“This is a beautiful place. How do you know about it?”
Steven leaned back, putting his hat on, and slanting it down across his forehead. He couldn’t be lusting after Glory all night. Keeping his eyes averted would help.
“I used to come here, when I was a boy.”
“By yourself?”
He nodded. “I guess it was a way to get out of the house for a time.” With a finger, he raised his hat enough to look her in the eye. “At night.”
Glory blinked. “Oh.”
“My mother never knew.”
“But you felt you had to get away from…from—”
“Yeah.” That’s all he would say. He wouldn’t allow Glory any more ammunition to use against his mother or her way of life.
Glory smoothed the blanket out with her palm, making circles, her mind probably spinning just the same way. “What did you mean before—when you said not to trust you?”
Steven slumped back against the tree trunk and yanked his hat farther down. That subject was risky as well, and he didn’t feel the need to explain. “Nothing.”
“It was something, Steven,” she said on a whisper.
“Forget I said anything.”
“Why?”
“Because knowing won’t make life any easier for either of us.”
“Are you sorry you saved my life?”
“No.”
“Are you sorry you’re hiding me out?”
“It has to be done.”
“Then why can’t I trust you?”
Steven raised himself up to stare into her studious, innocent eyes. She didn’t know how he felt about her. That was a good thing. She probably thought he disliked her as much as she disliked him. That was another good thing. Best to keep it that way.
“Here,” he said, handing her his gun. “I haven’t had any sleep for nearly a day. Watch out for preying animals. Eat something. And wake me well before dawn.”
“What kind of animals?” she asked in a shaky voice, holding his gun with her fingertips as if to touch it completely would scorch her hand.
He grabbed the gun from her, thinking better of giving her a weapon. “All kinds. Just wake me if you see something. And don’t go far.”
“F-far?” She glanced around. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She scooted closer to him and the scent of roses struck him like a thunderbolt.
He groaned and slammed his eyes shut, hoping sleep would claim him. He needed rest. He needed willpower. He needed to get the woman off his mind.
Because one thing was certain.
Midnight and Glory were a dangerous combination.
A creature’s howl off in the distance woke Gloria with a start. She opened her eyes and gasped her surprise when she realized her late-night surroundings. Tall pines and rushing waters reminded her of the hours before. She’d been whisked off on a midnight ride, escaping the boredom that came hand-in-hand with healing and recovery. And now as she cuddled up against Steven, his arms cradling her shoulders and his chest her pillow, she recalled just how she’d come to rest in the safety of his arms.
It was entirely that darn raccoon’s fault! She’d been left to herself, Steven falling into an immediate and deep sleep. His warning about wild creatures kept her from venturing out, yet nature had called and Gloria had no choice but to leave the safety of the blanket. She dashed to the nearest cropping of trees and when she returned, eyes as black as pitch met her in the darkness. She shrieked. Her loud crude dismay brought Steven out of his slumber. He went for his gun and nearly shot the famished animal. The raccoon had sought nourishment from the foodstuffs left out near the blanket. Steven shooed him away and grabbed for Gloria, bringing her down on the blanket with him.
“Keep quiet and let me sleep,” he’d said as grumpy as an old bear.
Gloria made no struggle when he’d taken her in his arms, throwing the cape over both of them. She knew it hadn’t been a lusty move on his part, but more a way to keep her contained and quiet. She’d calmed her rapid heartbeats and soon found the sleep she needed.
But now, it was nearing dawn. She lifted her head to peer at Steven. He still slept peacefully. She breathed in the scent of leather and earth, of lye soap and raw man.
On a deep silent sigh, she wondered how she’d feel about Steven Harding if he hadn’t been who he was, and if the entire situation had been different. Would she find him fascinating, handsome and surly, wearing that gun on his hip as if it was part of his body? Would he somehow find a way into her heart? Or would he have fooled her with empty promises of a happy life filled with children, the way Boone had?
She glanced at him again. How very safe she felt in his arms. The thought of waking him again made her cringe, yet it had to be done. Carefully, without making a sound, Gloria removed herself from his arms. She rose in silence and took a moment for herself. Walking to the stream, she stared out, admiring the way everything God put on this earth blended beautifully, working together with quiet ease.
If only people could come together as successfully.
“It’s time to go,” Steven whispered in her ear. Startled, she made a move to whirl around, but he braced her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
She settled against him, leaning back, his breaths warming her throat, his scent enveloping her. Since meeting Steven Harding, all sense of propriety had fairly vanished. To lie with him on that blanket then to stand here, cradled in his protective arms, made no sense at all. He was, by all means, the enemy. He was a man she should despise. But at the moment, that was the last thing on her mind. “I hate to leave.”
“Wild creatures and all?”
There was mirth in his tone.
“Did you frighten me on purpose?”
In a somber tone, he replied, “No. I’d never do that. There is a real danger out here, Glory. From the elements, the creatures and…”
“And?”
“Me,” he added, his voice a soft caress.
“Y-you?”
His hand came up to her neck. He held her softly, gently, stroking the underside of her face. Then his lips brushed the base of her throat, the kiss a whisper in the night. But Gloria couldn’t miss his rigid stance, solid against her back, reminding her he was very much a man, with needs. Needs she would never entertain. Yet she trembled from his touch and the warm protection of his body.
His lips moved higher up on her throat, another kiss, then another, soft and exquisitely tender. Insides quaking, Gloria realized it wasn’t Steven that made her shudder, but the tender way he touched her. She’d never been treated with such gentle regard before. Boone had been callous and cold, an unyielding hard man.
This sensation was new. And it startled her. It couldn’t be Steven Harding making her toes curl. No, it had to be the revelation that a man could be so gentle and that a woman could respond in kind, with breathless awe.
Her senses reeling, Gloria relished each of his kisses now, because she knew the reason. She made a tiny moan, a whimper of delight, that both amused and embarrassed her.
“We’d better go,” Steven rasped out, stepping away quickly.
She turned around to glance at him. Anger burned deep in his eyes, a fiery gaze she couldn’t mistake. What had she done to irritate him?
“Steven?”
“It’s almost dawn.”
He shoved the cape at her. His tone was sharp and quick, in complete contrast to the man who’d just held her moments ago. He busied himself with rolling the blanket and filling his saddlebags with the food that they hadn’t eaten. Then he led Fancy to her. With finesse, he mounted then reached down to help her up. She settled her bottom onto the saddle.
“Remember to keep the hood over your head. Ready?”
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Dammit, Glory. You’d better hold on to me.”
Gloria hated putting her hands anywhere on the man. One minute he was warm and sweet like a candied apple, the next he behaved as sourly as a pickle left too long
in the jar. But her good instincts took hold. It wouldn’t bode well if she fell from the horse. She wrapped her arms loosely around his middle, garnering a distinct stubborn grunt from him.
“You need more sleep, Steven.”
“That’s not what I need, Glory.” Then he urged Fancy forward, breaking into a fast trot.
And they rode back to Rainbow House in silence.
Chapter Six
When Gloria woke the next morning and glanced at the brass-and-oak carved grandfather clock, she hustled out of bed in a flurry. She couldn’t believe the time. Why, it was after noon. Her stomach also, recalled the time and that she hadn’t eaten.
She’d missed her quiet morning time with Mattie.
And unless she wanted to starve to death in this room, she’d have to face the ladies of the house once again. Gloria poured water from a pitcher into the delicate gilded bowl and washed her face. She combed her hair and fashioned a chignon, pinning the strands up and out of her way. Then she donned the gown.
She had just finished fastening the last button when she heard a knock at the door. Surprised, she wondered if Steven had come with a tray of food, taking on the role of savior again. Or perhaps, Mattie saw fit to bring her a meal, but Gloria realized with remorse, she’d be mortified if that were the case. Goodness, she wasn’t helpless. Surely she could fend for herself, even if it meant joining the women downstairs to share a noontime meal.
“Just a second,” she called out, taking a quick look into the cheval mirror to make sure she was properly dressed.
When she opened the door, her mouth gaped open. “Oh, um, hello.”
“Good afternoon,” Emmie said in greeting. The woman who always dressed in blue, smiled warmly. She held a small carpetbag in her hand. “May I come in?”
Gloria hesitated only a second. She had no cause to refuse the woman entrance. She had no claim to the room, or anything else at Rainbow House. She was here because of Steven, due to his hospitality. It was his room.
She nodded and opened the door wider, stepping back to allow her to enter.
“Steven said you weren’t comfortable wearing my gown.”
“Oh! No, I didn’t mean that. It’s just that,” she began, and her hand immediately, involuntarily, went to her chest, covering up the skin exposed there. “It’s just that it’s a bit tight on me and well, quite frankly, I’m used to more material in, uh, certain places.”
Emmie chuckled, not in a disparaging way, but sweetly, with understanding in her eyes. “Of course you’re not accustomed to wearing such gowns. That’s understandable. When I was younger, I never had such clothes, either.”
She set the carpetbag down on the bed and opened it. “We don’t have much in the way of sewing implements, but at times, we have to make a quick repair.”
Gloria didn’t want to think about why that was. “I see.”
Emmie brought out a yard of Belgian lace, cream in color and an inch wide. “I thought this might help. You can sew it all around the bodice, maybe twice over. It will save your modesty.”
A wealth of gratitude played heavy in her heart. She wanted so much to accept. But Gloria knew a moment of indecision. “Oh, it’s lovely and…and very kind of you. But I couldn’t possibly accept it. The lace must be expensive. I couldn’t possibly pay you back.”
With a knowing smile, Emmie sat on the bed. “Consider it a gift. From Steven.”
“Steven?” she croaked out.
“Yes, it was his idea.”
“Oh, but don’t you see, now that’s more reason why I can’t accept it.”
“You must. Steven insisted.”
“He insisted?” Stunned, Gloria sank down on the bed.
Emmie grinned. “I promised not to repeat what he said. But, he was quite certain. He wants you to cover up.”
Cover up? Gloria mouthed those two words, hardly believing any of this. The nerve of that man! All the while Gloria had declared the dress inappropriate, Steven had complimented her, speaking kind words, telling her she looked lovely in the gown. Now, suddenly, after last night, he’d had a change of heart. Gloria put her face in her hands and lowered her head.
Emmie rested a hand on her shoulder. “No need to cry about it. It’s just a bit of lace.”
When Gloria lifted up, laughter spilled out, silly, giddy, ridiculous laughter. She met Emmie’s puzzled gaze. Then with a start, Emmie too began to laugh.
The room filled with merriment, finally dying down to a giggle or two.
“Oh, this is just too impossible,” Gloria declared, settling down from her bout of amusement. The release had been wonderful, a cleansing of sorts, of tension and pain created first by the death of her father and then by her ill-fated marriage. Oh, she’d cried and cried, until she hadn’t a tear left to shed, but the laughter today had been more liberating and freeing than the weeping she had done in the past.
Perhaps Steven was also responsible for her gaiety, but at the same time, he perplexed her with his unpredictable ways. “That man doesn’t make a bit of sense.”
Emmie grinned. “Men usually don’t. But what do you mean?”
“First he tells me I look beautiful. He kisses me. Then he behaves as though I have the plague or something far worse, hardly speaking a word to me. And now this—insisting I cover up as if it was all his idea.”
“It’s what you want, isn’t it? I mean about the lace.”
“Yes, of course.” She lifted the lace and fingered the delicate edges. She did want to save her modesty. “It’s lovely.”
Gloria didn’t know what else to say. Steven had a way of confusing her. She didn’t know if she should commend his gesture, or be spitting mad at him.
“Steven kissed you?” Emmie asked with a great deal of interest.
“Oh!” She hadn’t meant to divulge that bit of information. “Well, the first time, it was only to hide me. I’d dashed out of the house and Mr. Hurley was…” Gloria stopped when Emmie’s eyes grew wide with astonishment.
“It really wasn’t anything,” Gloria offered, the explanation a lie on her lips. The kiss had been remarkable, more passionate than she could ever imagine. She didn’t know a man could initiate such passion. Or that she would take part in such a kiss from a near-stranger.
“How many times has he kissed you?”
“Just that one time. Last night doesn’t count. I mean, we had just woken up and he…really…only…kissed my…uh—”
Gloria couldn’t go on. She couldn’t explain about last night. How wonderful she’d felt being out of the house for a time, enjoying the night air, the mountains and warm breezes. Steven had done that for her. Though exhausted, he’d taken her out to keep her from boredom. But, she wasn’t a fool and she wasn’t all that innocent. She had been married, after all, and the telling gleam in Emmie’s eyes left no room for doubt what she’d been thinking.
“You slept with him?” Emmie asked, fully intrigued now.
Gloria concealed her dismay. Truth be told, she had, in a sense, slept with Steven. Yet, she couldn’t very well lead Emmie to believe anything indecent had happened. The irony was almost too much to bear. Gloria worried over her reputation with a woman who quite obviously made her living in an ill-reputed profession. “No, of course not. Not in that way.”
Emmie sighed, a dramatic, heavy sound escaping her lips. “Steven has grown into a wonderful man. And he’s obviously smitten. Many of the girls are infatuated with him, and he likes us all fine, but he’s nothing more than our friend.”
“A friend? I thought that he…um—” Gloria couldn’t voice what she’d been thinking all the while. She was more than certain that Steven sought solace with the “ladies” at night, when he hadn’t been nursing her injuries.
“No.” Emmie smiled knowingly. “Besides, Lorene strictly forbids it. I don’t think that would matter much to Steven though. He pretty much goes after what he wants. And it seems he wants—”
“What? What does he want?”
Emmie hesitat
ed. She appeared to be a woman who spoke her mind, but Gloria sensed she held something back. Her voice softened, mellowing her words. “Steven wants to keep you safe.”
Because of the sacrifice her father had made. Because her beloved father had intervened, hoping to stop an altercation on the streets of the town he loved. Steven’s mother had lived, while Jonathan Caldwell had died. He’d been gunned down brutally, the bullet piercing two hearts, his and that of his daughter. Gloria hadn’t recovered from her father’s death. She’d spent the next year trying to change the immoral ways of this town. But her father hadn’t cared that he risked his life for a mere harlot. That was the kind of man he was. To him, all were equal in the eyes of the Lord.
Gloria didn’t have the same kind of charity in her heart.
Emmie stood and reached into her bag again. “I almost forgot. I brought you some undergarments as well. I have plenty and I’m willing to share. Here’s a chemise and petticoat for you. Oh, and here’s a pair of stockings. They’re all new.” She laid each one of the garments out on the bed. “You’re welcome to them.”
Gloria stared at a pair of fine silk stockings, a pure white muslin chemise and a frilly petticoat, completely taken by the generous gesture. Emotion overwhelmed her and she struggled to take hold of the situation. “I d-don’t know what to say.” She swallowed down, fighting back tears.
Softly, Emmie said, “Say you’ll wear them.”
Gloria looked into Emmie’s eyes. The girl couldn’t be much older than her. She wondered how Emmie had come to live here at Rainbow House. She was pretty and she obviously knew something about doctoring. Surely, she wouldn’t have to work in such a place. Surely, Emmie could have found suitable employment or a husband in a town swarming with miners and businessmen.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Emmie headed for the door. “I’m starved. No doubt Mattie has cooked up something delicious by now. Are you coming down?”
Most likely Gloria was even more famished than Emmie. She hadn’t eaten a thing since yesterday afternoon. But the thought of facing all those women again knotted her growling stomach. “Oh, uh, yes. I suppose.”
The Courting of Widow Shaw Page 7