The Sheriff's Christmas Twins. Karen Kirst

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      “He’s never indicated such a thing to me.”

      “Are his concerns well-founded?”

      “Of course not.”

      He advanced toward her, stopping in the middle of the multicolored rug. “Why aren’t you married? I thought for sure one of your many admirers would’ve snatched you up as soon as you were of age.”

      She considered how to answer. Admitting that no man could hold a candle to the enigmatic, hurting young man he’d once been was out of the question.

      “I could ask the same of you. You’re thirty-two and still unwed.”

      “I’m not the marrying kind, and we both know it. You, on the other hand, were born to be a wife and mother.” As soon as he’d said the words, color etched his sharp cheekbones. “You know what? Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”

      “It’s all right.” Some part of her that yet smarted from his rejection prompted her to reveal the next part. “In truth, there is someone special. His name is Trevor Langston. As soon as I return to Virginia, I’m going to accept his offer of courtship.”

      She’d resisted for foolish reasons. Coming face-to-face with her past had shown her that. Shane wasn’t interested in any sort of relationship. Trevor, on the other hand, had been unwavering in his desire to court her.

      Shane’s features remained a blank mask, but the skin around his eye twitched. What was he irritated about? He didn’t care about her or her life.

      “Who is he?” His voice was even. Cool. Unaffected. “Would George approve?”

      “My brother is aware of his interest. Trevor works with us. He’s a wonderful man. Solicitous, dedicated, too smart for words...” She trailed off, realizing she was describing his assets in terms of his value as a company employee.

      “I assume he’s from a respectable family?”

      “His family and ours have been friends for many years. We met at church, believe it or not. His sister and I have many common interests.”

      “Does he treat you well?”

      She cocked her head to one side. “For someone who hasn’t bothered to contact me in more than a decade, you’re awfully curious about my romantic prospects. Why is that?”

      “No particular reason. If you don’t wish to discuss him, we won’t.”

      He started up the stairs. “Come on up and choose your room so I’ll know where to put your luggage.”

      “Wait.”

      His fingers flexed on the polished banister. He sighed again, something she noticed he did a lot around her. Come to think of it, he used to do it at Ashworth House, too. What about her vexed him so?

      Allison went to stand at the base of the stairs, waiting for him to turn and look at her. When he did, she said, “Who his family is doesn’t matter to me as much as what kind of man he is. His character. His beliefs.”

      A muscle jumped in his cheek. “That’s nice.”

      “I’m not finished.” Tired of skirting around the issue, she climbed the steps until she was one below him. Standing sideways, he leaned against the wall, aiming for a casual pose that didn’t fool her. “You said you’re not the marrying kind. Why not?”

      He rolled his eyes. “I’m not discussing this right now. I’ve got to get you settled and swing by the mercantile for perishables since I didn’t have time to stock the kitchen. There’s nothing much to eat here, and it’s nearly noon.”

      When he would’ve continued on upstairs, she put a hand on his forearm. “Allowing your mother’s poor decisions and ill treatment to keep you from having a family is wrong, Shane.”

      His eyes turned flinty. “You’ve been in town an hour and you’re trying to tell me how to live my life? You know nothing about me save for whatever tidbits your brother’s told you. So we lived under the same roof for a few years. That doesn’t make you an expert on what I need, Allison Ashworth.”

Chapter Three

      He’d blundered. Again. George would have his hide if he knew.

      The image of David Ashworth’s craggy face entered his mind, and he felt ashamed. David had extended mercy to Shane when he’d least deserved it—instead of hauling him off to jail for stealing from one of his stores, David had offered him a paying job. And months later, when the older man learned that Shane’s mother had died, their home had burned and Shane was sleeping in a makeshift camp at the edge of town, he’d taken him home and made him a part of his family.

      Or at least he’d tried. Shane hadn’t made it easy.

      He threaded his fingers through his hair. “Look, I don’t like talking about my past. You know that.”

      “I remember.”

      “But that doesn’t excuse my rudeness, and I’m sorry. I know how much you enjoy Christmas and all the traditions that go along with it. This is your first holiday in Tennessee, and I want you to have a pleasant visit. So let’s agree to leave that particular subject buried, okay?”

      She didn’t look happy about his request, but she eventually nodded.

      The second floor was a few degrees warmer than the first, but that wasn’t saying much. He stood against the long interior wall to give her room to navigate the papered hallway and examine the rooms. The color in her cheeks was heightened, due to her vexation with him or the cold, he couldn’t determine.

      After peeking in all the doorways, she entered the room to the immediate right of the stairs. “I’ll take this one. George, Clarissa and George Jr. can be at the opposite end of the hall and the older children next to them.”

      “Are you still in your old bedroom at home?”

      “No. Soon after their engagement, I moved to the third floor.”

      Hearing the wistfulness in her voice, he said, “You liked that room. You spent hours in the window seat with your books and your diary or simply observing the world from your perch.”

      “I did like it.” An adorable pleat formed between her golden eyebrows. “But having an entire floor to myself suits me. With four children and a passel of staff members in the house, I don’t get much privacy.”

      Removing the borrowed cape, she draped it over the carved footboard. Peering down at her ill-fitting clothes, she shook her head in disgust. Shane watched as she walked to the mirror above the bureau and inspected her disheveled, paint-flecked hair. In the reflective glass, her gaze found his.

      “I made sure my arrival didn’t go unnoticed, didn’t I?”

      “At least the color doesn’t clash with your hair.”

      Turning, she attempted to smooth it. “It’s still straight as a stick, I’m afraid.”

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