McKenna gave him a quick hug. "But I like Abigail very much."

Hannish sighed and watched her climb the stairs. "So do I."

*

No one heard his horse approach or expected it when Charles Whitfield came to call the next morning. He rang the bell, did not bother to wait for the butler, walked right in and nearly ran over a surprised Alistair. "Tell Miss MacGreagor I am here."

"Very good, Sir." When Alistair heard footsteps behind him, he stopped and turned around. "If you would be so good as to wait here, Sir."

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"I hope to surprise her."

"She is not fond of surprises, if you will just…"

"I will not."

Reluctantly, Alistair led the way to the small sitting room where McKenna was sipping tea and looking through her copy of the catalog. "Miss McKenna, Mr.…"

"McKenna, but you do look all aglow this morning." Charles interrupted, walking past Alistair to the center of the room. "I trust your headache is gone and you slept well." He finally remembered to take off his tall, round hat and hand it to the butler. "What is your name again?"

"Alistair, Sir."

"You may go, Alistair."

"He stays," McKenna said, closing the catalog.

"Must he? I wished to speak to you alone."

"About what?"

Charles glanced at the defiant looking Alistair and straightened his shoulders. "I have come to take you to the Garden of the Gods."

"Thank you, no. I dinna wish to see them."

"Everyone goes to see them and you will not be disappointed. They are very fine rock formations."

"Are they marble?"

"Well, no, they are sandstone, I believe."

"Then I dinna wish to go."

Charles quickly sat in a chair opposite her. "Perhaps you would rather see…"

"Mr. Whitfield, I found your behavior last night unpardonable. I dinna wish to go anywhere with you, or ever see you again. Please leave."

"You will change your mind, once you learn how much I am to inherit when my father dies."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Poor Mr. Whitfield, does he know you wish him dead?"

"I do not wish him dead."

"But you shall not be wealthy until he is, am I right?"

"I…suppose not," Charles stammered.

"Perhaps you might do a little of your own prospecting. I hear there are mountains aplenty between here and California. Surely, several have gold for the takin'. Then you shan't have to wait until he dies."

"Ah, but I could not deprive myself of your beauty for that long."

His grin was just as disgusting as it had been the night before, and she was tempted to throw her catalog at him. "Please leave."




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