“Don’t you look like a proper frontier woman, ready to ride off and tame the wild,” Cedric said.

“Makes sense, since I’m a better rider than you.” I walked up to Lizzie. “Are you sure she can carry two of us?”

“You tell me, horsemistress.”

I patted the old mare’s neck. “Sure she can. Just no hard gallops.”

We’d been too fresh out of Cape Triumph to even think about riding a horse together on our initial journey. Here, on the edge of civilization, the rules were more relaxed. Customs were dictated by expediency, and if we’d travel faster by horseback, so be it. He helped me up to the front of Lizzie and then jumped up behind me, much more gracefully than other times I’d observed him while traveling.

We followed a narrow, nearly overgrown trail through a wood of mixed trees. The morning soon warmed up, and I shrugged out of the coat. Our relationship might not be exactly forbidden anymore, but that didn’t change the electric connection between us. My body still buzzed with awareness of his, and as we made the two-hour journey, I realized I’d never had his arms around me for so long—aside from our nighttime getaways on the road to Hadisen.

The land sloped upward rapidly, but Lizzie plodded on. The claim was perched on a foothill that had been given the fanciful name of Silver Dove Mountain. A wide river flowed through it, and the view was breathtaking, revealing other mountains as well as the fertile lands we’d just ridden out of. I was so transfixed by it that took me a moment to really take in the rest of the claim.

“Wasn’t there supposed to be a house here?” I asked.

“There,” he said, gesturing to a small rise of land.

I followed him over and made out what I’d mistaken for a storage shed. It had a significant slant to it, and it was unclear to me if that was intentional or not. The outer planks were a mix of woods—some old and weathered, some new and yellow. The roof looked aged but sturdy, except for one corner that was covered by a tarp.

Cedric followed my gaze to it. “I still have to work on that.”

“Have you . . . have you been working on the rest of it?” I asked delicately. I didn’t want to offend him, but it was really hard to tell.

“It’s why I was so late. When I got here, this thing was barely standing. I spent that first rainy night on the ground, huddled under the tarp. I’ve made trips into town for supplies and did a lot of the repairs myself. The prospector on the next claim over helped me with some too.” Cedric looked over the shack. “I didn’t want you to see it—or even this whole place—in such a state. There’s so much work to do. But I knew I couldn’t stay away any longer.”

I found his hand and laced my fingers with his. “I’m glad you didn’t. And you can’t be ashamed of any of this, not if we’re going to share a life together.”

He lifted my hand and studied it. The skin was cracked and raw from the lye. Dirt was everywhere, especially under my nails. There was a long cut I didn’t even remember getting. Releasing the hand, he sighed.

“Hey, now. Don’t so sound so dejected,” I told him. “It’s nothing some moisturizer and a little soap—real soap, not that cursed stuff Mistress Marshall made—won’t fix. I’ll be back to my same old beautiful self in no time.”

He turned me to face him. The afternoon sun lit him up, turning his dark auburn hair to fire. “You’re already your same old beautiful self. Maybe even more so than when I first met you. I think about that day a lot, you know. I remember every detail. I remember that dress you wore—blue satin with rosebuds on the sleeves. And every curl perfectly arranged. I’d never seen anything like you. Lady Witmore, Countess of Rothford.” He sighed again. “And now look what I’ve brought you to. If I hadn’t darkened your doorway that day, where would you be now? Certainly not in the middle of nowhere, scrubbing some farmwife’s house while desperately hoping your heretic husband can scrape together enough money to buy us both out of suffocating contracts. You’d have been married in silk, on the arm of someone whose bloodline matched yours. You’re still like nothing I’ve ever seen, and you’re the first thing I think of when I wake up each morning . . . but sometimes, well, I’m just not sure if I’ve improved your life or made it worse.”

I looked him over. Like me, he was dirty and disarrayed, his workman’s clothes a far cry from the brocade vest and amber pin.

“You saved my life,” I told him. “And I don’t need silk.” I pulled him toward me, and we met in a kiss. The world around me was golden. I was warmed by the sun, his embrace, and the joy building up within me. There was no dirt or fear or complication—only this perfect moment with him. “Now,” I said. “Show me around your house.”

His house consisted of one room. A battered, tiny stove in the corner provided both heat and cooking, though he didn’t have much in the way of food. There were two chairs and a table about the width of a bookshelf. His bed was a hay-stuffed mattress on the floor—which was packed dirt, just like the Marshalls’. I tapped my foot on it.

“I know how to sweep this if you need help.”

He shook his head. “This whole place needs help. Do you want to see the rest of the property? I can even show you the basics of panning. I haven’t been able to do much with it while working on this place.”

I hesitated. I did want to jump in and start earning the money to pay back Warren. And desolate or not, this claim and its view were beautiful. I wouldn’t have minded exploring them.

“Mostly I just want a bath,” I blurted out. When he started laughing, I put my hands on my hips and attempted an affronted look. “Hey, some of us haven’t been able to sleep out in the rain. Apparently baths are only for Saturdays at the Marshall house.”

It was worth the teasing in his eyes to see the old, genuine smile back. He caught my hand again. “Come on. I think that can be arranged.”

“Is there a luxury bathhouse on your property?” I asked hopefully.

There wasn’t, but there was a small pool—more of a pond, really—not far from a bend in the Mathias River. It appeared to be fed by some underground source, which wasn’t surprising given the river’s meandering and branching nature. A few trees grew around the pond, offering a little shade on the increasingly hot day.

“I know it’s not what you’re used to,” Cedric said apologetically. “But given the circumstances, I figured—wait, what are you doing?”

What I was doing was stripping off my clothes. I didn’t care that I couldn’t see the bottom of the pond. I didn’t care that I had no soap. I didn’t care if the neighborly prospector came strolling by and saw. And I certainly didn’t care if Cedric saw.

I left my clothes in a pile on the thin grass and waded into the pond. The afternoon might be warm, but the water was still cool and welcome after days of grime and sweat. I didn’t stop until the water was just below my shoulders, and then I dunked my head under in a feeble effort to clean my hair. When I emerged, I pushed the tangled mess back and looked around. Cedric still stood on the grass, his back to me.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “Come in here.”