Michael didn’t have a dimple like that, Gillian thought absently and froze. Instantly she felt a rush of overwhelming guilt hit her like a ton of bricks making her feel sick to her stomach. Cade happened to look at her in that very moment and his soft half-lidded gaze suddenly looked as alarmed as she felt at that very second.
“Excuse me a moment,” Gillian whispered, stepping away and racing into the other room. She couldn’t breathe and felt tears well up, choking her. How could she even look at another man and forget her departed one? What kind of woman was she to carelessly yearn for someone else, someone that she barely tolerated yet was falling for?
“Gillian?” Cade questioned softly, peering around the stone fireplace. He walked into the room and looked at her. She knew she had to be a sight standing there in wide-eyed panic. Her chest was heaving to draw air into her lungs, her heart was racing, and she was positive she was about ready to vomit.
“Go away.”
“I’m not leaving you. Something is wrong.”
“You. This. Us. This is wrong.”
“You knew what we were doing when you signed up for this,” he said cautiously. “You can’t back out without endangering all four of us now.”
“I’m not backing out,” she amended quickly, looking at his concerned gaze. His beautiful, intimate, tender eyes. Curses! she thought wretchedly, yanking her eyes from him and staring at the floor.
Focus on your boots, Gillian, she thought desperately, seeing the scuffed tips peeking out from beneath her skirt. Your boots are dusty and worn – safe! Boots are safe – even if they are a lovely shade of brown like the flecks in Cade’s eyes. No! Don’t think about his eyes… boots!
“What’s wrong?”
Suddenly Cade’s own boots came into view and she sucked in her breath. The toe of his boots were almost touching hers. He was standing right there in front of her! She could smell the faint scent of coal dust and sweat, but there was something else there – something that was keenly his essence. Lord save me, she thought desperately, pinching her eyes closed. She felt his finger touch her chin as he turned up her face, causing her to stubbornly scrunch up her face as she pinched her eyes even harder.
And then Cade chuckled softly.
Gillian felt desire pool in her stomach at the tender timbre of his laugh and the intimacy of the moment as he tried to keep their discussion private from the couple in the next room.
“Open your eyes, Gillian.”
“No,” she whispered hotly, bearing down with all her might to prevent any glimpse of Cade through a crack in her eyelids. She was a weak woman and this was one of her lowest points yet. He made her weak and was a hazard to her sanity.
“Why not?”
“You’re right here. You are in my space.”
“Was Fallon right earlier?” he asked huskily, lowering his voice an octave. His words were a reminder of what she’d admitted to him in a dare. Warning alarms blared in her head and her heart beat suddenly doubled in rhythm. She felt his breath on her cheek and whimpered painfully, her eyes shooting open fearfully. Sure enough, Cade was leaning towards her with such a look of longing on his face that she couldn’t breathe.
This… was… no… all wrong… Michael…
Her mind stuttered, shutting down as she watched him dip his head towards hers. He was mere seconds from kissing her when he suddenly laughed and backed away… almost happily?
Gillian shoved the gun she’d fished from the pocket of her skirt into his gut as he stepped away, holding up his hands in mock surrender. Her finger wasn’t on the trigger because she didn’t want to actually shoot him, she just needed to breathe and process this different side of Cade before her.
“I’m guessing that is my answer?” he chuckled in delight, his eyes full of admiration and respect for her.
“Think what you want.”
“I’m thinking you wanted me to kiss you - but you’re scared.”
“You don’t want to kiss me?”
“No, I never thought I did… until just now.”
“And now you want to?” she gaped in surprise at the candid admission.
“I’m going to,” he amended, and that cursed dimple reappeared as he grinned mischievously. “It’s just a matter of timing now, sweet Gillian.”
“Get out of my room.”
“It’s our room, wife.”
“I will shoot you,” she warned, watching him.
“I have no doubt of that,” he snickered, walking out of the room with both of his hands up in the air. Gillian heard Fallon and Rourke’s questions as well as the alarm in their voices. She walked back into the living area to rejoin the others, sliding the gun back into her skirt pocket.
“My apologies,” she announced flatly, staring at Cade. “It seems my partner decided to get a little handsy this evening and had to be put back in his place.”
Gillian felt like she’d conquered another country right now as Cade sat down dutifully, trying to keep a straight face at the table. Rourke’s face split into a wide grin and Fallon began to laugh… at her! Horrified, she watched Rourke reach over the table to give her partner and temporary husband a celebratory handshake of approval.
Chapter 9
Cade gave her a wide berth the rest of that evening and the next morning. She wasn’t sure if it was for his sake - to avoid being shot now that she’d revealed she had possession of a firearm - or for her own sake. The look of humor and surprise on his face had been priceless and thinking back about it, she giggled quietly in delight. She found herself enjoying the fact that she could surprise Cade.
He’d taken off for the mines again with Rourke. She’d been awake when he left and truthfully hadn’t slept much all night. She kept tossing and turning, thinking about earlier in the evening when he’d almost kissed her, as well as thinking of Michael. She hated that the memory of her lost husband filled her with such guilt because she knew deep in her heart, he’d want her to be happy. It just felt odd for it to be this soon. But it’s been over a year, she argued mentally with herself.
How was she supposed to look at the blasted man and not think about him trying to kiss her? Cade had gone as far to say that kissing her was a matter of when – not if! He intended to kiss her, which meant that he was actually interested in her. What about his wife he’d lost? Didn’t he have the overwhelming guilt she still felt? How did he get past that emotion – and did she even really want to?
The Settler’s Reunion was this evening. The people of Shenandoah were supposed to be setting up booths to peddle their homemade wares up and down the main street in town. There was going to be music and dancing, as well as food served up for everyone to partake.
According to Fallon, several women were baking pies and cookies for the event – and there was going to be a pig roasted on a spit, donated by the butcher in the next town over who would be attending. Father Jacobs had generously donated several hand-carved rosaries to the community. Fallon was going to be selling jams that she’d made earlier in the month as well as Rourke’s eggs that he’d been giving to her.
Gillian knew that it got the couple much closer to finally getting married with every cent Fallon earned. Rourke almost had enough saved to buy his own piece of land; he’d admitted so during their conversation last evening but this job offer had him shaken. If he took the position as an agent, that meant they would be moving and he couldn’t purchase the land yet… which also meant delaying their wedding.
To Gillian it seemed a simple answer - they could both become agents and simply marry each other in Denver. Rourke had flatly declined the idea for fear of endangering Fallon and had changed the subject immediately with a hard look at Cade. She knew the man was not keen on the fact that Gillian was here and directly in danger.
Gillian got up from her bed and washed her face, trying to rinse away the flurry of thoughts in her mind. She didn’t want to think about Cade at all, nor their near kiss. She wanted to focus on the idea of being a part of a celebration and w
hat the party tonight would bring. The sooner they finished this mission, the sooner they could be headed back to Denver and part ways.
She shook out her faded calico dress. She hadn’t worn the gown in some time, keeping it for special occasions. There had been no reason to dress nicely and her other serviceable dresses were more than acceptable to wear.
The calico was lovely, a faint tan coloring with brown and dark blue flowers. It looked lovely against her skin, making her bright hair seem even more vibrant. She loved the way it fit and the contrast of muslin at the shoulders, lined with a scrap of lace, giving it a modest yet breathtaking appearance. She’d always wanted to purchase a bit more lace to have it peek out from the long-fitted sleeves but that was an extravagance she’d passed on several times. As she slipped it over her head, she buttoned the collar behind her neck and smiled to herself as she smoothed the fabric.
Gillian fetched a wide ribbon and saw the blue one she’d told Fallon about. Getting it out, she hurriedly plaited her hair into place and walked across the street to Fallon’s home. As the door opened, she saw the other woman was also preparing for the event as she ushered her inside.
“C’mon inside.”
“I brought the ribbon I told you about.”
“Oh, thank you,” she smiled gratefully, nodding as she brushed her hair.
“Sit down and I’ll braid it for you,” Gillian instructed, with a soft smile. She deftly braided her hair, weaving the blue ribbon into the locks. Wrapping it around her head like a crown, she pinned it into place and stood back to admire her handiwork.
“That’s beautiful,” Gillian admitted. “You look like a mysterious fairy princess or one of the fae folk from fairy tales. Rourke will say that his ‘wee wren’ is the prettiest woman at the dance.”
“He always says that,” Fallon smiled shyly, rolling her eyes. “The man is fair-smitten and I don’t know why. Now, it’s your turn - sit down. We need to make an impression on your husband.”
“Rourke is in love with you,” Gillian protested, backing away. “Cade’s not.”
“Gillian - sit down,” Fallon ordered, pointing at the bench seat where she’d just been sitting. “Falling in love isn’t easy and doesn’t happen in the blink of an eye. You grow and learn each other, recognizing their faults as well as their strong points, and you find that you can’t imagine life without them.”
“I had that kind of love with my husband that died,” Gillian admitted.
“You were blessed then,” Fallon concurred, nodding as she began to brush out Gillian’s braid. She felt the bristles running through her hair and almost sighed with delight. It was so nice to feel like someone was taking care of you, and different from when you brushed your own hair – and then she winced as Fallon began to pull tight, braiding Gillian’s hair.
“… and you could have that again if you simply give Cade a chance. I’ve seen him look at you when you aren’t paying attention. He cares for you.”
“He was married too,” she confessed, trying to turn her head to look at Fallon standing behind her. Fallon yanked on her hair and pushed her head back around.
“I’m almost done. Don’t move.”
“I don’t think either of us is ready for something like that. Love is hard and painful… kind of like this, truthfully,” Gillian quipped, feeling another yank on her head. “Ow!”
“It’s also wonderous and essential,” Fallon whispered, releasing her. “There! You look stunning.”
“I wish I could see it.”
“Hold on,” the other woman said, walking back to her bedroom. As she returned, she saw Fallon carried a small polished mirror that had a coppery haze around the edges from age.
“Be careful,” she warned, “It’s the only one I have.”
“I will be,” Gillian promised and held up the tiny mirror. Her hair had been separated into two braids, one beside each ear going back along her scalp. Angling the mirror, she saw that the two had been woven together with the ribbon forming a single thick rope of her hair that seemed to loop over itself.
“How did you learn how to do that?”
“I remember my mother braiding my hair as a young girl into two braids. I would watch her doing it and then she would twist them, wrapping it into a bun at the base of her neck,” Fallon admitted, extending her hand for the mirror and looking at her own reflection. “This is beautiful. Thank you, Gillian.”
“Of course,” she smiled, hugging her. “What are friends for?”
Chipping away at the wall facing him, Cade tried to ignore the cloying fear that beat at him. He hated that his childhood fear was coming back to haunt him and could affect his performance on this mission. It was embarrassing – just like having Gillian pull a gun on him when he tried to kiss her.
He still couldn’t believe that he’d felt such an overwhelming burst of desire for the woman. He’d seen her panic and somewhere deep inside of him he felt a growing need to comfort her. At first, he’d been grateful as the thought of Madeline surged to the forefront of his thoughts. He would always love her. She’d been an exceptional friend and the first to hold his heart. Nothing could ever change that or take away that place. He would have those memories forever, just as he loved his parents or past friends.
Each person from his past held a special place, like putting compartments away in a larger box. Each spot was different and contained something precious, but it wasn’t until he felt the urge to comfort Gillian that he realized something… there was another place, another compartment, in his very soul.
He would always love Madeline and his son but losing them didn’t mean his emotions drained away or dimmed with time – it was just different and he couldn’t explain it. Nor could he grasp the admiration and joy he felt at seeing the spark in Gillian’s eyes. He could deal with her temper, her sass, and her happiness – but her fear or sorrow was like being cut in two. It was crushing… and illuminating as he realized he would do anything to keep the sadness from her eyes.
“She’s a feisty thing, your Gillian,” Rourke said from nearby in the inky blackness. He could see his tiny oil light flickering as the single indication of where he was standing. “I canna say that my wren has e’er pulled a gun on me.”
“Gillian is a might prickly,” Cade admitted, smiling to himself. “I like her temperament and fierce spirit. Maybe she’ll soften up a bit over time?”
“Like the dance tonight? A bit o’ music to soothe the savage beastie?” Rourke teased.
Some of the men around them snickered in the darkness at his comment. Nothing was private it seemed, and being a part of the group reminded him of a bunch of women gossiping. Word would spread all-over town about Gillian pulling a gun on him when he tried to kiss her. He hoped tonight would go better and wanted to woo her into relaxing her guard. Maybe he would surprise her with something special, he mused, picking up his axe and swinging away again at the wall.
Gillian and Fallon made a makeshift table and covered it with the top coverlet of a quilt that hadn’t been bound yet. It was colorful and eye-catching- something to draw your attention. Several men were setting up down the street and she could hear the faint plucking of a guitar, banjos, and a fiddle.
The sun was getting low in the horizon and they had about an hour left of daylight, which was when things would get lively, according to Fallon. Most people would be working at the mines until dusk, then return home to clean up, and begin filling the streets. She kept looking towards the mine in hopes of spotting Cade heading to the house.
Fallon, along with several others, began to hang lanterns on hooks at the corner of the verandah of her house. She’d wondered about all of the wrought iron hooks she’d seen and simply forgot to ask. The lanterns would illuminate the streets with a soft glow, perfect for the dancing this evening. Women began to stroll along the street, stopping at each table to barter, trade, or purchase items. The jars of raspberry jam were going quickly, as well as the eggs she had out.
“Do you mind
if I walk about?” Gillian whispered towards Fallon, who was busy exchanging two jars of jam in exchange for a small tin of salve.
“No, no. Enjoy yourself and I will holler if I see your husband.”
Gillian didn’t comment at the use of the word; instead, she walked away and headed up the road to look at the tables laden with items. She saw dried and oiled gourds that had been prepared for usage, carved whistles, and balls of yarn that had been dyed. Another table had aprons, bonnets, and gloves. One person was selling vegetables. His table was covered with tiny pumpkins that could be used in pies, as well as homemade jars of pickled onions and cucumbers. She had a fondness for the tart side dish and immediately haggled a price with the man for two jars as well as two of the small pumpkins.
Milling about, she spied a woman standing at a table that had quite the crowd around it. Glancing at it, Gillian saw that she was selling jars of what looked like water and several crocks with large X’s written on the front. Apparently someone in the family had a large still and she was unloading the strong alcohol at a premium price! Shaking her head, she smiled ruefully realizing that there would no doubt be a lot of drunken men on the streets this evening.
Glancing up at the mine, she saw that the entrance had barely anyone near it and the last of the miners were descending down the hill towards town. Had she missed Cade as he and Rourke passed? As if by design, she heard Fallon calling her name. Turning from the table, she saw her friend waving happily and Rourke standing at her side. Where was Cade? Making her way across the cobblestone street, she smiled politely as her eyes searched for him in the crowd that was growing.
“Is Cade with you?”
“Nay, he had something ta’ do,” Rourke replied, smiling at Fallon as the lively music began, filling the evening air. “Just like my wee wren needs to kick up her heels.” Laughing, Fallon put her hand in Rourke’s as he pulled her into the street and began spinning her around. Gillian glanced at Fallon’s table to see that most everything was gone and she’d practically sold out. Watching the couple, she sighed enviously as she leaned on a post on the porch.
An Agent for Gillian Page 8