Page 58 of Fairest of Heart

Penelope touched his arm. “You do what you need to do, Titus. I’ll take care of things here.”

Had he really thought he preferred the sizzle of her passion while they’d been sparring? Having her on his side, supporting and partnering him, stoked a slow burn in his belly that set those temporary fireworks to shame. This wasn’t a flash that would burst brightly, then extinguish. This was a bed of deep red coals that, if tended properly, could keep a man warm the rest of his days.

The silence grew between them, along with an undeniable tug. Stepping backward, Titus broke free of her touch before he gave in to his desire to crush her to him and stoke those coals into flames. He’d not dishonor her, especially not under his grandfather’s roof. Perhaps when this case was over, he’d come calling. Court her proper, and see where it led. But for now, he had a job to do, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted from his purpose.

“I’ll ride out at first light,” he said. “It’d be best if you stayed close to the house while I’m gone. If you go out with Rowdy, take Jeb or Dusty with you. They’re the best shots. I don’t expect Hunt to come back, but it’d be best not to take any chances.”

She nodded. “You be careful, too, Titus.”

“I will.”

But as he bid her goodnight, it wasn’t the thieves and lawbreakers who worried him. It was the sweet-spirited woman with the soft heart and soul-aching smile standing in the doorway. Bullets he could dodge. Love, on the other hand, snuck up on a fellow when he wasn’t looking, and he very much feared he’d already taken a lethal hit.

25

This is the wrong one.” Narcissa hurled the corset against the wall of her hotel room, then spun to face her incompetent associate. “What happened? Did you forget where you left the girl? Did you raid some farmhouse wife’s boudoir in the hopes that I wouldn’t notice the difference? Idiot!”

Her shout bounced off the rafters. She braced an arm against the wall and pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers.

Breathe, Narcissa. Don’t let Cecil’s stupidity lead to your own.

Ever since that interfering Ranger came by two days ago and questioned everyone, curiosity was running rampant through the company. She couldn’t afford someone happening by and overhearing her rant. She needed less suspicion aimed in her direction, not more.

Cecil stomped across the room and retrieved the imposter bodice. “This is Miss Snow’s corset. I swear.”

He shook it at her as if expecting it to change into the correct undergarment by the sheer force of his will. But he was no magician. Just a dull-witted clod who—

“I took it from the very room she was sleeping in.”

Narcissa’s thoughts froze. “What did you say?”

Cecil’s eyes widened, and his mouth slammed shut.

Narcissa stalked him across the room. One slow, panther-like step after another until she backed him into a corner. “Did you say she was sleeping in a room?”

The corset slid from his grip as his Adam’s apple bobbed in answer.

“She’s not supposed to be sleeping in a snug little bed somewhere safe and sound,” she murmured in a tight, low voice, rage simmering in her veins. “She’s supposed to be rotting under a tree in the middle of nowhere—dead.”

Cecil found his backbone and straightened away from the wall. “Yeah, well, she must’ve escaped. When I went back to the tree where I’d left her, she was gone.” He lifted a finger and jabbed it toward her face. “And before you go insultin’ me by assuming it were the wrong tree, I know it weren’t ’cause the rope was still there. Cut and lying on the ground.”

Narcissa narrowed her gaze and raised a brow until he retracted that insolent finger. “And how exactly did she cut herself free?”

“How should I know? I wasn’t there. Maybe someone found her and sliced her bonds.” He shrugged, but the shiftiness of his gaze left Narcissa less than convinced of his veracity. “Knowin’ how much you wanted that cotton-pickin’ corset, I spent a day and a half trackin’ the gal to a ranch a couple miles away. The Diamond D. Run by a bunch of old men. I scoped out the place at the crack of dawn the next mornin’, figured out which room was hers, then laid low until dark fell before breakin’ in. Went through her drawers and grabbed the first corset I found. No reason to expect her to have more than one,” Cecil grumbled.

Narcissa planted both hands on her hips and gave him her most withering glare.

“When you tracked her down to this ranch, was she still running around in her underclothes?”

“No, but—”

“Therefore, she obviously had access to women’s clothing. Yet your tiny male brain couldn’t extrapolate from there that she might also have access to additional undergarments? Really, Cecil. I thought better of you.”

Instead of hanging his head as he usually did when she scolded him, he met her gaze straight on.

“Maybe next time you should be the one to retrieve the things you lose. Spend two days in the saddle under a scorching summer sun, scouring the countryside for a girl who doesn’t want to be found. Then nearly get your leg taken off by a guard dog and get shot at by a gunman who was far too fast on his feet to be one of the old men who lives there.” Cecil leaned across the sliver of space separating them, his face so close to hers, she could almost feel the rasp of his days-old beard against her cheek. “I could have been killed last night, Narcissa. But you don’t care about that, do you?” His voice rumbled low in her ear. Hurt. Angry. “I’m not one of those sparkly rocks you put so much store in, after all. Just a faithful hound to kick in the ribs when I don’t fetch properly.”

He fit his hand to her throat and stroked the length of her neck. His touch was gentle. Controlled. But there was an air of menace she’d not sensed in him before. One that made her feel the tiniest bit . . . afraid.