Tyler stole a glance toward Laney. He planned to make every moment with her count from now on, and he definitely wasn’t going to lose her anytime soon. If he’d read that look in her eyes from a few moments ago correctly, she was ready to move forward in their relationship. The image of her lifeless body in that burning barn flashed before him. Laney met his gaze at that moment, and the pleading in her eyes spurred him to action. Time to rescue her from the gaggle of nosy women.
He stepped forward, and wordlessly reached for her hand. Pulling her from the middle of the group of hens, he led her toward the dance floor. Half a dozen couples moved slowly in tune to the soft melody of fiddle and harmonica music. Tyler flashed his wife a smile, and hoped he wouldn’t make a complete fool out of himself.
Laney’s eyes darted from him to the dancing couples. “I don’t think I know how to dance like this, Tyler,” she said, uncertainty in her voice.
His grin widened. “Then that makes two of us. I just thought this was the best excuse to get you away from those women.”
Her face lit up in a bright smile, and Tyler’s heart exploded in his chest. He stepped onto the wooden dance floor, and reached for Laney’s waist with one hand, his other hand wrapped firmly around hers. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, and moved stiffly along when he guided her further onto the dance floor. Try as he might, he couldn’t match his feet to the slow rhythm of the music, and Laney didn’t seem to know where to step, either. When he turned her to the left, the tip of his boot kicked her foot.
“Ouch,” she hissed.
Tyler mumbled a quick apology, his hand squeezing hers. His entire body tensed. Laney pulled him to a stop, and slid her hand out of his grasp. She stepped closer, and her arms snaked around his neck.
Tyler shot a quick look around the area. None of the other couples stood this close. There was a respectable distance between each of them, with plenty of daylight between their bodies.
“This isn’t going to work, is it?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Where I come from, this is how we slow dance,” Laney whispered. “I’ve never liked ballroom dancing. Too stiff and formal, if you ask me.” Her hands tightened behind his neck. “We don’t even have to do much except sway back and forth. We won’t step on each other’s feet this way.”
Tyler didn’t understand some of her words. She spoke in her perplexing phrases again. Unsure of where to put his now free hand, he settled it against her waist. The moment he made contact with her, she leaned more fully into him. Her body swayed slowly back and forth, gliding against the front of his thighs and chest. She moved in time with the slow sounds of a violin. Her feet barely left the ground. His grip at her waist tightened involuntarily. Tyler swallowed. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chill in the evening air.
Laney gazed up at him, and the intense emotion written in her eyes was almost his undoing. Damn! They stood in the middle of the dance floor in an embrace that should be reserved for the bedroom, with the entire town watching. She seemed completely at ease with the idea.
Tyler relaxed. She was his wife. What did it matter how close they stood? He lost himself in her eyes. The music faded around him. His hands lingered at her waist, and his fingers tingled to life. The warmth of her skin filtered through the taffeta fabric of the sky blue gown she wore. While the dress was appropriately fashioned, bustled at the back, and draped in layers down the skirt, Tyler would eat his belt buckle if his wife had a corset on under the bodice.
He slowly swayed his hips back and forth in tune with hers, following the lead of her movements, and stared down into her soft blue eyes. His arms slowly wound more firmly around her waist, and he drew her closer. The only thing that separated their bodies was the fabric of their clothes, and Tyler’s gut tightened. Every inch of him tingled to life where her body molded to his.
Tyler’s gaze dropped to her partially exposed shoulders and neck where the shawl she draped around her back had slipped. The dress was modestly cut in a v-shape, but worn slightly off the shoulder, the material just low enough to show the swell of her breasts, which were now crushed firmly against his chest.
Laney glanced up at him, an unspoken question in her eyes. Tyler swallowed. He hadn’t stood this close to her in days, hell, in a week, if ever. He certainly hadn’t held her this tight when he kissed her the day before the fire, and they didn’t have any onlookers then.
Tyler breathed in the subtle fragrance of her hair. He missed her other, more alluring, scent from the day she’d arrived in Landry.
For fear he might lose his sanity, he whispered, “Henrietta did a fine job on such short notice. Her sewing skills are to be commended.”
“You’ve already said that.” Laney smiled up at him. “It’s a beautiful dress. Myra has good taste and knows her fashion.”
Tyler’s eyes roamed the contours of her face. A faint red gash remained where the colt had kicked her, but her loose hair covered up most of it. The corners of his lips curved upward. He leaned forward.
“I’d bet my best saddle that you’d rather be wearing my old britches right now than this fancy garb,” he whispered against her cheek.
“Tyler Monroe.” Laney gasped and eased her hold around his neck to lean away from him slightly. The sparkle in her eyes brought a renewed tightening to his gut. “I thought you weren’t a betting man.” She paused. Her head tilted slightly to the side, and her smile turned mischievous. “Would you have let me wear pants to the party?” she asked, and shot a coy look up at him from beneath her lashes. His heart beat faster at her teasing words.
“Mrs. Monroe, I don’t know what kind of spell you’ve cast over me, but I don’t think I’m capable of denying you anything,” he rasped. His jaw muscles tightened. His mind spun wildly. His restraint to kiss her at this moment was about to falter. He’d never exercised such willpower in his life.
The smile vanished from her face, and she studied him intently. The warmth in her eyes burned straight into him. Desire, and . . . dare he hope, love shone in those blue depths, along with a look of disbelief. She dropped her gaze at that moment, as if she realized he had seen something she didn’t want him to see. She leaned her head against his chest, and renewed heat washed over him. Her hands and arms clung to his neck as if she was holding on for dear life, and Tyler gathered her more firmly against him. His hands slid slowly up and down along her sides, his fingers memorizing every curve and contour. He closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the top of hers. Propriety be damned. Nothing had ever felt more right than holding this woman in his arms at this moment.
“Tyler Monroe, what on earth are you doing?” The sharp hissing voice of Myra Hansen in his ear, coupled with a jabbing sensation against his back brought him out of his peaceful state. “When I said I wanted grandbabies, I didn’t mean to imply for you to start on the task right here and now.”
Laney released her hold from around his neck, and moved several inches away from him. An odd empty feeling washed over him immediately. She belonged in his arms. Slowly, he eased his hold around her waist, and glanced at his surroundings. The music had stopped, and people stared at them. Some women gaped with open mouths.
His gaze returned to Laney, who stood wide-eyed in front of him. His lips curved upward.
“I’m dancing with my wife, Myra,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving Laney’s. His smile widened. “Something I should have done from the very first day I met her,” he added in a low tone.
****
Laney sipped from the tin cup in her hand, enjoying the sweet and fruity flavor of the punch. Her parched throat appreciated the cool liquid. Her heart still hadn’t completely stopped racing after that dance she’d shared minutes ago with Tyler. She hadn’t realized until she looked up, after Myra interrupted them, that practically the entire town was gaping at them. Laney’s idea of a slow-dance was obviously quite different than a slow dance in the 1870’s.
She hadn’t wanted the moment to end. The way Tyler held her, and the way the
ir bodies swayed in tune with one another, just the memory of it sent tingles rushing through her. She had felt completely cherished, and the love that raced through her for him was almost unbearable.
I was so sure you and he were a perfect match.
The reverend’s words came flooding back. Everything had seemed so perfect while they moved in each other’s arms. The music around her ceased, the people disappeared. It had been only the two of them. And it had been perfect.
I love him. I want to stay here with him.
Laney bit her lower lip. This was where she wanted to be. Tyler may not have told her that he loved her, but no other man had ever looked at her the way he did. The guys who had told her they were in love with her, none of them had displayed such raw emotions in their eyes. None of them had held her with such tenderness, or treated her with the kind of respect Tyler bestowed on her.
She swallowed back the apprehension in her throat. What if the reverend had granted her wish, and sent her back to the future immediately? It was a good thing the old man was more rational than she had been during their talk. He’d seen right through her. He seemed to know everything, why should she doubt him now? He had brought her here to find happiness. She smiled softly. She was happy, really happy for the first time in as long as she could remember. The people here truly cared for her. She was fond of Myra, who doted on her like a mom or grandma, she loved the horses, and most of all, she loved Tyler. There was no comparison between these people and what she had left behind at home. Her mother certainly wouldn’t miss her. No one else would even notice she was gone.
Laney scanned the crowd of party-goers. Myra Hansen had suggested to Tyler that he needed to ask the widow to dance.
“Perhaps Laney isn’t up for dancing yet, if you have to hold her up on her feet like that.” The widow had spoken loud enough for the gaping onlookers to hear. Laney suspected the old woman wanted to spare Tyler any further embarrassment in front of the townsfolk. She couldn’t help but smile. He certainly hadn’t seemed to mind the way they danced.
Laney watched as he moved stiffly with the old woman over the wooden floor. She giggled. He really did have two left feet when it came to dancing. Would Myra be able to walk after the song was over? The old lady seemed to know what she was doing, but Tyler looked rather awkward and uncomfortable, so unlike the confident cowboy she knew when he sat on a horse.
A content sigh escaped her lips, and her back and shoulders relaxed, as if a great weight had been lifted from her. For the first time, it became clear to her where she belonged, what her future would be like. This is where you belong, Laney. The reverend is right. Tyler is your perfect match.
She sat up straighter. Her future! She couldn’t tell Tyler her secret, could she? How would he react to something like that? As incredible as the idea of time travel sounded to her, in this day and age, it might be considered witchcraft or something. Didn’t they condemn and burn women at the stake for stuff that no one understood? No, maybe that was a couple hundred years further back in the past, but still . . .
But how long could she go on without slipping up? At what point would she be unable to talk herself out of her modern slip-ups?
She would definitely have to have another chat with the reverend about the subject of time travel. She couldn’t go on lying to Tyler forever. And she certainly didn’t want to.
“That was quite an interesting dance,” a low voice whispered in her ear. Laney startled, and nearly dropped her punch cup. She whipped her head around to stare into Gabe’s smirking face. “Almost as interesting as your performance on your wedding night.”
Laney ground her teeth and scooted away from him. She shot a quick look toward the dance floor, but Tyler’s focus seemed to be on his feet while Myra carried on a lively conversation judging by the movement of her lips.
“I see you’ve also finally mingled with your own kind.” Gabe moved around from behind her and sat next to her. Laney regretted her decision to sit on one of the wooden benches that lined the yard, rather than in a chair.
Gabe removed his hat, and returned a friendly greeting from Ian Frazier, who strode past them at that moment. The foreman’s smile was wide and genuine. At first glance, Gabe seemed likable enough, but the more Laney had been around him, the more the guy gave her an uneasy feeling.
Ian stopped. “Mrs. Monroe.” He nodded, and tipped his hat to her. He glanced from her to Gabe, then his head darted to where Tyler danced with Myra. The woman hanging on his arm pulled him toward the dance floor, and Ian moved on.
“My own kind?” Laney echoed, and stared at Gabe, now that Ian was gone. What the heck was the cowboy talking about this time? He seemed to enjoy playing these guessing games with her. He’d done something similar the day of the fire.
Laney glared at Gabe. There was something vaguely familiar about his dark eyes, and she stared at him for longer than necessary. He reminded her of someone, but whoever it was eluded her at the moment.
Gabe chuckled. He leaned forward, his elbow casually resting on his knee, and peered sideways up at her. He was a good-looking guy, and he knew it. Laney could see right through his kind. The smug grin on his face grated on her nerves.
He slowly raked his fingers through his dark hair.
“I wonder how Ty’s gonna feel about the company you keep.”
Laney laughed. She sat up straighter and raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t know that mingling with the neighbors is considered bad company.” She swept her hand in front of her to indicate the people nearby.
Gabe’s brows shot up. He smirked. “I knew sooner or later you’d show your true colors. Your kind always does.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Laney stood from her sitting position as quickly as her cumbersome dress allowed. Her hands shot to her hips, and she stared at Gabe. She had just about enough of this guy. Couldn’t Tyler see what a jerk his foreman was?
Gabe rose to his feet, and stood towering over her. “Tell me, does Ty know that his wife consorts with the town whores?”
Laney’s stomach dropped. Gabe had seen her with that young prostitute? She shrugged. So what?
“Since when is it a crime to talk to people, Gabe? If you’re referring to that young woman I spoke to earlier, I wasn’t consorting, whatever that means.”
“Ty don’t like whores.”
The distinct implication in his low voice sent Laney’s heart racing. She swallowed. Her eyes widened briefly, and a jolt of adrenaline shot through her, making her knees go weak. A triumphant gleam flashed in Gabe’s eyes. He smiled smugly. “I’ve been trying to tell you that he don’t like women who remind him of his Mama. She was a whore, too.”
“Why are you telling me this,” Laney choked out. A sinking feeling flowed through her. The urge to run swept over her like a ferocious wind. She curled her toes inside her shoes to remain rooted to the spot. She couldn’t let this guy see how his words affected her. She had come here as a prostitute.
“I wonder what Ty’s gonna think when he finds out that his lovely bride is nothing but a soiled dove herself? You can get any silly notions out of your pretty little head that he’ll have feelings for you when he finds out that you ain’t any better than his Mama.”
How did Gabe know this about her? Laney’s brain tried to process what he’d said. Tyler’s mother had been a prostitute? No one had ever mentioned it. Tyler’s reactions to her when she first met him, the way she’d come on to him, and what she’d done on their wedding night suddenly made perfect sense to her. In this day and age she’d certainly acted the part of the hooker. Had Tyler suspected that she was a prostitute, and then later changed his mind, since she’d backed off from acting like one?
You’ve never actually sold yourself to anyone, Laney. Tyler was going to be your first job. Well, the reverend was supposed to be her first job.
“You’d better not be playing me, too, the way you’re playing Tyler,” Gabe whispered. “I’m still trying to figure out what it is you’re up
to as far as that stud horse is concerned.”
Laney drew in a deep breath, and suppressed a gasp. Gabe was the rider she’d seen on the ridge that day when she first took Rap into the river! Why hadn’t he said anything to Tyler?
“We had an agreement when I sent for you, Miz Monroe. I surely hope you plan to uphold your end. I won’t let you ruin everything I’ve worked for.” He moved to walk away, then abruptly faced her again. “Interesting conversation you had with the reverend, by the way.”
Laney stared after him, stunned into silence. The clapping behind her barely registered in her mind. The music had stopped, and the murmurs of dozens of people grew louder. Her pulse throbbed at her temples.
She shrieked when a warm hand settled on her shoulder, and she spun around.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Tyler’s face looked down at her. Instantly, the wide smile on his face froze. He reached for her, his hands gently wrapping around her upper arms, and he steadied her swaying legs. “Are you all right? You’re white as a sheet.”
Laney stared, wide-eyed. Tyler didn’t like prostitutes. Gabe knew her secret. Her perfect world suddenly crumbled.
“I . . . I don’t feel good, Tyler. Please take me home.”
Chapter 21
Laney flipped the covers back on her bed, and scooted off the mattress. Grey light from outside the bedroom window brought the furniture into focus. She blinked, and rubbed at her gritty eyes. She hadn’t slept a wink all night. Her mind churned with countless thoughts. Why couldn’t there be an off button somewhere in her brain, so she could simply shut everything out?
She shuffled barefoot to the window, a cold shudder passing through the thin cotton material of the chemise she preferred to wear rather than one of the many nightgowns that lay in her trunks. Would she ever get used to these long bloomers as underwear? Laney smiled, despite the trepidation in her heart. There were a lot of things she had to get used to if she wanted to remain in this time.
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