The Courting of Widow Shaw (8 page)

He nodded, his gaze staying on her chest. Heat stirred her insides from his direct, unflinching perusal and the glow of appreciation she witnessed in his eyes. He liked the way she looked in a prostitute’s gown. That didn’t surprise her and his admission only marked the distinct differences between them.

“Right. Well, I can’t go out and get you sewing materials in the dead of night. Fact is, I can’t ever get those things for you. It’d look real suspicious if I purchased female things like that. And the girls here have all their dresses made for them by fancy dress-makers, so it wouldn’t do to have them buy the material you need.”

“But—”

“No, Glory. I’m sorry. I’ll think of something tomorrow.” He glanced at her chest once more, lifted his gaze to her throat, her mouth, then looked into her eyes before turning away.

“It’s more important to keep you safe then worry over your clothes,” he said, parting the heavy curtains again and glancing out the window.

“So I’m left with nothing to do?” Dejected, Gloria
sat down on the bed once again, her voice a pitiful croak of disappointment.

Steven whirled around to meet her eyes. He twisted his mouth, obviously in a deep struggle with something on his mind. “Ah, hell, Glory.” He strode to the door, reaching for the knob before turning to her. “Wait right here. I have an idea.”

He was out the door instantly, but Gloria still called out, “What kind of idea?”

Silence.

“And where would I possibly go?”

Less than an hour later, Steven stood outside his bedroom door cursing under his breath and calling himself every kind of fool for taking this chance. He knew the safest place for Glory was right here inside Rainbow House, yet the look in her eyes and her softly spoken misery shattered his good sense. Glory had that effect on him. She shattered him. He’d be better off not dealing with her tonight. He’d be better off allowing her boredom to coax her to sleep. But the image of Glory, sitting upon that bed looking lost and lonely, almost undid him.

He knocked then entered.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice giving away her surprise and her blue eyes lighting up upon his return. Steven held back the frown that threatened to ruin her joy. He almost wished he hadn’t thought up this lamebrained idea, but he had and he meant to see it through.

“I told you I’d be back. I never go back on my word. You can count on that.”

She nodded, but her attention focused solely on what he held in his hand. “What’s that?”

“It’s a cloak.”

She peered at the ink-black woolen cloak and shook her head. “Oh Steven. You really can’t expect me to wear that over this gown. Why, it’s hotter than a cookstove in here during the day.”

“It’s not for the day. It’s for tonight. How’d you like to get out of here for a while? I’ve got my horse saddled up behind the house. We can sneak down the back stairs. I figure with you wearing this black cloak and me taking the back trails nobody would notice our midnight run.”

Hope sparked in her eyes. “It is midnight, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “And the streets are emptying. Most men have a hard day in the mines ahead of them. We won’t be seen.”

Glory reached for the cloak, putting the hood over her head. Strands of her glorious blond hair peeked through. Steven took a step closer to tuck the loose hair under the hood. Then she smiled at him and, a flash of joy cut right through his gut.

“I’m ready,” she said without hesitation.

Steven wondered if he was ready. Traveling alone on a midnight ride with the woman he vowed to protect, the woman he owed a great debt, the one and only woman he’d ever really wanted, gave him cause to turn tail and run.

Ah, hell, Glory. I’m ready, too. I just hope this isn’t a big mistake.

“Steven,” she said again softly, putting a hand to his arm, “I’m ready.” She searched his eyes.

“Let’s go.” He took her hand and led her out the door toward the back of the house. There, they descended
the stairs quickly and faced Fancy, his steadfast horse.

The mare snorted and sidestepped a bit. Steven calmed her with soothing words and a stroke to her nose. “It’s okay, girl.” The horse was used to only one rider, one man. But she’d be fine once Glory was atop the saddle. Fancy was one the finest horses in Virginia City.

Every instinct Steven possessed told him this was not a good idea, but not because Glory wouldn’t be safe from the sheriff or Ned Shaw. No, he could almost assure her safety tonight from the likes of those men.

The hell of it was that she was probably in more danger being alone with him.

Sure, he’d displayed a world of willpower when she’d been injured and bedridden. But this new Glory, healing now, spirited and beautiful could undoubtedly melt his resolve with just one sweet smile.

Steven spanned his hands around Glory’s tiny waist, pulling her in close first so that their bodies brushed. “Trust me, Glory,” he whispered into her ear, “but not too much.”

He let her go briskly and mounted, shutting off her protests by reaching down to hoist her up. “Shhh. No talking until we get out of town. Stay close and hide your face against my back. With luck if anyone spots us, they’ll think it’s just one rider.”

He settled her behind him, wrapping both her arms around his middle. “Don’t let go.”

She mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out, but he was more than certain from her tone, he didn’t want to know what she’d said. He grinned and took off at a fast pace.

The reverend’s daughter was no docile female.

Though it would make his life easier if she was, that fact didn’t bother him in the least.

But what did bother him was the feminine press of her body up against his, the soft crush of two perfectly formed breasts nestled to his back and her delicate hands splayed around his stomach. He willed his breaths to remain even, willed his body not to respond, willed his heart and mind not to take heed. He would not dally with Gloria Mae Shaw, he promised himself.

He slowed Fancy to a pace more suitable for two riders, hoping to give Glory a smooth ride. They traveled along a narrow trail, up through hills taking them away from Virginia City, Gold Hill and Silver City. They climbed their way through a cropping of tall pines until they came upon a small running stream. Steven had been here before, many times. It was one of his favorite places and as far as he knew, no one else around these parts knew of this particular, secluded spot.

“We’re here.” He turned to find Glory’s blue eyes taking in the scenery—as much as light from the half moon would allow. A tall rocky-peaked mountain was their shield on one side and lofty Nevada sugar pines protected them from the other. The stream, a tributary from the Truckee River, cut the balance of the land in two.

“Do you want to get down?” he asked, fully aware of Glory’s arms still wrapped around him.

“Oh, yes. Please.”

Tentatively, with a shyness he’d not witnessed before, Glory removed her arms from his waist. He helped her down first, before dismounting.

He watched her run toward the rushing stream and thrust her arms out wide, breathing deeply, taking in fresh mountain air.

She’d been cooped up for a week and it was plain to see how much she enjoyed being free of her confinement.

She giggled like a small child and twirled around, her hood dropping down and allowing her blond hair to escape. She was a vision in the moonlight, a free, uninhibited spirit spinning around with joy in her heart. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Steven tied Fancy’s reins around a tree and leaned against it, folding his arms, keeping his distance. It would be too easy to go to her. It would be too easy to take full advantage of her happiness. It would be too doggone easy.

And wrong.

Steven unrolled a gray blanket and laid it out on the ground. He undid the strap of his saddlebag and brought out a jar of apple cider and some leftover treats that Mattie had packed for him.

The blanket looked too inviting for a man pretty much dead on his feet. He’d worked at his ranch all day, rode more than an hour late tonight to check on Glory, and now, when he should be sleeping, he found himself entertaining her, like some smitten boy courting his girl.

Glory walked up and down the streambed balancing herself on rocks, bending to put a hand into the water and splash around. Steven put a hand to his gun, making sure he’d be ready if an intruder came upon them. One never knew when a hungry bear or wolf might approach. This was an isolated area, and though he’d been up here as a young boy and never had a
problem, no sense being reckless. They might be disturbing some wild creature’s habitat without knowing it.

He lowered himself down on the blanket, keeping a watchful eye on Glory. As he leaned his head back against the tree, Glory came forward. She glanced at the food and drink. With eyes that simply danced, she asked, “Are we having a picnic?”

A midnight picnic?

Now if that didn’t beat all. Steven hadn’t thought of it that way. And it’d be best if she didn’t, either.

“Mattie sent along some food.”

“That was real sweet of her.”

Glory sat down on the blanket. Her face, cast in the glow of moonlight, was beaming.

“Is it all right if I take this off?”

“Huh?” He lifted his head. “Oh, yeah.” She meant the cape. “For now.”

“It’s a warm night.”

“Uh-huh.”

She unfastened the tie at her throat. The cape slipped off her shoulders, exposing creamy skin underneath and a surge of heat threatened to do him in. As she leaned forward to fold the cape, her small breasts pressed tight against the fabric of her gown in such a way that she nearly spilled out of the darn thing.

He had to remember that tonight she was grateful to him for bringing her here. But in the morning, she’d remember her hatred of him, his mother and Rainbow House.

“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?