The Lady and the Lawman (19 page)

Grant
led her to a tidy house at the far end, with a wooden sign hanging
out front that read ‘Miss Lorena’s, Boarders Welcome’. She took
in her new accommodations and was pleased. It was two stories tall
with windows on both floors. She could see curtains blowing in the
open windows. Clapboard siding was painted a cool white with a door
in a midnight black. It was tidy, clean and welcoming.

“
Mornin’,
Sheriff.” An older woman sweeping the front porch greeted them.

Grant
took off his hat and he replied, “Miss Lorena, ma’am. How are you
this fine day?” The curls in his hair sprung to life, various
shades of dark brown and burnished gold glimmered in the sun. He
carefully dismounted then helped Margaret down. Hopefully his wound
wasn't bothering him, although he offered no sign of it. He certainly
hadn't had any problem with it that morning when he'd had her beneath
him in bed.

“
Very
well, thank you.” The woman’s voice was deep, sounding as if she
didn’t brook any nonsense. She laid her broom down against the
front door and approached them. She had graying hair pulled in a bun
at the nape of her neck. She wore a serviceable blue dress and was as
tidy as her home. Her hands rested on her wide hips. “What can I do
for you?”

“
This
is Miss Atwater and she needs a room.” His warm hand at her back
was comforting. A burst of heat spread through her like a match being
struck against a flint with this slight, and innocent
of
touches. After the kisses of this morning, and his hands roaming over
her in places she'd never th
ought
of, her skin knew the feel of him and wanted more. His hands had slid
up her thighs and held her bottom. He'd actually squeezed
her...there! And to make things even more shocking, he'd pulled her
body tightly against his and she'd felt him, hard and long against
her hip.

Miss
Lorena sized her up, including her outfit, the wrinkled skirt, too
short for her long legs, and blouse. Could she see how just the brush
of his hand affected her? Would she know they'd spent the night alone
together, sharing a bed? From the woman’s keen eye, it appeared she
took in quite a bit more than what she could see on the outside. “Of
course. Would you like to come in and rest?”

Margaret
was about to decline, but Grant spoke for her.

“
We’ll
be back for supper, Miss Lorena.” He put his hat back on. “We’ve
got some work to do first. Just wanted to make sure you had a room
available and to see if we could leave the horses here for a bit.”

“
Sure
thing,” Miss Lorena replied, nodding her head. “I’ll get those
horses taken care of.” She returned to her sweeping, but she added
over her shoulder, “You may want to visit Mrs. Daley, don’t you
think, young man?”

The
woman was cryptic, at least to Margaret. Who was Mrs. Daley and why
was it so important for Grant to visit her?

“
Yes,
ma’am.” Grant donned his hat and led Margaret with a hand on the
small of her back down the street. Would her nipples tighten, her
woman's core become damp, every time his fingers brushed against her?

After
a few minutes and some distance from the boardinghouse later, she had
to distract herself from the new sensations coursing through her
body. “Who...who’s Mrs. Daley?”

He
led her
to
a one level house, with wood siding that was crisply whitewashed,
making it look bright and cheerful. Colorful flowers bloomed in boxes
under the two windows on either side of the front door.

“
She’s
a dressmaker.”

Miss
Lorena had been able to tell she was in desperate need of new
clothes. Margaret flushed with mortification. “Oh, dear, I look
like I've just—”

“
You've
just been through a thunderstorm,” Grant replied, tilting her chin
up to look at him. “Nothing else.”

“
But
I don’t need any new clothes, Sheriff.”

“
I
think, after this morning, it’s time you call me Grant,” he
replied, his mouth twitching.

Of
all the nerve! “I really don’t need anything new, Grant.” She
ground out his name between clenched teeth.

“
Of
course you do. Miss Lorena thinks so, too. You can't wear my sister's
clothes around. She's a lot shorter than you.” He leaned in close
and whispered, “Besides your ankles exposed in that skirt, I don't
want any other men getting a look at you in those pants you've been
wearing. The sight of your gorgeous legs is for me alone.”

Stunned
yet aroused at his words, her mouth fell open. Before she had a
chance to respond, either by pulling his head down for a kiss or to
squeal in outrage, he held out his arm for her and winked, the
discussion clearly over. Unless she wanted to make a scene in the
middle of town, she reluctantly wrapped her hand around his thick
bicep.

She
felt
hard muscle
through his shirt as he led her to the front door. Oh dear. Every
time she touched him, her body responded. Was he right? Did her body
want him? From the way her core actually ached for him, she was
pretty sure she knew the answer.

A
woman she judged to be in her early forties answered their knock.

“
Hello,
Mrs. Daley, this is Miss Atwater. She is in need of some new
clothing.”

What
would Mrs. Daley think of her and Grant together? If the woman
questioned the arrangement, her mussed state, or her attire, she
didn't show it. Instead, she smiled warmly in greeting.

“
Miss
Atwater.” The woman nodded at her. “Good to see you again,
Sheriff. It's been a long time. Please, come in.” She led the two
into a small living room and they were directed to comfortable
chairs, although Grant chose to stand. The chairs were made for
women, not brawny men.

“
Now
then, what kind of items will you be needing, Miss Atwater?”

“
Miss
Atwater needs everything,” Grant replied as he leaned against the
wall, not giving her time to answer. “She has been separated from
her wardrobe unexpectedly.”

Margaret
turned to stare at Grant with surprise. He seemed at ease purchasing
women’s clothing, not something she'd ever known a man to do.

“
You
will need a few dresses.” As she took notes, Mrs. Daley continued,
speaking now to Grant, “I don’t think I’ve seen you since you
brought your sister in before her wedding. Such a lovely day.” The
woman reminisced with Grant about his sister, speaking of her
marriage and her new life in Kansas. She turned her attention back to
Margaret with the small talk out of the way. It was time to get down
to business. “Shall we pick out some fabric and get your
measurements?” She went to retrieve some bolts of material.

When
they were alone, Margaret turned to Grant. He was surprisingly at
ease with a such a feminine undertaking, at odds with his sheer
size, his large hands almost too rough to handle such delicate
fabrics and notions.
“Sheriff...I mean Grant, I don’t have
enough money to pay for these items.”

“
What
do you mean, ‘enough money?'” He looked puzzled, his brow
furrowed.

“
I...mean
with me.” He knew she was an heiress and had as much money as
Midas. “I sewed some into the lining of my dress when I
left
Philadelphia.
It’s not much, and it certainly won’t pay for new clothing.”

“
Don’t
worry. I’ll take care of it.” His voice was matter of fact,
final.

Now
she was puzzled. “Why are you doing this?”

“
Because
I won't have you wearing those clothes,” he pointed to her current
attire, “and only those clothes for the foreseeable future.”

Mrs.
Daley returned with swatches before Margaret could consider his words
too closely. “We’ll need all articles of clothing, not just
dresses.”

Margaret
blushed. She knew her cheeks must be bright red with embarrassment.
“Grant, please!” She darted a glance to Mrs. Daley, who did not
flinch at the request.

Mrs.
Daley took more notes in a small book as she responded. “Although I
don’t think lady’s unmentionables should be discussed with the
opposite sex, I will have to say he is correct.”

“
I
don't need all of these things, Sher...Grant.”

“
Yes,
you do. You need several dresses and...other things...because you
have nothing.”

“
But
I can't repay you now,” she whispered.

“
You
don’t have to repay me. Like I said before, this is not up for
discussion.” He ran his hat, held in his left hand, over his thigh.
His solid, muscular thigh.

Margaret
remained quiet, though she fumed inside. She didn’t know what else
to say to sway him. Especially in front of the dressmaker.

Grant
smiled. “I want to do this for you, all right?” His voice had a
different tone than before. Softer, as if his words were a caress
against her bare skin.

Margaret
glanced down at her hands in her lap and nodded, afraid if she spoke
she might start to cry. No one had done anything
for
her before, with no apparent reason or expectation from it. It was a
very simple gesture on Grant's part, and all the more unbelievably
sweet and touching for it.

“
We'll
need some ready-made items if you have them, as well,” Grant added.

Over
the next hour they chose a variety of fabrics, soft cottons in
several colors and textures. She followed Mrs. Daley into another
room to be measured and finally they were on their way. She was once
again alone with Grant, a parcel of two dresses beneath his arm.

***

Mr.
Hodges from the Mercantile called to them as they walked down the
wooden boardwalk. “Sheriff, I could use your help for a minute.”

Grant
had been lost in thought as he led Margaret back through town, his
hand cupping her elbow. The simple gesture reminded him how small she
was, how delicate. His protective instincts flared to life once
again.

He
didn't know why he wanted to pamper her with a full selection of
clothes, and it scared him. He could have just gotten her the few
dresses to hold her over. They could have had his sister's things let
out so they fit her better. But the only clothes he'd seen Maggie
wear were extremely inappropriate, ripped, too small, or made for a
man.

When
they rode away from Croft's that fateful night, he'd decided then and
there she was his and this was a way of proving this, not only to
her, but to himself as well. And after having her beneath him and not
finishing what they started, much to his continuing discomfort, there
was no going back, regardless of whether she was supposed to marry
his brother or not.

Hell,
he couldn’t have the woman he wanted to bed walk around in his
sister’s clothes. It just wasn’t right. She couldn't marry Tom.
The best way to keep her from doing that was to keep them as far
apart as possible.

“
What
can I do for you?” He shook the older man’s hand in greeting.
Squat and round, reminding him of a whiskey barrel, Mr. Hodges had
run the Mercantile as long as he could remember. He'd given penny
candy to his sister when she was small.

Mr.
Hodges looked over his shoulder into his store, his hands absently
rubbing over his white apron. “I’ve got little Jimmy Reed inside
and I think he needs a little lesson in right from wrong.” He said
the last with a slight tilt of his head and a raised brow.

Jimmy
Reed was nine and in serious need of a little time behind bars.
Though he was a delinquent who ran wild most of the time, he was deep
down a good kid. But an equally wild older brother steered the boy
toward trouble on a constant basis. Hopefully, with a little tough
love, Grant might sway him down a better, more honest path.