Emma sat the fresh baked apple pie on the table and glanced around the cabin. She had swept, dusted and tidied the place as a thank you to Liam for all he had done.

She had not seen him since he'd gone out earlier and evening was darkening outside. Emma hoped he liked apple pie—she'd wanted to do something to please him.

Liam was—different—from anyone she had known before. Despite the way he dressed, he was nothing like the men she so feared on that mountain. He had helped her. He had protected her against her father—and he showed no sign of meaning her harm.

Footsteps on the porch signaled an approach. Emma stood anxiously as the door swung open and a snowy gust of air accompanied Liam inside.

He closed the door, shook of the cold with a grunt and stared around the cabin with wide eyes. "You cleaned...."

Emma wrung her hands. "I hope ya aren't angry."

"No, I'm not angry." He ran his hand over the dust-free side table. "Just wasn't expecting it."

Liam's nostril's flared and his gaze went to the table. "You baked pie?"

"Are ya angry?"

The look he fixed her with was full of annoyance. "If you do something to make me angry, I'll let you know. Until then, quit asking."

Emma's face reddened as her gaze dropped to her feet. Liam sighed. "Let's eat some pie."

Emma was surprised when Liam served her a piece before getting one for himself. With anticipation she watched him take a bite and felt pride fill her when he nodded his approval.

"This is damn good. I don't think I've ever had better pie." Then he frowned. "Aren't you going to eat?"

The two finished their meal in silence. Emma noticed that Liam ate nearly half the pie himself. After they finished, Liam stood. "Well, I've made a pig of myself and couldn't eat another bite. Do you want me to cook you supper? You didn't eat much pie."

"Uh...N..no..." Emma stammered. "No, I'm alright." Never in all her life had a man offered to cook for her.

Liam shrugged. "Alright then."

He went back out the door and Emma wondered where he'd gone until he returned with an armload of firewood. Emma held open the door for him and watched as he dropped the firewood into the box by the fireplace.

Liam was strong and yet he moved with a gentleness and grace she'd never seen a man have before. It was clear he was powerful, capable and confident.

Emma wondered what he thought of her.

"Tomorrow I should be able to take you into town. The snow's letting up and I believe it's moving out."

"Okay," she whispered.

She knew she could not stay with this man—she shouldn't want to. Her mother had told her to run and build a happy life.... Not marry the first man she came across and become a slave to cooking, cleaning and child-bearing.

Emma knew there had to be more.

"did you know about your mama's death?" Liam asked some time later, interrupting the silence.

Pain lanced Emma's heart as she swallowed hard. "Yeah."

"Your pa claims she took ill and you ran off and abandoned him."

Emma felt anger flare and burn in her chest. She'd always had a temper but had learned to keep it buried over the years to avoid beatings... her father didn't believe women should have tempers, or opinions, or thoughts and feelings of any kind.

"That man is a liar," she snapped.

Her eyes widened and her heart pounded when Emma realized she'd just used a harsh tone with him.

Instead of growing angry, Liam chuckled. The good-natured sound rumbled from his chest. "Nice to see you still have some spirit in you."

Liam's expression sobered. "I'm sorry about your mother. I know that pain."

Emma shifted upon the bear skin fur she was sitting on. "Ya lost yer mother?"

Liam stared into the fire and his lightly stubbled jaw tensed. "Yeah."

Emma could tell it wasn't something he wanted to speak about. After several moments of silence, Liam cleared his throat. "He probably won't let you just move on."

Emma's stomach rolled. "I know... but I have to try. If I go back he'll kill me or sell me a husband just as cruel."

Liam seemed to think about that a moment. "I'll do what I can to make sure you're safe."

Emma tilted her head as she looked at him sitting on the tattered armchair. "Why are ya helpin' me?"

Liam seemed uncomfortable with the question. He averted his gave. "Just trying to do the right thing."

"But ya don't owe me nothin'. Ya don't even know me."

Liam let out a sigh. "If you don't want my help..."

"I didn't say that."

"Then why all the questions?" he demanded, raising his brow.

"Just tryin' to understand."

He shook his head and his gaze went back to the fire. "Well stop. Life isn't always meant to be understood."

Liam stared into the firelight long after Emma had fallen asleep on her bear skin bed. That woman was a complex mystery and, damn if he wasn't dying to find out more.

It unnerved and irritated him how quickly she'd gotten under his skin. He wanted to see that she was safe and protected. He'd do everything he could to keep her out of her father's hands. And it would be a cold day in hell before he saw Emma sold into marriage.

No woman deserved that.

It had happened to his own mother and the woman had died without ever knowing true happiness.

Liam would not let the same be said about a woman as good as Emma. To the right man—a man who truly deserved her—Emma would make a fine wife.

It was clear that deep down she possessed strength and spirit. She had a serving heart, as shown in the way she had cooked and cleaned for him. And hell, could she cook! He hadn't been lying about that pie being the best he'd ever had—even his aunt couldn't have done better.

She had expressive blue eyes, full lips, soft pale skin and hair as black as midnight.

Liam stared into the dwindling firelight and sighed as he gripped the cup of water in his hand a bit tighter.

Yeah, Emma Hawke would make someone a damn fine wife.

IKm;