Lynna Banning - The Courtship

“Mama? Why, she hardly knows where she is, let alone where I am or what I am doing.”

Rydell nodded. “I think she understands more than you think. What’s important to her is you. I convinced her I was helping you.”

She shook her head. “That does not exactly make sense, Mr. Wilder. It is to your advantage that I fail in this venture. Why in the world would you offer help?”

Rydell took a single step toward her, reached out and pulled down the handkerchief mask. “Been askin’ myself that question all morning.”

“And what is your answer to that very question?” Her voice had steadied, but it dropped to a whisper, whether from emotion or exhaustion he couldn’t begin to guess.

“Damn—darned if I know,” he admitted. The scent of lavender floating in the air made his insides ache. Oh, God, he wanted to…

Before he knew what he was doing, he closed his fingers around her upper arm.

She didn’t move, just looked at him. He saw fear, and then something else in her eyes. Unable to help himself, he pulled her toward him, lifted his other hand to her shoulder, and bent his head. When his mouth found hers, he lost all track of time.

Her lips were warm and tasted of salt. He’d never known such excruciating sweetness. Instinctively he probed for more, then broke free. He didn’t think he could stop if he didn’t call a halt now.

“You’re right, this doesn’t exactly make sense,” he breathed against her temple. “No sense at all.”

“No,” Jane said in a faraway voice. “It most certainly does not make sense.” She wanted her words to come out crisp and proper-sounding. Instead, she sounded as if she just woke up this morning and wasn’t sure where she was. His mouth on hers had felt simply heavenly, as if the sun and all the stars tumbled down and kindled a glow inside her.

Merciful Lord, she must not feel that way about it! After all, Mr. Wilder had taken a great liberty. She should be outraged instead. She snapped open her eyelids.

“If I had the strength to lift my arm, I would demonstrate how a lady responds to such an ungentlemanly assault.”

He said nothing, and with every passing second she became more aware of his arms about her. “Kindly unhand me, Mr. Wilder. I will then proceed as if your grievous action never took place. Back home in Marion County, such behavior would likely cost you your life.”

Rydell lifted his arms away from her. “You’re not in Marion County, Jane. Out here, nobody’s gonna challenge a man to a duel just because he lost his head and kissed a lady without her permission.”

Jane sniffed.

“Next time,” he said with a grin, “I’ll ask permission.”

She took an instinctive step backward. “You will do no such thing! This is a wild, unprincipled country, and I’ll have you know—”

“It is that,” he acknowledged. “But it’s getting more civilized every day. Got a school, now. A hotel and two churches. Even a Ladies Helpful Society.”

She would have stalked out the door, but the mop bucket and broom sat in her path; she felt so whirly-headed she didn’t think she could walk straight enough to get past them.

“I apologize, Miss Davis. Got carried away by the smell of your handkerchief, I guess.”

She looked him in the eye. “See that it never, never happens again.”

To her surprise, he turned his back on her. “I’ll bring in your sewing machine.” He removed his jacket and began rolling up the sleeves of the starched white shirt he wore underneath. His bare forearms looked so…so…unlike Papa’s. Papa’s hands and his short, plump arms had always been milk-white.

A funny tingle went up the back of her neck. This man’s skin was sun-bronzed, and sinews rippled underneath. Indecent. No proper gentleman in the South ever bared his arms in the presence of a lady.

He grabbed up the mop bucket and moved through the open doorway onto the board sidewalk.

“Never,” she repeated into the silence. Her breathing steadied.

In the next moment he reappeared, balancing her sewing cabinet on one shoulder.

Her head pounded. Her legs trembled. Oh, she wished he would just go away! Go do whatever bankers did at the end of the day.

This is ludicrous, Jane Charlotte. You’d think she had never scrubbed a floor in her life! Here she was shaking with exhaustion, her muscles refusing to obey her commands. And it was all his fault.

“Never,” she repeated under her breath.

“Where do you want this?”

Jane jerked. “What? Oh. There, by the window.”

He bent his knees and tipped his broad shoulder forward. The cabinet legs clunked onto the scrubbed plank floor, and he shoved it gently against the wall and stepped away. She pounced on it with a clean rag, flicking off the veil of dust on top and refusing to look at him.

“Here’s your pattern box,” he announced after his next trip out to the wagon.

She desperately wanted him to stop. She would not be beholden to him.

“And the iron and your button jar. Didn’t know it took so many things just to sew a dress.”

“Didn’t your mother sew?” she snapped. She regretted the words the instant they passed her lips. From what she remembered about Rydell Wilder, he’d lived on his own, without mother or father, ever since he’d come to Dixon Falls as a boy.

“No,” he said, his voice quiet.

Oh, bother. She’d been rude and she was sorry. But she didn’t want his help. His very presence in the tiny store made her thoughts tumble like the bits of colored glass in Aunt Carrie’s brass kaleidoscope. He had touched her. Kissed her. And now he acted as if nothing unusual had occurred.

But it had. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. His mouth had pressed hers, and a sweet, silken warmth kindled in her belly. Back in Marion County, she would be hopelessly compromised by such an event. Out here in this wilderness they called Oregon, one pair of lips touching another didn’t carry the same significance. What an uncivilized place!

It would certainly matter to Papa. Papa would have Mr. Wilder horsewhipped or betrothed within the hour. But Papa was gone.

And so the significance of being kissed by Mr. Wilder, or lack of significance, is up to you, Jane Charlotte.

Oh, she couldn’t think a bit straight. She was so tired she knew if she took a single step she would totter just like Granny Beaudry. Her grandmother had been near eighty when they left Marion County; at the moment, Jane felt nearly as old and just as frail. She’d worked too long without stopping to rest. Had eaten nothing since her meager breakfast of toast and tea.

Had felt decidedly wobbly ever since Rydell Wilder had kissed her. All she wanted to do now was get him out of the store, away from her.

“I will arrange the chairs and the dressmaker’s mannequin later,” she announced. “Thank you, Mr. Wilder, and good afternoon.”

He straightened. “Whatever you say, Miss Davis. Lefty’ll come by tomorrow, see if you need anything. He’s pretty handy, even if he has only one good arm. Sensitive about it, though.”

“It will be a relief to have him instead of…I mean—”

Rydell chuckled. “Got your brain tied up some, I’d say.”

Jane sucked in a quick breath. “Whatever do you mean?”

“All of a sudden, your tongue doesn’t quite know which way to flap.” He grinned at her. “That’s not like you.”

“Just what gives you a harum-scarum idea like that?”

“Instinct, I guess. Woman savvy. Either you don’t like me…” His grin widened. “Or my kissing you meant something.”

Two thoughts collided in her brain at the same instant. One, she hated him. Two, she liked the kiss. “I believe,” she said with all the ice she could muster in her tone, “the former statement will suffice to explain why I want you to depart before I—”