Open Country by Kaki Warner

. well.” She cleared a sudden dryness from her throat, then continued. “Henry cared about the children. He would have wanted me to get the money. For them. But Harkness balked. He said the money was for widows, not fiancées. With the Beckworths’ help, I convinced him to allow for the circumstances, and by evening Henry and I were married.”
    There. It was out. Most of it anyway. Scarcely daring to breathe, Molly waited for his reaction, wondering if she had gone too far.
    “You lying, cold-hearted bitch.”
    Too far. And unjustly accused, she thought. She might be a liar, but not cold-hearted. And certainly not a . . . that . Seeing that he was jumping to all sorts of erroneous conclusions, she fixed her gaze to his and with firm conviction, said, “I need that settlement, Mr. Wilkins. I have two children to provide for, and when I saw an opportunity to get the money I desperately needed to accomplish that, I took it. But I’m not evil. I never meant harm to your brother and I never sought his death. In fact, I’ve worked hard to prevent it.” Lifting her chin, she glared at him down the length of her nose. “But if he does die and there’s money to be had because of it, I shall take it. Because Henry would have wanted me to.”
    He studied her for several moments, then looked toward the window, his jaw working. “I don’t believe this. Any of it. Christ.”
    Molly let out a tiny sigh of relief. She had half expected him to bound from the chair and throttle her. With his attention directed elsewhere, she studied him. He had a hard face, not as handsome as his brother’s but arresting, nonetheless. The family resemblance showed in the strong jaw and stubborn chin and high, intelligent forehead. But Henry’s eyes were a warm chocolate brown, whereas his brother’s were glacial ice. She sensed Henry would be a man easy to like, while this man would be one easy to fear.
    Ruthless. Protective. Perhaps violent. Certainly driven.
    He looked exhausted. The tired lines around his eyes and the deep brackets at the corners of his dark mustache made her wonder if he had ridden through the night to reach his brother’s side. She also noted he gripped the armrests so tightly his knuckles lost color, which made her wonder if she had misread him altogether and what had at first seemed unbridled fury was fear for his brother instead. She hoped not. That would make him almost likable, and this would be so much easier if she thought of him as her enemy.
    He exhaled wearily, and some of the tension seemed to leave him. “Don’t call him Henry. He won’t like it.” Without the edge of anger, his voice had an unusual quality. Deep and slightly hoarse. It drew his listener closer so no word was missed, even as his hostile demeanor pushed him away. “Who shaved him?”
    An odd question. “I did.”
    “He won’t like that either.” He gave her a measuring look. “But you don’t know him at all, do you?”
    She didn’t answer.
    “Yet you married him anyway.” That seething anger again, so intense even his stillness carried threat. “And if he lives? What about your money then?”
    Words froze in her throat.
    “Goddamn you!” He bounded to his feet. “If you hurt him—if you do a single thing to—”
    “I wouldn’t,” Molly cut in, aghast to realize where his thoughts had taken him. “I am a trained nurse, not a murderer! I would never do anything— anything —to harm a patient!”
    He loomed over her, chest pumping. Then he lifted one shaking hand, the thumb and forefinger spaced an inch apart, and leaned closer. “I’m this close to snapping your neck, lady,” he said through clenched teeth. “This close.”
    Molly met his gaze without flinching, sensing if she gave in to this attempt at intimidation, it would only drive him to further threats. But it was hard. The man was utterly terrifying. “I would never harm a patient,” she said again.
    “If you did . . .” He let the sentence hang, then