Liz Ireland (16 page)

Cecilia jumped up in outrage. “Yes, back in
my
room!”

He laughed.

“It’s not funny. And while you’re on the mend, I’m supposed to be doing all your work on top of mine!”

“So tell Beasley you won’t do it.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want Beasley on my side once I’ve gotten you drummed out of town for good.”

“And he’s on my side now?” This sounded promising.

“Ha!”

She kept saying that—
ha.
What did it mean? Jake had the eerie feeling that something was happening that he hadn’t even guessed at yet.

“Town change much while I was gone?”

Cecilia scowled. “Annsboro? It won’t change if it’s here for a century!”

“No courthouse yet?”

To his surprise, Cecilia let out a laugh of recognition and walked closer to him. “No. And in case you were wondering, Beasley’s drug emporium hasn’t appeared, either.”

Jake reached out and captured her hand. The gesture cost him a smarting pain, but it was worth it to feel her soft skin against his, to trace her slender fingers. “I thought about your laugh, too, that day I left.”

She tugged gently to retrieve her hand, but he didn’t let go. Her expression was confused and—amazing though it seemed—bashful. Cecilia, bashful. He felt a surge of desire for her that surprised him, given the fact that his lower half was already in a different kind of agony.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said, but the exclamation lacked its usual bite. “I suppose this is just another one of your tactics to throw me off track.”

“I’m beginning to think that’s impossible.”

“There! So you admit that’s what you were doing those other times.”

Jake was perplexed. “What other times?”

She bit her lip and looked away shyly. “You know...” She glanced back at him and rolled her eyes. “At the blacksmith shop. Then the other night by the well...”

Understanding finally dawned. “You mean when I kissed you?”

“Yes! Don’t tell me you’d forgotten.”

Oh, no. “Did you brood about that kiss the whole time I was gone?” he teased.

“Absolutely not!” Cecilia protested, horrified. “I’ve hardly thought of it at all, except to remind myself how conniving and sneaky you are.”

“For kissing you?”

“For trying to manipulate my affections to throw me off your scent,” she corrected with a pert tilt of her chin.

“Obviously that plan backfired.”

She snatched her hand away and leaned it on her hip. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “Just that kissing me has obviously made you more attentive than ever. Rather than scaring you away, you seem to be coming back for more.”

“That’s not true!”

“So why did I have the pleasure of waking up with you in my bed this morning?”

She sputtered helplessly for a moment before finding words. “I told you, I was just trying to—”

“Oh, I know what you
told
me.”

“It’s the truth,” she insisted.

“Then I’ll tell you the truth, Cecilia.” He made sure that he was looking straight into the clear blue pools of her eyes as he carefully spoke his next words. “I never wanted to kiss a woman like I wanted to kiss you that night by the schoolhouse. And if we’d been somewhere else, and alone, I probably wouldn’t have stopped with a kiss.”

Her jaw popped open in sheer astonishment at his words. “Wh-what... You mean...”

Nodding, he grinned at her, enjoying the idea of having finally shocked Cecilia into complete incoherence. All traces of color drained from her face, and for a moment she merely weaved speechlessly in front of him. If he could have managed it, he would have taken her into his arms right that moment.

Into the heated tension in the silent room burst Dolly, washed and dressed for the day. “Good morning!” she chirped to Jake. “You look so much better.”

Jake smiled affably. “Thanks to you, Dolly, and I guess to Cecilia here.”

Dolly looked at her friend and frowned. “Cecilia? Are you all right?”

Cecilia stilled and snapped her jaw shut again. “Mmm,” she mumbled.

“Poor thing!” Dolly cried. “She probably didn’t get much sleep at all. But of course, how could she? She didn’t have a bed!”

Jake frowned. “What happened to it?”

“The girls are in it.”

“Girls?”

“The ones who brought you.” Dolly put her hands on her hips. “Didn’t Cecilia tell you what a hero you are here now?”

Ha! Jake thought. That’s what Cecilia had been so upset about. He looked up and saw her still standing where she had been when Dolly came in.

“You saved a whole wagonload of people, if you don’t remember!” Dolly informed him proudly. “And they brought you here, where we plan to treat you like a king until you’re all better.”

Jake beamed a smile at her. “It was no more than anyone else would do.”

“Still and all, we haven’t had such a show of heroism from one of our citizens since...well, since the Indian raid! You’ll be written up in the history books, isn’t that right, Cecilia? Cecilia?” Dolly looked over at her friend again. “Cecilia, I think you should go out for a morning constitutional. You look feverish yourself!”

Wordlessly, Cecilia moved toward the door. She looked back at Jake once, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again and silently slipped from the room.

“Now what could be the matter with her?” Dolly wondered mockingly. She sent Jake a meaningful little grin. “She’s been in a state ever since you disappeared.”

Jake watched Cecilia disappear through the hallway, wishing he could jump out of bed and follow her. Maybe he’d been too forward. He didn’t want to scare her away.

Of course, given that he’d just had a run-in with the man who was trying to kill him, that might not be a bad thing. He could only stay now until he was sure he was mended enough to go after Darby again. His attraction to Cecilia had tugged him all the way back to the safe haven of Annsboro, but if Gunter had recognized him during their brief shootout, how much longer would Annsboro be safe?

* * *

Her limbs felt quivery and weak.
Because I slept in a rocking chair,
she assured herself.

Because you’re falling for a man who might be a desperado!
a little voice corrected.

That was just not possible! Cecilia took a deep, healthy breath of air and exhaled slowly. She was being ridiculous again. Pendergast was
not
an outlaw, and she certainly did
not
have feelings for him, other than disdain.

A vision of that revolver flashed through her mind, however, chased by a fleeting memory of those eyes searing right through her as he said, “I probably wouldn’t have stopped with a kiss.” Those were not the words of a gentleman. And that Colt wasn’t exactly a dueling pistol.

She began to quake all over again. Maybe he
was
an outlaw. And he guessed she knew he was one. That’s why he had come back—to make sure she kept her mouth shut. That’s what that gun was for!

She stumbled forward a few steps to the road in front of Dolly’s property and looked out over the town. She had to teach school today, yet her thoughts were such a jumble she didn’t know how she was going to rally for the task. Her chest was pounding so hard that she could only breathe in little puffs. Was Pendergast really just biding his time until he got better so he could do her in?

Or had he been telling the truth when he said he had come back to dance with her? That didn’t seem likely, and yet...his eyes had looked at her with such raw desire that she felt she hadn’t even known the meaning of the word until now. In fact, she knew she hadn’t. No man had ever said he wanted her so bluntly.

And she’d never responded so mutely! But how could a person put words to the terrifying feeling those dark eyes of his caused her to have? If Dolly hadn’t come in when she had, Cecilia feared she might have done something she would have regretted forever, like crawling right into that bed—the whole way this time.

Dangerous? Even if the man wasn’t an outlaw, the wanting he stirred in her was very dangerous. Being just on the verge of getting everything she had been working for was no time to do exactly what Clara had always warned her against—namely, fall for the wrong man.

How had Dolly known? She’d just been teasing her the day before about falling in love with Mr. Pendergast, and she was right! Only Cecilia didn’t know whether
love
was the correct word. Pendergast himself had certainly never used that term. He’d pinned her with his gaze just like she’d seen men eyeballing the women from Grady’s—only his look said that she would be much more of a challenge.

She reeled toward a shady tree nearby and leaned against it for support. Who else could have guessed what feelings she had for this man? And what would everyone say about her once it came out that he wasn’t a hero at all, but a desperado, maybe even a bandit himself!

Oh, how could she have been so foolish! She couldn’t believe, after eighteen years of being sensible and so satisfyingly self-absorbed, she’d allowed her thoughts to focus on a shady character who was bound to ruin her reputation beyond repair. Beasley would never allow an outlaw’s moll to teach school. And if her father found out she had feelings for such a man, he’d snatch her back so fast her head would spin. Then she would spend the rest of her life hearing Clara clucking her tongue and telling her she should have listened....

She pushed herself away from the tree. She couldn’t just stand here, panicking! She had to do something to protect herself. Just because she had feelings for Pendergast didn’t mean her situation was irredeemable—it just meant she needed more desperately than ever to get the man out of town.

Fleetly she headed off down the street, ignoring the hellos of people going about their business. On the way to Beasley’s she passed Bea walking the other way.

“Miss Summertree? Aren’t we having school today?” the little girl asked, her voice anxious at the thought of missing school.

“Yes!” Cecilia tried to think fast. “But I need to see your father about something, so Bea, you’ll have to take charge of the class.”

Behind her glasses, the girl’s eyes seemed to magnify a hundred times, and a big smile broke out across her face. “Oh, boy!” she cried, skipping off to try out her new role.

Cecilia hurried on until she reached the general store. Mindful of what had happened the last time she was here, she tried to gather her wits before storming in making accusations. Nevertheless, surely Beasley would want to know that there was a potentially dangerous person in their town.

When she pushed open the door, there was a biddable smile on her face, and she nodded a friendly good morning to the three men who had already stopped by to congregate for the morning.

Beasley was behind the counter, working on his account book, by the looks of it. “Something the matter at the schoolhouse, Cecilia?”

“Not a thing,” Cecilia answered. “I’m just on my way over there. But first I thought I should tell you about Pendergast.”

His eyes immediately looked up from his ledger. “Nothing wrong, I hope.”

“I don’t know...”

“Well, land’s sake, girl, what is it? I was just gonna tell Bert here on his way to Abilene to stop by the newspaper office there and see if he can get someone out here to write about Pendergast.” He snapped his suspenders proudly, as if the newspaper article was a done deal.

“Mr. Beasley, I have a suspicious feeling about Mr. Pendergast.”

There were chuckles behind her, and Cecilia struggled not to turn a glare on the men.

Beasley gesticulated impatiently with his hands. “Oh, no, not this again. What’s the matter now? We know you don’t think he’s a schoolteacher.”

“No,” Cecilia agreed, “I think he’s a criminal.”

All three men behind her broke out laughing, and unable to keep her resolution, Cecilia threw them a disparaging glance. “Don’t you see?” she asked urgently. “Our mild-mannered Mr. Pendergast sneaked out in the night, armed, and defended himself when he was attacked, and now crawled back here to hide.”

“Hide? What do you think he’s hiding from?” Beasley said.

“I don’t know,” Cecilia answered, reddening at the snickers that met the admission. “You’re all just too busy fancying a hero in your midst to see Pendergast for what he really is.”

“What’s that?” one of the men asked.

“A vicious outlaw.”

Hoots of laughter echoed off the wooden rafters of the store. “That’s right,” the man named Bert joked, “we got Jesse James teaching school right here in Annsboro.”

“Maybe he’s just not famous,” Cecilia explained. “Have you seen that pistol he’s got?”

Beasley shook his head patronizingly at her. “Lots of men carry guns, Cecilia.”

“Even Yankees,” one agreed.

“They were sure carrying them twenty-five years ago!” one older fellow said, and the rest of them laughed along.

“Then why was he sneaking off to Fredericksburg?” Cecilia asked.

With a sigh of pure exasperation, Beasley snapped, “How should I know! The man was delirious, he probably didn’t know where he was going himself.”

“I doubt that very much,” Cecilia said.

“You doubt because you want the man gone,” Beasley scolded. “You have since he got here. First you tried to cast suspicion on him, then you wanted to turn us against him while he was sick, and now you want to deprive the man of his glory. You weren’t saying the fellow was an outlaw the other day, when your old job was secure.”

The others were nodding in agreement, which infuriated Cecilia. Did the whole town think she was that selfish and mean-spirited? In that moment, she realized she could run around town for the rest of her life wailing doom like Cassandra and no one would believe her. They were all on Pendergast’s side.

“If you want to do this town a favor,” Beasley instructed unctuously, “you’d best go back to that school and mind that this year’s pageant is the best ever.”

Cecilia screwed her lips into a pout. Success was always the best revenge, but how successful could a piddly little pageant be? She doubted she could plan one so good it would get rid of Pendergast. But perhaps a good showing might make these small-minded people regret booting her out of her job when Pendergast was finally unmasked, which of course he would be eventually. She clung to that assurance for all she was worth.