the house that had made it a home. It had been his granny. Now Maggie made it a home. Home was with Maggie, and he supposed it could be anywhere in the world. He found it astonishing that he could feel that way about a woman he’d known less than a week.
“I guess one place would be as good as another,” he told her, “but it’s hard to move a hundred and ten acres of apple trees. They don’t pack well.”
It was dark in Maggie’s room. The window was open, but there was no breeze to stir the curtains, no moon to splash silvery light across her floor. She’d come awake fast with her heart pounding in her chest, her throat tight with fear. She was afraid to open her eyes. Afraid to move. Afraid the intruder would notice her altered breathing pattern. She tried to think, but her mind was a blind alley that had no outlet for her panic.
Someone was in her room. She could feel it. She knew he was there. Clothing rustled. A board creaked in the floor. Her eyes flew open in time to see a shadow move toward the door. It was a man, and her first thought was of Hank. Let it be Hank, she prayed.
The shadow hurried into the dark hall and Maggie heard Horatio growl. The sound came from deep in the dog’s throat, low and threatening. He was moving slowly and stealthily across the floor, stalking the man. Maggie felt as if the house were holding its breath, and then all hell broke loose as Horatio bolted out of the bedroom. The intruder thundered down the stairs; his only concern to escape from the dog. Maggie was out of bed. She ran into the hall and saw Hank disappear down the stairwell after Horatio. A bloodcurdling scream carried from the front lawn, and then there was the sound of a car door slamming and a car being gunned down the driveway.
Maggie met Hank in the foyer. She reached out for him with a shaking hand, and found nothing but warm skin to hang on to. He’d only taken the time to pull on a pair of jeans. She flattened against him in her cotton nightshirt, and, to her own disgust, began to cry.
“He was in my room! I woke up, and he was moving around in my room! I don’t know what he was doing, or how long he’d been in there—”
She was babbling, but she couldn’t help it. It was the first time in her life she’d ever felt truly frightened. The first time she’d felt endangered and helpless.
Now that it was over, she was shaking from the inside out. She clamped her teeth together to keep them from chattering and pressed her forehead against Hank’s chest. She was hysterical, she thought…and she hated it. She stiffened her spine, pulled away from him, and took several deep breaths.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m better now.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You must think I’m an idiot, bursting into tears like some wimp.”
Hank eased her back to him. “If I’d known you’d turn to me in terror like that, I’d have hired someone to break into your room last night.”
He kissed her hair and smoothed his hands along the curve of her spine, feeling her warmth creep through the thin cotton. His arms wrapped around her, bringing her closer until she was snug against him. He’d given her a glib answer, but he didn’t feel so casual inside. He was furious that someone had violated his house, and he was horrified that the intruder had been in Maggie’s room.
Maggie splayed her hand flat to his chest. “Your heart is racing.”
“It’s your nightie.”
She gave him a playful slap, but he held tight. “I’m not ready to let go yet,” he told her. “If you want to know the truth, I’m probably more scared than you are. The thought of some slime bug crawling around in your room has my stomach churning.”
He buried his face in her hair and swore to himself that this wouldn’t happen again. As soon as the sun came up, he’d install locks on the doors, and from now on Horatio would sleep with Maggie.
Elsie came grumbling into the foyer. She was wearing big blue fuzzy slippers and a long blue house coat, and her short, steel-gray hair was standing on end in crazy, electrified-looking tufts.
“What the devil’s going on out here? Sounded like someone