Chapter 4

"What terms?" Kara asked cautiously.

H'zim's stomach twisted with regret as he gazed at the pretty woman sipping tea across from him. She was even more attractive in the sunlit kitchen, her red hair catching sparks of fire and an appealing sprinkle of freckles across her creamy skin. Even though she was now dressed, the memory of those delectable curves was imprinted in his memory.

He was already sure he'd made a mistake by agreeing to let her stay, but he'd been swayed not only by the pleading look in those big brown eyes, but by his sympathy for her situation - a situation that in a minor way mirrored his own. But that moment of weakness meant that now he had a human living in his home. A very desirable human.

"Don't ask me any questions," he growled, trying to sound as menacing as possible. "If I give you an order, do as you're told. And stay the hell out of my way."

Her eyes widened, but she nodded obediently. He scowled, not wanting to admit that her quick submission only made him more wary.

He rose from the creaky chair, towering over the sturdy table.

"I'll be out in the fields most days. Our paths should rarely cross."

She nodded again, but her gaze had turned speculative. What was going on behind that pretty face?

I don't care, he told himself.

As he turned to leave, his gaze snagged on the small, tidy kitchen. The neat interior of the farmhouse was a far cry from the rundown exterior. Did her luscious exterior conceal similar secrets? How has she survived alone on this remote, abandoned farm?

A spark of curiosity ignited within him, but he immediately snuffed it out, reminding himself of the countless times he'd been burned by trusting others. He had work to do, like untangling the overgrown fields and repairing the dilapidated barn. His focus needed to stay on those tasks, not on the mysterious, freckled woman now sharing his space.

He stalked out of the kitchen, leaving her to her tea and her secrets. As he strode out into the bright morning sunlight, he couldn't shake the sensation that he'd just let a tiny, insidious seed take root in his life. And he had no idea how to stop it from growing.

The barn, like the rest of the farm, was rundown and dilapidated, but he'd rather face the physical labor than the turmoil in his mind. He was hefting a rusty plowshare, scrutinizing the worn metal, when the sound of footsteps behind him made him tense. He instinctively reached for the knife at his belt as he dropped the plowshare and turned around.

But it was only Kara, her long red hair tied back in a ponytail, a determined look on her face.

"You didn't tell me what you wanted me to do. I meant what I said about earning my keep," she added earnestly. "Are there any specific chores that I can help with?"

He frowned at her, surprised by the question. He hadn't taken her offer seriously. In his experience most females expected a male to provide for them. No one had offered to help him in return in a long time.

"What makes you think you can be of any real assistance?" he growled, the words coming out harsher than he intended.

Her chin lifted, defiance sparkling in those big brown eyes.

"I've done farm work before. I would have done more work outside if I hadn't… if I hadn't been trying to remain hidden."

"You certainly succeeded," he admitted reluctantly. "I didn't know that anyone else was here."

She beamed at him.

"Thank you. I'm glad it worked. But now that you're here, maybe I can take care of some of the things I couldn't do before? Anyone who comes by will expect the place to be occupied."

He snorted, a dry, humorless sound.

"No one is going to come by." He considered her for a moment. Not many people were as eager to take on work as she seemed to be - at least not without an ulterior motive. He shrugged, curious to see what she would do. "But I suppose you could start with that."

She flashed him a quick smile, then returned to the house, emerging a moment later with a broom and set to work cleaning off the porch. He found himself watching her instead of completing his inventory of the barn, his gaze lingering on the way her body moved beneath the worn clothing. Despite her lush figure, she was a tiny thing, but her determination reminded him of his own stubbornness.

He'd chosen solitude, intending to use the time to nurse his wounds and plot his revenge. But as he watched her work on the house they were now sharing, he felt a pang of… not exactly enjoyment, but perhaps a sense of comfort.

No.He didn't need comfort. He needed space, silence, and his own bitter company. But he continued to watch her as she moved gracefully around the porch, as if she were dancing rather than cleaning, her ponytail bobbing with each movement.

This is what S'kal has now, he thought - a mate to share his home and work beside him. What he would never have. Even if he could bring himself to trust another female, what decent female would want an ex-convict, and ex-warrior. He automatically found himself reaching for the thick braid that had once fallen down across his shoulder, a symbol of his strength and prowess. He'd cut it off the day they'd pronounced his sentence and thrown him into a cell, using a sharpened edge on one of the rusted bars to painfully hack off the thick length.

The act had been a rejection of the code that had failed him, that had allowed him to be wrongly accused and imprisoned. An acknowledgment that he was no longer an honorable warrior. His thumb slid back and forth across the scar beneath his eye, one of the many he'd acquired during that long and terrible war. He'd always been reckless, impatient with rules and restrictions, and yet he'd believed that there was an underlying order to the world, a system of justice. He'd been wrong.

The familiar ache of resentment and anger threatened to erupt, but he forced himself to return to his task, doing his best to ignore Kara's movements. He wasn't entirely successful, but once she disappeared into the house again, he could devote all of his attention to his survey.

By the time the sun was low on the horizon, he'd finished with the contents of the barn and the two small outbuildings, and had done a quick assessment of the fields nearest the house. The period lying fallow had been good for the soil - it would provide an excellent harvest.

Not that I will be here to see it.

But S'kal could probably make use of it, he decided. There was no harm in beginning the process of clearing the land, perhaps even planting a minimal crop. He'd also started clearing the irrigation ditches, finding an unexpected satisfaction in both the physical labor and the results - a clear indication of progress.

He was covered in dirt by the time he headed back to the house and his back ached a little from the unfamiliar activities, despite the warrior exercises he'd performed in his cell every day. A farmer requires different muscles, he thought, and yet there was a certain satisfaction to the tiredness that came from hard, productive work.

As he stretched to relieve the ache, he caught a flash of reflected light from the nearby hills. He automatically reached for his knife as he studied the area, but the flash didn't reoccur. Could he have imagined that brief spark? Perhaps the sun had simply reflected off of a shiny rock.

Or perhaps I'm being watched.

It seemed unlikely, but his skin prickled with apprehension as he took another look at the hills. Everything was as peaceful as it had been before, but he couldn't dismiss the idea entirely as he made his way back to the house, entering through the kitchen door. Kara was standing by the stove, stirring something with a very appetizing odor. Her face was flushed from the heat, a few tendrils that had escaped her ponytail curling damply around her face, but she looked over and smiled at him.

Fuck. There was that unwanted feeling again - a feeling of comfort, of homecoming. He immediately disguised it by giving her a fierce scowl.

"You cooked dinner."

"It's just some stew. I hope you-"

"Using my supplies."

"Just a little," she said quickly. "I did use some of the dried meat, but I also used some of the edible fungi I foraged and I picked some of the vegetables I've been growing. Which reminds me - I assume you have no objection if I clear away more of the vegetation surrounding the plants?"

He shook his head abruptly, still watching her standing by the stove, his stomach growling in anticipation. But instead of sitting down he remained standing, his arms crossed, his face set in a scowl. She gave him a wary look and changed the subject.

"I have some water heating on the back of the stove if you'd like to wash up before we eat." She cocked her head doubtfully when he didn't respond. "Was I not supposed to do that either?"

"It's not necessary to use the stove to heat water anymore. I got the water pump working," he said gruffly. "The plumbing system is functional now."

Her face lit up.

"That's wonderful. Thank you."

He didn't return the smile. He didn't want to encourage her, to have her think that allowing her to stay was anything more than a reluctant favor. Once he figured out what to do with her, he wouldn't have to engage in small talk or idle chit-chat. He would be alone to eat, to sleep, to work, to plot.

Which is what I want, he told himself firmly as he went to the sink to wash. The water dripped down onto his shirt and he stripped it off impatiently, sluicing more water over his arms and chest. When he turned around, he saw her eyes widen at the sight of his bare torso, her cheeks reddening as she hastily looked away.

Despite her embarrassment, he'd seen a quick flash of interest in her eyes before she turned away. It shouldn't matter to him at all, especially given his decision to avoid any further entanglement with females, but that appreciative look soothed some intrinsically male part of him.

"Here," she said, handing him a towel with her eyes still averted.

He grunted an acknowledgement as he dried off. He reached for his shirt then decided it was too dirty to put back on. It certainly wasn't because he enjoyed seeing her dart glances at his naked chest, that pretty pink still staining her cheeks.

"I suppose I might as well try this stew," he said grumpily as he sat down at the table.

His attempt to sound dismissive was immediately foiled by his stomach grumbling, and she laughed. The merry sound filling the kitchen made his chest ache. How long had it been since he'd heard such simple, genuine amusement?

"Well, if you're sure you can manage to choke it down…"

Her voice was teasing as she put a huge bowl of stew in front of him but he refused to respond. He picked up his spoon to take a cautious bite, then almost groaned with pleasure. The food in the prison had been essentially tasteless and he'd had to force himself to eat, knowing it was important to keep up his strength. In the hectic rush between his release and his arrival on the ranch, he hadn't had time for more than a few protein bars.

They hadn't prepared him for real food, rich and warm and delicious. He devoured the entire bowl in minutes, then looked up to see Kara smiling at him from across the table.

"I guess it wasn't too bad after all."

"I had to eat quickly in prison," he said defensively, then swore under his breath. He hadn't meant to tell her anything about himself - and especially not that.

Her eyes widened, but she didn't back away.

"Prison?"

He almost didn't respond, but now that he'd let it slip, there was no point in trying to hide the truth.

"I've spent the last three years in the Port Cantor jail."

She tilted her head, watching him, and he realized he was running his finger down his scar again.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No."

She nodded. "All right. Is that why you changed your mind about letting me stay? Because you know what it feels like to be accused of something you haven't done?"

"What makes you think I didn't do it?" he growled.

"Call it woman's intuition." She shrugged and rose to her feet, reaching for his bowl. "Do you want some more?"

Taking his silence for assent, she carried the bowl over to the stove, leaving him staring after her. That was it? No tears, no demands for information? Or even worse, insidious little attempts to worm the information from him. Instead she just returned to the table and handed him another generous portion of stew before returning to her own bowl. Her barely touched bowl.

"Why aren't you eating?" he demanded, suddenly suspicious.

"I want to make sure there's enough for you first, since I did use some of your supplies."

An unfamiliar feeling of guilt swept over him. He'd lashed out at her because of his own unwelcome feelings, not because he actually minded sharing his supplies with her. He'd been raised to put his female's needs first, and although that had led to his downfall, the instincts remained. He growled in annoyance as he pushed her bowl closer to her.

"Eat."

She gave him a startled look, then smiled and took a spoonful of the stew.

"Thank you."

Unnerved by her gratitude, he quickly shoveled in a few large mouthfuls, focusing on the meal. But even though his taste buds were delighted - even more now that he was eating more slowly - he couldn't quite extinguish the faint flame of discomfort.

This was ridiculous. She is not my female, he reminded himself. She's just a trespasser on my land. It didn't help. He continued to watch her as she ate, determined to make sure she finished the bowl. Unfortunately, watching the spoon disappear between those pretty pink lips, watching her swallow and lick her lips, had an entirely inappropriate effect on his anatomy. His long neglected cock stirred, pushing uncomfortably against his pants.

Fuck. That was the last thing he needed. As soon as she finished her bowl he jumped to his feet.

"I'm going to check the perimeter."

"Do you really think that's necessary?"

"Yes," he said and stomped off.

He didn't really think so, although he automatically checked the surrounding hills for any sign of life. Nothing. No scent of smoke or flicker of firelight from a distant campfire. It must have been a trick of the light after all. He still did a quick patrol around the outside of the house, but he knew it wasn't because he was worried about intruders. He'd just had to leave the warmth and comfort of the kitchen, the unexpected intimacy of sharing a meal with his female - a female - in the quiet kitchen.

As he turned the corner of the house, he noticed the now spotless porch. It still needed to have the loose boards nailed back in place and it could have used a good coat of paint, but she'd removed all the debris and swept and mopped. He'd been too distracted by watching her luscious little body to realize just how hard she'd been working.

Even in the gathering dusk he could see that the old curtains had been removed inside the house and the windows cleaned. The warm glow of lamplight from the kitchen at the back of the house, called to him like a homing beacon. He had his foot on the lowest step before he scowled and resumed his patrol.

The surrounding woods were quiet and still, with only the faint swish of leaves in the gentle evening breeze or the occasional rustle of some small animal in the undergrowth. The stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky - the first time he'd been able to see them in years. Even before his incarceration he hadn't wanted to look at them; hadn't wanted to be reminded of the terrible things that occurred amongst them.

Somehow over the past few years that horror had faded enough that he could appreciate the serenity they represented, arching over the small farmhouse like a diamond-studded blanket. Fuck, now he was getting poetic. Damn female.

He resumed his patrol, his face set in a fierce scowl, but when he finally returned to the kitchen, Kara only looked up and smiled. The kitchen was once again neat and tidy and she was bent over a length of yellow fabric, hemming it with quick neat stitches.

"It's so nice to be able to have a light burning at night. I was always afraid to chance it in case someone saw it."

"You sat in the darkness?"

The way he had sat in his prison cell after the lights went out, alone with his anger. A shadow crossed her face before she shook her head.

"I usually just went to bed. Living off the land is surprisingly exhausting."

"A farm is hard work as well," he warned. "We should go to bed."