Page 68 of Cloaked in Beauty

Her stomach felt like a rock, but she forced the words from her heart onto her tongue. “Promise that you won’t leave Houston before we have that conversation you talked about. I know there’s a lot to figure out, a passel of unknowns regarding my family and my involvement with Radcliffe Shipping. But there’s one aspect of my future of which I am certain, Philip. I want you in it.”

His breath hitched, and his eyes heated in a way that melted her very bones. He released her hand in order to cup her face and stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Frissons danced lightly over her skin, stirring her heart and whipping her pulse into a frenzied gallop.

“I promise not to leave without talking to you, Letty.”

It was exactly what she’d asked of him, yet when he voiced his vow, she realized that what she’d truly wanted him to promise was that he wouldn’t leave. Period. But it was too early for such a declaration. She knew that. Yet she couldn’t stop an irrational disappointment from infecting her pleasure.

Ducking her head to keep him from seeing the truth of her reaction in her eyes, she leaned her head against his shoulder and murmured her thanks. They lay there for a moment, neither in a hurry to rise, but duty eventually won out. Philip’s palm fell away from her face first, then his shoulder slid out from under her cheek as he slithered backward toward the horses a few yards away. Letty followed, mentally lacing up her resolve. She couldn’t move forward with Philip into the future until she dealt with the mess of her present, and putting off the chore would only make it more onerous in the long run.

When they made it back to the horses, Philip stopped her from mounting Shadow.

“I want you to ride with me.”

Her brows knit as she released her grip on the saddle horn. “Why?”

“I scanned the perimeter as well as I could with the field glasses, but I can’t guarantee that no one is out there. Someone could have followed the carriage from town or followed us from the trail.” He cast a backward glance over the trail they’d used. “Approaching from the rear should limit our exposure, but I don’t like the idea of you being an easy target for anyone who might be watching. If you sit in front of me on Steele, my back will guard yours.”

Letty liked the idea of a bullet hitting him even less than the idea of one hitting her, but she knew better than to argue. She’d just pray that no one was out there, lying in wait. Scouring the trees surrounding them for signs of lurking evil, she fought back a shiver. Would she ever feel safe again?

Apparently the answer was yes, for the moment Philip pulled her up in front of him, wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight against his chest, her anxiety faded, leaving a blessed sense of belonging and security in its wake. One that was not misplaced, for they made it around the corral and into the inn yard without incident.

Thank you, Lord.

As they rounded the carriage and team, a man with a short, graying beard stepped out of the dilapidated inn, rifle in hand. “State your business, mister.”

Something about the man’s voice tugged at Letty’s memory. And the way he stood with one foot pointed slightly outward. She’d seen that before.

“Philip Carmichael. I wired Stefan Anderson yesterday to arrange for this carriage.”

The bearded man’s gaze moved to Letty’s face, and his eyes widened slightly. The look softened his face just enough for a memory to snap into place.

Letty’s chest tightened. “Carter?”

“Lord, have mercy.” He leaned the rifle against the wall and took a hesitant step forward. “Miss Scarlett? Is that you under that hat?” A grin split his face. “Even after seein’ your picture, I wasn’t like to recognize you in that getup.”

How many times had she sneaked away to the stables to pet the barn cats and watch Carter tend her father’s horses? The man possessed endless patience. And not just with horses. With little girls, too. He’d always treated her as if she belonged in the stables as much as he did and never grew exasperated having her underfoot.

Moisture filmed her eyes as she pushed Philip’s hat high on her forehead to reveal more of her face. “It’s me.” Although the name Scarlett sat awkwardly upon her, like an old garment that no longer fit.

The grizzled groom took to blinking something fierce. “Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes. Your mama’s gonna be beside herself—”

“Carter?” A feminine voice, genteel yet slightly unsteady, called from inside the building. “Is it . . . ?”

Letty’s heart thudded so hard in her chest she began to feel light-headed.

Carter turned toward the doorway, raising a hand to swipe the edge of one eye as he did. “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Carmichael’s here, and he’s got that package you’ve been waiting for.”

The breeze, the snorting of the horses, even the feel of Philip at her back all disappeared from Letty’s awareness as she concentrated every ounce of her attention on the doorway. Shadows obscured the entry, hiding the identity of the building’s occupant. The hem of a dark-green skirt became visible first, then, inch by inch, the remainder of the dress was revealed. It sheathed a slender figure moving on wobbly legs. A hand slid into the sunlight to take hold of the doorjamb as the woman’s face finally emerged from the shadows.

“Mama.” The broken whisper barely carried any volume, but Philip must have heard it for the arm he’d placed around her waist tightened slightly.

She hadn’t expected her mother to be here. She’d thought to be reunited at the end of a carriage ride, where she would’ve had time to plan out what to say and how to behave. But looking into her mother’s face, all plans for impressing Leah Radcliffe with proper decorum dissolved beneath the wave of longing crashing over her.

“Mama?” Letty leaned back and lifted her right leg over the saddle horn.

Philip offered a steadying hand and helped her awkward descent not end with her face in the dirt.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Her mother’s voice cracked as she pushed away from the door and ran forward. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she opened her arms.