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to mangle hers lifting it off the cutting board. But she'd rolled this particular piece of dough out three times, and she was going to put it on the baking sheet, whether it looked perfect or not. Perhaps making the ideal biscuit was not such a simple act, after all.
    "Haven't quite got it yet, have I?" she asked, cradling the ill-shaped biscuit on her palm.
    With the back of her hand, Dora pushed a few wisps of hair out of her face and eyed Lacey's work. She held her lips in a rather tight smile, as though she were suppressing a laugh. "You're coming along just fine."
    Lacey wasn't convinced of her sincerity. Certainly, she'd have a maid in Boston. So it wasn't important that she become skilled in all things domestic.
    Lacey heard Slade's boots echo down the hallway. She found herself holding her breath.
    Dora leaned in and whispered, "I'm worried about him. Most nights, he's up wandering the house. Used to be, he could sleep standing. Don't know what's got him so stirred up."
    Lacey shrugged. She’d heard his pacing, too. And now he was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His nicked chin seemed to show the effects of an unsteady hand, belying his sleepless night.
    "Have Tait look after the herd. I’m going logging with Dix today." He gave Dora's shoulder a squeeze before kissing her on the cheek. "A new cook shed ought to make your life a little easier."
    "This kitchen is a mite small, cooking for all those mouths," Dora said.
    Favoring Dora with a sweet, crooked smile, he accepted the proffered mug of steaming coffee.
    Lacey wished the smile had been for her. "The first batch of biscuits is nearly done."
    He turned his attention to her now, his eyes resting on her face. His smile instantly altered to a sulk.
    With coffee cup in hand, he stalked out, shutting the door with force.
    She knew a way to lighten his mood. She’d let him know about Grady’s change of plans, that he would be arriving a month sooner than expected.
    Lacey arranged the fluffy, golden biscuits on a plate around a jar of honey, which she already knew to be his favorite.
    He was leaning against the porch railing, staring out toward the grazing pasture. When she set the plate atop the small wood table, his attention shifted to her. Nervously, she wiped her fingers on her apron.
    "’Tis obvious, you find me nothing but a nuisance, Mr. Dalton. So you’ll be happy to know, this arrived today."
    His eyes were watchful as she pulled the wrinkled letter from her apron pocket.
    "Grady will be here shortly. It seems, you'll only have to put up with me for a few more months."
    She startled as Slade snatched the letter from her, scowling as he scanned it.
    "You crumpled it," he noted.
    "Oh did I?" She tried to manage a smile, but couldn’t. Not while looking into Slade Dalton’s eyes.
    Lacey plucked the letter out of his hand and made a show of flattening and folding it, before slipping it back into her pocket. She felt ashamed that she’d crumpled it. If it weren’t for Grady Dalton, she’d have no home.
    Without even touching the biscuits, Slade hopped the porch railing, his boots hitting the dirt with a thud. She could see the tension in his broad shoulders as he headed toward the fields.
    "Bloody well done," she muttered to herself. "He's obviously feeling much better about me now."
    He'd left his half-finished cup of coffee on the railing. She'd never seen him leave any of Dora's prized coffee in his cup before. She took a sip, idly wondering as she did, which side of the cup his lips had touched. She picked up the plate of biscuits and grimaced at the sight of a fly struggling to release itself from the amber-colored honey. She felt very much like that fly; stuck in a situation she had no way out of.
    # # #
    Lacey yawned. Today's ride with Tait had been too tame. She had been unable to goad Irish into anything but a plodding gait.
    She shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. For the entire morning, they'd been winding their way through