Or ... would she? Frozen to the spot, Mac resisted the insidious thought, but it forced its way into his mind despite his best efforts. Maybe he didn't know Savannah at all. Maybe she wasn't as innocent as he believed. She certainly hadn't been frightened by his lust, he had to admit. In fact, she had embraced it eagerly, leaving him with the impression that he could have taken her any number of times.
Now she was chatting with a whore.
Not that he was a saint, or pretended to be. But that was the way of men ... not ladies. Yet he remembered Savannah had argued this theory very forcefully, stating that it wasn't fair that a woman had to marry to experience love-making while a man could slake his thirst without fear of ruining his reputation. Had she been speaking from experience? He wondered. Had he, blinded by love for her, failed to see that she wasn't the innocent angel he envisioned? These disturbing questions that ran swiftly through his mind as he watched Savannah descend the stairs raised an even bigger question; if he discovered that Savannah—his sweet Savannah—wasn't a virgin, would it matter?
As if she sensed him watching her—boring holes in her, rather—she glanced up and saw him. Her first reaction was spontaneous delight, which went a long way in melting Mac's anger over the fright she'd given him by disappearing.
But the shame and embarrassment that quickly clouded her expression heightened his suspicions, twisting his gut into knots. If he was wrong about Savannah in this—what other matters could he be wrong about?
Someone had warned Barlow, and by Roy's own words, Savannah had disappeared shortly after Mac left them. Since he'd made a stop along the way, Savannah would have had time to reach the hotel before him. It didn't explain the locket ... unless it was a clever and deliberate ploy to route suspicion from Savannah.
None of his chaotic thoughts made sense, and as Savannah approached them with the woman, Mac pushed them from his mind. Later, when he didn't have the distraction of Savannah's big blue eyes begging him for understanding, he would mull it over.
"Mac ... Roy. This is Alissa. Alissa, this is my best friend Mac, and my other friend, Roy Hunter."
Rudely ignoring the introduction, Mac took Savannah's arm and hauled her backward through the swinging doors. He marched her along the board walk, hardly aware that Roy was behind them. He knew he wasn't acting rationally, but he'd had too many scares, and too many shocks in the past hour to feel rational.
He'd found Savannah in a saloon, after spending a harrowing hour searching for her ... thinking she'd been kidnapped by Barlow. And now ... now she'd gotten him to wondering if Barlow had ever been a threat at all!
Savannah struggled against his tight grip. Finally she dug her heels of her boots into the boardwalk and threw her weight backward, forcing him to stop. She was breathing hard, and her eyes sparkled with anger. Glaring at him, she dusted her sleeves and turned to where Alissa stood watching them from the boardwalk in front of the saloon.
"I won't forget my promise, Alissa!” she shouted. “And don't worry—he's really quite harmless."
When she turned back around, Mac made sure they were nose to nose. “I wouldn't bet on that last part, Sav. You've scared ten years off my life."
Her chin angled, nearly brushing his own. “I'm not made of glass, Mac. When are you going to realize it? Obviously you don't know me at all!"
It was eerie how she echoed his very thoughts.
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Chapter Twenty-One
The moment they stepped into the hotel room, Savannah dropped Roy's coat to the floor. The vest Mac had given her to wear over her shirt quickly followed. When she began to unbutton her shirt, Mac forcibly turned from the provocative sight and tried to sound angry as he demanded over his shoulder, “What are you doing?"
"I'm undressing, Mac. What does it look like I'm doing?” She snorted. “Does this conversation sound familiar to you? Let me see.... what comes next? Oh, yes. We've been friends forever, right? The sight of me undressing shouldn't bother you."
"Maybe it shouldn't, but you know it does,” Mac said without thinking. He gave his forehead a mental slap. The woman was driving him insane!
"Calm down, Mac. I'll be finished in a moment. Although these trousers are comfortable, I feel ... naked in them."
She looked naked in them, too, Mac recalled, willing moisture back to his mouth. His lips tightened in annoyance. If he didn't know better, he'd think Savannah had deliberately set out to distract him. With extreme effort, he concentrated on counting the colorful squares on the quilt covering the bed.
He gave up after the third one, because looking at the bed reminded him that he and Savannah would be sharing it later. Maybe he'd just take the floor again...?
"Since you obviously followed me to the Empress hotel, you probably already know that Barlow and Raquel weren't there."
"I figured as much when you came out alone.” There was a rustling sound behind him, a heavy sigh, then: “You can turn around now. I'm dressed."
Slowly, Mac turned. Gone was the pretty boy, and in his place was a goddess. Her golden hair fell in a single thick braid over one shoulder, bared by the cornflower blue dress she now wore.
And wore well. Extremely well. Mac frowned. In fact, he couldn't remember seeing her in the dress before. It was more ... revealing, with a lower neckline and an off-the-shoulder style. It dipped in tightly at her waist, flared gently over her hips, and gathered fullness as it reached the floor.
Blue looked good on her. It not only matched her eyes, but brought out the color in her cheeks, and made her breasts appear even—Mac swallowed hard, putting a halt to his arousing thoughts. He pulled another convincing frown.
"Something wrong?” she prompted.
"You look lovely,” Mac growled. And it was nothing but the truth. Lovely, tempting, edible ... “But I don't remember you wearing anything so revealing."
Savannah tilted her head, a slight smile on her mouth. “Maybe you just never really noticed before."
"Before what?"
"Before we became aware of each other as a man and a woman."
As a bounty hunter, Mac had traveled far and wide. He'd met many people along the way, and knew just about every ploy and trick in the book. Before he'd found Savannah in the saloon, he never would have suspected what he suspected now; that Savannah was deliberately distracting him. Normally he would delight in the knowledge ... but now he questioned her motives.
Voicing his suspicions turned out to be one of the hardest things he remembered having to do. If he was wrong—and he fervently hoped he was—it could cause a serious set-back in his pursuit of Savannah. Yet if he was right, he'd know he'd never had a chance anyway.
There was no subtle way to say the words, so Mac just blurted them out, his heart already thumping painfully. “Why are we really looking for Barlow?"
Her brow furrowed. “You know why, Mac. He took my money, and my locket. He also stole a lot of money from the bank. He's an outlaw."
She sounded convincing, but Mac knew he couldn't trust his instincts where Savannah was concerned. “If I could give you the locket and replace the money he took from you, would you be willing to forget about Barlow?"
"What are you saying?” Her confusion deepened the frown between her eyes. "Did you find the locket—and my money? And why would Ned leave those items after going to all that trouble of taking them?"
Mac searched for hope in her big blue eyes, wondering at its absence. “Answer my question, and I'll answer yours.” Slowly, he approached her, hoping to get a better look at her eyes. Her eyes would tell him if she lied.
"Yes, Mac. If I had my locket and my money, I would be willing to forget about Ned.” She gave her head a bewildered shake. “Although I have to say I'm bursting with curiosity! Why would you ask such a thing? I begged you to give up the chase before you left for Sunset Ranch."
"Wasn't that a ploy so I wouldn't find out you were going to follow me?” The guilty color that flooded her cheeks told its own tale.
Mac's heart sank.
"No, it wasn't! At least, if I could have convinced you to stay, it would have been better! Oh, you're confusing me, Mac. What I mean is, I wanted you to stay, but I knew that you wouldn't, so yes, I was hoping you wouldn't suspect that I planned to follow you.” She reached out a hand as if to touch his chest, but let it fall short. “I've answered your question—questions—now you answer mine. Do you have the money and my locket? And why are you looking at me so suspiciously? What is it, Mac, that you think I've done?"
"One more question. Why didn't you tell the sheriff where Barlow was going?” Mac had to hand it to her—she didn't hesitate in her answer.
"Because if I had told Sheriff Porter what I knew, he would never believe that I had nothing to do with that bank robbery.” Her chin angled defensively. “Now, I want to know why you're questioning me as if I'm some—some kind of criminal."
"Someone tipped Barlow off. He checked out fifteen minutes before I arrived at the Empress."
Her eyes grew frosty. “And you think it was me?"
"I didn't accuse you."
"No, you didn't. But you implied."
She sounded hurt, and Mac could hardly blame her. He could find no fault in her explanations, which told him he'd been wrong.
"Maybe it was that deputy from Jamestown. He was following you when you left the hotel."
Mac looked at her sharply. “What deputy?"
"The one who stopped me as I was sneaking out of the hotel that night."
"You saw him here—in Paradise?” Mac demanded.
"Yes."
"Are you certain it was him?"
"Yes. I was standing across the street in front of the saloon when you came out of the hotel. He came out after you."
"Did he see you?"
Savannah nodded at the pile of men's clothing that she had removed. “If he did, he didn't recognize me, remember? No, I'm certain he didn't see me. Maybe he's the reason Ned left town in a hurry. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with us at all, Mac."
Although her theory made perfect sense, and made him realize that he'd been wrong about her, Mac knew that Barlow had known they were coming; he had the proof in his vest pocket. He withdrew the locket and held it out to her. “He left this at the hotel desk ... for me."
"My locket,” Savannah cried, snatching it from his hand. She quickly opened it, letting out a relieved sigh when she saw the pictures inside. She looked at Mac. “And my money? Did he leave it, too?"
Mac shook his head. “No money, but when we get to Angel Creek, I'm going to replace it.” He took a deep breath, determined to sound sincere as he added, “So you can open your hat shop when you get back to Jamestown.” He meant every word of it, but he still harbored a faint hope that she would change her mind and stay in Angel Creek. Marry him. Have his babies. Grow old with him. Without her, the money he'd been saving for their future lost its appeal.
"I couldn't take your money, Mac,” she said gravely. “It wouldn't be proper."
"Proper?” Mac almost laughed, but caught himself in time. She was serious. Dead serious. “You're worried about proper, after...” Hm. Judging by her narrowed eyes, he decided he should stop while he was still standing. He cleared his throat and tried a different tactic. “There's nothing wrong with a little loan between friends. When you get on your feet and start making a profit, you can pay me back."
She fell silent as if she were considering his offer. Finally, she nodded. “In that case, I'll think about it. But it would be a loan only, understood?"
"Understood."
"We should go downstairs. Roy's probably fainting with hunger by now."
Mac chuckled. “More than likely he's eaten seconds and thirds by now.” As she laughed and turned toward the door, Mac drew her back and into his arms. She tilted her face to his. He gazed down at her, his love for her so fierce it nearly choked him. “I'm sorry, Savannah."
As always, she didn't pretend not to understand. “Accepted.” She rubbed her palm against his chest in an oddly tender gesture of assurance, her smile whimsical. “We have a lot in common, you know. Daddy tells me I have a suspicious nature, too."
His smile was wry. “In my line of work, it pays to be suspicious.” He hesitated, then added with genuine regret, “But I should never have been suspicious of you."
"Nobody's perfect."
"You are,” Mac argued softly. Her fingers slid between the buttons of his shirt; her unexpected caress made him jump.
"No I'm not.” Mischief danced in her eyes. “And later, I'm going to prove it to you."
After delivering that tantalizing remark, she pulled free of his embrace and opened the door. Mac stared after her, torn between temptation and dismay. He was the one that was supposed to do the luring, not Savannah.
* * * *
"So what do we do now?” Roy asked, tearing a huge bite of meat from the chicken leg clutched in his hand. A pile of chicken bones sat at his elbow, testifying to his earlier declaration that this meal was his favorite. “We don't know where he's going from here, do we?"
Savannah absently swirled gravy into her mashed potatoes with her fork, considering Roy's question. What was her next move? Should she keep good her promise and return to Angel Creek, make amends with her father? She cringed at the thought. She knew her father better than most, and she could believe that he was sorry she'd left, but she didn't trust him to drop the subject of marriage. He was a shark of a business man. He'd wait a few weeks ... lull her into believing he was okay with her decision to remain independent, then he would move in for the kill.
Who would it be this time? She wondered, only half-listening to the conversation flowing between Roy and Mac. There were a number of men in Angel Creek that would love to marry her ... for her money. Like Jon Paul DeMent. She had known she wasn't in love with Jon Paul, but she had convinced herself she could eventually grow to love him, and she thought he loved her. How many times had she heard his smooth tongue declare that he wouldn't care if she were a pauper?
Then she'd found out the truth, and the truth had left her eyes wide open.
Her gaze lingered on Mac's face. She wanted a fine, honest man like Mac. Mac would never marry for money, but he would marry to protect a lady's reputation.
Yet honor wasn't enough.
She loved Mac, but she wanted to be loved in return.
Her mind returned to the question at hand. Where to go from here? Should she sneak away and head back to Jamestown, ask her father to send money? George Carrington would, she knew, because deep inside his stubborn heart, he loved her.
Mac would be furious if she left. Savannah almost smiled as she imagined his reaction. He'd probably come charging after her with every intent of hauling her back to Angel Creek again.
The possibility wasn't an unpleasant one, Savannah realized, trying not to blush lest Mac notice and become suspicious. If she decided to continue the journey to Angel Creek, she would have more time with Mac, which was a strong lure. Once there, she could stay in town long enough to get more money for her business venture, then catch the train out again.
Away from her father, and Angel Creek.
Away from Mac.
Savannah took a bite of her cold mashed potatoes, and nearly choked trying to swallow the food. The thought of not seeing Mac again caused a painful constriction in her throat and her heart.
It also made her more determined than ever to make the coming night unforgettable.
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Chapter Twenty-Two
She was plotting something.
Mac could feel it, sense it, and damned near taste it. All through dinner Savannah had been as quiet as a mouse, eating little, talking less, and staring at him as if she were trying to memorize his features. Once, he'd caught her blushing.
Now, back in their room, she was undressing behind the screen like a demure virgin instead of taunting him as she had done earlier. Had something changed? Mac thought back as he quickly shed his boo
ts and shirt before climbing into bed, but couldn't think of anything that he might have said to offend her.
Maybe she'd had time to think about her teasing comment, and now regretted it. Maybe right at this moment, she was attempting to figure out how she could retract her promise without losing face. His glance strayed to the bathing screen. She certainly appeared to be delaying the moment she had to climb into that bed with him.
Warming to his theory and plotting his revenge, Mac grinned wickedly. He kept his eye on the shadow moving behind the screen as he threw the covers aside and rose from the bed, wincing as the springs creaked. He shed his trousers, then quickly slid beneath the covers again.
Completely naked, and as always when he was around Savannah, completely aroused.
"Mac?"
He tensed, watching the outline of her figure behind the screen. “Yes?"
"Could you turn out the lamp for me?"
Her hesitant, shy request confirmed Mac's theory that Savannah was having seconds thoughts. Mac leaned over and twisted the wick, plunging the room into darkness. He fell back onto the pillow and propped his hands behind his head as he waited for Savannah to finish her toilette.
Perhaps she'd taken his lecture about waiting for marriage to heart, he mused, anticipating her reaction when she realized he was naked. He would assure her that she was safe, and let her relax.
Then he would casually curl up behind her—not touching her—just simply holding her like the trusted friend she kept insisting he was. With any luck she would get little sleep, thinking about what might have been. Perhaps she'd then start thinking about him in a new light ... a matrimonial light.
The bed dipped, startling him from his devious thoughts. Just knowing she was now sliding beneath the covers next to him caused a dramatic leap in his erection. For his plan to work, he had to control his own raging impulses.
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