nothing ever happens to the heroine. Will you come down out of those clouds and listen to me?"
He clenched his hands into fists. Not in all the years since the war had he been bombarded with so many frustrations at once. He didn't want the responsibility of worrying about a house full of kids and a crippled adolescent. He sure as hell didn't want to play nursemaid to a beautiful dreamer who couldn't tell the difference between fantasy and reality.
The worst of it all was that he couldn't keep his mind off that dreamer's swaying skirts and tiny waist and kissable lips. He needed a woman, and he needed her now.
"I'm not a complete incompetent, you know," Evie replied, as if he were offering an intellectual debate rather than a screaming argument. "I like colors. I wish I could paint that sunset." She gestured toward the horizon. "I suppose I read a lot, but that's because Daniel and I are so close. He could never go out and play with the other children, so we read together."
Evie stopped and waited until he was beside her. "And I like to write stories in my head. I don't think that's a crime. It's mostly because I want a story to go with the pictures I like to paint."
"And maybe sometimes you like to act them out," Tyler finished bluntly. "I'm not Pecos Martin, Evie. I'm not riding to the rescue when the bad guys arrive. I think you'd better leave this town and let a proper lawyer find out the answers to your questions."
"You want me to leave the children? And leave the school without a teacher again? And disappoint Daniel? Do you think he could find a job at any other newspaper office? Not a chance in a million, Mr. Monteigne. You may think I'm a dreamer, but I know what responsibility means. I'm staying here. I'm not running away."
Perhaps there wasn't accusation in her voice, but Tyler heard it anyway. He steeled himself against the guilt and kept his hands in his pockets. "Fine. Stay here and play Joan of Arc. But don't expect me to come to the rescue when they start lighting fires under you."
Evie continued to cup her elbows as she faced him. "I never imagined myself as a martyr. I like it here, Tyler. I want to stay. Help me to do that."
Tyler kept his curses to himself as he searched her pensive face. He didn't want to consider this aspect of his wife. Evie was meant to be a wild and beautiful butterfly. He liked watching her. He liked hearing about her wilder flights. He admired her beauty and cleverness. He didn't want her tied down with all the baggage the world would pile on her shoulders. But if he left her to do things on her own, that was what would happen. Evie needed a man to take the burden from her. And he didn't want anyone but himself to be that man.
That was a damned foolish thought, and he didn't intend to think it again. He needed a woman and this one appealed to him and that was all there was to it. Without a qualm, Tyler pulled his hands from his pockets and caught Evie by the waist, pulling her to him.
She came without protest, fitting into his arms as if she belonged there. As he bent his head to her, she slid her hands around his neck, and he swelled with pride that she did so trustingly. He had never tamed a butterfly before. He held her gently and plied her lips with kisses.
She took his kisses and gave them back twice over. When he pulled her closer, tightening his arms around her, her breasts brushed against his shirt and he felt it to his toes. It was a glorious, dizzying feeling, and he reveled in it.
It couldn't last. A carriage rolled by on the dirt path behind them. Tyler set her back down. News of the gambler kissing the schoolmarm would be all over town by morning if that was one of the town's biddies. The driver of the carriage, however, was definitely male. It looked to be the lawyer, but the carriage was well on its way now, and he couldn't tell for certain.
He looked back to Evie. Her lips were puffy from his kisses, and her dark eyes were watching him questioningly. She was his wife, for heaven's sake. There wasn't any reason to feel guilty for kissing