The Gambler by Lily Graison

face when he saw her in those new
frocks was worth it. She felt beautiful when she was with him. She
almost hated him for making her feel that way, knowing she'd set
out to deceive him and still planned on doing so.
     
    It was disconcerting having his undivided
attention. They'd laughed, talked about mundane things and she had
to admit, it was the first time in her life she felt like a real
person. As if what she said mattered. The look in Tristan's eyes as
he stared at her said that she did.
     
    He left her by her room door each night, gave
her soft kisses that caused her pulse to leap and dance under her
flesh and bid her a soft "goodnight" before leaving her at her
door. He was a perfect gentleman and she hated it.
     
    She’d gone to bed disappointed, then berated
herself for even caring. She wasn’t supposed to care. She wanted
nothing from Tristan but her land deed back and his wallet, but her
feelings were shifting where he was concerned. She could feel it
every time she looked at him. Every time he threw a smile in her
direction and that dimple in his cheek caught her attention. Those
damn butterflies would take flight, her pulse would leap and she
found herself wanting to tell him of her gold mine. To share it
with him in the silence of darkness like a lover would. To whisper
how rich they could be once they’d stripped all the gold from her
land.
     
    Reality would invade her tranquil dreams and
she’d remember that Tristan was nothing to her. Just the man who
shot her stepfather and won her land in a card game. A gambler who
thought of no one but himself and once he settled her in Willow
Creek, he’d be gone without a word. She’d be left to find a job and
support herself if she didn’t get that deed back and she refused to
let her sentimental heart get attached to him. He didn’t want her.
He’d made that clear from the start and nothing she did would
change his mind. Sure they'd shared a bed a few times and exchanged
more than a few toe-curling kisses but she wasn't a fool. They’d
spent the last week together, every waking moment in each other’s
presence and not once had he let her believe his feelings had
changed. To him, she was just an inconvenience. One he planned to
get rid of first chance he got.
     
    They arrived in Willow Creek just past noon,
the town a welcome change from the bustling settlements they’d
spent the past week exploring. The town was quaint, only one street
and the people walking the sidewalks waved as the stagecoach pulled
to a stop by the small station on the outskirts of town.
     
    Tristan was out the door and smiling as he
turned to help her down. She hadn’t seen that look of joy on his
face before. He was glad to be home and it showed.
     
    When her feet were on the ground, a week’s
worth of anxiety fled in a rush. The air was so clear here and a
glance down the road, to the other end of town, showed the valley
swooping in an ocean of parched, winter grasses clean to the
mountains in the distance. Snow glistened on the top of them and
she could smell it in the air.
     
    She smiled at a woman who passed by, her
belly swollen with child. The man beside her nodded his head, the
silver badge on his chest catching the sun and sparkling. The town
marshal, apparently.
     
    Tristan turned and sat the last of their bags
down and Emmaline noticed the Marshal stopped, tilted his head a
fraction before his eyebrows lowered, his mouth an angry slash
across his face. He let go of the pregnant woman beside him and
stared at Tristan, his gaze running over him from head to toe.
     
    Emmaline’s heart skipped a beat. Was Tristan
wanted for a crime? Had he wronged someone in town before he left
and shouldn’t have come back?
     
    The marshal crossed the sidewalk to where
they stood and crossed his arms over his chest and glared at
Tristan. “I orta whip you bloody, boy.”
     
    Tristan turned, looked at the marshal from
head to toe and snorted a laugh. “I’d like to see you try,