Sweetwater Seduction (20 page)

“As a matter of fact, I have. My dad's taught me a lot, Miss Devlin. There's bound to be a ranch somewhere that needs a good hand. A few years from now I'll make a good foreman. Someday maybe I'll have enough saved to start a spread of my own.”

Hadley was clearly willing to take a man-size responsibility on his young shoulders. His blue eyes stared back at her with innocence and sincerity. He believed young love could conquer all. Maybe he was right. But he didn't know yet that there would be three mouths to feed on a cowboy's pittance, rather than two. That might change things.

They both started at the sound of someone else knocking on her front door. “Wait here,” Miss Devlin said, “while I see who it is.” The fewer explanations she had to make, the better, but she could hardly keep Hadley's presence a secret, since his horse was tied up out front. When she reached the door she called out, “Who is it?”

“It's me, Miss Devlin. Bliss.”

Miss Devlin yanked the door open. “What are you doing here? I said I would send you a message when—”

“I couldn't wait. I had to see you.” Bliss charged inside, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold. “I saw Hadley's horse outside. Is he—”

Hadley stood in the doorway to the parlor.

Bliss's eyes were full of hope. “Hadley. You're here.”

Miss Devlin watched as the two young people stared at each other with longing and disbelief. Hadley reached out to Bliss and she rushed into his one-armed embrace. It was as though Miss Devlin no longer existed. They hugged, and then they kissed with such abandon that at first Miss Devlin was too embarrassed to stop them, and then too filled with sympathy for their plight. She discreetly turned her back and gazed out the window.

When she heard them murmuring a short time later, she turned back and said, “Why don't you take Bliss into the kitchen, Hadley. You can both have a cup of coffee and talk there while I get dressed. I'll be back to join you in a few minutes.”

Miss Devlin felt her eyes burn with unshed tears when she saw the grateful look in Hadley's eyes. Through a watery film she watched the solicitous way Hadley drew Bliss into the curve of his arm and led her through the swinging kitchen door, carefully closing it behind them. Eden smiled. She wanted to be a fly on the wall when Bliss told Hadley he would become a father in seven months.

Eden's smile broadened when she heard the clatter of a coffee cup in the kitchen a moment later, followed by Hadley's elated shout of hosanna. She hoped their happiness lasted longer than it took Hadley to realize the complications this child would cause in their lives.

Miss Devlin stepped into her bedroom and rummaged in her chest for clean underthings. Inside her oak wardrobe she found a simple merino princess dress she often wore around the house.

The sight of the gunslinger lying facedown on her bed reminded her that she had no place to dress in private, yet Hadley would be sure to wonder if she returned to the kitchen in her nightclothes. She eyed the Texan sideways as she began to untie her robe. He looked done in. It was a safe bet he would stay that way long enough for her to dress.

Miss Devlin had pulled on clean pantalettes and was buttoning the top button of a clean chemise when the gunslinger opened his eyes. A confused frown formed on his face which slowly became a smile. Eden knew then why she had never become a gambler.

“If you'll kindly close your eyes, I'll finish dressing,” she said.

“I'm enjoying the view too much to want to miss anything,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

Twin spots of color grew on Miss Devlin's cheeks. “You, sir, are not a gentleman.”

“Never said I was.”

Miss Devlin turned her back on the insolent man and quickly slipped several petticoats on. Her heart was pounding rapidly as she lifted the princess gown down over her head. Its graceful skirt, created by back draping that resulted in a low-slung pouf, was somewhat full over the hips, but the front skirt was arranged into a semi-hobble effect. The twelve-inch ruffle trim of the underskirt was accordion pleated. Unfortunately, the shapely bodice had at least a dozen buttons leading from the high round neck down an inch below the fitted waist, and her fumbling fingers didn't seem to want to cooperate.

“I'd be glad to lend you a hand,” the Texan said, noticing her difficulty. He tried to lift himself up, but winced with pain and dropped to the bed again. “But you'll have to come over here.”

“I'll manage.” And somehow she did. When she turned back to face him, he was still staring intently at her. She looked down quickly at the clinging bodice, afraid she had missed a button or, worse yet, that she had buttoned the dress up cockeyed. But everything seemed all right. Nervously, she smoothed the fine wool at her waist and down over her hips.

“You look fine,” he said. “I like your hair down. It's beautiful. Does it always curl like that?”

Her hands grabbed for her hair and she realized then why his dark eyes had never left her. She must look like a wanton, with her hair draped over her shoulders and falling down her back. Once her sleeping cap was off, she had never given her hair another thought.

Eden had a good brush—with a mahogany back and eleven rows of long black Russian bristles—that she had ordered through the Montgomery Ward mail catalog. Grabbing it from the top of her dresser, she to brushing with a will. She faced the mirror over her dresser, and saw that Kerrigan's gaze never left her. She was disturbed by the look in his eyes, but hesitated to chastise him because then he would know that she had noticed in the first place. Eden took out her frustration on her hair, which was badly snarled. Her fierce brushing brought tears to her eyes.

“Are you upset because I said your hair is beautiful?”

The brush dropped onto the dresser. “Why should I be?”

“You tell me.”

“I assure you,” Eden said as she twisted her hair into a bun at the base of her neck, “that your opinion doesn't matter to me in the least.” She stuck a hairpin in to emphasize her point.

“Then why are you in such a hurry to pin it up?”

Eden jabbed another pin in. And another. “I'm not in a hurry.”

“No?”

Eden frowned. As usual, curly tendrils had escaped at her temples and around her ears.

She had started to brush them smooth when the Texan's voice stopped her. “Don't. You've got the rest of it tied up tight. Let those few curls be. That fiery hair of yours is too damn pretty to hide in an old lady's bun.”

She whirled on the gunslinger. She wanted to tell him what she did with her hair was none of his business, but the clear admiration in his eyes stopped her short. She wouldn't have believed him for a heartbeat if he had said her
face
was pretty. She had been looking into a mirror too many years to believe that. But she had thought sometimes, when the sun glinted off her burnished curls, that they looked quite nice. If she had always kept her hair pulled back in a bun, it was only because she thought leaving it down would be like putting a too-rich frame on a nondescript painting.

Confused by her feelings, needing to censure Kerrigan but unwilling to deny his compliment, she snapped, “Keep your voice down. We have company.”

He arched a questioning brow.

“Hadley Westbrook and Bliss Davis are here.”

“Westbrook, the rancher's kid . . . and Davis, the nester's kid? Sounds like trouble to me.”

“There are some . . . problems. Nothing that can't be handled. They just needed a place to talk.”

“Ahhh. She's pregnant.”

“What makes you say that?”

He arched a knowing brow and Eden shook her head in disgust. “All right. Maybe she is. But you'd better not say—

“Anybody else know?” he interrupted.

“No. And I think it's best kept secret until things are settled between Oak and Big Ben.”

The gunslinger whistled low. “That's for sure.” He glanced at the door and back to her again with a rueful grimace. “I hate to bring this up, but I need—”

“Miss Devlin? Are you dressed?”

“That's Hadley,” Miss Devlin whispered. “I'll send him and Bliss on their way and be right back.”

She squeezed through her bedroom door and closed it behind her. Hadley's face beamed with pride, yet his blue eyes were troubled.

“I assume congratulations are in order,” Miss Devlin said with a smile.

“Yes, thank you. I'm sure you'll agree that Bliss and I have to be married soon. We're probably going to have to go to Canyon Creek to find a preacher who won't go running straight to our fathers.”

“Getting married is a good idea. But you'll both be missed if you try to leave town right now,” Miss Devlin said. “You'll have to wait. And plan.”

It was plain from the look on Hadley's face that he didn't want to wait. It was equally plain that he could see the wisdom of planning. After all, Miss Devlin hadn't vetoed his idea, only encouraged him to act wisely in carrying it out. “All right,” he agreed. “We'll make plans to get away so that neither of our parents will be the wiser.”

“You still won't be able to live together, even after you're married,” Miss Devlin warned. “Unless this plan of yours to get married also includes running away.”

Hadley had difficulty meeting her probing gaze. He had bragged about how he was a cowman, how he would get a job and earn a living. But he was aware, as he knew she was, that he would have a hard time supporting a family on a cowman's wages. His wife and child deserved better. If things got settled in Sweetwater, they would have better.

“Bliss and I talked it over, and we're willing to keep our marriage a secret in the hope that things will get settled between our families before the baby . . .” Hadley gulped. “. . . before we have any explaining to do.”

Miss Devlin put one hand on Hadley's shoulder, and lifted Bliss's chin with the other hand. “You're both being very wise. Things will turn out for the best. Right now, I think you'd both better get home, before your parents miss you.”

Once she had the young people out the door Miss Devlin squared her shoulders and headed back to her bedroom.

“Theyone,” she said as she shoved open the door.

Kerrigan was sitting on the edge of the bed facing her, wearing nothing but his unbuttoned Levi's and socks. She hadn't paid much attention to his chest the previous evening, and gaped at the broad expanse covered by a pelt of curly black hair. He looked magnificent—if you ignored the scowl on his face.

“I tried reaching for my boots, but I'm having a problem bending over. I could use some help,” he admitted in an irritable voice.

“You aren't going anywhere. You're too weak—”

“If you won't help me, I'll do it myself.” He bent over and nearly fainted.

She caught him and discovered he was trembling with pain and exhaustion. “I'm not going to help you finish the job those rustlers started,” she said angrily. “Now lie back down.”

He turned a baleful eye on her, but didn't move. “As I started to explain once before, I have some needs to tend to first.”

Miss Devlin stared for a moment until she realized what “needs” he was talking about. Her face flamed. There was no way he could walk all the way to the outhouse. And no way she could carry him that far either. As weak as he was, he couldn't make it on his own. “There's a chamber pot under the bed,” she said.

His mouth thinned. “If I could bend over, I could put on my boots.”

Miss Devlin bit her lip in an agony of indecision. What was she supposed to do? Her practical nature came to the rescue. She bent down and pulled the pristine flowered chamber pot with its porcelain lid out from under the bed and set it beside him. “Call me when you're finished,” she said. Then she turned and left the room.

Miss Devlin paced the parlor anxiously. The situation was embarrassing for her, but it must be even more so for him. They were stuck together until he was well, so she was going to have to get over any squeamishness she felt about what had to be done. Eden must have paced for ten minutes, but he hadn't called for her. Worried, she walked up to her bedroom door and knocked softly. No answer. She knocked a little louder. Still no answer.

“Kerrigan?” she whispered. Why was she whispering? There was no one in the house but the two of them. She twisted the doorknob and slowly opened the door.