Nobody's Darling

“He’s probably halfway to the Mexican border with those outlaw brothers of his by now,” she muttered, casting a rueful glance over her shoulder at Sadie.

The basset hound rested her chins on her paws, her drooping ears making her look even more dejected than Esmerelda felt.

Esmerelda made a nervous circuit around the copper tub that crouched on a braided rug in front of the hearth. As delicious as it had been to scrub the grit from her skin and hair, she hadn’t been able to savor the steaming bath for fear Billy would come strolling in at any minute. When he hadn’t, she’d been too disappointed to enjoy her meal. She could hardly be expected to eat with her stomach coiled into a miserable knot of apprehension. The veal cutlet had sat untouched on a silver tray until she’d thought to offer it to Sadie. The hound had wolfed it down, refusing to let despondency dull her appetite.

Esmerelda touched a hand to her damp chignon, wondering why she’d even bothered to don her finest Sunday-go-to-meeting walking dress and a full complement of underwear. The dress had been an extravagance she had convinced herself was a necessity, since she wanted to look presentable to her pupils’ parents whenever she hosted a recital to show off the talents of their little darlings. The mellow peach hue of the wool nattered her complexion and wove shimmering strands of auburn through her mousy hair.

“I simply want to look my best when Bartholomew and I are reunited,” she told her skeptical reflection in the cheval glass. It had nothing to do with igniting that lazy gleam of appreciation in Billy’s eyes.

Disgusted with herself for lying, she marched to the window and shoved up the sash, hoping to catch a glimpse of a lanky, tawny-headed cowboy weaving his way through the crowds below.

Eulalie might lack the brick streets and ivied grace of Boston, but raw exhilaration perfumed the air. Esmerelda closed her eyes and drank in a deep breath, the mingled scents of sawdust and desert wind stirring her blood in a way the clouds of coal dust hanging over Boston never had.

She was so taken by the sensation that she might not have heard the soft rap on the door if Sadie hadn’t pried open her droopy lids and let out a welcoming “Woof!”

Nearly tripping over the inert hound, Esmerelda tore across the room and eagerly flung open the door.

Her disappointment was so keen she collected only a scattering of impressions: a neatly knotted necktie where a dusty bandanna should have been; a dark suit and double-breasted waistcoat woven of the finest serge; a gleaming pocket watch on a gold fob. A tooled leather gunbelt peeked out from the parted folds of a handsome coat.

Realizing how imprudent she’d been to open the door to a stranger, she barely glanced at his face. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. You must have the wrong room.”

She had already narrowed the opening between door and frame to a mere crack when one shiny black shoe protruded through it. “My deepest apologies, ma’am,” he drawled. “They told me at the desk that this was where the crazy girl from Boston was staying.”

Esmerelda stumbled backward in shock, leaving the door free to swing wide open. Her visitor leaned one brawny shoulder against the doorframe, his gray-green eyes sparkling with pure devilment.

“Mr. Darling?” she croaked.

“Billy,” he gently corrected before sauntering past her.

Esmerelda had never dreamed that Billy’s predatory grace would lend itself to such polished elegance. While he squatted to greet Sadie with a scratch behind the ears, she eased the door shut, struggling to steady both her hands and her rioting emotions.

When she turned to face him, he straightened and drew off his dapper bowler, revealing dark gold hair that had been cropped of some of its natural curl and smoothed close to his head. His face had also been shorn of its rugged stubble, baring the clean masculinity of his features. His jaw was more stern than she’d supposed, which only made his easy grin more beguiling.

Noting the direction of her gaze, he ruefully stroked his chin. “I decided to take the advice I gave Virgil and invest in a nickel bath and shave. It wouldn’t do to roam around town like the spitting image of my Wanted poster. There are too many men out there looking to make an easy dollar.”

“Men like you?” Esmerelda knotted her hands behind her to keep them from reaching up to explore the naked curve of his jaw.

He acknowledged her barb with a mocking nod. “Men like me.”

“Where did you find the suit? I wouldn’t think it would be possible for a tailor to so quickly fit a man of your, um…” Eloquence deserted her as she blinked up at him, feeling like a porcelain doll in his shadow. “… proportions.”

Billy stroked his broad thumbs down the lapels of the coat. “I purchased it from the local undertaker.” Esmerelda took a hasty step backward.

He caught her elbow to steady her. “Don’t worry. The suit’s fresh from a boiling at the Chinese laundry. And he promised me the fellow who owned it before me won’t mind one lick. It’s a trick I learned from Jasper. He buys all his finery there.”

Esmerelda managed a breathless laugh. “Your brother probably gets a discount for providing them with so much business.” Flustered by Billy’s touch, she drew her arm away from his and started for the scarlet cord of the bellpull. “I’ve already eaten,” she lied, “but I’d be delighted to order you some lunch.”

“I can’t stay. I’ve got a job to do.” Esmerelda changed course, heading for the wardrobe where she’d unpacked her scant belongings. “Then I’ll be right with you.” She dropped the room key into her reticule and hooked the tiny purse’s braided cord over her arm. “Just let me find my bonnet and gloves and we can—”

“Not this time, Esmerelda.” She swung around to discover the sparkle in Billy’s eyes had sharpened to a grim glitter. “The streets of a town like this are no place for a woman like you.”

Esmerelda took one step toward him, then another, sensing even as she did so that she was courting a far more devastating danger than any that could be found on the streets of Eulalie. “They are if I have a man like you to protect me.”

Hanging his bowler on the doorknob, Billy took her by the shoulders, not to draw her nearer as she’d both hoped and feared, but to hold her at arm’s length. The intensity of his grip revealed that his charm was nothing more than a thin veneer over some unspoken desperation. “There are some things even I can’t protect you from.”

Instead of shying away as he plainly hoped she would, Esmerelda gently cupped his forearms in her palms and tipped her head back to meet his fevered gaze. “If I believed that, Mr. Darling, I never would have hired you.”

He drew her inexorably nearer, the rasp in his voice deepening to a smoky growl. “And would you still have hired me if I’d demanded payment in advance?”

Before she could catch her breath, Billy sought his answer from her parted lips. Esmerelda expected his kiss to be crude and punishing, but his lips simply grazed hers, as if to steal a taste of some forbidden sweet he desperately craved, yet feared he could never get enough of. Her lips melted beneath that delicious seduction.

Only then did he dip his tongue into the moist hollow of her mouth. Only then did he deepen his demand, urging her own tongue to respond in kind. Desire purled through her blood, thickening to warm nectar in the most scandalous of places.

Billy was no bounty hunter in that moment, but a ruthless outlaw, out to rob her of all she considered worthy and dear—her steadfast devotion to propriety and her stern self-denial. She might have been able to resist him had he sought only to take. But the ferocious tenderness of his kiss promised that he had much to give. More than she had ever dared hope for.

His mouth slanted over hers, one kiss melting inevitably into another. Her fingers crept up to shyly caress the fine hairs at his nape. He smelled nearly as delicious as he tasted—like leather and shaving soap mingled with a tantalizing hint of male musk.