through the door.
Alone, they stared at each other until Travis finally cleared his throat. "Sleep well last night?"
"Yes, after you gave me fresh linens, I slept fine," she said, still carefully observing the subtle changes in him this morning. He was distant once more, and there were shadows beneath his eyes that hadn't been there the day before.
He smiled. "Good."
"What about you? How did you sleep?" she asked. The memory of his full lips caressing her mouth began a butterfly riot in her stomach. She recalled the words they'd exchanged and the way she'd been tempted to cast aside her doubts and fall into his bed.
His eyes widened in a look she was quickly coming to recognize—the look that normally preceded him kissing her. Suddenly the dining room felt small and airless.
"I was restless all night long," he drawled.
The door opened and Eugenia bustled back in, seemingly unaware of the suddenly charged atmosphere. "Shouldn't be long," she said, taking her place at the table once again.
Rose quickly averted her eyes from Travis. If she looked at him any longer, she was sure Mrs. Burnett would recognize the hungry gaze in her eyes for something other than food.
Eugenia sipped from her coffee and looked at her son. "Travis, why don't you show Desirée around the ranch today? You could hitch up the wagon and the two of you could spend the day riding."
Travis threw down his napkin. "Can't. I'm going into town."
Eugenia stared at her son, her eyes flashing with displeasure. "There's nothing you need there."
He stood and pushed his chair into the table, then raised his brown eyes in displeasure at Eugenia. "That's for me to decide, Mother."
The undercurrents were ripe with disagreement, but no one mentioned Eugenia and Travis's previous argument regarding returning her to jail.
"I would like to go into town," she said, hoping that if she explained why she wanted to go he'd be more considerate and understanding. "I'd like to check on my trunk and maybe even buy a new dress, since I ripped this one so badly last night."
"Nope." His jaw tightened and his lips thinned. "Have you forgotten the rules already? You're not to go to town for any reason."
Raising her bandaged hands, she pointed to her dress. "But that was before last night. Now I need clothes. You don't expect me to wear a dress that looks like someone took the shears to it, do you?"
He raised his brows and smiled. "I didn't tell you to climb down the rose trellis. In fact, most of our guests prefer to use the stairs."
Rose felt a surge of temper along with the urge to pick up the pitcher of cream on the table and fling it at him, but she resisted.
"I suggest you get a needle and thread and fix your dress."
"It'll look like a patchwork quilt. Besides, what makes you think I can sew?" she questioned. She took a sip of tea, trying to cool her rapidly rising temper.
"All women do needlework. If you can hold a needle, you can sew," he said matter-of-factly.
Rose almost spewed her tea. Of all the arrogant things to say! The man of midnight had evaporated in the morning sun like dewdrops under a noon sun.
He'd hit a sore spot. Rose wasn't like all women; she hadn't had a mother to teach her the proprieties of being a lady. She'd never touched a sewing needle, let alone stitched an actual garment.
"That's like saying all men are farmers. Planted any crops lately?" she retorted.
The look he gave her could have frosted the backside off the devil himself. He stared at her, his irritation obvious.
Eugenia rose from her seat at the table and walked around to her son. "Let's make a day of going to town. I'll go and keep an eye on Desirée while you take care of your business, Travis."
"No!" he barked. "I'm going alone."
If she hadn't been afraid of hitting Eugenia, Rose would have thrown the pitcher of cream at him. "Oh, I see Sergeant Travis has returned. Or are you a general today? Frankly, I think you're nothing more than a bugler making noise. In
Alone, they stared at each other until Travis finally cleared his throat. "Sleep well last night?"
"Yes, after you gave me fresh linens, I slept fine," she said, still carefully observing the subtle changes in him this morning. He was distant once more, and there were shadows beneath his eyes that hadn't been there the day before.
He smiled. "Good."
"What about you? How did you sleep?" she asked. The memory of his full lips caressing her mouth began a butterfly riot in her stomach. She recalled the words they'd exchanged and the way she'd been tempted to cast aside her doubts and fall into his bed.
His eyes widened in a look she was quickly coming to recognize—the look that normally preceded him kissing her. Suddenly the dining room felt small and airless.
"I was restless all night long," he drawled.
The door opened and Eugenia bustled back in, seemingly unaware of the suddenly charged atmosphere. "Shouldn't be long," she said, taking her place at the table once again.
Rose quickly averted her eyes from Travis. If she looked at him any longer, she was sure Mrs. Burnett would recognize the hungry gaze in her eyes for something other than food.
Eugenia sipped from her coffee and looked at her son. "Travis, why don't you show Desirée around the ranch today? You could hitch up the wagon and the two of you could spend the day riding."
Travis threw down his napkin. "Can't. I'm going into town."
Eugenia stared at her son, her eyes flashing with displeasure. "There's nothing you need there."
He stood and pushed his chair into the table, then raised his brown eyes in displeasure at Eugenia. "That's for me to decide, Mother."
The undercurrents were ripe with disagreement, but no one mentioned Eugenia and Travis's previous argument regarding returning her to jail.
"I would like to go into town," she said, hoping that if she explained why she wanted to go he'd be more considerate and understanding. "I'd like to check on my trunk and maybe even buy a new dress, since I ripped this one so badly last night."
"Nope." His jaw tightened and his lips thinned. "Have you forgotten the rules already? You're not to go to town for any reason."
Raising her bandaged hands, she pointed to her dress. "But that was before last night. Now I need clothes. You don't expect me to wear a dress that looks like someone took the shears to it, do you?"
He raised his brows and smiled. "I didn't tell you to climb down the rose trellis. In fact, most of our guests prefer to use the stairs."
Rose felt a surge of temper along with the urge to pick up the pitcher of cream on the table and fling it at him, but she resisted.
"I suggest you get a needle and thread and fix your dress."
"It'll look like a patchwork quilt. Besides, what makes you think I can sew?" she questioned. She took a sip of tea, trying to cool her rapidly rising temper.
"All women do needlework. If you can hold a needle, you can sew," he said matter-of-factly.
Rose almost spewed her tea. Of all the arrogant things to say! The man of midnight had evaporated in the morning sun like dewdrops under a noon sun.
He'd hit a sore spot. Rose wasn't like all women; she hadn't had a mother to teach her the proprieties of being a lady. She'd never touched a sewing needle, let alone stitched an actual garment.
"That's like saying all men are farmers. Planted any crops lately?" she retorted.
The look he gave her could have frosted the backside off the devil himself. He stared at her, his irritation obvious.
Eugenia rose from her seat at the table and walked around to her son. "Let's make a day of going to town. I'll go and keep an eye on Desirée while you take care of your business, Travis."
"No!" he barked. "I'm going alone."
If she hadn't been afraid of hitting Eugenia, Rose would have thrown the pitcher of cream at him. "Oh, I see Sergeant Travis has returned. Or are you a general today? Frankly, I think you're nothing more than a bugler making noise. In
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