But I have never felt rage like that, like a living thing inside my chest trying to claw its way out.

I wanted to hurt him for touching you.

I wanted to make him suffer.

But you did not, Delilah said softly.

You controlled yourself.

You let them leave only because I knew it would upset you if I killed them in front of you,” Zeke said bluntly.

“Not because they did not deserve it.

” Delilah should have been horrified by this admission.

She should have been disturbed by the violence implicit in his words, but instead she felt something warm unfurl in her chest, something that felt dangerously like gratitude, like affection.

“No one has ever cared enough to feel that way about me before,” she said.

to want to protect me that fiercely.

Zeke finally turned to look at her and his pale eyes were intense in the firelight.

Then you have known the wrong people.

Apparently so, Delilah agreed.

She hesitated then made a decision.

Zeke, I need to tell you something about my past, about why I came to Willlets.

You do not owe me explanations, Zeke said.

I know, but I want you to understand.

Delilah took a breath.

In San Francisco, I worked as a seamstress in a high-end shop.

I was good at it, skilled enough that wealthy women requested me specifically.

One of the clients was a married woman whose husband took an interest in me.

He was persistent, and when I refused his advances, he told his wife that I had tried to seduce him.

She had me fired and made sure I could not get work anywhere else in the city.

That is why I came to Willlets.

I was starting over with nothing.

Zeke’s jaw tightened.

Men like that should be horsehipped.

I survived, Delilah said.

But it taught me not to trust easily, not to believe men when they say things that sound too good to be true.

I am not him, Zeke said.

And I’m not making you promises I cannot keep.

But I am telling you the truth.

You matter to me, Delilah, more than I expected, more than is probably wise.

Delilah felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back fiercely.

She did not cry.

She had not cried since she was 16 years old and bearing her parents.

Crying was weakness, and she could not afford weakness.

But then, Zeke’s hand found hers beneath the blanket, his callous fingers lacing through her own, and the tears came anyway.

She cried for the girl she had been, who had lost her parents too young.

She cried for the years of struggle and loneliness and constant vigilance.

She cried for the part of herself that had learned to expect betrayal and pain instead of kindness.

and Zeke simply held her hand and let her cry, offering no platitudes or false comfort, just his silent presence.

When the storm finally passed and she sat there exhausted and rung out, he produced a clean handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice.

“For what?” “For not telling me everything will be fine,” Delila said.

“For not trying to fix it or make it better.

For just being here.

” I will always be here,” Zeke said, and it sounded like a vow.

For as long as you want me.

Delilah looked at their joined hands, his so much larger than hers, scarred and workruffened, strong hands that could snap a man’s neck, but held hers with infinite gentleness.

She thought about what it would mean to trust him, to let down the wall she had spent years building around her heart.

It was terrifying.

But sitting there in the fire light with his hand warm in hers, she found she wanted to be brave one more time.

What if I want you for a very long time? She asked quietly.

Zeke’s fingers tightened around hers.

Then I would count myself the luckiest man in the mountains.

They sat together until the fire burned low, not speaking, just existing in the quiet warmth of the cabin.

And when Delila finally stood to go to her room, Zeke rose with her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, chasted and sweet and full of promise.

“Sleep well,” he said.

“You, too,” Delilah replied, though she doubted either of them would.

But when she lay down in her narrow bed, her hands still tingling from his touch, she fell asleep almost immediately, and dreamed of mountain peaks and clear blue eyes.

The weeks that followed took on a new quality, charged with possibility and unspoken feeling, Zeke and Delilah moved around each other with a new awareness, finding excuses to stand close, to brush hands, to exchange glances that lasted a moment too long.

Sarah noticed, of course, and she was delighted, scheming in her innocent way to throw them together at every opportunity.

Delilah, you should go help Zeke check the smokehouse, she would say.

I can finish this mending on my own.

Or Zeke, why do you not take Delilah to see the waterfall you told me about? It is such a beautiful day and I have reading to catch up on.

Zeke and Delilah would exchange amused glances at these transparent minations, but they went along with them.

The truth was they wanted the time together, the chance to talk without Sarah’s well-meaning but constant presence.

On one such occasion, Zeke did take Delilah to see the waterfall, a half hour’s walk from the cabin through forest that smelled of pine and damp earth.

The falls were not large, perhaps 20 ft high.

But they were beautiful, cascading over mosscovered rocks into a pool so clear you could see every stone on the bottom.

I come here when I need to think, Zeke said, settling on a flat rock near the pool.

There is something about the sound of water that settles my mind.

Delilah sat beside him close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

It is peaceful, she agreed.

I can see why you love it up here.

The mountains, the solitude.

It is like the world cannot touch you.

The world touches us, Zeke said.

Those men proved that.

But up here, I can choose how much of it to let in.

They were quiet for a while, listening to the rush of water.

Then Zeke said, “Can I ask you something?” Of course.

That night by the fire, you said you wanted me for a very long time.

Did you mean it? Delilah’s heart began to beat faster.

I meant it.

Because I need you to understand something, Zeke continued, his eyes on the waterfall rather than her face, as though it was easier to say difficult things without eye contact.

I am not a man who gives his heart lightly.

When I care for someone, it is completely forever.

and I’m starting to care for you in a way that terrifies me.

” “Why does it terrify you?” Delilah asked softly.

“Because you could leave,” Zeke said simply.

“Winter is coming and mountain winters are harsh.

You might decide this life is too hard, too isolated.

You might want to go back to town, to civilization.

And if you did, I would have to let you go because keeping you here against your will would be wrong.

But it would destroy me.

” Delilah reached out and took his hand, forcing him to look at her.

Zeke Pearson, I have lived in cities all my life, and I have never been as content as I am right now in this moment, sitting beside this waterfall with you.

I am not going anywhere.

You say that now, Zeke said, but there was hope in his voice.

I say that now, and I will say it tomorrow and the day after, Delilah insisted.

I know my own mind.

I know what I want.

And what I want is this.

you, Sarah, this life we are building together.

Zeke studied her face as though trying to memorize every detail.

I am not an easy man to love, he warned.

I am too blunt.

I spend too much time alone.

I am better with animals than people.

Good thing I am not most people, Delilah said.

And for what it is worth, I am not an easy woman to love either.

I am stubborn.

I do not take orders well.

I have a temper.

I noticed, Zeke said, and there was definitely humor in his voice now.

That first night in the saloon when you told Tucker off, “I thought you were magnificent.

” “Magnificent?” Delilah repeated, tasting the word.

“No one has ever called me magnificent before.

” “Then they were fools,” Zeke said.

He raised their joined hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his beard soft against her skin.

Delila Norton, you are the most magnificent woman I have ever met, and I am falling in love with you.

I thought you should know.

The words hung in the air between them, weighted with significance.

Delila felt her throat tightened with emotion.

Men had said they loved her before, but it had always been a prelude to demands, to expectations of what she should give them in return.

This felt different.

This felt like a gift being offered with no strings attached.

I am falling in love with you too, she said and watched his face transform, joy breaking across his features like sunrise over the mountains.

I tried not to.

I told myself it was foolish that I should protect my heart.

But I cannot help it.

You make me feel safe.

You make me feel seen.

You make me want things I thought I had given up on.

What things? Zeke asked.

A home? Delilah said.

A partner.

someone who values my opinions and does not try to silence me when I speak my mind.

You said that night in town that I would keep you honest, but you keep me hopeful, and that is a much greater gift.

” Zeke pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

She leaned into his strength, fitting against his side as though she had been made to be there.

They sat like that for a long time, watching the waterfall and not speaking, content in the simple fact of each other’s presence.

Finally, as the sun began to sink toward the western peaks, Zeke said, “We should head back.

Sarah will worry.

” “Sarah is probably planning our wedding,” Delilah said dryly.

And Zeke laughed, the sound rich and warm.

“Would that be so terrible?” he asked as they stood and began the walk back toward the cabin.

“Being married to me?” Delilah considered the question seriously.

“No,” she said.

It would not be terrible at all, but we should probably wait more than 6 weeks before making such a permanent decision.

Probably, Zeke agreed.

Though, for what it is worth, I already know I want to marry you.

I knew it that first night when you told Tucker you would not apologize, I thought.

There is the woman I want beside me for the rest of my life.

You decided you wanted to marry me based on one conversation? Delilah asked, torn between amusement and disbelief.

I decided you were worth knowing better,” Zeke corrected.

“The wanting to marry you part has developed over the past weeks.

Watching you with Sarah, seeing how you have adapted to life up here, the way you hum while you work, the way you laugh at Sarah’s jokes, even when they are not funny, the way you look at the mountains like they are something sacred.

I could list a hundred reasons, but they all add up to the same thing.

You belong here with us, with me.

” Delilah felt tears sting her eyes again, but these were happy tears.

“Ask me again in the spring,” she said.

“When you have seen me through a mountain winter and still think I am magnificent.

” “I will,” Zeke promised.

“And you will say yes.

” “Probably,” Delilah admitted, and his grin was worth every risk she was taking.

Winter came to the mountains with dramatic suddenness, the first snow falling in early November and blanketing the world in white silence.

Delila had never experienced anything like it, the way the snow transformed the familiar landscape into something alien and beautiful.

The cabin became an island of warmth in a frozen sea, and the three of them drew closer together, bound by necessity as much as affection.

Zeke had been right to warn her that mountain winters were harsh.

The cold was intense, bitter enough to make her teeth ache when she stepped outside.

The snow piled up in drifts higher than her head, making travel treacherous.

Zeke could still check his nearest trap lines on snowshoes, but trips to town became impossible once the heavy snows began.

They were isolated, cut off from the rest of the world until spring.

But Delilah found she did not mind.

There was something cozy about the forced intimacy of their situation.

The three of them huddled around the fire in the evenings while wind howled outside.

Sarah read aloud from her books.

Everything from Shakespeare to dime novels, her voice dramatic and engaging.

Zeke carved, his big hands producing surprisingly delicate figures of animals and birds that he would give to Sarah or Delila with shy pleasure.

And Delilah sewed, mending their clothes and making new ones from fabric Zeke had brought back from his last trip to town.

They talked for hours about everything and nothing.

Sarah wanted to know about Boston and San Francisco, about city life and all the things she had never experienced.

Delilah told her stories, editing out the darker parts, but trying to give her a realistic picture.

Zeke talked about his years in the mountains, the places he had been, and the things he had seen.

He was a natural storyteller when he chose to be, his voice painting vivid pictures of encounters with wildlife and narrow escapes from danger.

And gradually, naturally, Delilah and Zeke found moments alone together.

After Sarah went to bed in the loft, they would sit by the fire and talk in low voices, sharing pieces of themselves they had never shared with anyone else.

Zeke told her about the guilt he still carried over not being there when his parents died, how he had been out on a long trapping expedition and had not even known they were sick until he returned to find them buried.

Delilah told him about the loneliness of her years on her own, the constant fear of being hurt or betrayed, the exhaustion of always having to be strong.

They kissed for the first time during a snowstorm in mid December.

Delilah had gone out to the wood pile to bring in more logs for the fire, and Zeke had followed to help her.

The snow was falling so thickly that the cabin was barely visible from the wood pile, and the world felt hushed and private, as though they were the only two people alive.

“Ze took the logs from her arms and set them aside, then cuped her face in his hands, his palms warm against her cold cheeks.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks,” he said, his breath misting in the frigid air.

“Then do it,” Delilah said, her heart racing.

He kissed her softly at first, tentative, giving her room to pull away if she wanted, but she did not want to pull away.

She wanted to press closer to feel the solid strength of him against her, to taste his lips and know that this was real.

The kiss deepened, becoming urgent and hungry, weeks of restrained desire, finally finding release.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Zeke rested his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” he said.

“God help me.

I love you so much.

I love you too, Delilah whispered back.

So much that it frightens me.

We can be frightened together, Zeke said and kissed her again.

After that, they were less careful about hiding their feelings.

Sarah noticed immediately, of course, and her delight was almost comical.

She teased them gently, but with obvious happiness, pleased to see her brother finding joy with someone who clearly adored him.

I knew it,” she cried one evening after catching them holding hands by the fire.

“I knew from the moment Zeke brought you home that you were meant to be together.

” “You did not know any such thing,” Zeke said.

“But he was smiling.

” “I absolutely did,” Sarah insisted.

“You could not stop looking at her, and she was trying very hard to pretend she was not looking at you.

It was adorably obvious.

” “We were not that obvious,” Delilah protested.

“You were,” Sarah said firmly.

“But it was sweet.

You are both so strong and independent, but together you are softer somehow, better, like two rough stones that have polished each other smooth.

It was a surprisingly poetic observation, and Delila felt her eyes prick with tears.

“That’s a lovely way to put it,” she said.

“It is true,” Sarah said.

“You have been good for each other.

Zeke smiles more.

You seem more at peace.

I am grateful to have you both in my life.

” Zeke reached out and ruffled his sister’s hair with obvious affection.

We are grateful to have you too, little sister.

Even when you are insufferably smug about your matchmaking skills, Sarah batted his hand away, laughing.

Someone had to take charge.

Left to yourselves, you both would have danced around each other until spring.

She was probably right, Delilah reflected.

Without Sarah’s gentle pushing, she and Zeke might have been too cautious, too afraid of ruining what they had.

But Sarah had given them permission to take the risk.

And now they had something precious and rare.

Christmas came and they celebrated simply but happily.

Delilah made a special meal with dried fruit and the last of their precious sugar.

Zeke surprised them both with gifts he had been secretly working on for weeks, a beautifully carved box for Sarah to keep her letters and momentos in, and a comb for Delila made from polished horn with delicate flowers etched into the handle.

It is beautiful, Delilah said, running her fingers over the intricate carving.

You made this? I wanted you to have something pretty, Zeke said, looking almost embarrassed.

Something that was not just practical.

Delila kissed him, not caring that Sarah was watching with a delighted grin.

I love it.

I will treasure it always.

That night, after Sarah had gone to bed, Zeke and Delilah stood together by the window, looking out at the moonlight on the snow.

The world outside was silent and silver, beautiful in its frozen stillness.

“I have something else for you,” Zeke said quietly.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object wrapped in cloth.

“I was going to wait until spring, like you said, but I cannot wait anymore.

” Delilah unwrapped the cloth with trembling fingers.

Inside was a ring, simple and elegant, made from gold, with a small green stone set in the center.

It was my mother’s,” Zeke said.

“The only piece of jewelry she owned.

My father gave it to her when they got married.

I’ve been carrying it with me since I left Sacramento after the funeral, not knowing what to do with it.

But now I know.

It belongs on your finger if you will have it.

” Delilah looked up at him, her vision blurred with tears.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” “Yes,” Zeke said simply.

“I know it is not spring yet.

I know we have not known each other that long by conventional standards, but I know my heart and my heart is yours.

Will you marry me, Delilah Norton? Will you be my wife and make this cabin a home and spend your life with me in these mountains? There was only one possible answer.

“Yes,” Delilah said, her voice breaking on the word.

“Yes, I will marry you.

” Zeke slipped the ring onto her finger, and it fit perfectly, as though it had been made for her.

Then he pulled her into his arms and held her close.

And Delilah felt a happiness so intense it was almost painful.

“I love you,” he murmured into her hair.

“I will love you until the day I die.

” “And I love you,” Delilah said.

“My mountain man, my heart.

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