the third time, Riley unwadded the crumpled telegram and stared at it, his shocked numbness edging into a quick flare of temper.
She was in the family way, dammit. A baby!
All last night he’d wondered why she would marry a man she didn’t know, and he’d never once considered that.
Miz Susannah Phelps had some explaining to do. Riley told himself it should be enough that he’d escaped her marriage trap. It wasn’t. Aware now of the real reason she’d come to Whirlwind—to him!—he had to know what would’ve happened if he’d agreed to marry her. Would she have told him she was expecting?
Trying to calm the angry disbelief perking inside him, he saddled Whip. He made it to town in record time, going straight to the Whirlwind Hotel. She wasn’t there. He asked the desk clerk, Penn Wavers, if he knew where Susannah had gone, but the nearly deaf old man just smiled and told Riley to sign the register.
Jaw clenched, he walked out and looked up and down the dusty street. Just like yesterday, cool sunshine glittered off the plate glass of Whirlwind’s businesses. There were only so many places she could be; if he had to go in every one of them to find her, so be it.
Turning, he moved quickly down the planked walk, going into the bank, the Pearl Restaurant, peering into Davis Lee’s office, but there was no glint of silvery-blond hair. Just as he turned away from the sheriff’s window, he saw Susannah coming out of Haskell’s General Store across the street.
“Miz Phelps!”
She turned and he saw apprehension flicker across her pretty features.
As he neared, she backed up against one of the rough wood columns that supported the awning. Shoulders taut, she looked poised to bolt. He figured if the lady thought she had a prayer of outrunning him, she would’ve chanced it.
She held a soft, lumpy package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. She clutched it closer as he stopped inches away from her.
Her delicate scent teased him. She wore a white, soft wool dress with thin red stripes, too pretty and frothy to be practical for this part of the country. Thick, gleaming hair was piled atop her head like silky sunshine. Just the sight of her made Riley’s mouth water, and it wasn’t because she reminded him of his favorite candy.
She looked cool and sweet; he just bet she would taste that way, too. Damn.
Sky-blue eyes regarded him warily. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. The fabric of her dress pulled taut across her breasts with each breath. She was one fine-looking woman. He might not want to marry her, but that didn’t mean he was blind. He forced his gaze to her eyes.
“Mr. Holt.”
He doubted she’d be so formal once he told her what he knew. “I need to talk to you.”
“I’m on my way to—”
“Now.” He gripped her elbow, not hard enough to bruise that creamy flesh, but firmly enough that she knew he meant business.
He tugged her over so that they stood away from the street and against the wall of the store. The wall without a window.
She pulled away from him, paper crackling as she hugged the package to her. “What do you want? I don’t like to be manhandled.”
“There are a few things I don’t like, either, such as being lied to.”
She went as still as a spooked rabbit. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about your little secret.”
She started to turn away. “I don’t have time for—”
“Your baby.”
The words were enough to stop her. She faced him, eyes wide with horror. “Adam told you?”
“Damn straight.”
Tension vibrated in her body, and he knew if he touched her, she’d be as rigid as a wagon axle.
“I asked him not to say anything,” she whispered harshly, her gaze darting around.
“He didn’t say it plain. Still protective as all get-out.” She was so pale that Riley thought she might faint. That wouldn’t surprise him a bit. “He reminded me of a situation with a girl we knew at university. The same thing happened to her.”
“So he didn’t—”
“No. Your secret’s safe, though you can’t keep it quiet forever.”
She let out a slow breath, a hint of color returning to her face. “I don’t know why you’re concerned. It’s not your problem.”
“I have to wonder if you would’ve told me the truth, had I agreed to marry you.”
“Of course!”
“Now, how do I know that?” His gaze skimmed over her full breasts, her still-defined waist.
Before he could ask when the baby was due, Tony Santos rushed up. Doffing his hat, he gave Riley a quick hello before turning to Susannah. “Miz Phelps, did you get the telegram all right?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Santos.”
“I sent my nephew as soon as it came in, just like you asked.”
“I appreciate that.” She smiled, not showing any signs of the impatience clawing through Riley.
He cleared his throat, giving the older man an expectant look.
Tony shifted from one foot to the other, then smiled at Susannah. “I hope you’re having a nice day, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
Riley stared hard at him until the older man stammered a goodbye.
As Tony walked away, she glared at Riley. “There’s no need to be rude.”
“How far along are you, anyway?”
“Just at five months,” she said tightly, flushing a dark rose. “I hardly think this conversation is appropriate.”
“Honey, you tried to hitch up with me. It doesn’t get more appropriate than that.”
“Must you keep bringing that up? We were both there. It’s not as if I don’t know what an idiot I made of myself.”
“I wouldn’t say you were an—what is that?”
“What?” Still sounding vexed, she looked over her shoulder.
“On your hand.” He’d caught a glint of something shiny, something gold. On her third finger. Lifting her left hand, he felt his jaw drop. “What is this?”
“A ring.”
“A wedding ring,” he clarified, his gaze shooting to hers. Her hand was stiff and hot. And tiny. Surely she hadn’t already married?
