“A lot I care about that.”
Carina crossed back to her and snatched Mae’s hands between her own. “You will be there for each other, won’t you? I’ll miss you both so much.”
Mae’s voice grew thick. “We managed fine before you, Carina.”
The words were gruff, but Carina saw the pain behind them. “Oh, Mae.” Once again she flung herself into Mae’s arms.
“Land sakes.” But Mae held her close and stroked the hair hanging down Carina’s back. “Lot of fuss.”
“I feel like I’m tearing part of myself away. I’ll miss you. I’ll think of you.”
Mae softly peeled Carina’s arms from her neck. “You’re not gone yet.”
“I already miss you.”
Mae shook her head, laughing. “Well, I’ll miss you, too, for what it’s worth. You sure have livened things up. But I think it’s right, you going with Quillan. He needs a new start somewhere himself. Outside of Crystal he can be his own man, not under the shadow of Wolf and Rose. Just the two of you starting fresh.”
Carina walked anxiously to the window. “When will he come?”
“He’ll come when he comes. He’s Quillan.” Mae chuckled softly. “Some things don’t change.”
Carina threw up one hand. “That will change if I have anything to say.”
“And I’m sure you will. But remember, Carina, he’ll tame better with honey than vinegar.”
Carina spun. “Do you think me sharp tongued?”
“I’ve heard you draw blood.”
Carina clutched her hands at her breast, feeling an agonizing ache.
“Not to say he doesn’t need it sometimes, the way he goes on with that ne’er-do-well pose and that smile like a—”
“Pirate.”
Mae paused, then laughed. “Never thought in those terms, but that is what it is. Oh, you two will be flint and steel. But I’m not sure that doesn’t make for a better flame in the end.”
“If only he’d come.” Carina spoke more to herself, looking once again toward the window. And then it seemed as though she’d wished him there, for she watched Quillan climb the step, Sam at his heels. With a cry, she rushed forward, jerked open the door, and threw herself into his arms. “I was so wishing for you!”
Loaded down with his pack, he lost his balance, then recovered. “Carina, what are you doing out of bed?” His breath was white with every word.
“Is that all you can say?” She caught his cold cheeks between her palms.
Suddenly he crushed her into his embrace and buried his face in the crown of her hair. He groaned. “Oh, I missed you.” He half carried, half swung her inside and kicked the door shut with Sam jumping around them in eager jubilation. He cupped her head, raised her face, and kissed her. Carina forgot everything else. What else was there?
When Mae left, she didn’t know, but when they at last parted, Carina was alone with the man she loved with aching force. “What took you so long? Every day I looked for you. Every day I prayed, ‘Signore, bring my husband home!’ ”
Quillan laughed. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear from D.C. until two days ago. I tried to get back that very day, but the road was impassable. I had to dig through.”
“Oh, Quillan.” She clutched his hands, thinking how hard his work had been. She knew well that treacherous strip of road. “I’m glad I didn’t know. I’d have been sick with worry.”
He held her again, stroking her hair. “Are you well now?”
“I’ve never been better.” She reached up and kissed his icy mustache.
“I mean healed.” He pulled back. “Are you healed? What does Doc Felden say?”
She waved a hand. “No riding horseback or even carriage. No overexcitement.” She laughed. “No doubt at this moment he’d be ordering me to bed.”
Quillan reached out and stroked her face. “Don’t tempt me, Carina.” His mischievous eyes caught her breath. Then he turned away. “Wait till you see what I brought you.”
“You brought me something?”
“Something! My pack is twice as heavy.”
“Oh.” She caught her hands beneath her chin. “Show me.”
He paused. “Maybe I shouldn’t. If Dr. Felden said no excitement . . .”
Carina pounded her fists into his chest.
He caught them, laughing. “All right, all right. Sit down and compose yourself. You can compose yourself, can’t you?”
Carina thought she had never seen him so genuinely happy. Instead of responding to his barb, she sat on the side of the bed and folded her hands in her lap.
He cocked his head and stood a long moment, just looking. “Have I told you what a beautiful woman you are?”
“Once.” On their wedding night.
He swallowed, as though to speak again, then turned and tugged his pack up onto the bed.
She didn’t care that it was frosty with snow and would get the quilt wet. She felt like a child on Christmas morning. What had he brought her? She watched him tug open the ties and tried not to squirm. She leaned close when he reached in, but he raised his brows and paused until she settled back. Then he drew out a tissue-wrapped parcel, small and light. How could that make his pack heavy?
He held it out, and she took it from his hand. Carefully she opened the tissue to find an exquisite lace collar with a tiny pearl button fastening at the back. “Oh, Quillan, it’s beautiful.”
“That was the first day.”
“The first?”
As an answer he reached in again, felt about, then brought out a flat box some six inches by eight wrapped in paper. “This was the third. Day two wouldn’t fit in the pack. It’s in my wagon.”
“What are you talking about?” She reached for the box and untied the ribbon that held the paper closed about the box. The box held writing paper painted with a border of roses.
He said, “Every day I was gone I found you something.”
She looked up from the paper to see him reaching once again into the pack. “Every day?”
“You’ll like this one.”
He handed her a tiny parcel, which she opened, finding a clear pinkish purple amethyst in a gold filigree setting on a thin gold stickpin. Her throat tightened with emotion. It was not even that the pin was beautiful, but that he had so carefully chosen each item he was presenting. She knew him, how he must have shopped about to find the right things, then haggled and paid. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him.
“Don’t cry.”
“I can’t help it.”
He bent down and raised her chin. “I can’t give you the others if you cry, Carina.” A tear dropped to her cheek, and he stroked it away with his thumb.
“It’s too much,” she said.
“How else could I show you—” he dropped to his knees, face ear-nest—“ how much I care?”
She held the stickpin to her breast and closed her eyes. She felt his lips touch hers and eagerly replied. He eased her back on the bed and kissed her deeper, catching her hair in his fingers. All her being quickened to him, her husband. She brought her arms around his neck. The rest of the gifts would have to wait.