Ain't No Angel (21 page)

Is that the kind of life you want for yourself, Laney?

It’s what she’d almost done, had she not met the reverend. She bit back the tears that pooled in her eyes. Inhaling deeply, she continued on her way back to the livery. She’d have to come up with some excuse if Tyler was looking for her.

Myra still sat with her group of ladies when Laney stepped back into the circle of light in the yard. The young prostitute’s haunting eyes wouldn’t leave her thoughts.

You’ve been given a chance to keep that from happening to you, Laney. The times might be different, but the circumstances aren’t.

Someone reached for her arm, and Laney spun around to stand face to face with Tyler. Her eyes widened briefly in panic, then she relaxed and gazed up at him. The truth of what she read there in his dark stare startled her anew. A look that she’d yearned for, one that had eluded her through so many failed relationships, smoldered in those brown depths. Her heart jolted, and raced fiercely in her chest, then melted as she stared at the truth in front of her; as she stared at her future. Tyler was in love with her.

Chapter 20

 “Where have you been?”

Tyler’s forehead creased. The haunted look in Laney’s eyes disturbed him. He’d finally excused himself from Ben Sockum, who was eager to talk grain prices with him, and the trouble he’d heard about concerning the sick horses. When he hadn’t seen Laney with the other women who surrounded Myra Hansen, a quick jolt of dread had washed over him. Tyler shook off his irrational worry. Nearly losing her in that fire was still too fresh in his mind.

Laney’s eyes darted around, and she avoided looking at him.

“I . . . I had to use the bath . . . outhouse,” she stammered.

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” He leaned toward her. The soft scent of her rose water teased his senses. His hand slid up her bare arm under her shawl, her quick intake of breath sending a wave of warmth to rush through him. He couldn’t stop looking at her. The flicker of lantern lights reflected in her blue eyes, making them shimmer like a mountain lake on a sunny afternoon. If they weren’t in the presence of so many people at the moment, he’d have her in his arms, and kiss her until she melted against him.

For nearly a week, he’d stayed away from her. He’d barely been given the chance to speak to her, much less touch her. Myra Hansen was worse than a bear on fresh kill. Tyler had no plans of coming to Laney’s bed or taking advantage of her while she was recovering from her ordeal in the fire, but Widow Hansen acted as if he was a randy colt with only one thing on his mind.

Laney drew in a deep breath. She winced slightly. A sudden determination flashed in her eyes, replaced by a spark of some emotion that set his heart to beating faster. She favored him with a smile that made his insides melt and ignite in a burst of hot fire all at once. “I think I feel just fine,” she whispered, and reached for his arm. “Let’s go wish Myra a happy birthday.”

Tugging at his shirt, she led the way to where the widow sat with her gaggle of lady friends. Reluctantly, he followed. He’d never get enough of just looking at his wife, and he would much rather just stand off in the shadows of the festivities with her and explore what he briefly glimpsed in her eyes.

Laney stood out from all other women. There was something different about her, something so incredibly alluring that none of the wives of his friends and neighbors possessed. She acted in ways that were unconventional, and could be considered scandalous by some. Her speech was perplexing at times, while her behavior had him either shaking his head one moment, smiling for joy the next, or seething in anger. She certainly didn’t want to dress like a lady, and she seemed to know more about horses than even he did sometimes. Rather than be put off by it all, his attraction, admiration, and love for her grew with each passing day.

Laney preferred to wear her hair tied back with a simple string, or more often, completely unbound. She was the only woman here tonight whose long strands flowed free and natural down her back without the confines of countless pins. He’d caught the looks of disapproval from several of the women when they saw her, but she didn’t seem to have taken notice. The corners of his lips twitched. Although she’d worn her hair in an elaborate style the day she’d arrived, he liked it better the way she kept it now. One day soon, he would be running his fingers through that blonde mane of hers, and . . .

 “Well, it’s about time you come and visit with me.” Myra beamed. Her eyes widened, and she wore a satisfied look on her face. She glanced from him to Laney, and her gaze lingered for a moment on his wife’s unbound hair. Her forehead wrinkled for a split second, and Tyler braced for a sharp reprimand from the old woman about propriety.

Instead, Widow Hansen clasped her hands to her chest. “Didn’t I say that she’s the prettiest thing this town has ever seen?” She glanced toward her friends, who all spoke at once, and Tyler introduced Laney to the eager women.

“You come and sit with me for a minute, Laney, while your husband goes and brings us some punch.” Myra stared up at Tyler. He nodded wordlessly. Of course the widow would try and steal his wife away from him again. Once this evening was over, there would be no more interruptions. He’d have her all to himself from now on. His eyes lingered on Laney for a moment. Her amused gaze was infectious, and he winked at her before he turned and headed for the punch bowl.

Myra’s friends assaulted Laney with one question after another by the time he returned with two cups of the sweet drink. She looked decidedly uncomfortable, and dodged questions about her life back east and why she had traveled so far from all she’d known. Tyler studied her. She’d always refused to answer his questions whenever talk had moved to her life in the big city. What was she hiding? Perhaps it was time he confronted her about it. If she had led a questionable life as he’d suspected, he wanted to let her know that it didn’t matter to him.

Behind him, people clapped loudly, and the lively reel that had played up until now stopped. Moments later, the music changed to a slower, softer tune.

Myra stood and leaned toward him. She whispered in his ear. “Why don’t you dance with your wife, Tyler?”

Tyler shook his head. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d danced with anyone. He gave a nervous laugh. “I don’t know if she’s ready to do any dancing, Myra. She’s been through quite an ordeal.”

Myra waved her hand in front of her. “Nonsense. You bring a woman to a dance, she’s gonna expect that you dance with her.”

When he shook his head again, she leaned forward, and shot him a stern look. “I’ve known you since you were knee high to a tadpole, Tyler Monroe. Humor this old woman. My son has chosen to remain a bachelor, and since I’m fond of you as if you were my second son, that leaves you to give me some grandbabies to hold on my lap before I die.”

Tyler’s eyebrows rose. For the past week, the old woman had treated Laney as if she was preparing her to enter a convent. Now she was suggesting that he get amorous with his wife?

“If only I had the opportunity to have one last dance with my George.” Myra sighed dramatically. “You never know when that moment will come when you are separated forever.  You need to cherish the time you have together and make the most of every minute.”

Tyler stole a glance toward Laney. He planned to make every moment with her count from now on, and he definitely wasn’t going to lose her anytime soon. If he’d read that look in her eyes from a few moments ago correctly, she was ready to move forward in their relationship. The image of her lifeless body in that burning barn flashed before him. Laney met his gaze at that moment, and the pleading in her eyes spurred him to action. Time to rescue her from the gaggle of nosy women.

He stepped forward, and wordlessly reached for her hand. Pulling her from the middle of the group of hens, he led her toward the dance floor. Half a dozen couples moved slowly in tune to the soft melody of fiddle and harmonica music. Tyler flashed his wife a smile, and hoped he wouldn’t make a complete fool out of himself.

Laney’s eyes darted from him to the dancing couples. “I don’t think I know how to dance like this, Tyler,” she said, uncertainty in her voice.

His grin widened. “Then that makes two of us. I just thought this was the best excuse to get you away from those women.”

Her face lit up in a bright smile, and Tyler’s heart exploded in his chest. He stepped onto the wooden dance floor, and reached for Laney’s waist with one hand, his other hand wrapped firmly around hers. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, and moved stiffly along when he guided her further onto the dance floor.  Try as he might, he couldn’t match his feet to the slow rhythm of the music, and Laney didn’t seem to know where to step, either. When he turned her to the left, the tip of his boot kicked her foot.

“Ouch,” she hissed.

Tyler mumbled a quick apology, his hand squeezing hers. His entire body tensed. Laney pulled him to a stop, and slid her hand out of his grasp. She stepped closer, and her arms snaked around his neck.

Tyler shot a quick look around the area. None of the other couples stood this close. There was a respectable distance between each of them, with plenty of daylight between their bodies.

“This isn’t going to work, is it?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Where I come from, this is how we slow dance,” Laney whispered. “I’ve never liked ballroom dancing. Too stiff and formal, if you ask me.” Her hands tightened behind his neck. “We don’t even have to do much except sway back and forth. We won’t step on each other’s feet this way.”

Tyler didn’t understand some of her words. She spoke in her perplexing phrases again. Unsure of where to put his now free hand, he settled it against her waist. The moment he made contact with her, she leaned more fully into him. Her body swayed slowly back and forth, gliding against the front of his thighs and chest. She moved in time with the slow sounds of a violin. Her feet barely left the ground. His grip at her waist tightened involuntarily. Tyler swallowed. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chill in the evening air.

Laney gazed up at him, and the intense emotion written in her eyes was almost his undoing. Damn! They stood in the middle of the dance floor in an embrace that should be reserved for the bedroom, with the entire town watching. She seemed completely at ease with the idea.

Tyler relaxed. She was his wife. What did it matter how close they stood? He lost himself in her eyes. The music faded around him.
His hands lingered at her waist, and his fingers tingled to life. The warmth of her skin filtered through the taffeta fabric of the sky blue gown she wore. While the dress was appropriately fashioned, bustled at the back, and draped in layers down the skirt, Tyler would eat his belt buckle if his wife had a corset on under the bodice.

He slowly swayed his hips back and forth in tune with hers, following the lead of her movements, and stared down into her soft blue eyes. His arms slowly wound more firmly around her waist, and he drew her closer. The only thing that separated their bodies was the fabric of their clothes, and Tyler’s gut tightened. Every inch of him tingled to life where her body molded to his.

Tyler’s gaze dropped to her partially exposed shoulders and neck where the shawl she draped around her back had slipped. The dress was modestly cut in a v-shape, but worn slightly off the shoulder, the material just low enough to show the swell of her breasts, which were now crushed firmly against his chest.

Laney glanced up at him, an unspoken question in her eyes. Tyler swallowed. He hadn’t stood this close to her in days, hell, in a week, if ever. He certainly hadn’t held her this tight when he kissed her the day before the fire, and they didn’t have any onlookers then.

Tyler breathed in the subtle fragrance of her hair. He missed her other, more alluring, scent from the day she’d arrived in Landry.

For fear he might lose his sanity, he whispered, “Henrietta did a fine job on such short notice. Her sewing skills are to be commended.”

“You’ve already said that.” Laney smiled up at him. “It’s a beautiful dress. Myra has good taste and knows her fashion.”

Tyler’s eyes roamed the contours of her face. A faint red gash remained where the colt had kicked her, but her loose hair covered up most of it. The corners of his lips curved upward. He leaned forward.

“I’d bet my best saddle that you’d rather be wearing my old britches right now than this fancy garb,” he whispered against her cheek.

“Tyler Monroe.” Laney gasped and eased her hold around his neck to lean away from him slightly. The sparkle in her eyes brought a renewed tightening to his gut. “I thought you weren’t a betting man.” She paused. Her head tilted slightly to the side, and her smile turned mischievous. “Would you have let me wear pants to the party?” she asked, and shot a coy look up at him from beneath her lashes. His heart beat faster at her teasing words.

“Mrs. Monroe, I don’t know what kind of spell you’ve cast over me, but I don’t think I’m capable of denying you anything,” he rasped. His jaw muscles tightened. His mind spun wildly. His restraint to kiss her at this moment was about to falter. He’d never exercised such willpower in his life.

The smile vanished from her face, and she studied him intently. The warmth in her eyes burned straight into him. Desire, and . . . dare he hope, love shone in those blue depths, along with a look of disbelief. She dropped her gaze at that moment, as if she realized he had seen something she didn’t want him to see. She leaned her head against his chest, and renewed heat washed over him. Her hands and arms clung to his neck as if she was holding on for dear life, and Tyler gathered her more firmly against him. His hands slid slowly up and down along her sides, his fingers memorizing every curve and contour. He closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the top of hers. Propriety be damned. Nothing had ever felt more right than holding this woman in his arms at this moment.