Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(53)
She groaned at the foolish, romantic notion. She should have learned her lesson on that account. It was that kind of thinking that led her into one disastrous marriage; she certainly wouldn’t be so stupid a second time around.
Not that it was marriage Caleb had been after tonight.
She gave the fire one last poke and sat down in the straight-backed chair she’d dragged in front of it. The turmoil of the day wore on her and it wasn’t long before she struggled against heavy-lidded eyes. She tried to convince herself to crawl into bed, but the warmth of the fire lulled her, drawing energy from her limbs until moving became more effort than it was worth.
She had no idea how long she slept, or how long she would have stayed there had the click of her door not shot through the haze of her tumultuous dreamland. She was up out of the chair before her senses caught up with her.
“Dammit, woman—”
Rachel gave her head a quick shake and stared at Caleb’s irate presence blocking the doorway to her room.
“What are you—” Her senses fully returned and the breeze from the open door filtered through the thin material of her chemise. Her arms flew up to cover her breasts. “Get out!”
She searched for the blanket she’d had earlier. It had pooled on the other side of the chair away from her.
Caleb shut the door but stayed on the wrong side of it. “I thought I specifically told you to lock the door. Was I not clear on that account?”
Frozen to the spot by his anger, Rachel sputtered out her defense. “I did lock it!”
Caleb motioned to the door, then to himself on the other side of it, an expression of incredulity written deep into his features. “Apparently not.”
Rachel pulled her bottom lip through her teeth. She thought she had locked it. But so many other things had been on her mind. She must have forgotten.
“That doesn’t give you the right to barge in.” She glanced at the blanket a few feet away. It felt like the other side of the world.
He glared at her. “Kirkpatrick is in town and he’s itchin’ to talk to you. I wasn’t trying to barge in. I was making sure you were safe in case he came callin’. Hardly my fault the thing swung wide open.”
Fear slithered down her back, momentarily making her forget she stood there in nothing but a chemise, pair of bloomers and bare legs.
Rachel mustered up a scrap of dignity and lifted her chin. “Could you turn around, please, while I cover myself?”
Caleb sighed but did as she asked. “Fine.”
She dove for the blanket and wrapped it around herself like a shield. “Shamus is looking for me? Where’d you see him?”
“The Jeweled Ace.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “Seems he has designs on makin’ you his wife.”
Rachel said nothing. What was there to say “Then you know what he wants from you?”
“Yes.” She knew all too well what Shamus Kirkpatrick’s designs were. He’d made them perfectly clear even before Robert’s death.
“I’m not lettin’ you marry that lowlife.”
Letting her. The words grated. “I do not need your permission with respect to who I marry, thank you very much.”
What was it with men thinking they had the right to order her around? She’d been doing just fine making her own decisions. She had no intention of marrying Shamus, with or without Caleb’s permission and regardless of how bad her situation got. She’d live in a cave and forage for berries before she let Shamus put one hand on her.
“Have you finished covering yourself so I can turn around and we can discuss this face-to-face?”
She hesitated. It was easier to converse with his back. When he was watching her, she had to contend with those eyes that bored into her, making her body respond and her heart race. “I’m barely covered and there’s nothing to discuss.”
He turned around. “Fine, but I’m stayin’ in here tonight.”
She nearly dropped the blanket. “Have you lost your mind? How much whiskey did you drink?”
“Not enough,” he muttered. “If Kirkpatrick is looking for you, I’m not leaving you unprotected.”
“He’s hardly going to bust into my room and accost me. Unlike some people.”
“I did not accost you.” He took a step toward her, and her nerves jumped to attention. “And if I recall correctly, you returned my kiss with enthusiasm. A lot of enthusiasm.”
The heat from his gaze penetrated the woolen blanket and made the fire pale in comparison. She cursed the way her body reacted to him.
“Well, you still busted into my room!”
“There wasn’t much busting required—you left the door unlocked. Stop trying to change the subject. I’m stayin’. I’ll sleep by the fire,” he said, waving a hand at the chair she had vacated.