by Carol Finch
To that end, she peeled off her buckskins and sank into the cold water Millie had spitefully drawn for her bath. In an hour, when she’d dressed and ventured downstairs, Hanna would look decent enough to draw Cale’s attention, she promised herself resolutely.
Maybe she was exhibiting symptoms of vanity, but she was not about to let that snippy Millie Roberts upstage her in Cale’s eyes. He was her husband, blast it all. And blast this bargain while she was at it! Hadn’t she claimed that she wanted to experience every facet of life? Well, maybe it was high time to discover how it felt to actually be a woman.
Hanna told herself, right there and then, that when it came to changing her status of innocence, she wanted no man except Cale to do the honors. He could do everything else expertly. Why not that, too?
Better her than Millie in Cale’s sinewy arms, Hanna decided as she shivered through her cold bath. That spiteful woman better keep her distance from Hanna’s husband or she’d be dreadfully sorry!
Cale inwardly sighed when he ambled into the barn to pen up his pinto gelding, and found Millie waiting to pounce on him. The woman was all over him like a flea on a dog. In the past he’d been all in favor of her amorous attention, but now he considered her an awkward inconvenience. Damn, what a difference a few days with Hanna underfoot made in his life.
“She’s not what you need and you know it,” Millie whispered as she pressed her ample bosom against his chest and locked her hands behind his neck. “I’m what you need, Cale. Why would you wed a woman who is so wrong for you?” She shimmied provocatively against him. “Not that it matters if that prissy wife of yours is primping upstairs. I still want you.”
There had been a time when Millie’s sensual advances interested him. Now, when he stared down at her, he saw another face superimposed—a face surrounded by tendrils the color of moonbeams, with eyes like polished amethysts. Appeasing his needs with this woman, while he craved another, didn’t seem like a satisfying solution.
Cale unclenched Millie’s hands from his neck and stepped away. “Look, Millie, I don’t want to hurt you, but I won’t see Hanna hurt, either. I made a pledge to her and I plan to honor it.”
“You men are such idiotic fools,” Millie said scornfully. “You always overlook a woman you need to dawdle with a woman you think you want. You’ll realize soon enough that you’ve made a disastrous mistake. You’ll be knocking on my door before the night is out. You know I can give you what a man like you needs. She can’t. My door will be unlocked and I’ll be waiting for you.”
She gave him a hasty peck on the lips and tossed him a provocative glance. She also made a point of brushing her breasts against his arm before she turned around and sauntered outside—swaying her well-rounded hips.
Cale released the frustrated breath he’d been holding. It was bound to be a long, exasperating evening, he predicted as he led his horse to the stall.
When he exited the barn, Pierce was leaning leisurely against the wagon, grinning playfully. “Wish I had your problems, Chief.”
“So do I,” Cale muttered.
“Good, then I pick Hanna. You can have Millie,” Pierce declared.
Grumbling at the tormenting deputy, Cale strode over to hook one arm beneath Julius’s back and the other beneath his knees. Forming a makeshift chair, Cale and Pierce hoisted their comrade from the wagon bed and carried him into the trading post.
With considerable effort they maneuvered his limp body up the stairs and settled him in his room. Julius roused long enough to curse his throbbing leg, then demanded more whiskey.
“You need decent food in your belly,” Cale insisted. “Opal Linden promised to bring up a tray herself.”
“Just lie back and relax, partner,” Pierce added. “Let the Big Chief’s powerful poultice work its magic.”
Mumbling, Julius levered himself into a more comfortable position. “Damn outlaws, anyway. I’d like to whack the one who shot me over the head with a crowbar a couple of times.”
While Pierce strode off to gather their saddlebags, Cale inspected the wound. For sure, the deputy needed to stay off his leg for a few days. That would leave Pierce to stand guard over the prisoners. Cale was torn between the need to lend an extra hand with the captives and the urge to whisk Hanna away from potential trouble with Millie, who’d made it crystal clear that she was anxious to provide all the sexual gratification he needed. Not to mention the possibility of a Pinkerton on their tail.
Cale was the first to admit that he had experience galore when it came to tracking and capturing criminals who ran rampant in Indian Territory. But dealing with a spiteful former lover and a new wife—who was giving him fits and didn’t even know it—was an unprecedented situation for him.
Should he devote his full attention to Hanna in order to discourage Millie? Cale didn’t have a clue how to proceed. Maybe he’d be better off if he bedded down outside the stockade with Skeet and avoided a potential confrontation.
That sounded cowardly to him. Although Cale didn’t invite trouble, he’d never walked away from it, either. Needing time alone, he decided to head down to the creek, take a bath, then wolf down supper—and show no preference to one woman or the other. Then maybe he’d relieve Pierce from guard duty. Surely Millie wouldn’t come in search of him if there were four outlaws lurking behind the walls of the stockade and they could overhear every word she said.
That was the best plan Cale could conjure up, so he decided to go with it. He’d pull guard duty later, and Hanna would have the room to herself. Millie could leave her door unlocked the whole livelong night, but Cale wasn’t going to accept the invitation.
He’d developed a forbidden fascination for one particular blonde—the one he’d seen swimming naked in the moonlight, luring him to her like a siren. If he couldn’t have what he’d begun to crave obsessively then he’d damn well do without.
No matter what, he wasn’t going to hurt or mortify Hanna, he promised himself as he strode toward the creek. A deal was a deal. He had enough willpower to curb his lusts, no matter how often Millie threw herself at him.
As he peeled off his clothes and walked into the water, Hanna’s bewitching image rose above him. That was all it took to assure Cale that settling for a substitute for the woman he wanted was a waste of time.
Hanna became seriously concerned when Cale didn’t arrive at the door to escort her downstairs to supper. Was he with Millie? Were they doing things together that were beyond her own scope of experience? She’d given Cale the go-ahead and was now kicking herself repeatedly for that.
Muttering at her reflection in the mirror, Hanna double-checked her appearance. She couldn’t recall being hounded by such a driving need to look her best. Tonight it seemed imperative that she make Cale sit up and take notice, to make him proud to call her his wife.
This is nonsense, Hanna scolded herself. Wasn’t she the self-same person who claimed that appearance wasn’t everything?
Hanna found herself pacing apprehensively from wall to wall, while Skeet watched her with ears pricked and his broad head resting on his oversize paws. She forced herself to stop pacing because it was one of her father’s habits and she wanted to be nothing like him.
Well, she told herself resolutely, there was naught else to do but tramp downstairs to determine if Millie was perched on Cale’s lap, hand-feeding supper to him. Marshaling her pride, Hanna headed for the door, dressed in the fanciest gown she’d found in Fort Smith. Her objective was to draw Cale’s undivided attention—provided he was in the dining room, not tumbling around in the hay with Millie.
“Let’s go, Skeet,” she said as she opened the door.
The dog’s claws clicked against the floorboards as he trotted toward the door. As was his habit, Skeet went through the door first to scout for trouble. Hanna inhaled a bracing breath, tugged at the plunging neckline—this time to show more cleavage rather than conceal it—then strode off. She was not going to throw a tantrum if, in fact, Millie was draped all over Cale
like English ivy. Hanna would rely on her pride, poise and dignity to carry her through the evening.
Before she rounded the corner to the steps she heard various conversations in progress below her. The stage passengers had arrived and the dining room was filled to capacity. She noticed a young woman and her small daughter, plus three respectably dressed gentlemen, who’d obviously arrived by stage. There were other patrons as well, but most of the other men were dressed like farmers and laborers, not travelers.
Hanna had progressed halfway down the steps when all conversation died into silence. She glanced across the crowded room, noting all eyes—most of them male—had turned toward her. But her only concern was for that one pair of dark, penetrating eyes that belonged to Cale. He was sitting in the corner—alone. His gaze was gliding over the exposed swells of her breasts like an invisible caress. His attention shifted to the indentation of her waist and then to the flare of the frilly blue satin skirt that covered her hips. When his attention darted to the other men in the dining hall, so did hers.
“Oh, my God!” Hanna whispered when cold, hard reality slapped her in the face. Her father’s hurtful words came back to her in a deflating whoosh. He’d told her time and again that the only thing a woman needed to be good at—that which Hanna excelled at—was capturing male attention. He’d also told her that she should use her arresting looks to snare men who could benefit her already lofty position in life.
A sense of panic nearly overwhelmed her, prompting her to clasp the gold locket nestled between her breasts. What if Walter Malloy was actually right? What if all she had going for her was her God-given looks and her ability to draw men’s gazes?
The demoralizing thought caused a sheen of tears to mist her eyes. What if she was no more than an attractive trophy, possessing no talents or assets aside from superficial beauty? Frustration held Hanna immobilized on the staircase, hovering there like a colorful but useless butterfly.
Dear Lord, was her life about nothing more than attracting male attention? Was this all there was? All she could ever hope to be? And worse, wasn’t she using her looks to lure in Cale before Millie Roberts wrapped him in her seductive arms?
That humiliating epiphany caused Hanna to sway on shaky legs. She flung out a hand to grasp the banister before her knees buckled and she cartwheeled down the steps—which would please Millie to the extreme, no doubt.
Cale frowned, bemused, while he watched an indecipherable display of emotions chase each other across Hanna’s enchanting face. Something had suddenly disturbed her during her descent to the dining hall. Although she looked like a heaven-sent vision of beauty and had captured everyone’s attention, the sparkle had gone out of her eyes. Though sunlight shimmered through the window, giving her a mystical appearance and spotlighting her feminine assets—and she had more than her fair share, to be sure—he noticed her smile falter and her shoulders slump dejectedly.
Cale couldn’t be sure, but he had the odd feeling that she was about to break down and cry. Why? He couldn’t imagine. The nip of possessiveness that had been tormenting him for several moments vanished instantly. All that concerned him was discovering what had upset Hanna.
The fact that he was highly sensitive to the changes in her mood didn’t escape him. That wasn’t good, but there you had it. He could read Hanna like a thermometer, and he wasn’t sure how and when that had happened. All he knew was that he had the fierce urge to retrieve her from the steps and shield her from those appreciative male gazes. He wanted to bustle her to the corner table so he could have her all to himself and find out what made her look so sad and disheartened.
Maybe she felt awkward because she knew she looked hopelessly out of place in this roomful of backwoodsmen and travelers waiting to feast on Opal Linden’s fabulous meals. He knew how it felt to be out of his element and he wanted to spare Hanna those uncomfortable feelings if he could.
Suddenly Cale was on his feet, zigzagging between the tables to reach her. Hanna was staring at him with what looked to be an expression of disappointment and guilt. Guilt? Couldn’t be. What did she have to be guilty about? Except that she was so damned gorgeous that all the men were practically drooling as they savored her heart-stopping beauty.
“C’mon, Mags,” he murmured as he reached for her hand. “Let’s eat. I’m starved.”
The comment seemed to snap her from her doldrums, though he didn’t know why. It was as if he’d come up with the right thing to say and hadn’t even been trying.
“You didn’t notice?” she asked. Those luminous violet eyes searched his, as if his reply was crucial to her.
“Didn’t notice what?” What the hell was she talking about?
“You didn’t notice that I dressed specifically to draw your attention?”
She seemed so intent and serious that he couldn’t help but smile in flattered amusement. “You did? Why’s that, Magnolia Blossom?”
She looked flustered and perturbed at once. “Well, because…” Her voice fizzled out and she stared earnestly at him as he drew her down the steps, then escorted her across the room. “Cale, tell me true,” she murmured. “Do you see more in me than the way I look in a dress?” She gestured absently toward the roomful of men, who continued to stare at her with rapt attention and approving smiles. “More than they see? Can you see me at all? Am I only the wrapping on an empty package?”
Cale had the unmistakable feeling this was vitally important to her and she wasn’t going to drop the subject until he’d given her a straight answer. “Are you asking if I see the little spitfire who squared off against me in that clearing not so long ago and refused to stir another step until she’d done the honorable and decent thing? Do I see the intelligent woman who’s tried to absorb the survival skills I’ve taught her so she can become self-reliant?”
When she nodded, then glanced discreetly toward their table, silently indicating that the gentlemanly action was to pull out the chair for her, Cale complied. He also made a mental note to do so henceforth.
“Yup, I do, Magnolia Blossom,” he said as he pulled out her chair. “You’ve got a will of iron and a heart of gold, but these gawking fools can’t see the real you hidden beneath all that satin, all those ruffles. They look no further than your shapely figure and enchanting face. A damn shame, that.”
The smile she bestowed on him as she sank gracefully into the chair made him feel squishy inside. He’d pleased her. Well, how ‘bout that.
“So you don’t think I’m just window dressing, as my father claims?” she asked earnestly.
“Hell no! The man must be an idiot to say such a thing,” Cale said, scowling as he dropped into his chair.
That seemed to please her immensely, too. Cale was pretty sure he’d never understand the complicated workings of the female mind if his comment put such a radiant glow in her eyes and a satisfied smile on her lips—lips so soft and sensuous that he wanted to lean over and devour her. Forget the meal. He’d rather feast on Hanna’s luscious mouth any ol’ day.
Well, damn it, now he was being as shallow as her other male admirers, he realized.
“Elbows off the table,” she murmured confidentially.
Cale self-consciously jerked down his arms and clamped his hands on his thighs. Apparently, she’d decided to use this opportunity to polish his gentlemanly manners. Fine. He knew that he was sadly lacking in that department. Hoping for self-improvement, he studied Hanna’s sophisticated mannerisms and emulated them so he could pass himself off as a gentleman shopkeeper when they arrived in Texas.
“Did you get Julius settled in?” she asked as she rearranged the silverware in the proper placement beside her napkin.
“Yeah…er, yes,” he replied. “Julius is going to have a helluva—”
“Dreadful,” she corrected quietly. “No swearing in the presence of ladies.”
“—dreadful hangover when he wakes up,” Cale continued. “But he’ll be fine in a few days.”
Hanna glanced sideways to note Skeet
had nudged open the door with his nose and trotted outside, then she frowned curiously. “Where’s Pierce? Isn’t he dining with us?”
“No, he’s guarding the prisoners. I’ll take his place after we eat. Opal is saving him a plate.”
Hanna’s gaze lifted and clung to his. “You’ll be on guard duty all night?” She glanced sideways when Millie sauntered between the tables, filling coffee cups and flirting with the guests. Then Hanna stared directly at him. “Perhaps I should stand guard with you, in case any trouble arises.”
Cale’s lips quirked in a smile. He had the feeling Hanna wasn’t referring to a possible jailbreak, but rather a probable visit from Millie. “You don’t need to worry about me, Mags. I told you already. A deal’s a deal.”
“I trust you,” she said without hesitation, then inclined her head ever so slightly toward the buxom brunette who was staring possessively at Cale. “It’s her I don’t trust. I know I said I didn’t—”
He pressed his index finger to her lips, wishing it were his lips that were shushing her. “Forget it, Mags. I’ve got the situation under control.”
Or so he thought. Millie sauntered over to fill his coffee cup, and made certain she brushed her full bosom against his shoulder. Hanna’s gaze narrowed disapprovingly, though it didn’t faze Millie, who smiled devilishly—then spilled coffee in Hanna’s lap, accidentally on purpose.
“Oh, good gracious, how clumsy of me,” Millie said, her tone not even remotely apologetic.
Hanna swallowed a shriek as hot coffee saturated her gown and petticoats. Two pair of feminine gazes locked and clashed. Millie looked so triumphant that Cale wanted to swat her fanny. Hanna looked to be about an inch away from murder, and he considered flinging himself between them before his new wife went for his former lover’s jugular.
Damn! Cale had dealt with dozens of difficult situations before, but he’d never found himself between two women who looked as if they wanted to take each other apart with their nails and teeth!
