Page 45 of Fairest of Heart

As she smiled up at him, the truth dawned. It wasn’t her beauty that stirred his blood and threw his pulse into chaos. It was her spirit. Her humility and joy. The delight she found in items that carried no real monetary value. The gratitude that glistened in her eyes without a hint of entitlement to dim the shine. The way she returned to calling him Titus in her excitement, bypassing the formality he’d tried to establish between them—a formality that no longer held any appeal.

That’s where the danger lay. Not in the delicate perfection of her face or the shapeliness of her figure. It was her exuberant heart he found so hard to resist. It called to him. Tempted him to consider that the solitary life he’d planned for himself might not be the only road open to him.

Uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts and the disturbing effect of her touch, Titus nodded in response to her appreciation, then eased back toward the door. “Glad to be of service.”

When her hand fell away, he told himself it was relief he felt, not loss, but the lie was too flimsy to bear scrutiny. Which was why he sent a prayer of thanks heavenward when Coy pushed through the back door, his big hands shoved through the handles of a laundry basket.

“Took down the rest of the sheets for ya,” Coy said, his face reddening when he met Penelope’s gaze. Ducking away from her attention, he glanced at Titus as he shimmied between him and Penelope. His expression was not nearly as friendly or eager to please when aimed in Titus’s direction. “Ike and I will get ’em folded and put away before supper,” Coy promised her as he strode toward the parlor, “so don’t give ’em another thought.”

“Thank you!” Penelope beamed a smile at the man’s back, as if he might feel the warmth through his spine even if he was too bashful to experience it firsthand. “I’d completely forgotten about the clothesline.”

Ike came through the door next and picked up the conversation where Coy had left off. “Jeb and Angus volunteered for dish duty, too, so you’ll have the entire evening to yourself, Miss Penny.” He patted her shoulder as he walked by, his usual grin in place. Until he glanced in Titus’s direction. His mouth flattened into a line that seemed almost . . . threatening. “You’ve had a trying day, my dear. It’s only right that you enjoy some peace and quiet after supper.”

Titus read the man’s meaning loud and clear. No more interrogation. No more digging up of painful memories. No more causing Penelope any kind of discomfort whatsoever. Titus had done enough damage for one day.

He dipped his chin at Ike, signaling his agreement. He still had plenty of questions to ask and insight to gather, but that could wait until tomorrow. Ike was right. He’d run her through the wringer this afternoon. She deserved a break.

“I don’t mind doing the dishes, Ike. Really.”

Ike cut off her protest with a shake of his head. “Not tonight. We’ve got it covered.”

Titus couldn’t imagine how much arm-twisting Ike had done to get Jeb to volunteer for dish duty. Then again, with the way all of the Diamond D hands doted on Penelope, Jeb might have been the one leading the charge.

After Ike cleared the kitchen doorway, Penelope busied herself with repacking her belongings into the cloth bag. “I suppose I better put these away and get back to cooking supper. Thank you again, Mr. Kingsley, for bringing them to me.”

“Titus,” he grumbled, feeling oddly out of sorts at her reverting back to calling him Mr. Kingsley when she had no problems calling Ike by his given name.

Her movements slowed and a small vee formed between her brows. “What was that?”

“The name’s Titus.” He probably sounded like an idiot, his voice all gruff and grouchy, but he had no liking for being the only mister in a house full of men who were more than twice his age.

She dipped her chin, but not in time to hide the smile that had started to blossom. The teasing light in her eyes should have made him feel more like an idiot, yet somehow, it enhanced the intimacy of the moment, as if they shared a jest.

“Titus.”

Yep. He definitely liked the sound of that better. Especially when she said it all quiet and shy, looking up at him through those thick, dark lashes.

Pink dusted her cheeks a second before she pivoted back to her bag, breaking the connection that had stretched between them. “I’ll just put these in my room and get back to—Oh!”

“What?” Titus craned his neck from side to side, his hand hovering over his holster as he searched the room for whatever had startled her.

“I just realized that my room is actually your room.” She clutched her bag to her chest, her free hand fluttering about in the air like a bird that couldn’t decide where to land. “Let me clear out my things. It won’t take long. I changed the sheets this morning before the washing, so the linens are clean.” She darted around the table, heading for the hall. “It won’t take but a minute. I can sleep on the settee in the parlor. It’s no trouble.”

“Penelope, stop.” The sound of her name on his tongue startled him almost as much as it did her. Or maybe him coming up behind her and capturing her arm had done the startling.

He released her immediately, not wanting to dredge up recollections of the insensitive lawman he’d been earlier in the day.

“I’m bunking in the barn,” he hurried to explain. He tipped his head toward the wall that separated the guest room from the kitchen. “This is your home, and that’s your room. There’ll be no sleeping in the parlor.”

Something strange came over her face when he said the word home. It only lasted for a moment, but it held such longing, he almost had to look away.

“In fact, I should probably head out there now,” he said. “See if Dusty has any preference over where I set up camp.” And escape this woman before he did something crazy like pull her into his arms and promise her a home of her own . . . with him.

Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat. What was wrong with him? He barely knew her.

Clapping his hat on his head, he murmured a gruff, “See you at supper,” then hightailed it out of the house.

Dusty directed him to an empty stall near the rear of the barn, his demeanor about as warm as a blue norther. Seemed Titus would not be winning any popularity contests with the Diamond D hands today. At least Lucky seemed to have forgiven him. ’Course that might be because Titus had bribed him with a piece of jerky from his saddlebag when the hound had started sniffing his way through Titus’s gear.