Exactly as their dance at the Grand Fair had done, their convivial dinner had provoked new curiosity about Violet among the menfolk in town. They’d paid her more attention of late than ever before. She was trying not to become too foolishly accustomed to their interest. But it was thrilling, all the same.
Not as thrilling as Cade was, she’d admit. But still…
Unable to properly describe why Cade’s attention was so much more stimulating than the attention of other men, Violet was saved from continuing the effort by the one thing that never failed her: good works. It was time to pass the collection basket, and Violet was responsible for doing so.
Turning her thoughts to that duty, Violet made her way to the back of the church. Her fellow congregants smiled at her; her father’s familiar voice comforted her. She wasn’t sure that his gambling winnings had wound up in the church’s charitable offerings, as she’d insisted to Cade, but she felt hopeful they had.
She stood at the backmost pew, then offered the collection basket to the first congregant. He put in his contribution. The basket passed from hand to hand. Absently, Violet watched it.
A fat wad of rolled-up currency landed in the basket.
Startled, Violet stared at it. That was a great deal of money! Even if all the bills beneath the top one were the lowest possible denomination, there had to be…a lot of cash there.
Aching to know who was so generous, Violet nonetheless kept her gaze lowered. She strived to remain neutral to the offerings her friends and neighbors made to the church. Everyone gave what they could; sometimes people took help when they needed to.
But this was beyond unusual. Only a lucky gold miner, a railroad magnate or maybe a touring European could afford to give so much to a Sunday collection plate. It was unprecedented.
Interestedly, Violet let her gaze roam down the pew. Near the far edge where the basket was, she glimpsed quality shoes, a pair of strong legs clad in gray trousers, two masculine hands—
The people on either side of the mysterious donor gasped. Loudly. As one, the whole congregation turned to see what the fuss was about. Caught staring, Violet felt herself flush.
The basket moved on. Throughout the small church, the congregants’ rumblings rose a little higher. More people spied the wad of cash in the basket. Each row of worshippers swiveled their heads in turn, trying to glimpse the charitable benefactor in their midst. Her father cleared his throat, then preached on.
Steadfastly, Violet collected the basket at the end of its rounds. The unknown donor’s contribution appeared to have kicked up some sense of competitive giving among the congregants. There were more coins and bills than ever before—and one small but valuable gold-dust packet, as well. It smelled like whiskey.
Happy for it all the same, Violet carried the collection to her father’s modest office. Located in a small room behind the chancel, it contained a rolltop desk for Papa’s books, papers and the church register, a well-worn chair, a window, a seldom-used door that led to the churchyard and a reliable safe. In the West, even a man of God couldn’t be too careful with money.
Crouching before the safe, Violet made fast work of depositing the collection funds. Ordinarily she would have sorted them. Today she felt much too curious about the identity of the mysterious donor to be too persnickety about organizing the money. Instead, she shoved the whole lot inside, then clanged shut the safe’s door. She gave the dial a hasty spin.
“You missed your calling. You should have been a gambler.”
At the sound of that familiar voice, Violet started. She rose, her green worsted skirts swirling around her ankles, to see Cade Foster standing there in her father’s office. He looked exactly as handsome—and as darkly enigmatic—as she remembered.
“When I dropped my latest bundle of winnings in your basket, everyone around me gasped,” Cade said. “But you didn’t even bat an eyelash. I’m impressed—you have quite a poker face.”
“That’s not what you said the other day,” she disagreed. “You said my emotions are unusually evident on my face.”
“That’s true.” He came a little closer. “I did say that.”
At his nearness, her heartbeat surged. Breathlessly, Violet stood her ground, feeling suddenly impatient and exhilarated and anxious, all at once. She’d thought she might never see Cade again, she realized. She’d thought her turn as belle of the ball might end as quickly as it had begun. Evidently, she’d been wrong. She’d never felt so happy to be wrong about something.
She ought to be more cautious this time, though. It had shaken her when Cade had skedaddled from her house so abruptly.
To that end, Violet lifted her chin, striving to sound as though she bantered on a regular basis with worldly, roguish gamblers like him. “You also said that was a compliment.”
“It was.” Cade peered at her more carefully. His expression looked unreadable. “But I reserve the right to change my mind.”
She couldn’t help feeling stung. “About the compliment?”
“About your ability to bluff. Maybe your poker face only applies to other people, not me. Maybe with me, you can’t help showing how you feel.” Cade nodded. “You’re doing it right now.”
She was? “No, I’m not.”
“You are.” Another careful, interested look. “You look as though you feel…excited. Do you, Violet? Do you feel excited?”
More than she ever had. She could scarcely keep her knees from wobbling, she felt so unendurably curious about why he was there. Had Cade only come to assuage his guilty gambler’s conscience by dropping off a contribution to the church? Or was there another reason the gambler had come there? To see her?
“I guess it’s probably not smart to tip your hand to a renowned gambler.” Rallying, Violet smiled. “I’ll make more of an effort to be cryptic and unreadable.” She did. “See?”
“Nice try.” Cade appeared improbably amused by her efforts—and possibly a bit charmed, too…even though that made no sense. “But even when you’re trying, you’re still you, Violet.”
“Meaning what, exactly? Why are you here, anyway?”
“Meaning,” Cade clarified as he came a bit nearer, all the way into a patch of October-morning sunlight, “that you’re about as mysterious as an open book on a sunny day. At least to me.”
She couldn’t help feeling vaguely disappointed. Everyone knew that gentlemen liked pretty ladies who kept them guessing.
“And I’m here,” Cade added as Violet pondered the devilish impracticality of that, “because I missed looking at your face.”
She glanced up. “Oh.” That might be a good thing. It might be as good as the way he looked just then, with his dark wavy hair all burnished by sunshine and his eyes bluer than blue.
“You can’t stop being open to me, it seems.” Now Cade was close enough to touch her. So he did. He took hold of her elbow, then drew her nearer. “And despite my efforts to stay away—”
“So you were avoiding me on purpose!”
“—I can’t stop wanting to be near you.”
Heaven help her, he looked as though he meant it. His gaze roamed over her features, full of enjoyment and remembrance and…surrender? Violet didn’t know what to make of that.
“I won that money for your collection plate shortly after we had dinner together,” Cade told her. “I even got invited to the next level of play in the qualifying rounds for the private faro tournament. I glimpsed Whittier, too.” He dropped his gaze to her bodice. Most likely, he could see her heaving in eager, restive breaths. “But I haven’t won a damn thing since then.”
“Oh. I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“No, you’re not.” Cade’s eyes sparkled at her, full of mischief and something darker…something needful. “Neither am I. Because it’s brought me back here to you.” He lifted his hand to her cheek. Rousingly, he stroked her. Tellingly, his voice lowered. Huskily, he said, “You see…I need more good luck.”
He was going to kiss her. Violet could tell.
She’d not been courted much, that was true; but she recognized something primal in Cade’s eyes. Possibly because she felt a bit passionate just then herself. Her knees quaked. Her hands trembled. She needed to be kissed, it occurred to her. How else to truly know Cade?
How else to know if she could trust him? Rely on him?
“I need more good luck,” Cade repeated, “and it seems I can only get that from touching you. Maybe…from kissing you.”
From the rest of the church, the sounds of her father’s sermon echoed from the pulpit. Its usual emotive vibrancy was muted by the walls that stood, quite properly, between Reverend Benson and Violet. The effect was surreal—and inhibiting, too.
“You can’t…get your good luck here. Now,” she breathed, thoroughly scandalized by his suggestion. “We’re in church! Everyone I know is in there, a few feet away!”
Rakishly, Cade quirked his eyebrow. “So?”
“So…” Vigorously, Violet gestured. “They’ll know what we’re doing in here! I’ll be ruined.” She gave him a quelling look. “You might be leaving Morrow Creek soon, but I’m not.”
He laughed, then squeezed her hand as though to reassure her. “I left quite prominently after making my contribution to the church coffers. As far as anyone knows, you’re alone here.”
Well…that might be true. Cade had used the exterior office door very effectively to enter without her noticing. More important…he was still going to kiss her. No matter who was nearby to know it or to happen upon them or even to disapprove.
Agog at the realization, Violet backed up. Her bustle bumped into her father’s desk, stopping her retreat abruptly.
She guessed this was what she got for toying with a notorious gambler—for pretending to be more sophisticated than she really was. In a last-ditch effort to retain her virtue, Violet tried some distracting chitchat. She pointed to Cade’s fine leather brogues. “I thought I recognized those shoes.”
Another smile. “Don’t be afraid, Violet. I’ll be gentle.”
“You’ll be…” Envisioning the possibilities inherent in that soft promise, Violet sighed. Tellingly. Swallowing hard, she nodded. “You’ll be very, very gentle? And quick?” She cast a hasty glance at the doorway. “Very, very, very quick?”
“You’re new at scandalous behavior. I can tell.”
“Try not to seem so amused by that. It’s rude.”
“I’m sorry. I do admire your enthusiasm for the task at hand though. Not every sinner wants to conduct their sins quite so…efficiently as you.” Contritely and somehow wickedly, Cade took her other hand. “I never mean to be unkind to you, Violet. Please allow me to make up for my rudeness…with pleasure.”
Oh my. “Gently,” Violet specified shakily. “And quickly!”
“Hmm.” A low, speculative rumble escaped him. “I can’t rightly promise either…seeing as how I’ve been hungering for this every day since I saw you last.” Cade squeezed her hands again, almost longingly. “I want you, Violet. Let me have you.”
Let me have you. No one had ever spoken to her that way before. So passionately, so stirringly…so commandingly.
At Cade’s roughly voiced request, Violet could hardly refuse. Willfully, she nodded. Her entire midsection tightened with eagerness, filled with uncertainty about what came next.
“Yes,” she began primly. “Yes, if you like, you may—”
Kiss me, she was about to say, but Cade’s mouth came down on hers just as that last puff of breath was about to escape.
Every bit of what she’d been thinking flew from her head. All that remained were Cade’s lips, surprisingly warm and firm and soft on hers, and Cade’s hands, releasing her hands to pull her whole body tight against his, and Cade’s hips, pressing against her skirts, crowding them against the desk behind her.
His kiss was not gentle. It was not quick. It was hard and slow and probing and remarkable, and Violet wasn’t quite sure how—given how dizzy she felt with shock and amazement—she remained upright beneath it. Cade’s hands cradled her back; his lips slid over hers, making her mouth come alive with new sensations. A wild burst of…it could only be longing, she knew, rushed to her toes. Avidly, Violet grabbed his lapels and held on, but even that was not enough to steady her. She needed…more.
“Oh, Violet.” Moaning with enjoyment, Cade pressed his forehead to hers. Intimacy rushed between them, heady and new. He stroked her cheek, pushing back a few errant tendrils of hair. He curled his knuckles against her jaw. “You’re so…”
Helplessly, she froze, waiting for him to say something thoughtless or unkind. Once, a blacksmith’s apprentice who’d courted her briefly had kissed her, also. I never thought I’d find myself kissing you! he’d tactlessly burst out afterward.
It had taken her days to stop feeling ashamed of that.
“—so perfect,” Cade said at last. Seeming truly to mean it, he blessed her with a smile. “So perfect in every way.”
“You’re joking,” she burst out. “You must be—”
“Give me more,” he urged. “I’ll try to be gentler.”
Warily, Violet raised her eyebrow.
Sensing her skepticism—and feeling inexpressibly saddened by it—Cade stroked her cheek again. “I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said.
Markedly unsure of that, all at once, Violet exhaled. She shook her head. “You can’t promise me that.”
“I just did.” A very gentle kiss. “Believe me, Violet.”
But it was too late. She’d already been reminded of the way her infrequent suitors usually reacted to her. She couldn’t help wondering: Exactly what, if anything, made Cade different?
Astutely, the gambler gazed at her. “How many?”
Violet blinked, surprised. “How many what?”
“How many men have hurt you? How many have disappointed you? How many have made you believe in them, then let you down?”
Shakily, Violet scoffed. “None,” she lied, subtracting every single man who’d courted her briefly, then revealed that he didn’t want to marry her, had found someone else, or had only wanted to meet Adeline. Irked that he could read her feelings and her past so well, she raised her chin. “None at all.”
His gaze met hers. “Someday you’ll tell me the truth.”
“How do you know I haven’t already?”
“Because your whole body tells me you haven’t.” Tenderly, Cade ran his fingers down her arm. He stroked his thumb over her wrist. “I can feel you leaning toward me, wanting more—”
She felt herself flush. Compared with him, she was so inexperienced. So gullible. So defenseless to protect her heart.
“But a part of you always stays behind.” Cade’s coaxing hand swept along her arm. He watched its progress, seeming transfixed by the sight of his masculine hand against her lace-trimmed gown. “Give me more. I won’t disappoint you, I swear.”
Violet tried to laugh. She tried to appear worldly and sure. Maybe if Cade believed she was sophisticated and carefree, he wouldn’t recognize the disappointment and worry she tried so hard to keep hidden. But it was too late. He already had.
“Give over, Violet,” he urged. “Do it. It’s the only way to feel alive.”
That was a reckless philosophy. Violet opened her mouth to tell him so, but Cade met her with another kiss. She lifted her chin to muster up a more assertive, more convincing stance, but Cade took advantage of her position to kiss her neck. Shocked to feel his mouth there above the lacy collar of her dress, Violet stiffened. Ardently, Cade kissed her there again. This time, a tiny, barely perceptible squeal of enjoyment escaped her.
“See there?” Cade grinned. “Now you feel alive.”
She did. Her plan to fly to new heights was working, Violet thought in a daze. Never had she felt anything so wondrous as Cade’s warm mouth, his faint, raspy beard stubble, his hands and his breath and his body—so much bigger and stronger than hers—holding her close against him. His kisses moved onward, sliding from her neck to her jaw, and all the
while he kept on speaking.
“All I want is for you to feel wonderful,” Cade said in a low voice. “I want your heart to race…just like it’s doing right now.” Proving he’d noticed it, he laid her hand, covered with his, atop her heart. The gesture felt almost impossibly intimate. “I want your breath to pant and your knees to weaken.”
Obligingly, her body complied. Violet didn’t understand. If she didn’t yet trust him, how could she be so responsive to him?
“I want you to touch me, too, Violet.” Cade delivered another kiss, potent and sweet, just at the junction of her neck and jaw. “I want to feel your hands on me…just like this. Mmm.”
At his soft moan, Violet opened her eyes. When had she closed them? Swoonily, she saw that Cade had moved their joined hands from her heart to his. Specifically, to his chest. Upon finding herself touching him so boldly, she widened her gaze.
But there was more. “Your heart is pounding, too!” she said.
His nod exhilarated her. “I like kissing you,” Cade said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I love kissing you. I knew I would.”
Violet disagreed. “You couldn’t have known that.”
His dimples flashed. “Only you would argue the point.”
She smiled. “Only you would dare such an enormous bluff.”
Cade merely shook his head. “What will it take for you to believe me? I’m right about us. I’m right about us together.”
His blue-eyed gaze suggested there was something about them being together that Cade knew…and she did not. Trying not to blush any more forcefully than she already had, Violet fluttered her fingers over his shirtfront. What did he look like underneath it? she wondered suddenly. Was he burly? Hairy? Both?
She bet he looked like an Adonis, splendidly come to life.
Shocked by her own prurient curiosity, Violet lowered her hands. Evidently, Cade brought out all kinds of new qualities in her. If this continued, he wouldn’t need any persuasive ability to make her do…whatever he wanted. And wasn’t that the trouble?
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