“Yes.”
“Yes?”
She nodded, almost afraid to speak and break the spell. He pulled away a little, his gaze intense, and she saw the love andhappiness reflected in his tiger’s eyes. At the same time, she heard the hinges of the kitchen door creak, then a loud sniff and she knew, just knew, Mrs. Gallagher stood behind the door, watching.
“You’ll need a new dress.” He laughed. “I’ll need a new suit. We’ll have to wait until His Honor, Mr. Peabody, comes to town. And my folks, too. They went to visit Preston in Albuquerque. They’d be upset if you and I got married without them. I’ll send some telegrams.” He lifted her chin with his finger. “Can you wait that long?”
“Yes, I can wait. As long as I can see you every day until then.”
“Good.” He smiled and then lowered his head to capture her lips with his own.
Oh, it was all so new, this feeling of being wanted, of being loved, of trusting someone. It was wonderful. Beyond wonderful. It was awe-inspiring, so much so that Sheridan could hardly contain herself. She’d never been so happy. Or so frightened.
She slowed her rented horse to a walk as she approached the house, the sandwiches and fruit she had brought in a burlap sack bumping against her leg. Over the past couple of days, it had become her habit to ride out to the ranch to bring Wyatt lunch and spend some time with him while they waited for His Honor, Mr. Peabody, and Wyatt’s folks. Delilah had even stated that she was glad he’d come to his senses, in response to his telegram, and she didn’t consider him a fool anymore.
She frowned, seeing a buggy she didn’t recognize in front of the house. Did Wyatt have guests? Perhaps his brother, Kyle, had come into town early for the wedding. She hadn’t met himyet, but she knew all about him. He was the one who made and sold the brandy she’d had ice skating with Wyatt. She looked forward to meeting him.
Sheridan dismounted, untied the burlap sack and ran up the porch steps. She let herself in and stopped short in the doorway. She drew in her breath at the sight before her, which was not what she ever thought she’d see. The bag dropped from her suddenly lifeless fingers.
Lounging on the sofa, dressed as skimpily as the girls at Josie’s, was a woman. And not just any woman.
Katie. Wyatt’s old love.
She was more beautiful than the first time she’d seen her. More beautiful than the photograph, too. Dark ringlets, snapping dark eyes, a cupid’s bow mouth, now widened in surprise. Obviously, the woman had expected Wyatt, not her. She sat up quickly, then rose to her feet as gracefully and elegantly as a cat, but didn’t bother to pull her robe closer around her body, almost as if she was showing off her charms, comparing them.
Sheridan stepped into the parlor, not quite certain what to do as Katie came closer, slowly circling around her, making her turn her head to keep the woman in view. She found her voice, overcoming her initial shock. “What are you doing here, Katie?”
“Wyatt invited me.” Kate fairly purred, her eyes wide and filled with innocence. Beneath that innocent expression was something else. Confidence. The woman exuded it, the exact opposite of what Sheridan was feeling. There was something else behind her smile, too. Triumph. Like she had won.
Sheridan shook her head and swallowed hard, trying so desperately to push down the doubt, the fear that maybe Wyatt did want this woman, had always wanted her. He’d never stopped loving her. “I don’t believe that. He wouldn’t.”
“He did,” Katie insisted, as she continued walking in a circle around her. She didn’t speak again, but her expression spoke volumes. She didn’t have to say anything. The look was enough and said, quite clearly, that she, Sheridan, wasn’t good enough, wasn’t pretty enough. “He doesn’t want you.”
The words echoed in her head, over and over again, and it struck her to the core. Still, she tried to disregard them, wanting to disbelieve Katie, wanting to put her trust and her faith in the man she’d fallen in love with. Her chin rose a notch. “That isn’t true. Wyatt loves me.”
Katie stopped in front of her, the smile on her face beautiful, but there was cruelty beneath that smile. She drew closer, hands on her hips. Dark eyes glittered with something Sheridan couldn’t define. “Are you sure?”
No, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t confident like this woman seemed to be. Being in love, being loved by someone, was so new to her, the emotions racing through her bringing her to either laughter or tears with no rhyme or reason. It was frightening and exciting and confusing and left her full of doubt. How could Wyatt love a woman like her?
“Wyatt loves me.” Katie insisted. “He always has. He always will.”
How could she possibly fight this woman? Fight for what she wanted? She just plain didn’t know how. She’d never had to, had never been in love before, nor had she ever really stood up for herself, except that last time when she confronted her grandmother and Aunt Estelle. And then, she’d done it because she’d hated the way her family had treated Wyatt, Delilah, and Royce.
She stared at the woman standing in front of her. She could feel the tears building behind her eyes, threatening to fall, but she’d be damned if she’d cry in front of her.
“You should leave. Pack your bags and take the next stagecoach out of Serenity. And don’t look back.” Again, the purring voice edged with steel. “You’ll be much happier not seeing Wyatt and me in town.”
“I…” Sheridan had no words, no defense against this woman’s conviction. All the old memories of how she hadn’t been wanted, hadn’t been loved, by people who were supposed to care for her came back with a vengeance and the pain in her chest exploded.
She left the house, quickly untied her rental horse’s reins from the porch railing and climbed into the saddle. She kicked his sides and raced toward town, trying so hard not to cry until she reached the privacy of her room. How could one be so happy one moment, then completely devastated the next?
Sheridan returned the horse to Mr. Yancy, who tried to engage her in conversation, but she just couldn’t—the tears were building, the lump in her throat constricting, preventing her from even being cordial.
She walked home, bereft, struggling with the heartbreak, and the inevitable tears. She wished she’d never learned how to cry, because it was too easy now. Life had been so much simpler, too, before she knew she could love and be loved in return. She swiped at her eyes, furious with the tears filling them, then let herself into the kitchen, hoping to be alone.
Such was not to be. Lily, the most motherly and sympathetic of all the women in her house, was there, pouring tea into a cup from the ceramic teapot on the table.
Lily took one look at her and frowned, causing tiny wrinkles between her eyes. “What’s wrong? I thought you went out to the ranch to bring Wyatt lunch. Why are you home so soon?”
