She felt tired and numb as she watched him pack up the first-aid supplies.
"How did you know I would try to leave tonight?" she questioned.
"You don't give up easily. I'd have been disappointed if you hadn't tried something."
"Oh."
He'd either just given her a compliment or told her politely that she was stubborn. After everything that had happened tonight, she decided to accept it as a compliment.
"Come on and I'll help you up the stairs," he said, his voice soothing.
Picking up the lantern, he walked her through the darkened house and up the series of steps. It was an eerie feeling to be climbing the stairs together. She felt as if the whole world was asleep and only the two of them existed.
When they reached their respective bedrooms, she felt awkward. There was a new emotion between them, one she didn't recognize, a feeling that left her oddly unsettled.
She didn't want to fight him any longer. She didn't want to make him mad, but she wasn't exactly sure that he was the man she had thought him to be.
Tonight she'd seen a different side of Travis Burnett, a side that drew her more to him than ever before. A gentle, kind man she hadn't expected from the rough cowboy exterior.
And more than ever before she was drawn to him.
They stood uncomfortable, unsure, outside their bedroom doors. "Do you need the lantern?" he asked, his voice gruff.
"No. I can find my way from here."
"All right then. Good night, Desirée."
It was the first time he had used her stage name, and in the privacy of the moment it all but made her go weak in the knees. Why tonight? Why this moment had he chosen to call her the name that reminded her of just who she really was? Of who she wanted to be?
"Good night," she called and stepped into the bedroom she had left a little more than an hour before, closing the door firmly behind her.
As she turned and surveyed the bed, she realized she had no sheets. What was she going to do now? Sleep on the ticking without a covering? Or she could sneak down to the yard below and get them without Travis knowing.
No, he'd hear her and think she was trying to leave again. Stepping back into the hall, she knocked on his door.
He opened the door and leaned one arm against the frame, his body silhouetted by the glow of the lantern. His naked chest glistened, smooth and silky, his muscles clearly defined. Rose suddenly felt light¬headed and feverish.
"What's wrong?"
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I ... my bed sheets are outside."
Even in the dim light, she noticed the pupils of his eyes widen.
"Guess you'll have to sleep with me then," he whispered in the night.
Chapter Six
Rose felt her breath catch in her throat. It wasn't quite the response she would have expected from this man who resembled everything precise and correct. In fact, he'd taken her quite off guard.
Before she could think of a reply, his arms wrapped around her and his lips descended onto hers. Warm as midnight rain, the feel of his mouth on hers all but drained away the last of her strength. If his arms hadn't held her up, she would have fallen, for her knees went weak.
She leaned into his strength, and a sense of safety and well-being overcame her. Wrapped in the security of his arms, she felt her defenses melting, her body responding to the sweet caress of his kiss. Flashes of fire raced down her limbs, warming her to the very center of her being.
Tentatively, she ran her bandaged hands down his naked back, her fingertips enjoying the feel of his flesh beneath her hands. The muscled contours of his back rippled at her touch, and Travis moaned deep and low in his throat. She opened her mouth to receive more of him, to let him breathe the very essence of her life's breath as she felt his tongue rake the inside of her lips. A swirling sensation of intense pleasure began deep within her stomach, spreading throughout her body, building with each passing moment.
His hands reached down and pulled her buttocks into him, and she could feel his hardened shaft pressed against her. For a moment she was frightened. She was slipping out of control.
She pulled away and slowly opened her eyes. The raspy sound of her breathing was harsh in the darkened hallway.
The thought of making love with Travis was such a tempting proposition, especially given the way he had treated her wounds and the way she responded to his kiss. But becoming intimate with Travis was out of the question.
"I don't—I don't think your mother would approve," she said breathlessly.
Moonlight streamed into the hallway from the bedroom windows, and she could see his chest rising and falling.
He shrugged. "Generally, when I bed a woman, I don't tell my mother."
"That's probably for the best," she whispered. She raised her brow. "Why did you want me? Just so you could put another notch in your bedpost?"
He moved aside. "Take a look for yourself. My bedpost doesn't have any notches in it. It was a suggestion, that's all." He stepped around her. "I'll get you more linens."
Rose crossed the hall to the door of her room, where she patiently waited for Travis, ready for this night to end. Why had she questioned him? Had she hoped for something more than a man who wanted a quick tumble? Wasn't that what most men wanted and expected from a girl like her? Especially the kind of man who would abduct her.
But for just a moment she'd hoped for something different, and somehow she was disappointed. It was obvious that Travis was just as attracted to her as she was to him, and the thought of sharing a bed with him was tempting. Way too tempting.
Travis appeared before her. "Here you go. Do you need me to help you put them on the bed?"
"No. I can manage. Good night," she stepped back into her room and abruptly shut the door, closing the portal to the temptation of Travis and her own body's reaction.
***
Travis jammed his fist into the soft, feather-filled pillow one more time before settling once again into the down-filled bed. If only the cock would crow the end of this eternal night. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind filled with visions of the cunning little con artist across the hall. Sleep was impossible for contemplating the bewitching Desirée and the kiss they'd shared.
She was boisterous and exciting. She was courageous and intriguing. She was sexy and daring. And she was the most frustrating woman who had ever crossed his path.
One moment he wanted to strangle her with his bare hands and the next to ply her with soft words and enticing kisses. Whenever she came near him, his senses seemed to explode; his mind became fogged with the sweet smell of jasmine, and his hands ached to caress her silken skin. Never before had a woman left him so perplexed, so curious, so completely intrigued, and so hard!
Yet the need to resist her tempting flesh was strong. A woman like her could be dangerous—dangerous in the art of seduction, with her tricky ways and subtle lies. A man had to be careful or fall victim to her deceiving ways.
Tonight had certainly proven that, when he opened the door and saw her standing there, her hair down around her hips. God, the urge to pull her into his room had been overwhelming.
Vibrant and sultry, Desirée was a woman who could easily make him give in to his desire to take her at his leisure and much, much more. The kiss they'd shared had left him troubled. He'd wanted to lock out the rest of the world until he'd had his fill of her. But her words had left him anxious.
His invitation had tumbled from his lips, yet he knew in reality it could never be. He assured himself that Desirée was more a pleasant flirtation than an obsession. An enticement rather than an actual wooing. Hell, who was he kidding? He simply wanted to bed her.
Lay her down until he'd had his fill of her. Because then he'd find out she was just like any other woman, only a cheat and a liar to boot. Then he could let her go and be free of this persistent urge to find out just what it was about Miss Desirée Severin that drew him to her.
For he was drawn to her in ways he'd never
felt before.
But sooner or later, he was going to take Desirée to his brother, the marshal. Sooner or later, she was going to either return his mother's wedding band or find herself sitting in the county jail for more than just a day or two.
Regardless of what his mother thought, Desirée was not going to get away with stealing from his family.
She was not going to use his mother to finance her shady parlor business, no matter how companionable the woman became to his lonely mother or himself.
Someday his wife and children would occupy his mother's spare time. But no one was going to saddle him with a woman like Miss Severin. Ornery, belligerent and admittedly sexy as hell. No, when he decided it was time to settle down, he wanted a woman who was meek and gentle. One who would run his household, bear his children, and look to him to make all the decisions. He didn't need a woman who kept him stirred up worse than a hornet's nest in summertime.
He wanted a woman who was sensible, truthful, no-nonsense; a woman who liked sex and wanted children.
It didn't seem like too much to expect from the person you were going to spend the rest of your days with. He just hadn't found the time or the energy to go looking for this woman. And somehow, the enigmatic Miss Severin just didn't seem to fit his description of the gal he was looking for.
In fact, the thought of marrying her was just a little unnerving.
He punched the pillow again. Actually, the thought was more like a nightmare, only his eyes were open and his mind was foggy with weariness.
The thought of toppling Desirée onto his bed and relieving his frustration was tempting and delightfully wicked, but she was not marriageable.
There was very little he was certain about in this life, but one thing he'd bet the Bar None on: Desirée Severin might make her living speaking to the dead, but he was certain she knew how to breathe life back into a man. And he'd pretend to be dead, if only she would resuscitate him at least once. Nothing permanent, just a momentary lapse of conscience where she could put her luscious lips on his and restore him to life.
Desirée was beautiful and seductive, she was spirited and exciting, and she was tempting beyond words. But for the sake of his heart, he couldn't let himself be tempted into forgetting she was a sweet, cunning con artist and a thief besides.
***
The next morning Rose awoke early, her mind filled with memories from the night before. Tenderly, she touched her still-wrapped hands and found them sensitive, but not painful, as she'd feared.
Though the sun was barely over the horizon, the sound of people moving downstairs drifted upward, riding a wave of tempting aroma. Swinging her legs over the side of the mattress, she reached for the remainder of her dress at the foot of the bed. Her petticoat would no doubt show clearly through the rips and tears in the calico material.
With nothing else to put on, she hurried down the stairs, her mind filled with thoughts of how Travis would receive her this morning. She touched her fingertips to her lips and remembered the caress of his mouth against hers, the tempting heat of his body, and the fact she'd considered falling into his bed.
Last night Travis had treated her with tenderness and compassion. He'd been responsive and gentle while he'd bandaged her hands, but his invitation had distracted and confused her. Today, would the compassionate man of midnight or the law-abiding authoritarian have returned? Had he always been so serious, so logical, and so demanding?
Yet when he smiled, the corners of his tempting mouth turned up, his cheekbones were outlined by the muscles in his face, and the gleam in his eyes was almost enough to cause a girl to swoon. The Texas countryside oozed from his pores, and she knew without asking that the man had ridden his share of the range.
Adept at keeping his emotions carefully hidden behind his hardened cowboy exterior, Travis was a man of few words and even less expression. Rose was not afraid of his rough voice and clipped responses. There was a certain challenge in exploring the man— like finding the creamy center in a chocolate candy. Gooey and yummy, not bitter and hard.
She laughed at the image and knew she'd find the real Travis Burnett. Somehow she'd get past his tough exterior and discover which man was the true Travis.
Rose pushed open the door and strolled into the dining room. Eugenia glanced up. "Good morning, Desirée. I'm surprised to see you up and about so early this morning."
"Good morning," she answered, turning her attention to Travis, trying to gauge his reaction since their last meeting.
Travis gave her a measured look. "How are your hands?"
"They're better," she said, as she took her place at the table.
"My, my, I hope they're not painful," Eugenia exclaimed.
It was obvious Travis had informed his mother of her escapade the night before. "No, Travis took care of them last night."
Eugenia stood and pushed back her chair. "I'll tell Cook to bring you a cup of coffee and some breakfast."
"Do you have tea?" Rose questioned.
"I'll check," Eugenia said, going through the door.
Alone, they stared at each other until Travis finally cleared his throat. "Sleep well last night?"
"Yes, after you gave me fresh linens, I slept fine," she said, still carefully observing the subtle changes in him this morning. He was distant once more, and there were shadows beneath his eyes that hadn't been there the day before.
He smiled. "Good."
"What about you? How did you sleep?" she asked. The memory of his full lips caressing her mouth began a butterfly riot in her stomach. She recalled the words they'd exchanged and the way she'd been tempted to cast aside her doubts and fall into his bed.
His eyes widened in a look she was quickly coming to recognize—the look that normally preceded him kissing her. Suddenly the dining room felt small and airless.
"I was restless all night long," he drawled.
The door opened and Eugenia bustled back in, seemingly unaware of the suddenly charged atmosphere. "Shouldn't be long," she said, taking her place at the table once again.
Rose quickly averted her eyes from Travis. If she looked at him any longer, she was sure Mrs. Burnett would recognize the hungry gaze in her eyes for something other than food.
Eugenia sipped from her coffee and looked at her son. "Travis, why don't you show Desirée around the ranch today? You could hitch up the wagon and the two of you could spend the day riding."
Travis threw down his napkin. "Can't. I'm going into town."
Eugenia stared at her son, her eyes flashing with displeasure. "There's nothing you need there."
He stood and pushed his chair into the table, then raised his brown eyes in displeasure at Eugenia. "That's for me to decide, Mother."
The undercurrents were ripe with disagreement, but no one mentioned Eugenia and Travis's previous argument regarding returning her to jail.
"I would like to go into town," she said, hoping that if she explained why she wanted to go he'd be more considerate and understanding. "I'd like to check on my trunk and maybe even buy a new dress, since I ripped this one so badly last night."
"Nope." His jaw tightened and his lips thinned. "Have you forgotten the rules already? You're not to go to town for any reason."
Raising her bandaged hands, she pointed to her dress. "But that was before last night. Now I need clothes. You don't expect me to wear a dress that looks like someone took the shears to it, do you?"
He raised his brows and smiled. "I didn't tell you to climb down the rose trellis. In fact, most of our guests prefer to use the stairs."
Rose felt a surge of temper along with the urge to pick up the pitcher of cream on the table and fling it at him, but she resisted.
"I suggest you get a needle and thread and fix your dress."
"It'll look like a patchwork quilt. Besides, what makes you think I can sew?" she questioned. She took a sip of tea, trying to cool her rapidly rising temper.
"All women do needlework. If you can hold a needle, you can sew," h
e said matter-of-factly.
Rose almost spewed her tea. Of all the arrogant things to say! The man of midnight had evaporated in the morning sun like dewdrops under a noon sun.
He'd hit a sore spot. Rose wasn't like all women; she hadn't had a mother to teach her the proprieties of being a lady. She'd never touched a sewing needle, let alone stitched an actual garment.
"That's like saying all men are farmers. Planted any crops lately?" she retorted.
The look he gave her could have frosted the backside off the devil himself. He stared at her, his irritation obvious.
Eugenia rose from her seat at the table and walked around to her son. "Let's make a day of going to town. I'll go and keep an eye on Desirée while you take care of your business, Travis."
"No!" he barked. "I'm going alone."
If she hadn't been afraid of hitting Eugenia, Rose would have thrown the pitcher of cream at him. "Oh, I see Sergeant Travis has returned. Or are you a general today? Frankly, I think you're nothing more than a bugler making noise. In fact—"
"Do you think you could shut up for just a few minutes?"
Rose tilted her head at him and smiled. "You know, cowboy, we need to work on your manners. Just today I was thinking I should show you how to have fun. You're much too serious. I could teach you how to bring that smile out for more than just company."
His complexion turned a delightful shade of red, and his brown eyes darkened. Turning on his heel, he stomped out of the dining room, slamming the door as he went out.
Rose turned to look at Eugenia, feeling a little anxious. But when she noticed the woman trying her darndest not to laugh, she smiled.
"I think I made him mad."
***
Travis walked into Tucker's office, the sound of his boots loud as they rapped against the hardwood floors.
The smell of crime hung heavy, like the odor of too many unwashed bodies crammed into a crowded space.
Desirée had been forced to spend one night in this pit of humanity because of him, and now he was threatening to return her here.
God, she deserved it, didn't she?
Two deputies looked up from their desks as he passed them on his way to his brother's office. Used to his coming and going, the deputies let him pass unhindered.
Travis strolled into the small office and watched Tucker repeatedly dip his quill into the inkwell and let it scratch against the rough parchment.