Page 41 of Cloaked in Beauty

“Excellent! We’re settled, then.” Susanne gestured for Letty to dismount and follow her. “Come on up to the house. I’ll meet you in the kitchen as soon as I check on Dennis.” She darted another look toward Rusty, one eyebrow lifting. “That wolf of yours won’t bother my chickens, will he?”

Letty shook her head. “No, ma’am. We have chickens at our place, too. He’s been trained to leave them alone.” A training he remembered most of the time.

“Good.” As if the matter were settled to her satisfaction, she pivoted and headed for the house. “The kettle’s on,” she called over her shoulder. “Help yourself to tea.”

“Thank you, Mrs. . . . ?”

She turned, but her feet kept moving. “Bullock. But just call me Susanne.”

“I’m Letty.” She left it at that. “I’ll be up in a moment.” Letty dismounted and handed her reins to Calvin as his mother hurried toward the house.

He held his hand out for Shadow to nuzzle, then glanced at Letty. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Letty smiled. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

With a grin, he set off for the barn.

Leather creaked as Philip adjusted his seat. “Letty.”

She peered up at him. “Yes?”

“Watch what you say to Mrs. Bullock. She can’t know who you are or that you aren’t actually my wife.”

Wife. Goodness. Hearing him say it settled on her so much differently than when Calvin or Susanne had mentioned it. Her belly did a strange little flip, and her head grew light enough to float.

“I’m aware.” She forced her mind back to the matter at hand. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

He opened his mouth as if he wished to say something more, then shut it and offered a tight nod instead.

Without another word, he reined Steele around and nudged the gray into a trot.

Letty patted her leg, and Rusty rushed to her side. She bent down to give him a thorough rub as a reward for his good behavior, but her eyes tracked Philip as he rode off.

Letty Carmichael. Could be an idea worth pondering.

18

Finding his packhorse took less time than finding his equilibrium. Philip still felt a bit off-balance an hour later when he returned to the Bullock homestead.

Get your head on straight, Carmichael. You’ve played roles before.

He’d posed as an outlaw, a bank teller, a lumberman, and a handful of other characters during the course of his Pinkerton work. Disguises eased the gathering of intelligence and gave a detective access to people and places his badge wouldn’t. Shoot, he’d once spent a week impersonating a snooty manservant in order to search the house of a wealthy industrialist and uncover proof that the man had been embezzling his investors’ funds. If he could endure the awkward intimacy of helping a grown man dress, shave, and groom the hairs in his nasal passages, surely he could handle the pretense of having a wife for one night.

Yet when he’d donned those other identities, they’d been itchy and ill-fitting, like the Sunday coat and stiff leather shoes his mama had made him wear to church as a boy. He endured them as long as he had to, but the moment the iron grip of duty set him free, he shed the uncomfortable skin and rejoiced at leaving it behind.

Philip feared the role of Letty’s husband would sit far too comfortably on his shoulders. Battling his physical attraction to the woman was hard enough without throwing a fake marriage into the mix. He already struggled to keep a professional distance between them. Usually such distance was easy to maintain with his clients because he didn’t particularly like them. Self-important business moguls tended to look down on the hired help. Letty, on the other hand, acted as if she were being escorted by a friend of the family, not a paid bodyguard. She made an effort to get to know him, asked him questions about his work and family, and truly listened to his responses. She even offered bits of her own history in return.

When he’d seen her dangling over the edge of that ravine, something more than duty had launched him from his horse. Something that couldn’t be allowed to gain momentum, or he’d be the one taking a tumble—one he’d not soon recover from.

Dusk had settled over the cabin by the time Philip made it back to the clearing. Enough light remained, however, for him to make out the figure of Lincoln Bullock as the man exited the barn and gestured for Philip to meet him at the entrance.

“I see you found yer pack animal.” Lincoln strode forward and extended his hand. “I’ll look after him while you see to your mount.”

Philip handed over the lead line. “Appreciate it.” He dismounted and glanced toward the house. “Letty doing all right?”

It was only natural for him to be concerned. He’d been paid to guard her, after all. And if he kept reminding himself of that fact, maybe the professional distance between them would cease shrinking.

“Yep. Susanne had me set up the tub in our room and ordered your missus to take a nice long soak.”