"That's no reason. If he wanted to marry you enough, he'd lie his head off to get you to agree."
"William would never do that."
"But I, on the other hand, have no compunction about telling you any old lie that comes into my head. I lie for the fun of it, to make you distrust your friends, to turn you against anybody willy-nilly."
"I never said that."
"You've got all those preconceived notions about me," he said, advancing toward her. "I'm a stranger who dresses too well and flirts too much, so I must be lying about wanting to buy a ranch."
"I--"
"I've said Laveau--another stranger, I might point out--is a traitor and a rustler, and you think I must be lying. I tell you the truth about Manly, and you think I must be lying. I don't know what you think I've got to gain in all of this, but it must be mighty important to warrant all these lies." He was so angry, he had backed her halfway across the room. "Yet you'd believe William, a man who doesn't know anything about ranches or rustling, just because you've known him ever since you can remember."
"It's not just that."
"Then what is it?"
He had caught her between the sofa and the doorway.
"I'm not letting you sneak away until you give me an answer," he warned.
"I'm not sneaking anywhere," she replied, angrily trying to break his hold on her hand. "I'm not afraid of you."
"I don't want you to be afraid of me. I just want to know why you can't believe anything I say. And don't give me that tired old tale about your father."
He pulled her closer.
"What has William done to make you trust every word out of his mouth?"
He was much too close. She could practically feel the heat pouring off his body, sense the tension that filled him, smell the spices that told her he'd shaved recently. She didn't understand why everything should feel so much more intense, so much more real, than it did when she was with William. She didn't understand why she felt attracted and repelled at the same time, why she wanted to run away but was powerless to move. She didn't know why she wanted him to prove to be untrustworthy at the same time as she wanted him to be even more wonderful than he seemed. She didn't understand why he had the power to disturb her peace of mind in ways no one else could. She didn't understand anything about him or his effect on her. She just wished he'd go away and let her life get back to normal.
But no sooner had that thought raced through her mind than she knew it wasn't so. It might be stupid, it might even be dangerous, it certainly didn't make any sense, but she wanted him to stay.
"He hasn't done anything," she managed to say.
"He must have done something. He's practically inarticulate unless he's talking about his store. His looks are ordinary, and he has absolutely no idea what to do with a woman."
"And you do?"
He drew her so close their bodies brushed against each other. Her heart pounded so fiercely she couldn't understand why it wasn't painful. She told herself she wanted to pull away, to break his hold on her, leave the room, but her muscles wouldn't move.
"None better," he said, his voice suddenly losing its sharp edge and becoming soft, almost smoky with desire.
He pulled her closer until their bodies touched from breast to thigh. She gasped for breath, and her body turned rigid.
"Does William ever hold you so close you feel like your bodies are about to melt into one?"
Nobody had ever held her close. She put her hands on Owen's chest to push him away, but she wanted to keep her hands on his chest. She wanted to explore the muscles that moved so smoothly beneath his skin, which enabled his arms to hold her in an embrace with the power of iron.
"Has William told you that you have beautiful eyes? They're gray with flecks of silver."
Gray eyes weren't beautiful, flecked or not.
"They flash when you're angry," Owen said, his voice practically liquid heat, "but they're glowing now because you're feeling something quite different. Tell me what you're feeling."
She caught herself just in time to stop her treacherous tongue from telling him she liked being in his arms and wanted to hear more about her eyes.
"I'll bet William never did more than brush your hand. He's a fool. Anybody could tell him there's not a finer figure of a woman in Pinto Junction than you."
"Don't tell any more lies," she managed to say.
"I've heard more than one man say William doesn't deserve what he's getting. They say he'll never be able to warm you up."
"I don't want to be warmed up," she managed to say. "I want a husband who'll respect and admire me, one who'll treat me as an equal, who'll--"
"I'll bet he's never kissed you, either."
Only one word could describe the feeling that flooded her. Panic.
"I can tell from your eyes I'm right. Well, I can't let you go into marriage without knowing what it's like to be kissed by a real man at least once."
She struggled, not knowing what was coming, knowing instinctively it was dangerous. Then his lips touched hers, and she was lost.
No one had ever held her close, admired her, kissed her, but she was absolutely certain that if it had happened dozens of times, none of them could have compared to being in Owen's arms and being kissed by him in a way that made her feel she was the most desirable woman in the world, even the only woman in the world.
Unfamiliar feelings rushed through her, plunged into the depths of her heart, raced along every nerve in her body, penetrated her brain and paralyzed it, disoriented her so thoroughly she hardly knew where she was, consumed her strength to the point she was certain she couldn't stand without help. She did the only thing a sensible woman could do.
She kissed Owen back.
She was breaking every promise she'd ever made to herself, but she'd never felt so wonderful. She felt transformed. Re-created. Nothing about her life would ever be the same. She was standing in a man's embrace, her body shamelessly pressed against his, her arms around his neck--she didn't know when that had happened--kissing him with every fiber of her being.
No man had ever kissed her, but she had no difficulty responding to the pressure of his lips on hers. She wasn't the least bit confused when his tongue invaded her mouth. She tightened her hold on his neck, stood on tiptoe, and dived into the kiss with all the fervor and breathlessness of a woman afraid that something this wonderful might never happen to her again, something so wonderful she didn't hear the parlor door open.
Ida's outraged voice thundered in her ears.
"Henrietta Gwynne! What do you think you're doing?"
Chapter Fourteen
The sound of Ida's voice brought Hetta face to face with the enormity of what she'd done. She wanted to fling herself across the room as far from Owen as possible, to deny what had happened, to say it was just a trick of the imagination. She wanted to vanish so she'd never have to face Owen or Ida again. She wanted to say the sheer excitement of being held tightly by a man who thought gray eyes were beautiful was too much for her common sense.
But she knew that nothing could explain what she had done.
"I was kissing her," Owen said, as though they hadn't been caught doing anything more improper than sitting too close together.
"How could you betray William?" Ida demanded of Hetta.
"It was just a kiss," Owen said, "not a declaration of eternal devotion."
Ida ignored Owen. "William loves you more than his life," she said to Hetta.
"If he did, he'd have convinced his mother to announce our engagement before now," Hetta said.
She wished she could have swallowed her words. She'd never stated--or even thought to herself--that William might not love her. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew they were true. She didn't think William loved her the way she wanted, needed, to be loved. But there was one thing about which she was certain.
She didn't love William.
"How can you say that?" Ida demanded. "He loves his parents very much and doesn't want to hu
rt them."
"How would marrying Hetta hurt his parents?"
Owen's question appeared to throw Ida into some confusion.
"They think he's too young. And now his father is ill."
"Which seems to me the perfect time to get married. Then William would have someone to help out."
"I think it's time you looked for other lodgings."
"You're throwing me out?"
"This is ridiculous, Ida," Hetta said. "Owen's not in love with me, and I'm not in love with him."
"Then what were you doing?"
"As usual, he was trying to prove I was wrong and he was right."
"And how was kissing you supposed to do that?"
Hetta didn't know. Once Owen had taken her in his arms, she had lost the thread of any logic that could have made sense of what she was doing.
"I wanted to know why she would believe anything William told her while she questioned everything I said."
"Because William is a man of character. He's dependable, loyal, quiet, hardworking--"
"And dull," Owen said. "I wanted to see if a little excitement might make her change her mind."
"I don't want your kind of excitement in my home, Mr. Wheeler. Nor your methods of persuasion. Please remove yourself and your belongings immediately."
"Really, Ida, this is not necessary. It was only foolishness," Hetta said.
"It certainly was, but I don't intend to discuss it until Mr. Wheeler has left the room."
"If you mean to discuss me, I'd rather stay."
Hetta was mortified to be the cause of such a brouhaha. She hated it when people got angry at each other. She had rarely argued with her father, and never with Ida. When they'd disagreed, she'd held her tongue for the sake of harmony.
But today was too much.
"You were wrong to throw Owen out," she said as soon as Owen had left the room.
"I find him kissing you, a woman engaged to another man," Ida said in amazement, "and you say I shouldn't throw him out?"
"William said he was going to talk to his mother about us, but he never actually said he wanted to marry me."
"So you thought you'd round up a second fiance in case the first one didn't come up to scratch."
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"You dare call me ridiculous?" Ida's voice rose higher in pitch.
"I do if you think I'm trying to get Owen to marry me. He can't help trying to convince every woman he meets that he's the object of her dreams."
"Then why isn't he flirting with me? I'm prettier."
Hetta tried not to show how much that hurt. Why did everything have to come down to how pretty a woman was? "I suppose because I told him that first night what I thought of men like him. He's been trying to change my mind ever since."
"So you thought if he was handing out free kisses, you might as well have a few. No harm in that, especially not when your fiance was hard at work trying to come up with new ways to make more money for the two of you."
"It's your money he's using, not mine."
"It could be your money if you'd sell the ranch."
"Did he ask you to tell me that?"
"No, but I know he wants it."
"What if I want him to sell the store?"
"He loves that store."
"I love my ranch."
"Whatever you do, you can't be seen with Owen again. I can hardly believe the gossip I've been hearing since you had dinner with him last week."
"I had dinner with you and William as well. What kind of gossip could there be?"
"People are wondering why you would be seen with him when you're engaged to William."
"Why didn't they wonder why you were with William?"
"They know I was sitting with his mother."
"I thought maybe you were sitting with William instead. You haven't talked about anyone else."
"If I was sitting with him, it was to talk about you, tell him how wonderful you are, encourage him to get his mother to announce the engagement."
Hetta didn't want to appear ungrateful, but hearing that made her furious. If William didn't think enough of her to talk to his parents without Ida's urging, she didn't want to marry him. "I wish you'd stay out of this, Ida. William will talk to his mother when he's ready. I don't want you bringing him home so we can be together."
"Don't worry. I won't. You always seem to be with Owen."
"I won't be since you've thrown him out."
"I don't see how you can prefer him to William."
"I don't."
"He had his hands on you the first day he got here. Now I find you in his arms, kissing him like you were a ... a ..."
"Like a what, Ida? And you'd better be careful what word you choose."
"I can't believe you'd do that to William. He's so sweet and innocent and trusting."
"Are you sure you're not more worried about William than about me?"
"How can you say that? We've been friends all our lives. I'd do anything to help you find a husband."
"Because you don't think I can find one on my own."
"It never hurts to have someone else--"
"--point out things William might have missed."
"It's better than trying to make him jealous by carrying on with Owen Wheeler."
"I'm not carrying on with him!"
"It sure looked like carrying on to me. It's indecent, and I won't have it in my house."
Something snapped inside Hetta. "I don't want to be responsible for bringing ill repute on your house. I'll move out immediately."
"No! You can't do that! I didn't mean--"
"You think my behavior was indecent. Who knows when I might do it again? I might be immoral like my father and start letting Owen kiss me any time the mood strikes. You've never said anything, but I always knew you were afraid I might be like my father."
"I don't. You know I didn't trust Owen from the start."
"It doesn't make any difference, Ida. I'd better go. I'm so stubborn, I'm liable to kiss Owen just to prove that neither you nor William can stop me. You wouldn't be happy, and quite frankly, I wouldn't feel comfortable here anymore."
"You can't go. What would I do without you?"
"Why don't you ask William?"
* * *
"You can't stay in this hotel," Owen said to Hetta. "It's not a decent place."
"It's better than bedding down in the street."
"You ought to go back to Ida's. She won't know what to do without you."
"She'll have to learn."
Hetta had packed only enough for the night. She'd collect the rest of her things when she moved to the ranch. She wasn't sure the log room was habitable, but she couldn't afford to spend money staying in a hotel.
Ida had tried to talk her out of leaving. She insisted she hadn't meant to accuse Hetta of wanting to let Owen kiss her. She admitted it was probably impossible to have a man such as Owen kiss you and not feel compelled to kiss him back. She'd even promised to let Owen move back, but Hetta knew it was time she got back to her ranch. Now that she'd finally made the break, she was relieved.
It had taken someone like Owen to shake her out of her old ways of thinking, to force her to admit she didn't love William, to prove to her there should be a lot more between a man and a woman than dependability. His touch, his kiss, had shown her there was an entire world of feelings and sensations she didn't know anything about.
"Then why did you leave?"
"That's none of your business."
"Since I was the cause of it, I think it is."
"Okay, I left because I didn't feel she trusted me anymore. She accused me of using you to try to make William jealous."
"Why not? His mama's got him tied to her apron strings with some big, strong knots."
"But she does love him. She depends on him in the store."
"Have it your way, but you can't stay in this hotel."
"It's the only one in town."
"Which means the rustlers stay here as well as
the preachers."
"Will you be serious?"
"I am. I'm worried about you."
That was too much. From the moment he'd laid eyes on her, he'd bedeviled her, annoyed her, tried to drive a wedge between her and William, generally done nearly everything in his power to make her life miserable.
"Why don't you let me worry about myself? I was doing pretty well before you got here."
"No, you weren't. You let yourself get bamboozled into doing all the work around the ranch so your pa could waste his time and money on sinful women. You got yourself practically engaged to a mama's boy who can't see beyond his ledgers. Your house burned down. Your ranch went to ruin. You let Laveau hoodwink you. Then you ended up playing nursemaid to a selfish woman masquerading as your best friend. I'd say you were in a desperate situation."
Hetta nearly choked. "Please go away and leave me alone."
"I can't. I'm in the room next to yours."
She should have expected something like that. It was a small hotel.
"If you won't go back to Ida's house, let me sleep in the room with you. To protect you," he added.
It took Hetta a moment to realize he was serious. She had thought she knew something about men, but she was learning he had a kind of brass, a sense of self-worth, that went beyond anything she'd thought possible.
For a moment she envied him that freedom. She'd spent so much of her life being made acutely aware of her limitations. She had struggled to acknowledge them and accept them, even grow comfortable with them.
Then Owen had ruined it all.
She had refused to believe him when he said she shouldn't marry William, but now she had an annoying suspicion he was right. Then he'd made things worse by saying he liked her and wanted to be her friend, to watch out for her. Nobody did that.
Then he'd kissed her. You wouldn't have thought that would be such a problem. A man forces himself on you. You either burst into tears and drive him away with great, sloppy, hiccupping sobs, or you slap him as hard as you can and stalk out of the room. Instead, showing a complete lack of presence of mind as well as no sense of proper conduct, she had kissed him back. And that had destroyed her hopes for the future, because she'd realized there was much more to the relationship between a man and a woman than William would ever understand.
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