"Look at me," he said hoarsely. Emma brought her eyes to his face and swallowed hard. It was so good to be close to him again, in spite of everything, that she wanted to weep. "What are you doing here?" "I told you," she said with some effort, gently knotting the bandage to make it stay. "I wanted to warn you about your brother." He stood and led her around behind a stand of trees and brush, where he took a seat on a birch stump. Then he pulled her downward, so that she was sitting astraddle of his lap. "You took some big chances, Miss Emma. I want to know why." Emma lowered her eyes. "Because I love you, Mr. Fairfax," she replied in a soft, broken voice. Steven was silent for such a long time that Emma feared he was going to send her away. When she finally brought herself to meet his gaze, she was amazed to see that he was smiling. "You love me?" "Yes, God help me," Emma sighed. Her arms went around his neck. "I love you so much, it hurts." "Even though you're not sure whether I'm a killer or not?" Emma nodded sadly. He laughed, and it was a joyful, raucous sound. His hands interlocked at the small of Emma's back, he planted a noisy kiss on her mouth. "If I didn't know those cowboys up there would tell the story around the campfire for years to come, I'd take you right now." She would have responded wholeheartedly, but she fancied she could hide the knowledge from Steven. He put his hand under her chin and lifted. "I love you," he said firmly. Emma had feared never to hear those words from him, and relief made her sigh and rest her forehead against his."