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M uch to her dismay, Ella’s prediction had played out just as she’d hoped it wouldn’t. Mia had been hit by the rolling fevers, the same as Ruby, and unfortunately Benny didn’t miss out either. Both of them finally succumbing to several bouts of throwing up.

Ella had managed about an hour’s rest—her body too wired for sleep—before Benny’s hoarse cry had woken her. Thankfully, he’d been slightly easier to reason with and had at least accepted the medicine without too much protest.

She’d just been changing him when Leo came to her door.

He’d knocked lightly first, calling to her softly before his head appeared in the sliver of light from the corridor, one hand waving the monitor that had obviously picked up Benny’s cry.

“How’s Benny? Are you okay? Need anything? I can race downstairs for you—”

“Thank you, but we’re okay. He’s had medication and some water. The fever should drop soon. I’ll just sit and hold him for a while. Mia?”

“Asleep for now.” He seemed to be lost for a moment before simply shrugging. “Call me if you need me. Okay?”

In the end, it had been a night of tag-teaming.

Both children went down to the virus, and one adult was often with the two children while the other ran and fetched.

And then switching roles. There’d been no plan, and they’d needed little communication.

They each just seemed to seamlessly work together to get through a rough night.

What had touched her most during the early hours had been Leo’s consideration of both Benny and herself, in addition to his concern for Mia.

One of her nannies had called those hours the witching hours, a time for bewitching and bewitchment—and part of her was bewitched not only by Leo’s total dedication to his daughter, but his kindness and compassion to Benny—and to her.

Comparisons were something Ella tried to avoid; they rarely helped, and this was no exception, but she couldn’t help but wonder how Emile would have handled a night such as she and Leo had endured.

He wouldn’t have been completely cavalier, but he certainly wouldn’t have had Leo’s patience.

Both children had had to be nursed and consoled at different times, and Leo had all but worn indents on the corridor carpet, walking and rocking one child after the other.

Bathing them, changing them, worrying about them alongside her…

Cleaning up when both children at different times suffered bouts of fever-induced vomiting.

As they cared for the children, for the first time in her entire life, Ella knew that she was where she should have been, doing what she was supposed to do, She’d never felt so strongly that she belonged as she did working alongside Leo.

Now in the late afternoon of another day, with both children over the worst— they hoped —they sat side-by-side at the kitchen island, blearily staring into their coffee.

Several family members had offered to come and help out but she’d happily supported Leo when he’d firmly refused their generous offers.

The last thing any of them wanted or needed was for Evie to come down with this, or for Ruby to be unlucky enough to pick it up again.

And Leo was adamant his mom should not risk taking anything home to his father who was slightly immune compromised since his heart attack.

So, it had been the two of them; and at times during the long night, it had felt like the two of them against the world. And yet it had felt right…

Still felt right —cocooned here together—even as the thought terrified her as much as it thrilled her.

Leo stretched, leaning across to tuck the stray strands of her hair that had fallen across her face, grinning as he pulled back. “Hungry? Think I’ll make a sandwich. You want one?” His voice was little more than a whisper, adding to the sense of being separated from the rest of the world.

She nodded and wearily rose to retrieve the piece of roast beef and other fixings from the refrigerator while he grabbed the bread.

The beef had been left from a meal just two nights earlier and yet it now seemed like a lifetime ago.

“At least I think I do.” The yawn she was unable to control almost swallowed the words, but she plowed on.

“Though, on second thought I’m not sure my jaw will have the energy to chew. ”

Chuckling he gently gripped her shoulders from behind, and turned her, guiding her back to the stool she’d just vacated. “Sit. This one’s on me.”

With no energy to argue she sat and watched him build the sandwiches, and build was the operative word.

They were towering blocks; layers of all the things she’d retrieved from the fridge and more he’d scrounged.

She stared in wonder, doubting she’d be able to open her mouth wide enough to eat it!

Still, it was poetry to watch—those hands, so capable, strong, long tanned fingers deftly wielding a knife.

“Great hands… I mean, great knife skills . You could be a chef.” Her shoulders still tingling from the warmth of those hands, and determinedly she refused to think about other even more interesting things he could do with them.

Her faced warmed, and she shook her head to clear away the dangerous thoughts.

Stick to thinking about the food. It was that or risk spitting out something entirely inappropriate.

But then she thought about food and all the things they could do with food…

That prompted even more heat, and she fairly snatched the giant sandwich from him when he passed it over, grateful for anything to shove into her mouth and keep it occupied.

Oblivious, Leo accepted her comment in its most literal sense. “Some college buddies and I spent a couple of months trekking through Europe after we graduated. Got work wherever we could. I was working in a bar in Spain and this chef there gave me a few tips about how to handle a knife.”

“You’ve been to Europe?” That surprised her.

“What? You think I’m not cultured enough?”

There’d been only wry amusement in his tone, so she shrugged off the comment. “You just seem so at home here in Montana. On this ranch.”

“I am. This place is in my blood.” He bit into the sandwich and chewed for a minute. “This is going to sound a bit sappy I guess, but it’s kind of more than my home—it’s where my heart is and will always be.”

Sentimental words delivered in that low rippling voice?

Yes please. Not wanting to reveal her own sappy feelings she initially kept her response light.

“Definitely sappy.” Then she sobered. “But quite beautiful. I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced anything like that, and it makes me quite envious, really. ”

“There’s nowhere? Not even where you lived with your husband. Emile , was it?”

She nodded. “Yes, Emile. But no. We’d not long moved into the house before he was killed, so, I’d formed no big, deep attachment.

I suppose I love my childhood home, but to be honest I spent most of my time elsewhere, so again, I have memories but no sense that I truly belong there.

” She caught the next errant yawn, wondering about the fact that last night she’d felt something close to what he’d described.

Not the same intensity but something . However, telling him her closest attachment was to a place she’d been a part of for mere weeks, was not only ludicrous—but far too revealing.

“As for me?” she finally added. “Benny. He’s my place. Wherever he is, is where I would need to be. Want to be. Have to be.”

Leo said nothing for a while, just nodded, his eyes flicking across to her as he chewed. Nibbling through her meal, she waited, knowing something was cooking in that gorgeous head. It didn’t surprise her when it came.

“Your husband—Emile. Do you mind if I ask how you two met?”

“At summer camp. I was thirteen, he was fourteen.” She looked across at him, reading more questions in sinfully rich chocolate eyes.

“I was taking a walk by the river and heard someone calling out. Emile was good at everything but back then he wasn’t the strongest swimmer.

He was in trouble and I dove in to help him. ”

Admiration and maybe a tinge of disbelief shone back at her. “You saved him?”

“Are you suggesting I couldn’t?”

“No, I just… wow. You were just a kid. That was a big effort. Huge. So, what then? You just—”

“Became friends. Best friends. Discovered we had some things in common. Came to rely on each other. After that we contrived to meet up at the same vacation camps until we each graduated school. Went to university together; stayed friends.”

He was shaking his head. “And then married?” His eyebrows disappeared into the mess of hair he hadn’t straightened since their ordeal with the children.

“Not right away. I went back to London. My degree is in art history and I was managing an art gallery in Mayfair. Emile stayed in Paris. But we spoke every day. Saw each other most other weekends.”

“Ah, you were like, soulmates?” His face pulled into a got it expression. He hadn’t. Not by a long shot. “Had you always planned to marry?”

Her mouth pinched in of its own volition; they were getting into tricky territory now. “Not really… Oh, you know—the usual adolescent promises. Like if we hadn’t met someone by the time we were a certain age we’d get together. Rubbish stuff like that.”

That time he almost choked. “And yet you got married! What was the age limit on that oh so romantic life plan? Nineteen? ”

“Ha!” Tired as she was, Ella couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous expression. “No! Thirty-two for me, thirty-three for him. Obviously, I’d been thinking of feasible embryonic potential—fertility—when those ages were set. But, you know, things happened. His father died…” She shrugged.