is Conor Roarke."
"I'm a friend of the family," Conor said with an ease that made Sari's heart jump. "Just checking up on Sari."
"Well, I don't mind telling you it makes me feel better to see another man at that place." Clancy nodded approvingly. "No telling what trouble's way out there." He pulled the trays of butter toward him, lifting the cheesecloth off the firm, molded cakes. "Looks lovely as usual, Sari. I've got some money for you—"
"Apply it to our account," Sari interrupted. "There are some things I need as well."
"I don't suppose one of those things would be a new dress, would it?" Clancy asked hopefully.
She hesitated. "I don't think so."
Clancy pushed the trays aside and leaned over the counter persuasively. "I'm telling you, girl, I got in some fabric yesterday that made me think of you. I kept it aside just in case you'd be interested. A lovely color, cream with dark green stripes." He pursed his lips appreciatively. "It would look beautiful on you."
"Stripes?" Sari laughed, trying to hide the fact that she was tempted. It had been a long time since she'd had anything pretty, and the evening she'd spent with Conor poring over the Godey's Lady's Book had only made her wish for things she couldn't have, such as silk gowns and ribbons and a man who wanted to wrap her in them.
She sighed, trying unsuccessfully to keep wistfulness from her voice. "It sounds far too fancy for me, Mr. Clancy."
"Now, girl, I know it isn't practical, but Christmas is coming. Thought you might want a nice silk dress."
"For what? Imagine how silly I'd look parading around the soddy in something like that."
"Mr. Roarke, help me persuade her," Clancy pleaded, spreading his big hands. "Tell this pretty lady that she needs a fine dress for the Christmas dance this year."
One corner of Conor's mouth lifted. "Sari's not much for fripperies," he said. His eyes twinkled, and Sari was struck with the brief, insane wish that he might care whether she wore silks and satins, that it might matter to him how she looked.
"It would be nice to touch the smoothness of silk again, eh?" Clancy pushed away from the counter. "Wait here, wait here. Let me show it to you, you won't be able to resist it."
He disappeared behind the curtains, and Sari bit her lip, staring at the counter. "A silk dress," she said quietly. "It's such a luxury."
"He's right, you know, you deserve it." Conor's voice was soft, caressing.
"In the middle of the plains?"
"There's that Christmas dance to consider."
"It's so impractical."
"It would add some color," he teased. "Something besides brown."
His finger touched her sleeve. Even through the thick wool of her coat, she felt the heat of it, the sure, gentle pressure as he ran his finger down her arm to her elbow. She swallowed, unable to look at him.
"You'd look beautiful in it, Sari," he whispered. "Let me see you in silk."
Please, she thought, don't be so kind . She couldn't bear such tender kindness. She pulled away, leaned back just enough so that his hand fell from her sleeve. It was too much like her dreams, the dreams she had once before—first with Evan and then with Conor—and she knew how they ended. They never came true. "I can't buy such a thing."
"Can't?" he murmured, his eyes hooded. "Or won't? Why are you so afraid of being pretty, Sari?"
"I'm not afraid," she lied. Her heart felt heavy—lonely and yearning suddenly. She wished she could see the expression in his eyes.
His jaw tightened, he looked away. "Christ, I could have killed Evan for what he did to you."
"It wasn't just Evan," she said slowly. The words felt wrenched from her heart, her fingers curled inside the warmth of her gloves. "It wasn't just Evan."
Her words fell on silence so big, she couldn't breathe for the tension of it.
"Here we go." Clancy's voice was loud and startling as he returned, his arms filled with a bolt of rich cream fabric shot with gold thread. The green stripes shone nearly black and lustrous in the light.
"I'm a friend of the family," Conor said with an ease that made Sari's heart jump. "Just checking up on Sari."
"Well, I don't mind telling you it makes me feel better to see another man at that place." Clancy nodded approvingly. "No telling what trouble's way out there." He pulled the trays of butter toward him, lifting the cheesecloth off the firm, molded cakes. "Looks lovely as usual, Sari. I've got some money for you—"
"Apply it to our account," Sari interrupted. "There are some things I need as well."
"I don't suppose one of those things would be a new dress, would it?" Clancy asked hopefully.
She hesitated. "I don't think so."
Clancy pushed the trays aside and leaned over the counter persuasively. "I'm telling you, girl, I got in some fabric yesterday that made me think of you. I kept it aside just in case you'd be interested. A lovely color, cream with dark green stripes." He pursed his lips appreciatively. "It would look beautiful on you."
"Stripes?" Sari laughed, trying to hide the fact that she was tempted. It had been a long time since she'd had anything pretty, and the evening she'd spent with Conor poring over the Godey's Lady's Book had only made her wish for things she couldn't have, such as silk gowns and ribbons and a man who wanted to wrap her in them.
She sighed, trying unsuccessfully to keep wistfulness from her voice. "It sounds far too fancy for me, Mr. Clancy."
"Now, girl, I know it isn't practical, but Christmas is coming. Thought you might want a nice silk dress."
"For what? Imagine how silly I'd look parading around the soddy in something like that."
"Mr. Roarke, help me persuade her," Clancy pleaded, spreading his big hands. "Tell this pretty lady that she needs a fine dress for the Christmas dance this year."
One corner of Conor's mouth lifted. "Sari's not much for fripperies," he said. His eyes twinkled, and Sari was struck with the brief, insane wish that he might care whether she wore silks and satins, that it might matter to him how she looked.
"It would be nice to touch the smoothness of silk again, eh?" Clancy pushed away from the counter. "Wait here, wait here. Let me show it to you, you won't be able to resist it."
He disappeared behind the curtains, and Sari bit her lip, staring at the counter. "A silk dress," she said quietly. "It's such a luxury."
"He's right, you know, you deserve it." Conor's voice was soft, caressing.
"In the middle of the plains?"
"There's that Christmas dance to consider."
"It's so impractical."
"It would add some color," he teased. "Something besides brown."
His finger touched her sleeve. Even through the thick wool of her coat, she felt the heat of it, the sure, gentle pressure as he ran his finger down her arm to her elbow. She swallowed, unable to look at him.
"You'd look beautiful in it, Sari," he whispered. "Let me see you in silk."
Please, she thought, don't be so kind . She couldn't bear such tender kindness. She pulled away, leaned back just enough so that his hand fell from her sleeve. It was too much like her dreams, the dreams she had once before—first with Evan and then with Conor—and she knew how they ended. They never came true. "I can't buy such a thing."
"Can't?" he murmured, his eyes hooded. "Or won't? Why are you so afraid of being pretty, Sari?"
"I'm not afraid," she lied. Her heart felt heavy—lonely and yearning suddenly. She wished she could see the expression in his eyes.
His jaw tightened, he looked away. "Christ, I could have killed Evan for what he did to you."
"It wasn't just Evan," she said slowly. The words felt wrenched from her heart, her fingers curled inside the warmth of her gloves. "It wasn't just Evan."
Her words fell on silence so big, she couldn't breathe for the tension of it.
"Here we go." Clancy's voice was loud and startling as he returned, his arms filled with a bolt of rich cream fabric shot with gold thread. The green stripes shone nearly black and lustrous in the light.
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