Loving Linsey by Rachelle Morgan

rose. She bit the inside of her cheek. “Mr. Haggar was the first person to die after a rooster crowed three times in his yard. That leaves two more to go, because death always comes in threes.”
    Daniel moved his face so close to hers that barely an inch of space remained between them. To her credit she held her ground, though a flash of wariness skittered across the bright green of her eyes. Enunciating each word so there would be no misunderstanding, he said, “Bleet Haggar died because he was sick , not because some stupid cock crowed in his yard.” The man had been wasting away for years from a liver disorder—one Daniel had done his best to treat—but beyond doses of roots and ash, and prescribing a morphine and quinine tonic to ease his discomfort, there’d been nothing more he could do. In the end, the wheelwright’s death had not only been inevitable but probably a blessing.
    Either Linsey Gordon had forgotten that little fact, or she had conveniently used the poor man’s demise to feed her crazy delusions.
    He suspected the latter.
    The two of them stood nose to nose and will to will for several long seconds, so close he could see the starburst design in eyes made greener by the sweep of thick dark lashes against fragile lids. A kernel of respect for her planted itself inside Daniel. This was no shrinking violet. Linsey held her own in a way that Daniel had always admired in a woman but rarely saw.
    As their gazes continued to hold, respect gave way to something deeper. A strange and uneasy sensation slithered through Daniel—as if invisible strings were weaving around the two of them, binding them together. In her ever-widening eyes, a vision began to unfold, of himself and Linsey lying together on a grassy carpet, he wearing nothing more than a loose pair of trousers, she wearing little more than a smile. Moonlight washed her skin in the palest of pearls, her eyes shone like emeralds, her hair glistened with amber fire. And as he watched himself bring her hand to his mouth, press his lips against her knuckles, and tuck her head against his heartbeat, an impression hit Daniel with frightening clarity that his future and hers were not only connected . . . but destined.
    He wrenched back with a hot chill. He didn’t believe in destiny. Or chance. Or fate. Cold, hard facts—that’s what he believed in. And the cold, hard fact was that he had never, nor would ever, lie in the grass with Linsey Gordon, or kiss her knuckles, or any other part of her, for that matter. He wanted nothing to do with this woman.
    Ever.
    As if needing as much distance from him as he did from her, Linsey stepped back a pace and folded her hands in front of her, striking a demure pose that contradicted the wild, wicked streak he knew she possessed. Her voice wavered as she told him, “I apologize for pushing you in the water, Daniel; that was never my intent. I only meant to save you from certain disaster.”
    He looked her up and down with unconcealed derision. “The only disaster around here is you.” Still shaken by his disturbing reaction to her, Daniel turned on his heel and stormed across the boardwalk into the apothecary.
    â€œI was only trying to help!” she hollered after him.
    Daniel’s jaw tightened. He needed Linsey Gordon’s help like he needed an outbreak of cholera. Her and her stupid superstitions. They—and she—had been an albatross around his neck for more years than he cared to count. Thanks to her, half his patients were convinced that charms would protect them from illness better than vaccinations, and the other half swore that paying a doctor’s bill in full was considered unlucky.
    Causing the stagecoach to flip when a damned rabbit jumped out in its path had only been the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.
    And now all this blather about saving his life from a hearse?
    Hell.
    Halfway across the shop, a harsh