The boy’s eyes widened as he stared at the bounty in her hands. “Yes, ma’am. Right away.”
“Good.” She placed the candy in a paper and twisted it into a cone. Then she quickly wrote a note and folded it twice. “The candy will be here when you get back. Just ask Andrew.”
Winston grabbed the note from her and raced out the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’m sure you will be.” She smiled, then told Andrew to give him the candy when the boy returned. She asked her assistant to close the store at the regular time, and left quickly, before her courage deserted her.
Forty minutes later, she stared at herself in the glass over her dresser. The Worth gown fit as well as it had when she’d bought it in St. Louis three years before. Unfortunately, the bodice was as low-cut as she remembered. She tugged at it, but it didn’t budge. It clung to her breasts, exposing far more than it covered. She tried to convince herself the rosettes cast a shadow that concealed her curves. She turned a little in front of the mirror and knew she exaggerated the truth.
Aside from the shameful bodice, she was pleased with the dress. The creamy silk made her skin glow, and the flounced skirt reduced her waist to nothing. Ribbons and rosettes cascaded down the bustled back, and the pleated underskirt swished as she walked.
There was no time to curl her hair. She pulled out the remaining pins and brushed it smooth. She drew the top half up into a loose bun and pinned it in place. On either side of her ear, she made a braid about an inch thick, then weaved the two braids around the remaining loose hair, drawing it up off her neck into a coiled rope. She twisted the rope, then pinned it under the first bun. Several rosettes had been sewn onto a ribbon. She pinned these around her crown and secured loose ones to various points on her braid.
She stepped back to study the effect. She almost didn’t recognize herself. Perhaps it was for the best, she thought, smiling nervously. If she did recognize herself, she might lose courage, and she didn’t want that to happen now.
Her finishing touches included a pair of gloves made of the same silk as the dress and embroidered with rose-colored flowers, and a small silk bag. She glanced once more in the mirror, then reached up and pulled at the tiny sleeves that barely rested on her shoulders. At least it was warm outside. If it had been cold, or raining, her entire plan would have been ruined. For once, the weather cooperated.
She made her way down the stairs, then outside toward the path to town. Fear knotted her stomach but she ignored the sensation. She was tired of doing what everyone expected. Of being the fussy old maid. She was determined, for once, to give the good citizens of Landing something to talk about over their evening meal.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Justin stared out the hotel’s front windows, then glanced back at the note in his hand. Megan had asked him to meet her here. He looked up at the clock above the great stone fireplace. She’d said to be here in an hour. She was ten minutes late.
Something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut. It was the same feeling that had caused him to push Sheriff Williams down suddenly when they’d walked into the bank during a holdup. His fast actions had saved the older man’s life. He’d almost taken the bullet instead, but his aim had been better than the robbers. He would gladly do it a hundred times over for his friend. Williams had been the first and so far only person to believe in him.
He reminded himself Megan had believed, but he knew it was only while it had been easy to do so. If things got hard again, she would disappear as quickly as she had before.
So why did she want to meet with him? And why at his hotel? He returned his attention to the window and watched the people along the boardwalk. Her reasons had something to do with what had happened that afternoon. He shook his head, wishing his mother hadn’t taught him to respect women. Or that Colleen could spend five minutes in male form. Then he could show her exactly what he thought of her and leave her as broken and bleeding on the outside as she’d left her sister on the inside.
He glanced back at the letter, as if the few scrawled words would give him answers to his questions. Had he said the right things to her at her store? Had he convinced Megan that Colleen was lying about all of it? He wished he was one of those educated men with a couple of ten-dollar words to help her see the truth. He wished a lot of things.
The feeling in his gut got stronger. He looked up through the sparkling clean hotel window. Across the street a woman paused to check for wagons before stepping daintily out onto the road. She had to pick up her skirt to keep it from trailing in the dirt. The train was long, so she was exposing her entire foot and a bit of ankle. Another time he might have enjoyed the unexpected view. Today, he didn’t even notice it. He was too busy staring at the woman’s face and dress.
“Megan?”
Not only had growing up above the saloon with whores in the neighboring rooms given him an appreciation of fine lingerie, he recognized an expensive gown when he saw one. She would have looked at home at a fancy dress ball somewhere back East. Or maybe even in a French drawing room. But in Landing, Kansas, dressed as she was, she was as foreign as Napoleon brandy.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Several people stopped and stared as she stepped onto the boardwalk, then paused in front of the hotel. He walked around to the open front door and watched as she nodded graciously.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Jones. Lovely day we’re having.”
The other woman spoke, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. Megan’s voice, however, rang out clear and strong. “My gown? It’s beautiful, don’t you think? Yes, all the way from Paris, France. It’s a Worth gown. I bought it in St. Louis. If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to see Sheriff Kincaid. In the hotel... What? Yes, we’re meeting in the hotel. Just Sheriff Kincaid and I. Good day.”
She came through the open door, smiling as if she’d just learned a wonderful secret.
“Justin, how good of you to be waiting for me down here. It wasn’t necessary, though. I’m sure I could have found my way to your room.”
“I don’t know what kind of a game you’re playing, but I won’t be a part of it. We’re not going to my hotel room and that’s final.”
“Oh, how disappointing.” She pursed her lips into a pretty pout.
“Megan, what the hell is going on?”
“You haven’t said anything about my dress. What do you think?”
She walked in a small circle in front of him, giving him a clear view from all angles. Megan had always been beautiful. Earlier that day he’d been telling the truth when he’d said she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. With her heart-shaped face and large hazel eyes, she could capture any man’s attention. Her womanly shape had been tempting him since she’d first started filling out. She was the kind of woman a man dreamed of being with. It didn’t matter whether she was dressed in simple, worn calico or stunning silk. At least, that’s what he told himself at first.
As Megan continued to turn in front of him, he found his heartbeat increasing and his palms growing damp. He’d never imagined she could be more lovely, but he’d been wrong.
The elegant gown clung to her breasts, leaving most of her cleavage exposed. He swallowed hard. Rose-colored flowers perched in the deep vee, the soft petals providing the only hint of decency. From the top of her intricately done hair, to her silk-covered shoes, she was a female designed to reduce a man to incoherence. He was far from immune.
“I’m trying to decide if your silence is a good one or a bad one.”
He cleared his throat. “You look perfect.”
She arched her delicate eyebrows. “Perfection. That’s exactly what I’m trying to leave behind. Still, it will have to do. Perhaps we can work on something else, privately.”
She winked slowly. Suggestively. His blood boiled, coursing through his body, raging through his chest and exploding into his groin. He was hard and hungry in less than a heartbeat.
Who was this woman?
She tossed
him a quick smile, then turned toward the front desk. Newt stood there, his mouth hanging open. When her gaze lingered on him, he blushed.
“Hello, Newt,” she said in a sultry whisper.
“Ma’am.” His voice cracked.
“What room is Sheriff Kincaid staying in?”
“Two-twelve. Miss Bonnie’s next door in two-eleven.”
“Thank you.” She moved toward the wide curved staircase that circled down to the ground floor.
“Ma’am, Miss Bartlett, you can’t go up there.”
She paused and looked at the clerk. “Why not?”
He got redder. “It ain’t, ah, isn’t right.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“Megan?” Justin said, still not sure what she was after.
She looked at him. “Come now, Justin. We have things to talk about.”
His gaze narrowed. He took in the fancy gown, the faintly suggestive tone in her voice, the unexpected cleavage. It was hard to think straight when every time she looked at him all he could stare at were her pale white breasts.
Two men entered the hotel. Their conversation came to an abrupt halt when they spotted her. Justin didn’t bother turning around. He didn’t care who they were. All that mattered was Megan. His gaze drifted down her bare arm to her hand holding onto the banister railing. She was gripping the wood as if she was terrified of falling. Or just plain terrified.
The fog in his brain lifted and he could think again. He looked at her other hand. She was holding on to her bag just as tightly. He could detect a faint tremor in her body. She was out to prove something. But what? Why this way?
“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.
Their eyes met. The hazel irises had faded to gray, but he didn’t know what emotion had caused the change. Fear? Anticipation? Determination? He could read all of them there.
She nodded. “For the first time in a long time, I’m very sure.”
She started up the stairs. With three long strides, he was beside her. He offered her his arm. When she took it, he could feel her shaking. At the curve of the staircase, he paused, bringing her to a halt. “There’s still time,” he said, motioning to the men openly watching them from the lobby. “You’ve flaunted yourself, but you haven’t come to my room yet. You could go back.”
“I’m never going back.” She straightened her shoulders, and walked calmly to his hotel-room door.
He fumbled with the key. Her closeness was making him as nervous as he’d been his first time. Not that anything was going to happen between them. He didn’t know what her game was, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to play.
“Nothing’s going to happen between us,” he said as the key finally slipped into the slot and he opened the door.
She glanced up at him and smiled. Her hazel-gray eyes met his, then skittered away. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, I’m sure, too.” He followed her into the room.
He thought about not closing the door behind them. That would give them the illusion of convention, if nothing else. He shook his head. Who was he kidding? Megan Bartlett had just walked into his hotel room. Half the town already knew about it and the other half would know within the hour.
He shut the door behind him, then stood beside it with his arms folded over his chest. She circled the large bedroom, glancing at the armoire, at the wing-back chairs by the fireplace, then moving over to the bay window and leaning over the window seat to look out.
“You can see the entire town from up here,” she said. She gave him a quick smile over her shoulder, then turned back to the view. “People are stopping and staring at the hotel. Do you think they’ve already heard that I’m here?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“How fascinating. I suppose I’ve created a scandal.”
He moved to the foot of the four-poster bed and grasped the column of dark wood. It wasn’t just that damned dress, although it was making him hot and hard. Being this close to Megan, seeing her, knowing they were alone and remembering the kisses they’d shared not three hours before was enough to make him want to pull her onto the wide bed in front of him and have his way with her.
He wasn’t going to do that. No matter how she tempted him. At least he was going to do his damnedest not to do that, he thought grimly as she placed one knee on the window seat and bent forward to get a better view. Her action raised her bustle, allowing the yards of silk to drape over the length of her legs. The position was provocative. He turned away.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“I thought we could talk.”
“What?” He glanced at her. She’d turned back toward the room and was perched on the edge of the window seat. Her hands were folded modestly in her lap, her gaze firmly locked on the floor. She was the picture of innocence, except for the expanse of pale bosom that rose and fell with each breath. If she took a really deep breath, he wondered if she would pop out, then got disgusted when he realized he was holding his own breath in anticipation. “What do you want to talk about? No. First tell me why you wanted to talk in my room. And why the hell you’re wearing that dress.”
She stood up quickly and smiled. “My Worth gown? Isn’t is wonderful? I’ve had it for three years.” She held the skirt out at the sides and glanced down at the fabric. “It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I knew I shouldn’t buy it. After all, where was I going to wear it in Landing?” Her smiled faded. “But I bought it, anyway. What was it you said? Another of my guilty secrets.”
She released her skirt and walked across the floor until she stood directly in front of him. He could smell the rose water she’d used in her hair.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” she said quietly. “You think I’m playing a game, but I assure you, I’m quite serious. I’ve realized that I’ll be judged no matter what happens, so I want to do something wicked. Just once. All my life I’ve done the right thing. The expected thing. I know you can’t understand that, either. You’ve always flouted convention.”
“I do understand,” he said, risking contact by taking one of her gloved hands in his. At least he couldn’t feel her soft skin, even if the heat of her was enough to drive him mad. “More than you might think. But are you sure this is what you want? Have you given enough thought to what you’re doing?”
“No.” Her soft laughter made him smile in return. Megan’s almond-shaped eyes glowed with humor as she wrinkled her nose. “I haven’t thought about it at all. That’s the perfect part. I’ll stay an hour. Long enough to ruin myself. Then I’ll go home. I hope you don’t mind.”
“That you’re using me as the method for your social demise?” Oddly enough, he did mind. He tried to keep the edge from his voice, but he knew she’d heard it. She withdrew her hand from his.
“You’re angry.”
“No, disappointed. You didn’t give me a choice. Did it ever occur to you that one of the things I liked best about you was your innocence and pure reputation?”
She backed up slowly. “I wasn’t sure you liked me at all, anymore. As for my reputation, why would you care about that? You’ve always scolded me for caring about what other people think. You’ve mocked my concerns for respectability.” When she reached the window seat, she sat down in a cloud of silk and flowers. She glared at him. “Make up your mind. Either you like my position and standing in this town, or you want to help me dispose of it. You can’t have both.”
She was right, he thought, chagrined. Her willingness to let her life be governed by what other people would think made him furious, and frustrated. If not for what her family would have said and done, she would have left with him seven years ago. He studied her, the fire in her eyes, the faint color on her cheeks. Or would she? Perhaps she had simply used her family as a convenient excuse. Maybe she’d never planned on marrying him at all. Maybe...
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could go crazy thinking about this. The past was long over. He woul
d never know what could have been. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered except the fact that coming back to Landing had been a mistake. Williams had been dead wrong on this one.
“You want a drink?” he asked suddenly, crossing the room to the tray Alice kept set up beside the fireplace.
He poured two fingers’ worth of brandy into an expensive crystal glass, then turned and raised his eyebrows expectantly.
Megan blinked. “I’ve never had spirits before.” She blushed. “Except for that sip from your flask. It wasn’t very good.”
He thought of the cheap liquor he’d barely been able to afford. “This is better,” he promised.
She looked doubtful, then nodded.
He carried the drink to her, then returned and poured himself a slightly more generous serving. After capping the decanter, he raised the glass. “To your soiled reputation.”
She smiled tightly and took a tentative sip. She didn’t gag, but her grimace had him fighting back a smile.
“Yes, it’s much better,” she lied, and quickly leaned forward to place the drink on the nightstand.
She didn’t fall out of her bodice. He was torn between being grateful and disappointed. It was going to be a long hour. He glanced around the room, searching for the safest place to sit. Probably outside, he thought humorlessly. He settled on one of the velvet wing chairs by the fireplace.
“What are we going to talk about?” he asked as he rested one booted ankle on the opposite knee.
She looked at the ceiling as if searching for a topic. Her fingers tapped together. “Bonnie!” she said at last. “She’s learning to read. Just yesterday...”
But he didn’t listen to what Bonnie had done just yesterday. He took another sip of the brandy and watched Megan speak, without hearing the words. Her mouth moved, and she smiled often. Her arms raised as she used her hands to describe something. Her bare skin gleamed like the silk dress she wore. A shudder raced through him as he thought of how she would feel if he was to touch her, stroke her, love her into mindlessness.
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