Rebel with a Heart. Carol Arens

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      She would miss seeing the sunrise once she returned to her life with Dunbar’s Touring Troupe.

      Even more, she suspected she would miss the first fresh pastries of the day. She opened the door to Martha’s Baked Goods and was greeted by the aromas of cinnamon, vanilla and yeast.

      She purchased four cinnamon buns drizzled with honey. The children would be thrilled with the treat.

      Bethany would have provided her children with a healthy breakfast of eggs and milk.

      But Lilleth wasn’t a mother, just an indulgent auntie who had never learned to cook. Life on the road, living from hotel to hotel with a group of traveling performers had never presented her the opportunity to learn.

      Well, then, that would be one of her goals this month. By the time they rescued Bethany, the children would be eating meals that she had prepared with her own hands.

      Lilleth warmed her fingers about the bag of baked goods and hurried the three doors down to Clark’s place, slipping, sliding and wobbling.

      Clark had started a fire while she had been out. Warmth wrapped around her as soon as she stepped inside. Upstairs, she heard Jess’s footsteps and Mary’s good-morning coos.

      Clark sat at his desk, head down on folded arms and fast asleep with a pair of glasses clutched in his fist. The poor man must be exhausted. He couldn’t have done more than doze in a chair all night.

      “Clark,” she whispered. The familiarity of using his first name felt a little awkward, and a lot nice. “I’ve brought breakfast.”

      He didn’t wake up, but his mouth lifted, revealing the barest hint of a dimple at one corner. My goodness, the man was appealing.

      There was something about him that didn’t quite make sense. He was a complete bumbler, as likely to trip over his own feet as walk a steady line. Once in a while, though, he wasn’t.

      Lilleth bent over to peer more closely at his face. She shouldn’t; he was nearly a stranger. She leaned another inch toward him. Something about him called to her. Why didn’t he seem like a stranger?

      She had spent the night in his bed. That must be the reason.

      He appeared to be dreaming. She watched his eyes move behind his lids. His lips compressed, then relaxed. Thick dark lashes twitched...they blinked.

      Sleep-misted eyes opened wide and blue, then blinked again.

      “Good morning, Lilly.”

      By heavens, there was a dimple. And could she be any more of a ninny, staring and blinking back?

      She straightened and backed up, holding the bag of cinnamon rolls between them. “I’ve brought breakfast.”

      “Martha’s?” He rolled one shoulder, then the other, stretched...grinned and sat up. “I’m starved.”

      An apology would have been called for, could she have found one appropriate to the situation. But just then Jess came downstairs with Mary in his arms.

      “Morning, Ma, Mr. Clarkly. Is that sweets?” His eyes grew wide in anticipation. There were some things that Bethany would have to set straight later on. Her children’s diet being the first. “I’m starved.”

      “Sit down there on the rug in front of the fire,” Lilleth told him. Jess did so, placing himself between the hearth and his baby sister. “Careful with the crumbs.”

      Lilleth sat on the rug and broke off small pieces of cinnamon bun, feeding them to Mary. Clark, with his glasses perched low on his nose, completed the circle. He sat beside her with his ankles crossed and his knees sticking out. He didn’t seem to notice that his left knee bumped into her right one.

      Any other man would get a swift boot in the... But this was Clark, and chances were he was oblivious to where his limbs ended up.

      “I have good news,” Lilleth announced, scooting beyond reach of Clark’s knee. “I’ve found us a place to live!”

      “Why, that’s... Well, it’s...” For some reason it took an instant for his smile to reach his eyes. “Truly wonderful news. Where?”

      “We’ll be neighbors, Clark. I’ve rented the cabin in the woods, just down the path behind the lending library.”

      He choked on cinnamon and honey.

      “That’s just...” He managed to catch his breath despite the crumbs still lodged in his throat. “I’m pleased as can be.”

      But he wasn’t. And that was as clear as could be.

      * * *

      Trace stood on his back porch watching Lilleth and her brood, valises in hand, walking down the path that led into the woods. Cold sunshine winked on the snow and glinted off his fake glasses. He’d have to keep them on, though, even though the glare was making his eyes sting.

      At the tree line, Lilleth turned and waved. The confident smile on her face wouldn’t last long. In another five minutes she would discover that her cozy, furnished cabin was barely fit to live in.

      Trace waved back, but watching while she vanished among the trees made him feel off-kilter. As if something precious had been given, and then snatched away before he’d even had time to blink at the wonder of it.

      Trace was a man grounded in reality. Facts were what he lived and breathed.

      Still, it couldn’t have been an accident that his long-lost Lils had spent the night under his roof. It couldn’t have been pure chance that put them both on the same train platform at the same instant in time.

      Letting her walk away now felt like an act against their common destiny.

      Or could it be that their destinies weren’t common? Maybe letting her walk away was fulfilling that.

      It was all just a bunch of fancy thinking, anyway, fate and destiny.

      Facts, on the other hand, were what they were, no guessing or wondering involved. It would serve him well to keep them in mind.

      Here was a hard and cold fact: Lils was walking into a bad situation and taking her children with her.

      Another fact was that Trace was honor-bound to protect the inmates at Hanispree, and the safest way to do that was to let Lilleth take that path into the woods and deal with her problems on her own.

      And the last fact on his mental list...he would not do it.

      Trace picked up the ax leaning against the woodpile beside his back door and followed Lilleth’s footprints into the woods.

      He grinned, considering a fact he had just added to his mental list. It didn’t have a thing to do with fancy thinking; it was as hard as facts go.

      Clark Clarkly was going to kiss Lilly Gordon.

      Chapter Four

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