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  He released her, pushing her with such force that she slammed backward into a cabinet. She righted herself, closing the door and locking it after his departure.

  She moved to the back of her office and to the living area, clutching her side. “Go out the back door,” she wheezed.

  “I did no’ ken ye had a back door.” Ewan frowned as he watched her. “He hurt ye.”

  “I think that man is good for little else.” She kept one hand at her side. “I refuse to argue with you further today, Ewan. Please leave. Please be discreet.”

  He watched her with interest. “Why should I be discreet when ye refuse to be about my family?”

  She raised a hand and rubbed at her forehead. “Leave.”

  “Aye, I will. But here’s my bargain. I’ll no’ say a word about last night if ye refrain from publishin’ about Leticia and Hortence. If ye do print that article, then all will ken about our night of passion.”

  She belted him in the shoulder with her free hand. “You know we shared no passion!”

  He laughed with no real humor. “Ah, ye ken how to hurt a man. I had hoped ye felt somethin’ when I held ye in my arms for our kiss.” He watched as she lost her battle with a bright flush. He shrugged as though forcing himself to forget their embrace. “But then the truth is in the eye of the beholder. And, as ye’ve shown over and over again, the town likes a good story more than it likes the truth.” He winked and snuck out the back door.

  Ewan sat at the dining room table with his family around him. Hortence was in the livery with Bears, helping with the horses. Bears adored Hortence and spoke more with her than with anyone else in the family and had not minded the request to watch her as the family held an emergency meeting.

  Alistair sat in a chair next to his wife, Leticia. “Ye ken this is a busy time right now, Ewan. After the Harvest Festival, many need care for their horses, and it isna fair to leave it to Bears for long.”

  Ewan nodded as he looked from Alistair to Cailean and then to Sorcha. Annabelle sat beside Cailean, her hand on her ever-growing belly. “Aye, I ken this is a busy time for us all. But ’tis a true emergency.” He extracted the slip of paper he had pinched from J.P and handed it first to Alistair and Leticia. “Read that.”

  Alistair read it and growled with anger. “This is no’ a regular article. The sentences are short and biting.”

  Ewan shook his head. “Aye. It’s more of an exposé, and it’s no’ a finished article. As far as she would tell me, she has not set a publication date.” He paused as he clamped his jaw shut in anger a moment. “Seems she’s keen to show the town her journalistic skills while exposin’ Leticia to ridicule.”

  “What does it say?” Annabelle asked Alistair. She placed one hand over Cailean’s and another over Sorcha’s.

  “It details how Leticia survived, with sordid half-truths and exaggerations, in Saint Louis before she traveled to Montana. After she escaped her husband and was pregnant with Hortence.” Alistair tossed the piece of paper to Cailean. “She has no right!” As Leticia began to cry, he pulled her against his side and crooned into her ear.

  Cailean read the roughed-out article and tapped at the table. “How did you come to be in possession of a story proof? I thought they were highly guarded.”

  Ewan flushed. “Jessie was in an unfortunate scrape last night, and I helped her out of it.”

  “Jessie?” Sorcha asked with a raised eyebrow. “Ye hate the woman. Why give her a nickname?”

  Annabelle watched as Ewan squirmed. “You spent the night with her.”

  Ewan groaned and lowered his face to his arms crossed on the table. “Aye, I did, but no’ in the way ye all imagine. There was no grand night of passion. We passed out on her cot, fully clothed.” He silenced his brothers’ snickers with a severe glare. “When I woke, she slept. I wandered the print shop, lookin’ for somethin’ to read ’cause I kent I wouldna sleep much more. The town was full of those seekin’ to make mischief with their harvest money, and too many were interested in the pretty journalist, ye ken?” He nodded to the piece of paper. “Then I found that an’ wouldna leave as she expected at dawn until I spoke with her.”

  “She prints this soon?” Alistair asked.

  “Aye, ’tis her plan.” Ewan held up his hand when all three of his siblings took a deep breath to speak. “I threatened her with my own exposé about our night of passion if she did publish it, an’ I’m hopin’ she has enough sense to hold off.”

  “Why should she?” Sorcha asked. “The townsfolk afford her respect solely because they are afraid of her and what she might write about them. Not because they like her.”

  “Except for the old men who want to tell her tales and aren’t afraid of what she’ll write,” Annabelle said.

  “The townsfolk already believe the worst about her because she traipses after men into whorehouses and saloons. They’ll not find it odd that you were her lover,” Cailean said. He flushed as he looked at his sister.

  Annabelle shook her head in disagreement. “I think you’re wrong. She goes where she shouldn’t, but she’s never been seen breaking the bounds of propriety. Not completely. I think, if she were found to have acted on passion, her life would be very difficult here.”

  Alistair’s jaw ticked. “How do ye ken she willna write about it in another paper? A later edition?” His brown eyes smoldered with pent-up rage. “I willna have anyone disrespecting Leticia again, nor wee Hortence.”

  Cailean met his brother’s irate gaze. “That much is out of your control, Alistair. All we can hope is that the town’s regard for Leticia and your daughter will continue to grow. Enough of the women here know what it’s like to be pregnant and desperate. They have husbands who’d rather carouse and spend all the family’s money than buy food or pay the rent. Look at what happened last night with the men in the saloons until dawn.”

  Cailean frowned when Leticia kept her face buried in Alistair’s shoulder as though in shame. He gripped his sister-in-law’s hand. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about, Lettie. We do not judge you for it.”

  “I was not his mistress!” she sobbed. “I … swear,” she murmured.

  “Aye, but it willna matter what we ken to be true. It will only matter what the townsfolk want to be true. At least for a time.” Ewan scrubbed at his head. “I canna believe she’d write such foul things about ye, Lettie. Not after she swore she’d change after Bears’ story.”

  “No one here likes her. She’s abused ye every chance she’s had. And yet ye sound disappointed in her.” Sorcha studied her brother with abject confusion. “Why do ye care?”

  Ewan shook his head, his gaze momentarily filled with panic. “I dinna care about her! I care about the family.” He met his sister’s mocking gaze and rose. “I’m away to see Warren. I ken it’s Sunday, but I hope he’ll see me.”

  Cailean nodded as he pulled his wife close in his arms. “Aye, he’ll see you. Although there won’t be much he can do.” He handed Ewan the piece of paper sitting in the middle of the table. “Careful you don’t lose that.” He nodded at Ewan as he left the room.

  Ewan walked through town, nodding to friends and acquaintances. He stopped to laugh and joke with a few about last night’s incident, easily deflecting inappropriate inquiries about how the pretty young reporter was after she had escaped from the Boudoir. He laughed as they related the rumor that he’d escorted her upstairs to a crib last night. He tipped his hat to his friends. “You ken me, a gentleman through and through! Never laid a finger on her or any Beauty. Slept in a cold bed last night.” He slapped another on the back and made his way to Warren’s house.

  The lawyer’s residence was on a street behind Main Street, nearly behind his legal practice. In the beginning, he had lived in the small back room he now used as a private room in his main office. However, after Ewan had arrived in Bear Grass Springs, Warren had commissioned Ewan to build him a home.

  Warren answered the door in a white shirt rolled up to his elbows an
d a glower. “Ewan,” he said on a long sigh. He motioned for him to enter and had him follow him through the sitting room to his home office down a long hallway. Light entered through three windows, and his desk was an orderly disaster.

  “How do ye ken where anything is?” Ewan asked as he sat across from him.

  “It’s only like this when I’m elbow deep in a case.” He stretched before he sat. “Is it too early for a drink?” He shook his head at not knowing the time before he shrugged. “The decanter’s in the sitting room if you want something.”

  “Nae, I need to keep my wits about me.” He paused a moment, appreciating Warren’s calm patience as he waited for him to speak. “What can ye do to prevent someone from printing something?”

  “As I’ve told Cailean more times than I care to count, very little. If it’s an outright lie, we can sue after the newspaper comes out. I can threaten her with a lawsuit beforehand, but she knows she has the right to print what she likes, especially if there is truth to what she writes.”

  Ewan sighed and dropped his head into a hand. “She mixes lie with truth to the point ye dinna ken where ye’re goin’.”

  Warren nodded. “That’s the way of it with most big-city reporters. This town was so excited to have a newspaper and reporter, but I remember too well what it was like in Philadelphia.” He watched as Ewan stared into space. “The town is greatly entertained by what she writes about you, Ewan. And by the fact you now have to deflect the interest of so many women.”

  Ewan raised irate brown eyes to meet Warren’s concerned blue eyes. “Aye, if it were about me, I wouldna care. And I would never consider destroyin’ a woman’s reputation. But it isna about me. She’s going to attack Leticia. Attempt to tear her happiness from her. And I canna allow that.”

  Warren frowned. “Is there truth to what she writes?”

  “Aye, enough mixed in with the lies to make it hard to sue her. She kens what she does well.” He clamped his jaw shut and flushed with anger.

  The lawyer studied him as a friend rather than a client. “Seems to me that you are more concerned than you should be by the fact she has disappointed you.” He watched as Ewan flushed even more. “I’ve heard the rumors from the saloons and the Boudoir. That each time she appears to investigate, you are her shadow. Always there to ensure no one oversteps the mark.” He paused. “I never thought to see you in such a state over J.P.”

  Ewan groaned and dropped his head in his hands again. “Damn interferin’ lawyer.”

  Warren chuckled. “You’re the one who came for my advice.” He paused. “If you are interested in her, and, by all accounts you are, why don’t you speak with her?”

  Ewan rolled his eyes. “An’ give her something else to print in her bluidy N&N section?” His next words mimicked her soft voice. “How entertaining to discover our most eligible gentleman has a heart. How disappointing for him to discover the woman he desires will never share the sentiment.”

  Warren sobered as he saw his friend’s torment. “You’ll never know until you speak with her. Doubts can be worse than any certainty.”

  Ewan stilled and met Warren’s tormented gaze as he understood Warren was not referring to Jessamine. “Why do ye no’ court Helen?”

  Warren snorted out a laugh, half-incredulous, half-despairing. “You always were the brother to not hold back.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “There are things you’ll never understand. A past that is complicated.”

  “The more time ye let come between ye, the more her resentment builds.”

  Warren nodded, but then his eyes flashed with anger. “Yes, but do you know what it’s been like, watching her throw herself at you and your brothers? For years now I’ve had to witness her make a fool of herself.”

  Ewan sat up straight as though affronted. “We are no’ that bad an option.” He smiled when he saw Warren flush with embarrassment. “We do no’ want wee Helen, but I think her mother and brother are the ones behind her torment.” He frowned. “Her brother came by the print shop this morning and threatened Jessie.”

  “Jessie?” Warren raised an eyebrow. “And how were you there before it opened? I already had a visit from Helen’s miserable brother about not being granted access to J.P.’s print shop this morning and his anger at her excuse it was closed. How would you know about their argument?”

  Ewan shifted in his seat. “It doesna matter. What matters is that Helen is but a pawn. One day she’ll determine she’s had enough and want to break free. Ye need to be ready to help her, or ye could lose her for good.”

  Warren frowned at Ewan’s words before nodding. He tapped at papers on his desk. “As for your problem, I’d speak with J.P. See if you can convince her to see sense.”

  Chapter 7

  Ewan knocked on the print shop door and waited a few minutes. He then pounded on it. When there was no answer, he tried the handle to find it open. After easing inside, he took off his hat and set it atop a pile of papers by the door. “J.P.? Jessie?” he called out as he moved into the room. He heard a snuffle and walked to her small living area.

  The curtain was drawn, and he pulled it back. Jessamine lay on the cot, clutching her side as she dozed. He traced a finger down her arm before kissing the top of her hair, so softly she would not feel it in her sleep. “Jessie,” he murmured, tapping her arm.

  He reared back as her hand struck out, slapping him across his forehead and nose. He held up an arm to ward off any other attack before grabbing her hands. “Shh,” he whispered. “’Tis me. Ewan.”

  She sighed as she settled on the bed and shook subtly. “Can you get the doctor? I don’t feel well.”

  “Aye, but tell me what hurts,” he said as he ran a hand over her head.

  “Ever since I fell this morning, my side hurts. I think I broke a rib.” She clutched at her side with a hand and grimaced with each breath.

  “I’ll see if he can come, and I’ll ensure I obtain something for the pain.” He paused as she grabbed his hand with her free one.

  “No laudanum. Nothing with opium.”

  He nodded and then realized she could not see his actions as her eyes were closed. “Aye. I’ll find the doctor and return.”

  He rushed from the print shop and returned home. He found Annabelle in the kitchen. “Anna, I ken it’s a lot to ask, but could ye help me?” He motioned for her to follow him and picked her coat up off the peg and helped her in it. He led her outside, walking at such a brisk pace that neither were able to speak. When he glanced back at her, he slowed. “Sorry. Ye should no’ rush so in yer condition.” When they reached the print shop, he guided her inside and led her to J.P. lying injured on her cot.

  “Walter visited her this morning and pushed her. I’m going for the doc, but I did no’ want her to be alone.” He watched as Annabelle nodded while he pulled a chair over for her to sit next to J.P. He squeezed Annabelle’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

  After he searched the saloons for the doctor, and then finding his home and office empty, Ewan went to the Boudoir. Ezekial met him with a menacing glower. “I thought you understood you were barred after last night’s antics.”

  Ewan stood in the hallway and met Ezekial’s glower with a fierce glare. “I do no’ understand why ye’re mad at me. I dinna cause the ruckus here.”

  Ezekial crossed his tree-branch-size arms over his chest and half smiled. “You were the one to break the furniture and to cost the Madam a fortune. Until that debt is paid, you are not welcome here.”

  Ewan leaned forward, although he was still a few inches shorter than Ezekial. “How can ye defend such a woman as the Madam? A woman who allows the women under her charge to be abused? Beaten?” He shook his head. “Do ye no’ care that one of them will die under yer watch?”

  Ezekial watched him impassively.

  Ewan took a calming breath. “Is the doc here? I’ve need of his services.”

  Ezekial pointed for him to remain in the hallway before striding upstairs. After nearly twenty minutes, the doct
or descended the stairs, buttoning up his waistcoat as he walked.

  “What is so urgent, young man?” He thrust his black medicine bag at Ewan and slung on his jacket. He marched outside with Ewan beside him.

  “Do ye really have business at the Boudoir midday?” Ewan asked as he led the doctor toward the print shop.

  “The whores are always in need of my expert touch,” the doctor said.

  Ewan snorted and shook his head as he walked the rest of the way in silence. He ignored the doctor’s grumbling about being called upon to care for the firebrand reporter and ushered him inside.

  Ewan and Annabelle stood on the opposite side of the curtain, which the doctor had pulled shut to afford privacy, and listened to his mutterings and her groans of distress. When Ewan moved to enter the curtained-off area, Annabelle grabbed his arm and shook her head.

  “You can’t, Ewan. Not in front of a man like that.” She nodded toward the shadow of the doctor. “He would spread gossip faster than you can imagine. He already will.”

  Ewan stilled, stifling a growl of protest. When the doctor pulled back the curtain, Ewan schooled his face into a mask of impassivity.

  “She has a broken rib. Give her this three to four times a day to dull her pain. She’ll be fine with time.” The doctor thrust a bottle at Ewan.

  “Wait.” Ewan grabbed his arm. “What is in this? Is it laudanum?”

  The doctor watched him as though he were duller than a butter knife. “Of course it is. You want to ease pain, that’s what you give. You want her to remain in pain, don’t give it.” He freed himself from Ewan’s hold, slamming the door behind him.

  Ewan stared at Annabelle. “She doesna want anything with opium. She told me that before I went for the doctor.”

  Annabelle looked at J.P. sweating on the bed and moved to her, swiping at her forehead. “Ewan, it’s the only thing that will help her pain. You must give her some.”