"This tastes like mud." Her lush mouth twisted. "Bitter mud. You wouldn't happen to have any sugar around here, would you?"
"Nope. I didn't think of it." And he should have. He should have guessed a woman like Garnet, particular in every way, would drink her coffee sweetened.
"I'll just have to improvise. Look, we'll use Mr. Carson's chocolates." Pleased with herself, Garnet leaned back in the chair to reach the decorated box with the tips of her fingers. She tore the wrapping open and plopped one of the fine chocolates into her brand new tin cup. "Now, I'll just wait for this to melt, stir it around, and then I'll see if I can stomach your coffee."
Wyatt could see the happiness gleam like a precious gem in her eyes, in those blue eyes the color of a mountain lake. Unusual eyes for an unusual woman. "Give me one of those chocolates."
"What? A tough loner like you has a sweet tooth?"
"You have no idea." Wyatt reached for a piece of candy, figuring Carson would be none too happy to know Garnet wasn't the only one enjoying those chocolates. He plopped it in his cup and watched Garnet laugh.
She had changed into a different dress after their dash in the rain, a soft white garment flecked with hundreds of tiny green leaves. White buttons marched from her chin to her waist, accenting a softly shaped bodice and firm breasts.
The skirt was plain, without a bustle or hoops, but it was elegant. The white and leaf-green sprigged material made her look fresh, like the world after a spring rain. Her raven hair was tied back with a white length of muslin, and small wisps had escaped to frame her face. Wyatt stared at the contrast, the white dress and black hair, the soft leaf imprinted on fabric and the porcelain clearness of her face.
Want, long denied, burned in his chest. The memory of kissing her teased him. As she lifted her sparkling tin cup and delicately sipped from the rim as if it were the finest of china, her merry gaze met his.
"The chocolate makes this mud you made quite tolerable. Try it." Steadfast and loyal, honest and passionate. Garnet licked her lush lips with the pink tip of her tongue and set his blood on fire.
With a bright flash of clarity Wyatt knew he liked this woman far more than was prudent. He couldn't help himself. He leaned across the corner of the table and cupped the back of her head, her satiny hair luxurious against his fingers, and brought her mouth to his.
She tasted of coffee and chocolate and a sweet fire all her own. Every inch of his body strummed with desire for her, only her. He laved his tongue along her lower lip. And when she opened her mouth to him, so willing and eager, he forgot every reason why he shouldn't become involved with her. He explored the even row of her front teeth, took courage from the low moan in her throat. She liked this, too, this intimacy.
Then a knock pounded on the door. Garnet skidded away from him, her hand to her mouth. Rain dripped from the corner of the roof, where it was collecting on the canvas cover. Who would be visiting in a storm?
"Golda. She's back from town." Garnet stood so fast, she knocked over the chair. The impact of Wyatt's kiss burned along her lips. She couldn't look at him as she pulled the latch and tugged open the door.
"Ma'am?"
It wasn't Golda, but a skinny boy in a big slicker, rain dripping off his floppy-brimmed hat. He was muddy from head to toe.
"Are you inquiring about my cleaning services?"
"No–uh," the boy hesitated, rolling his eyes to the sky as if looking for the right words. "Some woman paid me to deliver this. Let me find it."
Garnet watched while the lad opened his slicker and searched both trouser pockets. Finally he held out a folded sheet of paper. She could only stare at it. "What's this?"
"Don't know." The young man turned and ran back out into the rain.
Garnet felt the telltale pitter in her heart that foretold disaster. She unfolded the scrap of paper, her fingers trembling. She recognized Golda's fancy, precise handwriting.
Dearest Sister,
Please find it in your heart to be glad for me, your baby sister. Lance asked me to be his wife. We are running off to Virginia City to be wed.
Chapter Ten
"What's wrong?" Wyatt's steps sloshed in the mud behind her. "Couldn't Toby afford your laundry service?"
Garnet's hand began to tremble. She could not believe this letter, that this was real, that Golda would show such a lack of good sense and run off with a man who didn't even own his tent outright.
"Garnet." His hands cupped her shoulders from behind, such big, comforting hands. How she wanted to lean against him and ask for his help. How wonderful it would be to depend on him, to place her trust in him.
But how could she? Golda wasn't his problem. And he was a friend, nothing more. The way he'd kissed her so intimately . . . why, she blushed thinking of how his tongue had caressed hers and made her body melt.
How could she rely on a man she wanted to seduce her?
"Bad news?"
Garnet crumpled the paper into a tight ball. "No, of course not. I was just surprised, that's all."
"Surprised? You look ready to cry."
"I am just a bit distressed, but nothing for you to worry about."
"Nothing?" He spun her around so only a tiny breath stood between them.
Garnet gazed up into his eyes and saw an affection so big and bright she could almost believe it. Could it be true? Could he care about her, too? Something in her heart flared again, like a small bit of paper catching a spark. "It's a personal note."
"Not from Barrett Carson, I hope." Black brows rose in a skeptical line. "I think he wants you. That was an expensive box of candy."
"I don't know what Mr. Carson thinks he sees in me." She shrugged, far too troubled over what to do and torn over asking Wyatt for help.
His hand curled over hers. "He sees a beautiful woman full of principles and convictions."
"Principles? Convictions?" She almost snorted.
"That's the woman I see, too. There was such tenderness in his voice, and it rumbled through her with the power of thunder.
Did he truly think so? Garnet could only try to measure the sincerity in his eyes.
What kind of principles did she have, enjoying kisses from a man who knew no permanence in his life? Or living in his cabin without the sanctity of marriage? Back home in Willow Hollow that would make her quite an indecent woman. Decent people would cross the street to avoid her.
"Let me see." He took the paper from her grip, simply, easily, and unballed it.
Her heart thudded in her chest. Wyatt had righted the page and was squinting at it, studying the words intently. "Your sister and her admirer are marrying just for a roll in the sheets?"
"Wyatt! That's my sister you are talking about. She is an innocent, do you understand me? She does not roll in the sheets with anyone, particularly any prospector."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Wyatt crumpled the paper in one fist, his broad shoulders set, his powerful gaze riveted on hers. He made her feel small and foolish and . . . oh, how did she explain?
"I'm a prospector. Do you mean I am not good enough for you?" His anger came quietly.
You are more than good enough,
her heart answered. But then her mind argued,
You are too much like Pa.
But it wasn't true. Wyatt did work his claim hard, he had an admirable work ethic for a prospector, and he was the only man she'd ever wanted to kiss. The only man she ever wanted to hold in her arms and never let go, to stay with, to feel his touch, know everything inside his heart.
Embarrassed, she lowered her gaze. "I was speaking about Lance, not you. Never you."
His thumb nudged her chin upward. A fading hurt reflected in his eyes. She'd hurt his feelings. Her chest tightened and she bit her lip, furious at herself for speaking without thinking.
"Surely your sister is of a marriageable age. I know you raised her, Garnet. I know you feel a great responsibility to see to her welfare. Just tell me what's bothering you. Tell me what's wrong with Lance."
She blinked hard so that the tears forming in her eyes wouldn't fall and show her for the weak, softhearted fool she was. "Lance is a drifter, a
dreamer
, a ne'er-do-well."
"A man like your pa?"
She nodded. "I can't think of a worse fate." The very idea of Golda wanting that dreamer was more than she could bear. "You don't understand. Pa got to do whatever he wanted, but not me. I had to stay and worry whether or not the crop would fail and we would have nothing but turnips to eat through the winter. I had to worry about the mortgage and the harvesting and finding enough money for doctor bills. I don't want that life for my sister, don't you understand?"
A choked sob resonated in the night. Rain dripped from the tear in the roof and plopped in the growing puddle on the floor between them.
"You're free from all that responsibility and worry, Garnet. Can't you see that?" His voice was a gruff, low rumble and so caring it was nothing short of magic. "You can do anything you want from this point on."
Garnet feared she might have imagined his empathy, but his work-roughened finger brushed against her cheek, wiping off the salty tears that stung her face. He was right, she knew it. She wasn't on the farm, Golda had run off, her responsibilities were over. Almost.
"Don't push me away," he asked now, an affection lighting his eyes. "I thought we agreed to be friends. Good friends. I've told you things about me I have never told any woman."
Garnet saw the raw power of this man's heart. Sincere and loyal and so tender she'd never seen the like. A deep yearning filled her chest. All she wanted was him. She wanted him more than anything she'd ever known.
She could no longer deny her strong feelings, this weakness for Wyatt Tanner. She firmed her chin against the most painful truth: She could not do everything alone. And she no longer wanted to. "I need your help, Wyatt. I need you."
His eyes darkened and he leaned close until their lips met in a dance of heat and warm velvet. She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and let herself feel what it was like to be good and truly kissed.
* * *
"What do ya keep lookin' back fer?" Lance asked in Golda's ear, his arms comfortable around her as they rode together over the trail toward Virginia City and matrimony.
If only they were headed there on a fine stepping horse instead of a borrowed donkey, but Golda knew she couldn't be particular. Not until Lance struck it rich on his claim. Then only the best-blooded stallions would pull their luxury carriage.
"I have this prickly feeling on the back of my neck." She didn't see anyone on the muddy trail behind them. Thunder cracked, and the donkey gave an awful, ear-splitting bellow. "I get this feeling every time Garnet is watching me do something she doesn't approve of."
"It's jest yer imagination." Lance squeezed her in a warm, wonderful hug.
Oh, with his big strong body warm against hers, she couldn't wait to become his wife. Her entire person was aflame with all sorts of desires.
If Garnet lacked the good sense to leave her alone and showed up to do anything to stop her wedding, Golda wouldn't stand for it. She loved Lance. She didn't need her big bossy sister ruining her happiness anymore. She was a grown woman, old enough to be a wife. And no jealous old spinster was going to destroy her chance to marry a man who was going to be rich one day.
* * *
Garnet tried to concentrate on her packing. Rain kept leaking from the roof and the afternoon was ebbing away. Wyatt had raced to town to secure the necessary items they would need for their trip to Virginia City.
She folded her nightgown, a serviceable white flannel garment, and stuffed it into her cracked valise. She was tormented by their brief kiss. All sliding tongues and lips and desire. That kiss was far too intimate; she did not believe it proper in the slightest for a man to kiss a woman unless they were engaged. But she hadn't cared one whit for her principles while enfolded in Wyatt's arms, opening her mouth to his.
It didn't matter how sensible she was, she wanted to feel passion. She'd never understood that yearning until now, until Wyatt had made her feel protected and special. Until he had kissed her lips and held her tight against his strong chest, and she had felt dizzy with that closeness, with wanting more than a kiss.
Heavens, she was slipping. Actually allowing herself to fall victim to a man's charm. Worse, she was liking it.
* * *
Wyatt ambled over to the bar, tugged out a stool, and sat on it. "Bring me a bottle," he instructed the barkeep when the elderly man limped over.
"That Miss Garnet shore is nice." The bartender grinned kindly as he set an unopened bottle and a clean shot glass on the polished bar between them. "She done agreed to clean up for me once a week and it's my pleasure to have her do it. It's mighty nice to have a proper woman in these parts, ain't it?"
Wyatt stared helplessly at the opened bottle, feeling the fresh jab of pain in his heart. "She's proper, all right." Her very improper, uninhibited kiss still scorched like fire across the surface of his lips.
The barkeep leaned both elbows on the counter. "Look around. Look what she done. Nearly every man in this town is shaved and showered. I heard Carson's store ran clean outta soap. I've been thinkin' of gussyin' myself up ever since I heard she's unmarried. I shore would like to have her for a wife. Is she pretty. Wow-ee."
