Scandal at the Cahill Saloon - By Carol Arens Page 0,31

He kissed her again because he wanted one that had nothing to do with proving a point and everything to do with the sweet seductive flavor of her. “But you will and then I’ll do a whole lot more than look at you.”

Chapter Six

Marry Cleve? What a completely ridiculous idea.

Leanna stared blankly at her reflection in the vanity mirror with her brush in one hand and a hank of tangled hair in the other. Crickets in the yard below chirruped out their nightly song. The melody washed through her open window sweeter sounding than she had ever noticed before.

His proposal flattered her; it tempted her, even.

But to stand before the preacher and say, “I do”? What a perfectly preposterous idea.

While Cleve was not precisely a stranger, she really had known him only a short time. The very last thing she should do is commit her life, and Cabe’s, to him.

But he had won the bet. There was something between them. It was there in a word, or a glance…or in a kiss.

Even now, remembering the way he had gazed upon her breasts, naked to everything but the dappled shade, made them pucker, twist and ache to be touched.

Just in case the evening itself wasn’t hot enough to tempt a person to run about naked, Cleve’s declaration that he intended to marry her and “do a whole lot more than look” was about to blister the nightclothes right off her.

On any other night her shift, made of the softest cotton, grazed her body as gently as flower petals.

Not tonight, though. Tonight it shifted over her flesh like a gambler’s sensitive fingers, touching here and dealing pleasure there.

Leanna set the brush down. She watched her reflection frown. Even if she did want to marry Cleve, she couldn’t.

She was a virgin, for mercy’s sake! Her secret wouldn’t hold an hour after the wedding vows were recited.

Besides all that, she hadn’t come home to get married. Finding out who murdered her parents must come before anything else. She couldn’t consider a future without resolving the past.

A breeze filtered through the open window. She crossed the room and leaned her head out to watch the stars blink and blur in the heat.

“I miss you, Mama. Tell Papa I miss him, too, and that we will make whoever took you from us pay for what they did. You and Papa were—I mean, are—even from way up there, the best parents anyone could have. I guess you know that Cleve has asked me to marry him? He doesn’t love me—I reckon you know that, too. The thing is, you and Papa were in love from the first time you looked at each other. I know it’s silly for me to hope for the same thing, being in my position. I can’t marry Cleve, can I?”

A day and a half had passed since that intimate moment under the tree. It was a wonder that she’d gotten a single thing done. Dealing cards felt like dealing slabs of lead. Ordinarily smiles from ordinary men turned into Cleve’s seductive grin. No matter what direction her thoughts took, they ended up of Cleve. She couldn’t even give the stray dog at the back door a scrap of food without wondering what it would be like to have a man—Cleve, to be exact—to pet and feed morning and night.

Below her in the yard movement caught her eye. Walking between shadow and moonlight it came toward the house from the stream, revealing a slender womanly form. It was only Dorothy, cooling off in the heat.

“Why not?” Dorothy asked, looking up at the window. “Why can’t you marry him?” Moon glow sharpened the angular lines of her face.

“You startled me!” Leanna paused to consider what answer to give. “We aren’t in love, is why.” Leanna rested her chin in her palms. “Is it any cooler down there?”

“Not a whit, unless you’re sitting in the stream.” Which she clearly had been doing. Her flannel gown dripped water from the modest neck to the hem. “In my experience love and marriage don’t necessarily go together, anyway. Life with Cleve Holden wouldn’t be half-bad for you. And Cabe needs a father.”

“If I married him,” Leanna said in a loud whisper, “he’d find out I’m not Cabe’s mother.”

“And what would be so horrible about that?”

“He’ll want to know who the father is.”

“I don’t know why you’re so all fired set on keeping that secret. Your life would be a whole lot easier if folks knew you’re not ruined.”

“I