“They say clothes make the man. If I was ten years younger, Mary Rose might get a run for her money,” she commented.
He pulled against the collar of the starched white shirt, as it seemed to tighten around his neck. He’d borrowed the jacket from Rand and purchased the stiff white shirt from the general store along with something else, just for Mary Rose.
“Stop that,” Elaine hissed, pulling his hands away. “You look too nice to muck it up.”
He gave her a roguish grin. “I need a table,” he began. “Secluded, if you don’t mind.”
“I know,” she answered, with a waggle of her brows. “Follow me.”
Skirts swishing, she led the way to a small table behind a rather large and audacious plant.
“What the blazes… I don’t need a jungle,” he growled.
“Sit down and cool your heels, cowboy. This is the best I can do to keep prying eyes away.” He sat down and watched her wave over to them the gentleman waiting tables.
“Make sure this man has what he needs,” she instructed, and then, looking back, she winked. “I’ll go let Mary Rose know you are here.” The waiter turned the coffee cups up so he could fill them.
While he waited, Trace reached inside the pocket of his jacket, closed his fingers around the round metal button, and pulled it out to turn it over and study the insignia. An eagle with spread wings, and on his chest a large C. “Must stand for cavalry,” he said to himself. His brow puckered. “Did Moe serve in those ranks during the war?” He rubbed his forehead in thought.
Still focused on the button, he heard a murmur roll through the clientele sitting at the tables in the dining room. A soft swish of satin and the smell of roses swirled around him. Thinking it was Elaine, he glanced up. Trace’s eyes widened.
“Hello.” A soft sultry voice curled around his ears, and he rose from his seat. Standing before him stood Mary Rose, not the young woman wearing practical clothing to run a freight office, but something different, something soft, and feminine. The color of the dress made her copper curls burn brighter and deepened the blue in her eyes to velvet. When he could find his voice, his words were, “You should always wear satin.”
His eyes moved over her body, taking in how the dress clung to her breasts, which swelled against the heart-shaped neckline. She shimmered. Afraid she might disappear like a mirage, he took a quick step toward her and clasped her hand. She tilted her head, and her mouth gave him a coy smile as his gaze took in her perfect features. Her hair, instead of hanging loose, was pinned at the top of her head in graceful curls. A few strands left to dangle formed a single curl that lay charmingly across her left shoulder.
“You look beautiful,” he told her and placed her hand to his cheek. The innocence of her blush turned his heart to mush. “Won’t you sit down?” He stepped back, and she followed the tug of his hand.
The soft breath her skirt sighed as she gathered it sent blood once again rushing below his belt. He pulled the chair out, and she floated into the seat. As he scooted the chair closer to the table, his knees nearly buckled from the sheer want to take her in his arms, mount the stairs, and find an unoccupied room.
Dampening his dry lips, he moved back to his seat, unable to take his eyes off the charming creature across from him. Her hand reached out, and she picked up something on the table.
“What’s this?” She asked and looked to him.
He tore his gaze away to glance at the palm of her hand. In it lay the button he’d found in Moe’s things. He turned his gaze upon her again. “I went to see Lucille today and picked up Moe’s things.”
“This was in there?” She reacted with surprise and handed the token back to him. “Poor Moe. He didn’t have anyone.”
He thought about what Lucille had mentioned. “Did you ever hear him talk about his exploits in the war?”
“Me? No.” She shook her head and spread the napkin across her lap. “Mr. Gentry might have. I usually took care of listing the freight and getting those lists to Daniel, and packing the bags for the drivers.” She sipped her coffee. “I can tell you there’s a lot more to this business of freight hauling than I realized.”
He placed the button back in his pocket, then reached out and took her hand. “Once we are married, can you put that behind you?”
“Trace, Thornton’s is my life.”
“You will see the folly of this belief,” he assured her and gave her hand a squeeze as the waiter moved toward their table. Taking their order, the man departed, leaving the two alone. Trace watched as she fiddled with the silverware, moving the pieces to make them even. “You seem a bit nervous.”
Her gaze flicked up to his face. “I just wonder if we’re jumping into things.”
He sat back and fingered the handle of the fork in his hand. “I am not in the habit of taking what you gave to me so freely.”
Again, her cheeks glowed red.
“I’m not exactly the innocent party,” she protested.
He reached out and covered her hand closest to him. “But you are.” They stared at one another. He took his finger and drew it down the line of her face. “You are so beautiful, my
Querida
. I think you do not even know the power you possess in one small glance.”
She dampened her lips. “But is it necessary? We barely know one another. Besides, I have a business to run.” He watched her hand cover her heart and wished his lips were there instead. “I could claim I was overcome with grief. But really, who would know?”
“Sheriff Weston did.”
Mary Rose gritted her teeth.
“And I would know.” He pulled his hand back. “I would know, and every time I’m near you or look at you I’d think about those hours spent in your arms. The way you say my name when lust is upon you, or the look in your eyes when you shatter in my hands... Oh, yes, I would know.” He took a deep breath realizing he, too, had been breathing hard just thinking of that memory. He shifted in the chair; his pants seemed a size too small.
She opened her mouth to speak, and he placed a finger to her lips. “We will talk later about this and about your business. Our meal has arrived.”
****
In truth, Elaine’s cook had outdone himself. The roast beef proved tender enough to slice with a fork. Yet her appetite had fled. She caught Trace’s glances, and their heat set her heart fluttering. Food—or even the thought of it—seemed the farthest thing from her thoughts. She had other things to consider, such as stalling tactics that would persuade this single-minded marshal against marriage.
She pushed her fork through the fluffy potatoes. If only he’d say those words, she could make do with the whole situation. Frustrated, she put down the utensil and patted at the edges of her mouth with the napkin.
He looked up and smiled.
“Are you through with your meal?”
She nodded.
“Good, good.”
That sinking feeling returned. She took a deep breath, but the words would not come. Under her watchful gaze, Trace sat back and stared at the single taper in the glass. She had a feeling he sensed her unease. “I know this is hard for you,” he began. “I understand your inner turmoil. It’s not easy for either of us to suddenly jump into such a commitment.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “Good. Then perhaps you see the folly of this. We need to forget this whole idea of marriage. I can think of a thousand reasons why this is foolish, Marshal.”
He grinned at her. “And I can think of a million more as to why it is so right.”
She shook her head. The gauntlet had been thrown, and being hardheaded she picked it up. “I keep telling you, if you are concerned about my virtue, don’t be. No one will even know what happened.” While she thought the comment lighthearted, a pained expression crossed his face.
“Because you are a woman, you cannot see it.”
His words sounded final, almost as if he regretted what she thought was beautiful, and it hurt. She looked at the plate and studied the flowered pattern around the edge.
“I will tell you this just once, and it is for our ears only. A woman’s virtue is highly regarded. What you gave to me today, you shall never be able to recover. I do not take lightly what passed between us.”
The raw emotion in his voice moved her to tears. A large lump formed in her throat as he continued.
“A few years ago… No, a lifetime ago, I thought I loved another.” He gave his head a shake. “Like some starry-eyed dreamer, I believed in love at first sight.”
Her eyes grew wide, her mouth dry. He was talking about the woman Rand had mentioned, Amelia.
“Like a fool, I asked her to be my bride. But the day of the wedding, she never came.”
“You are no fool, Trace,” she whispered.
His mouth took on a grim line. “I found her in my brother’s bed. She told me in no uncertain words how unfit I was for her. How my father betrayed Mexico for my mother.” He grimaced.
Her hand instinctively reached for his. As her fingers brushed his skin, he flinched, but she stared into the depths of his cold blue eyes. “Do not speak of this. She was a fool.”
He looked away and gave a shake of his head. “No, I was a fool because for so long I believed her lies, and for so long I hoped one day she might return.”
She watched as he struggled and gathered his thoughts together. His hand slipped over hers.
“I will be a good husband and father, my Irish Rose. You will never want for anything, I assure you.”
She listened, wishing the most important words would tumble from his lips to calm her fears. However, she understood now why they were not there. Before she could say anything, he pulled a box from his pocket.
“I know that it is customary for a woman to be presented with a token of a man’s admiration for her.”
Damn it, can’t you say the word ‘love’?
She wanted to shout the thought.
Instead, she watched his fingers open the lid to the box. Her eyes widened as she spied what nestled in the cotton—a tiny gold ring, its band a twisted gold strand with two hands clutching a heart.
“It’s beautiful.” She heard the words roll off her tongue.
His fingers nimbly took the ring from the box and, grasping her left hand, slid it onto the third finger of her left hand. “It is not what I want you to have, but until I get home, this will do. As I was her firstborn, my mother left me her jewelry. Now, as my wife, the Castillo jewels will be yours.”
She gazed down at her hand. Her finger seemed heavy. His hands closed around hers. Lifting her hand, he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the ring.
“You see?” He smiled up at her. “You hold my heart in your hands. When you come to my ranchero, there will be much for us to do. You will not miss your brother’s freight business.”
Mary Rose blinked. She looked down at the ring again, seeing it in new light. Instead of a promise, the ring became more of a rope stealing her freedom. The sound of footsteps moving toward them silenced their conversation. She looked up to see Sheriff Weston at their table.
“Evening.” He took a breath. “I hate to barge in on your evening, but I need to speak to Trace, if you don’t mind, Mary Rose?”
“No, of course not.”
Trace put down his napkin and rose from his chair. “I shall return and walk you home.”
She nodded and watched as the two men moved toward the lobby. Sitting alone, gazing at her hands, she wondered if she had done the right thing accepting his token. Her thumb against the back of the ring, she turned it around her finger.
“Mary Rose?”
She glanced up and watched Elaine take a seat at the table. “Are you all right?”
She could feel the hot sting of tears in her eyes. “He wants me to give up the freight business.” She blinked and held out her hand. “And marry him.”
Elaine Harmon beamed. “Congratulations,” she gushed, throwing her arms around Mary Rose’s shoulders. “He’s a great man.”
Slowly her arms encircled Elaine, and she looked down at her hand. When the hotel owner released her, she sat back, her gaze focused on the ring, which loomed large, and thought about the things he’d said. “Yes,” she nodded. “I’m sure he is.”
“Sure? Somehow this doesn’t sound good.”
“My business,” she sighed. “It’s all I know.”
“If you love him and he loves you, that will be a small bump in the road.” Elaine assured her. “Let him see how important this is to you. He’ll understand.”
Listening to the words, she wondered if Elaine was right. Yet to make him see how important her company was might be impossible. If only he could love her regardless of her work, then maybe she could reason with him.
****
Trace followed Rand to the lobby. He sensed something in his friend’s tone and knew a lead had opened up. The sheriff paused near the grandfather clock, and Trace could wait no longer. “What’s up?”
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Mary Rose.” Rand glanced passed him.
He looked over his shoulder and watched as Elaine sat down with her at the table. A smile tugged at his lips when the owner of the hotel pulled Mary Rose’s hand toward her.
“Things go the way you wanted?” Rand’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Yes.” Trace nodded. “I think we have an understanding.”
“Good.”
“Now, what have you found out?”
“You were right. The draft note you found in the bottom of Moe’s box belonged to a bank just east of the border. I telegraphed the sheriff near there, in Eagle Pass, and asked him to talk to the bank manager. He confirmed the name of the account was Daniel Thornton.”
“Of course, anyone could go in and say they were Daniel,” Trace mused. “Is there a way to confirm?”
“I plan on sending them a description of Daniel,” Rand replied.
An uneasy feeling stole across his shoulders. He could confirm it another way by finding the notation in the company’s books. He turned and looked at Mary Rose. “I don’t want to hurt her any more than I have to.” He glanced back to Rand.
“It will hurt her either way, son, but we’ve got to know.”
****
As he returned to the table, the women turned as he approached, and he could read the anxiety in Mary Rose’s eyes.