“Me.”
Mabel stopped.
Snow landed on her veil.
Melted.
Gideon continued.
“I believe you.”
Her throat closed.
He had no evidence beyond a bottle and her words.
Still.
He believed her.
“Why?”
“Because nobody invents details like the ones you just gave while trying to make herself look good.”
Despite everything, a laugh escaped her.
Gideon’s mouth softened.
Then he looked toward the mountain road.
“What happens when you turn twenty-seven?”
“I must appear before the county clerk and execute the transfer.”
“Personally?”
“Yes.”
“If you don’t?”
“Jonah can petition for continued control on grounds of incapacity or absence.”
Gideon’s jaw tightened.
“So sending you away helps him.”
“Yes.”
“Killing you helps more.”
Mabel looked at the vial.
“Yes.”
Gideon started the horses again.
“Then we don’t go home.”
She turned.
“What?”
“We go to my cabin.”
“You just said—”
“We don’t go back to Ridge Creek.”
He looked at her.
“Not until we know who is with Jonah.”
Mabel felt fear.
Then relief.
“Your cabin is isolated.”
“That’s why I live there.”
“People say you hate people.”
“People talk too much.”
She almost smiled.
Then Gideon added:
“And nobody reaches that cabin without me hearing them half a mile away.”
For the first time in months, Mabel felt safer moving farther from town.
Gideon’s cabin was larger than she expected.
Not grand.
Solid.
Two rooms downstairs.
One loft.
Stone fireplace.
Heavy roof.
Barn nearby.
Mountain stream behind the property.
The place smelled of pine, leather, smoke, and a man who had never needed decorative fabric.
Mabel stepped inside.
Dust.
Tools on the table.
Boots near the hearth.
Three rifles on pegs.
Books stacked badly.
A chair with a broken rung.
One large bed visible through the open bedroom doorway.
She stopped.
Gideon followed her gaze.
“I’ll sleep in the loft.”
Mabel looked at him.
“This is your house.”
“You’re my wife.”
“That supposedly means we share a room.”
“Supposedly means whatever we decide.”
The answer warmed her.
She unpinned part of the wedding train.
Gideon looked toward it.
“You need help?”
Mabel hesitated.
The gown had thirty tiny buttons down the back.
Her seamstress had warned that a bride required assistance.
At the time Mabel assumed Jonah’s housekeeper would help after the reception.
Now they were alone.
“I…”
Gideon understood.
His eyes moved toward the buttons.
Then back to her face.
“I can turn around while you change.”
“I cannot reach them.”
He became very still.
Mabel felt heat rise.
“You can say no.”
“No.”
“That sounded frightening.”
“I mean I can help.”
He removed his gloves.
Mabel turned slowly.
Her pulse became unbearable.
Gideon approached behind her.
He did not touch skin.
Only the first pearl button.
His fingers were large and clumsy.
The button resisted.
He muttered something.
Mabel smiled.
“You can handle a rifle but not lace?”
“Rifles were designed by reasonable people.”
She laughed.
One button opened.
Then another.
Gideon worked downward slowly.
Mabel could feel the warmth of him behind her.
Not touching.