Daniel's Desire Read Free Page B

bed?”
    His eyes popped open and met the gaze of two pale blue eyes surrounded by thick black lashes. He sat up, and ran his hand down his face. Amelia stood in front of him, holding Jace’s hand. And Daniel was, indeed, in Rosemarie Wilson’s bed.
    The pan with the water he’d been cooling her with sat on the floor. He must have set it there before he fell asleep, but had no memory of it. Never in his life had he been so tired he didn’t remember his movements.
    “Good morning, Miss Amelia,” he said.
    “Is my mama all better now?” With the trust of a child, she climbed onto the bed and settled on his lap. Jace imitated his sister and sat alongside him.
    “Not yet, but I think maybe later today she’ll start to feel a bit better.”
    “How’s Ma?” Chandler stood in the open doorway, rubbing his eyes.
    “She’s sleeping right now.” He laid his palm on her forehead. “Her fever seems a little lower, and that’s good.”
    Jace pulled on his shirt sleeve. “I’m hungwy.”
    Three sets of blue eyes gazed at him, the only adult in the room not unconscious. “Well, let’s go into the kitchen and have some breakfast.”
    “I can fix breakfast.” Chandler’s eyes narrowed. The boy had recovered his distrust of the stranger in his ma’s room.
    “No, Chandler.” Amelia turned to Daniel. “All he cooks is oatmeal. I hate oatmeal.”
    His experience with children pretty much non-existent, Daniel drew on childhood battles with his brother, Stephen, to attempt a compromise. “Maybe Chandler can make oatmeal, and we’ll find something to go with it.” He stood and lifted Jace off the bed. “I think we should leave your ma to rest.”
    Amelia placed her small hand in his large one as they walked to the kitchen. Her hand felt so light and delicate, it tickled his palm. A few days ago, he’d used these large hands to dig his way out of prison, and today he played nursemaid.
    He hadn’t paid much attention to the house last night. In addition to the darkness, his concern for the woman blocked everything else from his mind. Now as he looked around the room, his stomach dropped. After only a few days with their mama laid up, the place was a mess.
    Dirty dishes accumulated dangerously alongside the sink where he’d placed them when he pumped water. More dishes sat on the table, with crusting oatmeal in the bottom and sides of the bowls. Milk had splashed and dried on the floor, and a river of molasses flowed across the table.
    “I tried to clean up, but Amelia and Jace kept crying and trying to get to Ma.” Chandler’s face flushed, his stance belligerent.
    “It’s all right, son. If we all work together, the kitchen will be clean in no time, then we’ll have breakfast.”
    “But not oatmeal.” Amelia stuck her fingers in her mouth and shook her head.
    Daniel brought in the last of the wood from the woodbox behind the house. He started a fire in the stove to provide warmth to the small house.
    With all of them contributing — although Jace caused more problems than help — they got the room in order. Daniel found a few eggs in a bowl on the near-empty pantry shelf, scrambled them up and added that to the breakfast of oatmeal. Then he sliced the last of a loaf of bread and slapped a jar of honey alongside it.
    So much for his plans to leave at first light. Food supplies were low, the woman in the next room could still die, and three children all sat looking at him expectantly. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, as his other hand slipped into his pocket where he fingered the ring, its inner rim etched with the words Honorem et Officium — Honor and Duty. The motto of the McCoy family, drilled into his head since childhood.
    The ring had been in his family for generations. Passed from father to son, Daniel had received it from his papa on his deathbed. Honor in dealings with others, and duty to those in need. And the Wilsons were definitely in need.
    “Chandler, can you and Amelia