Brigid turned onto her right side and plumped her pillow in a futile attempt to get comfortable. The almost human moans and squeaks of the old house settling bothered her more than usual, as if the walls and floors reflected her own misery. She could sense Byron’s state of mind across the hall, and he was as unhappy as her. Did their intimacy somehow connect them ever more?

She sat up and condemned herself for the foolish way she acted toward him. He had been nothing but kind in her time of need. She knew he truly cared for her.

To hell with Steven! Why not confess what he had done? Either Byron would run for the hills or stay put and sympathize. The first option was what she feared. How could she ever live without him? He effortlessly insinuated himself into her life. She desperately ne...

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