Wolfe walked over to where Willow lay. When Caleb looked up, Wolfe’s throat tightened over protests he couldn’t voice. Caleb looked like a man who no longer believed in anything, even Hell.

«What can I do?» Wolfe asked quietly.

«Get her mares,» Caleb said, looking back at Willow. The back of his fingers caressed her cheek as lightly as a breath. «When she wakes up, I want her to see all her horses cropping grass nearby. I want her to open her eyes and see…»

Caleb’s voice frayed into silence. Wolfe put his hand on the other man’s right shoulder, squeezed, and turned away without saying anything. There were no words that could put the light back in Caleb’s eyes.

Caleb didn’t look up when Wolfe rode out. He didn’t look up when Reno made an oversized bed of evergreen boughs. But when Reno would have moved Willow, Caleb pushed the other man’s hands away and lifted Willow despite his wound. The pain in his arm simply didn’t matter except to tell Caleb he was still alive and Willow wasn’t, not quite.

«I’m going up on that rise,» Reno said. «I’ll be able to guard better from up there.»

Caleb nodded without looking up. Gently, he put Willow on the bed, pulled the blanket over her once more, and lay down next to her. His fingertips sought her wrist again, needing the reassurance of her pulse. Its steady, strong beat was all that stood between Caleb and the kind of darkness he hadn’t known existed until he had turned at the sound of Willow’s cry and seen her falling.

But Willow had known such darkness existed. He had seen it in her eyes last night, when she stood in the moonlight and called herself his whore. He had been furious that she could so belittle herself and him and what they had shared. She had been furious in just the same way, a rage as deep as the passion they had shared.

Yet underneath all the hurt, all the rage, Caleb had heard Willow calling his name in silence, asking why something that had begun in such beauty had ended in such terrible darkness. He had been asking the same thing since he had known she was Reno’s sister.

No answer had come to Caleb, only a pain that grew greater with each breath, each shared touch, each instant of knowing that eventually love would end and hatred begin.

And it had.

Reflexively, Caleb closed his eyes as though that would somehow erase the painful memories. It didn’t. He kept hearing Willow’s husky voice calling his name, haunting echo of a love lost before it could be truly found.

Caleb, what’s wrong? Caleb? What happened? Why won’t you answer me? Caleb? Caleb!

Then he realized that it was Willow, not memory, calling his name.

«Caleb.»

Slowly he opened his eyes, afraid to believe he wasn’t dreaming.

Willow looked at Caleb anxiously, her heart turning over at the expression on his face. Even as she winced at the headache that had come from nowhere, she touched his cheek with trembling fingertips, wanting to soothe the pain she saw in his eyes.

«You’re hurt,» Willow said, seeing the bloody bandage as though for the first time.

«I was shot.» Caleb looked at her intently, wondering at the concern in her, the emotion that made her look at him as though the past night had never happened. «So were you.»

Hazel eyes widened, revealing every shade of blue and green, amber and gray. Caleb felt his tension ease even more when both pupils contracted evenly in response to the increased light. The men who had died of their head wounds hadn’t been able to respond to light with both eyes.

«Shot?» she asked. «How? When? I don’t remember.»

«Don’t try to sit up,» he said, but it was too late.

A low sound came from Willow. Caleb caught her and eased her back down onto the bed.

«My head hurts.»

«Running into a bullet will do that.» He kissed her very gently and stroked her cheek. When she didn’t withdraw, but instead turned her face toward his caress, he felt a relief so great it was dizzying. He brushed his lips over hers and whispered, «Lie still, love. You’re weak as a kitten.»

«When did all this happen?»

Caleb looked at his watch and couldn’t believe so little time had passed. He felt as though he had spent months watching Willow’s unnatural sleep.

«Less than an hour ago,» he said.

She frowned, trying to remember. «Matt? Is Matt all right? Are you?»

«Your brother is up on the hill guarding us. My wound isn’t worth mentioning. Wolfe is getting your mares. He brought Ishmael back, too. Everything is fine. Except you. How much do you remember?»

Caleb couldn’t quite keep the hope from his voice. Amnesia sometimes followed head wounds. He would give a great deal if Willow could forget what had happened last night.

He knew the exact instant when Willow remembered. The light and loving concern left her eyes. Very slowly, she turned her face away so that his fingers were no longer touching her cheek.

«I remember riding out on Ishmael rather than have you marry me under the threat of Matt’s gun,» she said finally.

«Yes, I can see you remember that. Anything else?» Caleb asked tonelessly.

Willow frowned and lifted her hands to her temples, trying to rub away the pain. «I remember running Ishmael much too long, too hard.»

«Ishmael came through it just fine. Jed Slater didn’t have any use for people in general and women in particular, but he was the finest horseman Kentucky ever raised. He cooled out Ishmael personally. Do you remember anything else?»

«Fighting the man who grabbed me. It didn’t work. He slapped me so hard I couldn’t see or hear.»

Caleb’s jaw tightened. «You clawed him pretty good just the same.»

«Yes, I remember his face. He was the one guarding me.» Willow’s expression changed as she recalled the blood on Caleb’s knife. «I thought he was taking a nap, but he wasn’t, was he?»

«What else do you remember?»

«You,» Willow said simply. «You cut me free, crawled behind me out of camp, and when the shooting started, you covered me with your own body,» She looked at him through the thick amber screen of her eyelashes. «That’s when you were wounded, wasn’t it? I felt you jerk.»

«Do you remember anything else?»

«I’m sorry, Caleb,» she whispered, ignoring his attempt to change the subject. «I never meant for you to be hurt. I was the seducer, not the seduced. I knew Matt wouldn’t see it that way and I didn’t want him to shoot you for a seduction that was my fault, not yours, so I left. My brother is so fast with —»

Willow’s words were chopped off as her breath came in with a harsh sound. She remembered seeing Caleb turn and draw his gun in a flashing instant and thunder rolling, and it had happened all at once, all of a piece.

«You’re as fast as my brother.»

«Maybe, but probably not,» Caleb said evenly. «In any case, fast doesn’t always count. What counts is hitting what you shoot at and being willing to take a bullet in return.»

«You did.»

«So did Jed Slater. He’s lucky he died. I would have hung him for what he did to you.»

Willow sighed and pursued the only subject that mattered to her. «You aren’t afraid of Matt’s gun, so why did you agree to marry me rather than face him?»

«I didn’t want to kill someone you loved,» Caleb said simply. «You loved your brother. You said you loved me. One of us would have been killed, Willow. Probably both. That’s what happens when well-matched men are stupid enough or unlucky enough to meet over drawn guns. Since I planned on marrying you anyway, it seemed foolish to fight Reno over it. I’d just as soon your brother was alive to give you away.»

«When…» Willow swallowed dryly. «When did you figure out how good Matt was with his gun?»

«The minute Becky said the name Reno. Your brother has earned a reputation as a bad man in a fight. He’s never hunted that reputation, but that didn’t keep people from talking. Wolfe warned me, too. He said Reno and I would likely kill each other.»