sleep-filled eyes resembled an owl. She stood so fast that her chair slid backward and hit the wall with a loud thud.
Seth held up both hands. “Easy, it’s just me.”
Her gaze darted to him and then about the room. A shaky hand came up to her throat. “You scared me,” she accused.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He moved to pick up the chair and she skittered away from him to the other side of the room.
Seth searched her face and saw that her eyes still seemed glazed over with sleep. “Rebecca, are you awake?” he asked softly.
She looked at him once more. Rebecca’s voice came out soft, velvety. “Seth?”
“Yes, it’s me.” He sat down and laid his hands on the table. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her more.
She yawned and pulled out the seat across from him. “When did you get home?”
Home. Seth looked about the clean room. A pot of coffee and a fresh loaf of bread rested on the stove. What would it be like to come home to Rebecca every night?
“Marshal?”
Seth looked back at her eyes. She was alert now. Did she even realize she’d called him by his first name? He cleared his throat. “Just a little while ago. What are you still doing here?”
She stood and poured them both a cup of the aromatic coffee. “I have been staying late so that if you came home, you’d have a hot meal.” Rebecca set a cup in front of him. “I must have fallen asleep tonight.” She sipped at the hot beverage.
“You stayed all night?” he asked, praying the local gossips didn’t know if she had.
Rebecca shook her head. “No, I’ve been going home and would have been gone tonight, but as you know, I fell asleep.”
He studied her. She’d waited for him, like a wife waits up for her husband. The thought touched a part of his heart that he hoped to keep locked away from her. Her blond hair had come down and brushed the sides of her face, giving her a vulnerable look. Normally clear sharp eyes now were clouded with the remains of sleep, giving her the look of someone who yearned for tenderness and love. He wanted to reach out and hug her to him, to absorb the softness that her sleep-filled eyes promised. But he knew that would never happen. He couldn’t allow it to.
A light pink flush filled her cheeks. “Are you hungry? Would you like for me to fix you something to eat?”
“No, I think we’d better get you home before the gossips find out how late you were here tonight.” He pushed back his chair and walked toward her, surprised when she didn’t move. He held out his hand and waited until she took it. Then he helped her from the chair.
“Thank you.” She looked up into his eyes and a small smile tilted the edge of her mouth. “I probably should have gone on home, but I was starting to worry about you. Where have you been?”
Seth liked the idea that someone worried about him. He pushed the warm feeling away and released her hand. He’d had that kind of love three years ago, but Clare had paid the ultimate price for their love. “I picked up a prisoner and took him to Durango. I’m sorry I worried you.”
Rebecca walked to the front door and pulled her shawl from the nail. “It’s all right. I know your job is a dangerous one—that’s the only reason I worried.” She opened the door.
The night had grown colder and he wondered if her shawl would be enough to keep her warm. Pulling the door closed behind him, Seth took her elbow and helped her down the three short steps. “I think we’d better talk about your hours. The thought of you walking home this late doesn’t sit well with me.”
She looked over at him. Under the moon’s light, her hair created the illusion that she had a halo over the crown of her head. “You might be right.”
“You can continue to come in the mornings at the same time, but I really think you should return home before dark.” Seth stepped up on the wooden sidewalk and helped her to do the same.
The hem of her skirt brushed the wood and snagged on a nail. Rebecca bent to work the cloth free. Her words floated up to him. “I did the first night you were gone and my roast and potatoes were ruined.” She stood. “I’m surprised you didn’t stop by to tell me you were going.”
Seth pulled his shoulders up straighter. The accusing sound of her voice struck a chord in him. Who did she think she was? His mother? Wife? Fiancée? Fresh, painful thoughts of Clare filled him once more. No, Rebecca Ramsey wasn’t his fiancée. That position had been Clare’s alone. He didn’t owe Rebecca an explanation. “I didn’t think about it.”
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