cloth she’d held tight.
“Let us speak no more about this.”
“Yes.” She moved to put a chair between them. “This was an accident. I was overcome with grief,” she rationalized. “I don’t usually throw myself at men.” She watched his stony facade slip into place.
“You will let the dead rest?”
“I will speak to the undertaker about the service.”
His voice let out a low growl of disapproval. She held up her hand. “A graveside service and a wake after.” Her eyes met his, and she could see him relax.
“Done,” he agreed. “I will send him here.”
“There is no need, I am fit enough to—” Her smile faded.
“There is no room for discussion. I will send him to you.”
He moved toward her as if drawn by some magical force. She held her breath, waiting against hope that he would kiss her again. Instead, he stared into her eyes and then brushed her cheek with his fingers. His brow puckered as he spoke. “What are you doing to me?”
Mary Rose didn’t have an answer. He stared at her for a second more, and then she watched as he bent, picked up his hat, and strode to the door. Her heart ached, as he never once glanced back. Shoulders filling the doorway, he went through and walked away. Her hand moved to cover her cheek and the skin he had touched. It felt warm, as if he’d left some mark behind.
“It should be the other way around, Marshal Castillo. What are you doing to me?” she said aloud, but there was no one there to answer.
Chapter Seven
Trace opened the door of the sheriff’s office and found Rand busily writing his report. The lawman paused and glanced up. “Sit down, Marshal, before you fall. I’ve seen better color on a dead man.”
In truth, he knew it was an apt description. “Thank you for the compliment,” he remarked with a bit of dry humor.
Rand chuckled and put down his pencil. “There’s a pitcher of water upstairs and some clean sheets on the cot. Tomorrow I’ll take you over to the hotel and arrange for a hot bath. I left some bacon and hardtack on the edge of the stove.”
Trace hung his hat on the peg by the door and ambled over to pick up his meager meal. It wasn’t a steak, but it would keep his belly button from making friends with his backbone. Gingerly, he touched the plate, drawing his fingers back in haste at the heat.
“Dishtowel on the side,” Rand called.
“Thanks.” Folding it, he wrapped it around the edges of the dish and hurried to the corner of the desk. “Coffee fresh?”
“Made it this morning, while you were out. Sit down, and I’ll get you a cup.”
Trace placed the plate on the desk and eased his tired bones into the straight-backed chair. Rand’s boots scuffed across the plank floor as he made his way to the stove.
“Gentry come back yet with those invoices?” Trace inquired.
“No, I expect him in a bit.”
He heard Rand lift the enameled pot, and the liquid gurgled into the cup. Breaking off a piece of the bread, he popped it into his mouth.
“Here you go.” For good measure, Rand plunked a spoon into the cup and set it at his elbow.
Chewing the hard-crusted bread, Trace gave a nod and watched Rand move back to his desk to sit down. Using his left hand, he pointed at the paper. “Your report on the incident at Cottonwood Springs?”
He nodded. “Yeah, before I forget anything, I want to put down the facts as I know them. I need you to write a statement, as well.”
“Right,” Trace agreed, and took a sip of the infamous brew.
“How’d it go with Miss Thornton?”
Glancing up, Trace caught the sharp eyes of the lawman drilling into him. He shifted the food in his mouth and gave a noncommittal response. “Good.”
Rand raised a brow. “Just good?”
Ignoring him for a moment, Trace dipped the bread in his coffee and weighed his response. “She agreed to a graveside service, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Now it was his turn to stare back. He did not intend to tell Rand or anyone else how his guard slipped and he’d kissed her.
“It was,” the sheriff answered and picked up his pencil. “I’m thinking I want you at her side during the service. It’s bound to get out that she’s alive. It wouldn’t hurt to put some quiet protection around her.”
“All right,” he replied, and put the last of the bread into his mouth. What Rand