d planned on having two or three or even four kids so they wouldn’t be lonely.

As she’d been lonely?

The question pinged around inside her like a ball ricocheting off the walls of a handball court.

Yes, she admitted with a yawn. Vagabond children, sent hither and yon at what seemed like the whim of adults, were always lonely.

“No, I’ll stay here until I can get things settled,” Seth said into the telephone.

“The accident was your fault?” Uncle Nick asked.

“Yeah. As you often told us—don’t leave your things out so others will trip over them. I left my shoes in the way and Amelia stumbled over them. Beau says it’s a bad sprain. Pulled ligaments can take up to a year to mend.”

“You’re going to stay there and nurse her for a year?”

Seth frowned impatiently at the gleeful mischief in his favorite relative’s voice. “Of course not. However, it makes sense for me to stay in town while I’m establishing an office here. The B and B is perfect for that.”

There was a pause on the other end of the telephone line. “I’m glad you’re coming home,” Uncle Nick told him, “but is this a good time, what with the economy in a bad way and all? CNN reported the stock market was down again.”

“Well, I’m starting slow,” Seth reminded the older man. “I’ll work Thursdays and Fridays in the office I’m setting up at Beau’s place, and stay in the city Monday through Wednesday while I see how it goes.”

Uncle Nick gave his approval. “Good thinking. Sharing expenses at the office should help a lot.”

“It will.” Seth checked the time. “I’ve got to call my law partner in Boise, see Beau about the office, then it’ll be time for the social hour here. A man’s work is never done,” he quipped, then said goodbye and hung up.

He finished his business calls, then went quietly to Amelia’s private quarters. Yep, she was sleeping like a cherub on the sofa, which was a lot more comfortable than the Victorian one in the great room.

He realized she would be in the house alone and asleep if he left. The doors of the B and B weren’t locked during the day, so that guests could come and go freely. He tried to decide what to do.

After a moment, he smiled in exasperation. It wasn’t like him to hesitate. He settled upon the best course and got on with it. However, he had to admit this woman had given him pause last night and this morning.

When she’d let him in, wearing a soft pink velvet robe and fuzzy house slippers, he’d been rather taken aback by her appearance. This morning she’d fallen into his arms like a dream come true. His body had responded with rampant hunger. He hadn’t been able to disguise that fact while he’d had her pinned beneath him, her gaze startled, then wary.

Now, lying on the sofa, her hair like banked embers spread over the pillow, she looked like Sleeping Beauty awaiting her prince.

And that wasn’t him.

If ever there was a mongrel of dubious breed, he was it. Had Uncle Nick not vouched for him as a boy, today, as a man, Seth would probably be rotting in prison somewhere, resentful of life and what it had done to him. Nicholas Dalton had been his salvation.

Seth knew what a break he’d gotten. He’d been a stray mutt, taken in and fed and treated kindly. Never in a million years would he betray the trust Uncle Nick had shown in him.

He shook his head slightly, not sure what had brought on these deep, morbid musings. He had things to do. Going out the back door, he followed the sounds of music to the carriage house. There he found Honey, dressed in a black, full-body leotard, leading an exercise class.

When the music ended, she came over to him, wiping her damp face with a towel. “Whew, it’s getting hot today.”

“Depends on what you’re doing,” he said, taking in the mix of overweight men and women. “Interesting class.”

She glanced at the people preparing to leave. “It’s something Beau thought of for his patients. For weight control and also flexibility.”

“I see. Are you going to be around for a couple of hours?” he asked.

“Yes. Why?”

He explained about Amelia and her ankle, including the full details about why it was his fault, so that there would be no speculation about the situation. “So I need someone to keep an eye on her and the house while I’m out,” he concluded. “She’s asleep now.”

Honey’s eyes sparkled when she heard the story. “I don’t have classes again until school is out at three. I’ll be glad to stay with her.”

“I’ll be back in plenty of time to take care of the evening snacks.” He frowned. “I’ll have to order something for her dinner.”

“Why not serve pizza? It’s great for snacks or a meal,” Honey suggested. “Don’t tell Beau I said that, though. He’s on a campaign to make people eat healthier foods.”

“Good idea. I’ll order several kinds from the Crow’s Nest. And we can have fruit and veggies with it. You and Zack want to join us?”

“That would be lovely. I’ll call and leave word at the office. He’s off hunting down some poachers.”

Zack was a deputy sheriff with the county, heading an investigative unit charged with solving mysterious crimes, such as who occasionally slaughtered a cow on the range. That had happened pretty steadily all summer. The local ranchers were furious.

Seth left Honey in charge of Amelia and the B and B while he drove to the equally large Victorian that housed Beau’s medical practice and his own soon-to-be law office. Carpenters were working in the former dining room and parlor there.

Seth checked their progress, okayed a couple of minor changes in the plans, spoke briefly to his cousin, inviting him and Shelby over for the pizza dinner, too, then headed back to the B and B shortly after three, when Honey had to go back to her dancing classes.

Amelia was awake and on her feet when he walked in on her, surprising her in the kitchen.

“What the heck are you doing?” he demanded.

She eyed him coolly. “I have to plan something for tonight.”

“Didn’t Honey tell you it’s all been taken care of?”

She shook her head. Her hair was pulled tightly back into a ponytail. It refused to be tamed, however, and bounced jauntily each time she moved. She hopped on one foot to the refrigerator and removed a large tray. He saw she’d already prepared vegetables for the evening. That made him see red.

“Dammit, I turn my back for a minute and you’re up, disobeying orders and probably ruining your ankle.”

She gave him a look that said she doubted it.

Really irritated now, he removed the tray from her hands and set it on the counter. Next he swept her into his arms, toted her into the living room and plunked her on the sofa.

“Stay put,” he warned when she made a move to rise.

She settled down, but not before glaring at him. The telephone rang. “Well, are you going to take care of my business or not?” she asked sarcastically.

The office was built into an alcove that had once been a closet under the stairs. Like the kitchen, it had Dutch doors, the top part open and tucked out of the way. He leaned over the bottom section and picked up the portable phone.

“Uh, Lost Valley Bed and Breakfast,” he said, remembering the name of the place.

A woman asked about rooms and rates.

“Just a moment and I’ll transfer you to the reservation clerk.” He carried the phone to Amelia, who was still glaring his way. He grinned and dropped it into her lap, then headed for the kitchen to add the broccoli she’d prepared to the veggie selections.

Munching on a baby carrot, he finished filling the sections of the tray, placed the top over it and returned it to the refrigerator. When Amelia finished her conversation, he called the restaurant and ordered the pizzas. He gave his name and told the girl he’d pick them up at six.

“Five-thirty,” Amelia called from the living room.

“Five-thirty,” he corrected. “You got bionic ears?” he asked after hanging up.

She surprised him with a grin.

He made each of them a cup of tea and settled in a chair after adding logs and rekindling the fire. Now that the sun was going down, the air was cooling rapidly. He realized he loved the warmth of Indian summer days and the coolness of the nights.

“Ah, the good life,” he said. Surprised, he realized he meant it.

Glancing at Amelia, he regretted that he wasn’t the prince of her dreams. He hadn’t been all those years ago when passion had nearly overwhelmed them, and he wasn’t now.

That was an absolute fact.

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