where law and order didn’t prevail the way they did in N’Awlins. It went without saying that she was naive and obliviously unaware of the difficulties she’d encounter on the road to her much-sought-after freedom.
Life beyond Indian Territory was brutal. Life anywhere was a bitch, and you just had to learn to deal with it.
Because of his background and line of work, he’d become jaded and cynical. He dealt with liars, cheats, thieves and killers on a day-to-day basis. He’d brought in dozens of criminals who would drop a man in his tracks, just to seize possession of his fancy boots, his fast horse or his pocket change.
The prospect of turning this unsuspecting female loose in dangerous territory made Cale cringe.
His thoughts scattered like buckshot when she doubled at the waist to lift the hem of her skirt. Curiously, he watched her wrestle with her cream-colored petticoats. She straightened in her chair and laid a roll of money—that had been inconspicuously hidden inside the hem of her petticoats—on the table between them.
“Here’s half of the easiest money you’ll ever make, Mr.—Cale.” She stared him squarely in the eye. “Do we have a deal?”
“You’re running from someone or something,” he guessed accurately.
He noticed her telltale flinch before she composed herself and flashed him a distracting smile. Cale was an expert at reading faces, and he noticed the guarded expression in her eyes. He could almost hear the cogs of her brain cranking, as she tried to decide how much of the truth to tell. He figured white lies and half-truths were all he’d likely hear from her.
“I am on the run, in a manner of speaking, but not from the law. Only from an intolerable situation.”
“Are you with child?” he asked bluntly.
Her face flooded with so much color he wondered if she’d go up in flames. She shook her head vigorously, causing a few more tendrils of silver-blond hair to cascade over her shoulder. “No, I’m not,” she assured him in a strangled voice.
Judging by her reaction to his probing personal question he suspected she was as pure as the driven snow. Damn, he and this pixielike female were polar opposites. Cale had been purged of purity and cured of naiveté years ago. He’d seen the worst that one human could inflict on another. He’d been cursed frequently and fluently. He’d been to hell and back so many times that the devil himself had nothing new to teach him.
Impatiently, she rose to her feet, then reached for the money on the table. She pivoted to modestly tuck the roll into her bodice, then wheeled back to face him. “If you aren’t interested in my bargain, perhaps you could refer me to one of your acquaintances who might be agreeable.”
Cale stood up, sighed, then stared at her for another long moment. “I’ll think about it,” he said, stalling. “I need a bath and a sleep. I’ll meet you downstairs in the restaurant for supper in two hours. Surely you can wait that long to get yourself hitched.”
She smiled faintly as she turned toward the door. Cale’s betraying gaze dropped to the graceful sway of her hips—hips that he’d touched familiarly while searching for concealed weapons. No wedding night, she’d said. No more than a chaste kiss to seal their hasty union at the ceremony. That didn’t sound like much fun.
Well, hell, even the best of men—and he was the furthest thing from the best of men—would object to being denied one night in this woman’s arms. After all, he’d be legally entitled, wouldn’t he? He’d rather spend one night with her and opt to let her keep her wad of money.
Always on alert, Cale reflexively grabbed his six-gun when she halted abruptly, then lurched toward him. He was definitely cynical and mistrusting, he mused. He didn’t even trust this vision of refined beauty not to double-cross him. But then, life had taught him to trust no one but himself if he wanted to live to see another sunrise.
Her violet-eyed gaze dropped to his hand, which now held a pistol pointed at her chest. She lifted her face and her wry smile indicated that she understood his instinctive need to be leery and alert at all times.
“I suppose, like you, I’ll have to learn to be less trusting and more attentive if I’m to survive in the West.”
“You’ve got that right, sugah,” he said, mocking her magnolia blossom accent. “I can guaran-damn-tee that honorable men are few and far between where you’re going. You could use a crash course in survival. No offense, Miz N’Awlins, but you’re about as green as they come.”
“No offense taken, sir,” she replied. “And while we’re being honest with one another, you should know that you are still my first choice as a husband. I prefer not to go hunting for second best—” Her voice dried up when she opened the door and was met by Skeet’s menacing snarl.
“Come,” Cale ordered quietly.
The oversize dog cast Hanna a wary glance, then trotted forward. When she made the crucial mistake of reaching down to pet Skeet’s broad head the dog snapped at the air a mere inch below her outstretched fingers. She jerked back her hand to ensure she still had five fingers attached. Again she’d surprised Cale. Most folks he encountered gave Skeet a wide berth and never tried to befriend him. Obviously, she was a kind, caring soul, despite whatever situation had put her on the run and provoked her to tell him little white lies.
“A word of warning,” Cale cautioned as he snapped his fingers, signaling the dog to heel. “Never, ever, make sudden moves toward Skeet. He’s in the same line of work I am and he’s damn good at it. Better than I am, in fact.”
She stared at Skeet, then glanced at Cale. “I could have sworn I saw a sign posted on the steps that said No Animals Allowed.”
Cale nodded. “You did. But Skeet has special privileges. I did a small favor for James Jensen. Now Skeet and I have the best hotel accommodations. Skeet may be banned from the restaurant, but he has the run of this suite.”
She smiled slyly at him. “That is the boiled-down version of the story James conveyed to me. Saving a man’s life and ensuring that he wasn’t parted from his hard-earned money constitutes far more than a small favor, Mr. Elliot.”
When she turned to go, Cale called after her. “Oh, by the way, if I agree to your bargain, I want six grand and there will be a wedding night.” He waited for her reaction, curious to see just how determined she was to get herself a husband. Determined enough to pry another thousand from her purse and come willingly to their marriage bed, if he so requested?
Cale watched another blush suffuse her cheeks, saw her eyes flare with temper and her fists knot in the folds of her gown. Better that Little Miss N’Awlins know here and now that he couldn’t be charmed or cajoled into doing anything he didn’t want to do, especially when he knew she wasn’t being completely honest with him.
“Well?” he asked, battling an amused grin as he watched her stiffen like cured mortar and glare daggers at him. “You never did tell me your name. Seems that if I do decide to wed you I oughta know what to call you.”
“I’ll consider your request,” she said tightly. “We can hammer out the details over supper.”
Five would get him ten that she was going to spend the next two hours trying to figure out how to convince him that he didn’t really want a wedding night and that five grand was more than plenty for the use of his worthless name.
And
