These men were far too confident, she decided. They did not think she could win. Garnet consulted the scrap of paper on which Wyatt had written the rudiments of the game. A flush. That's what she had. A consecutive hand of hearts from five to nine.
Bluffing, that's what Wyatt called it. She caught him now, his own cards hidden in his palm, watching her face. Why, he was trying to beat her, too!
"I'm not sure what to do," she lied. "I guess I might as well do what everyone else is doing."
"If you aren't sure, you may want to sit out the hand," Reardon said from across the table, speaking as if she were an eight-year-old.
She picked up three of the same color chips she'd seen Wyatt use and tossed them onto the growing pile in the center of the table. "I'll see you." And nervously bit her lip.
Now the betting had gone to the man at her other elbow, who raised the ante even higher.
Goodness. How much were those little chips worth? Wyatt hadn't said when he'd poured nearly a dozen into her hands.
"I'll call." Reardon puffed on his cigar, eyes ambiguous.
Wyatt laid down his cards. Pairs of tens. Reardon laid down his. A flush of clubs from four to eight.
"You're getting rusty, Tanner." Reardon laughed as he reached for the pot.
"You forgot about the lady." Wyatt's rum-smooth voice rumbled over her.
"What do you have, dear?" Reardon asked, speaking as if she were too simpleminded to understand.
But she smiled. "A good enough hand to beat you."
When she laid down her cards, the men–all but Reardon–burst into laughter. Winston at her left patted her on the back with bold congratulations. Beeks across the table lifted his shot glass in a merry toast. But Wyatt, he just looked at her with eyes so full of pride, it made her heart stop.
"Well done," he said, and those were the sweetest words she had ever heard. His praise, his regard meant the world. "Don't forget to take your winnings."
"All that?" She stared at the big pile of chips. Gosh, she'd never imagined she might win money. She'd only wanted to prove to those men she wasn't easy to out-smart.
It was Wyatt who leaned forward and scooped up the chips for her.
"It's my deal," Beeks announced as the room grew quiet. "Seems our little lady is gathering some attention."
It was true, Garnet realized when she looked up. Many bystanders had collected a small distance from the table to watch the game. Many of them were handsome young men. Some smiled at her. Goodness. Were they flirting with her?
"She's just suffering from beginner's luck." Reardon tapped the ashes from his cigar. "We'll win back our money and they'll lose interest."
Her pride prickled. When she looked at her cards, she was disappointed. It wasn't the hand she had hoped for.
"Three cards, please," she told Beeks, who dealt her three more. That was much better. But to fool her fellow players, she tried to look really disappointed.
"You can stop anytime you want," Wyatt whispered in her ear. "But of course everyone will think you won because you were lucky, not smart."
She laughed. "I know what you're doing, Wyatt." He had figured out a way to be with her and play poker with his buddies. Well, she couldn't fault him for it. She was having fun.
When everyone laid down their cards, she surprised them all again. Her pair of queens had them all beat, even Wyatt with his pair of jacks. Again, that pride gleamed in his dark eyes, and she felt happy. Truly happy.
She sipped her sarsaparilla and knew she would do anything just to see that look in his eyes, so beautiful and true, and all for her.
* * *
"I can't believe I did so well," she breathed as they burst into the room. Those poker chips were heavy in her reticule, jangling and clanging as she walked.
"I'm not surprised." Wyatt's dimpled smile took her breath away.
"I never thought I would have so much fun!" She'd lost a few hands, but won even more, and the thrill of trying to make the best of whatever hand she'd been dealt had grown on her.
"Now do you see why men gamble?"
"Well, they oughtn't gamble the grocery money away if they have wives and children." She couldn't stop herself, then she laughed. "Fine. It's a fun game. Especially when you win."
She upended her reticule and dumped out her chips onto the bed. "Let's see. Here are your chips back. Four each of the red, blue, and white."
He tried to decline, but she wouldn't hear of it. Soon, she was looking at a small pile that represented her winnings, maybe twenty-five or so. She'd earned this by her wits and her intelligence, however little it was. "How much money did I win?"
"Let me count it." He thumbed through the pile. "Five thousand, two hundred dollars."
"
What
?" Her knees buckled. "Stop joking with me, Wyatt. That isn't funny."
"It's no joke. You were in a high-stakes poker game tonight. No penny-ante players."
"
Five thousand dollars
. I have five thousand dollars. I can't believe it."
"You've earned enough money to go home in style. And then some."
That wasn't what she was going to say. But she could not deny the truth in his words. The joy in her heart ebbed, like foam from a midnight shore. She ought to be happy about the money she'd won, and she was. She was just more sad at the prospect of leaving Wyatt.
Then came his deep voice, soft as a caress. "Now that you're fairly wealthy, I hope you will still speak to a lowly prospector like me."
She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, refusing to speak her feelings, refusing to meet his eyes.
He touched her chin with his thumb. "Can it be? Have you been rendered speechless?"
She blushed. "No, I just ... I want . . . Ooh." She laughed, a wonderful breezy sound that chased away the last doubts in his heart. She turned to untie her bonnet, and lamplight shimmered in the cascade of her ebony hair. She had left it down tonight, curled loose around her face.
He ached to wind his fingers deep into those midnight curls. How could he not remember the sweet aching brush of her kiss? Or the enticing taste of her breasts? How could he not want more of her?
When he spoke, his voice came gruff and scratchy. "With this snowstorm, the stages will shut down. Travel across the mountains would be too risky."
A soft blush colored her cheeks. How beautiful she looked. "I suppose I can't make any decisions until the snow stops."
"Yes." They would have this night together. He fought the urge to draw her to his chest, tuck her against his heart, and never let her go. She wasn't his to hold onto.
She took a breath, held it as if ready to change her mind. Then, she spoke. "I suppose we might as well stay here for tonight. Together. Since it's so cold out in that stable. I would hate for you to catch a chill."
Somehow she was in his arms. She felt like forever. She felt like home.
"I was betting you would invite me to stay," he whispered now, because he could not find his voice.
She gazed up at him, her smile mysterious. "I was betting, too." Her mouth opened, but she said nothing more. She didn't have to. He could read it in her eyes. She wanted him. The same way he wanted her.
The knowledge made him bold. He brushed her sweet mouth with his. She tipped her head back, parting her lips. Moist and open, her kisses . . . and passionate, how passionate. His body responded to her. Desire and affection mingled together in a sweet burn, hotter than whiskey, brighter than anything he had ever known before.
"Wyatt." Her warm breath fanned his neck just above his shirt collar. Just when he expected her to tighten her hold on him, she took a step away.
"You don't like my kisses?" he asked.
"Yes, I–" She blushed, then covered her face with both hands. "I shouldn't be doing this, you know, sharing the night with you."
"Then you need to be sure it's what you want. I don't want you to have any regrets, Garnet. If you would rather, we don't have to be intimate. We can just sleep." He took a breath, hoping that wasn't what she wanted.
"I don't want to sleep."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely." The slight nod of her head made her lustrous hair brush over her shoulders, over her breasts. "I feel as if I've been waiting for you all my life."
"So do I." All the years of emptiness, of simply existing faded. As if they were two lost halves found, he stepped toward her, reaching out his hand. "I've never wanted a woman the way I want you."
"Oh." Great tears filled her eyes, brimming over. She could hardly see him, but she didn't need to. He was part of her heart, her soul.
His mouth closed over hers again, hard and possessive. The world faded until there was only him, the iron wall of his chest, the whisper of his breath mingling with hers, and his kiss. Oh, his kiss. She loved how his tongue brushed the inside of her mouth with velvet strokes.
Desire twisted through her, a desire that made her feel light and airy, like morning sunshine, like fluffy white clouds in an afternoon sky. Wyatt nibbled her chin, and she laughed. His hands brushed down her arms and, taking her hands, he backed her toward the bed.
She sat down and gazed up at him, at this man she cared for so much. He wanted her. The realization brought tears to her eyes and an ache to her heart. Anyone could see his honest affection. Anyone could see how his hands shook when he knelt down to unbutton her shoes.
If she wanted to stop this, now would be the time, but Garnet could only smile at the man pulling off her shoes, then her socks.
"You have nice toes," he said.
"You're bluffing."
"Never when it comes to you." A grin touched the corner of his mouth and she kissed it, tasting that lopsided smile she adored so much.
Her heart had never felt this light, this carefree. Her breath caught when he sat on the bed beside her, the feather mattress dipping at his greater weight, tilting her toward him.
He laid his hand against her jaw, a tender touch that made her heart flutter. She wanted his touch. She wanted so much. He loosened her buttons. Feeling the gaping fabric, she laid back on the bed. He slid the dress from her shoulders and the sleeves down her arms. The material puddled around her waist, leaving only the camisole. He leaned on one elbow, gazing down at her, not at the lacy undergarment but at her face, her eyes.
She reached up and unbuttoned his shirt. Maybe it was too bold, but she wanted to see him. She wanted to touch him. The fabric parted to reveal his textured chest. Muscles contoured the length of his torso, so different from hers. Where she was soft, he was hard and muscled. His skin was brushed with a scattering of dark hair. She curled her fingers through that black mat.
"You aren't wearing all those underthings women usually wear." His voice came husky and low.
"My corset was wet from our trail ride."
"Then I only need to remove this and you'll be mine?" He tugged at her camisole strap.
She could only nod. He slid the straps from her shoulders, and material slipped over her breasts and bunched at her waist. Her heart stopped beating as she lay half naked before him, exposed to his scrutiny. She knew she ought to be embarrassed, but how could she be? Not when he was gazing at her as if she were beautiful, truly beautiful. He made her feel that way.
His callused hands smoothed gently over her breasts. Garnet shivered. He touched her and made fire. He kissed her and sparks turned into flames. Burning now, Garnet shivered when he cupped her breasts with his big hands, shaping her, caressing her, covering one peaked nipple with his mouth.
She gasped. Sensation rocketed through her and coiled low in her abdomen. Wyatt nibbled one breast and then the other, tugging deliciously on the aroused peaks. She closed her eyes and basked in the pleasure. If only she could keep her hands still. They swept over the curves of his muscled shoulders, down the hardness of his back, across the span of his chest.
Affection overwhelmed her, and she felt restless. Unable to simply lay still, Garnet wrapped her arms around his neck and arched her breast into his mouth. Groaning, he suckled harder. Sharp shafts of pleasure speared through her. She throbbed down low, where a hot dampness was collecting between her thighs. She shifted her hips, but the tightness in her abdomen only increased. She rained kisses along his forehead, then licked the crest of his ear. When he groaned, she did it again.
He chuckled and reached up to catch her mouth with his. Passion ruled this kiss. His tongue drove over hers with a rhythmic fierceness that matched the growing wildness inside her. Garnet held on, delighting in the feel of his hands caressing her breasts, then her ribs, then beneath the puddle of clothes at her waist.
"Take this off." His lips brushed her with words and heated breath. "I want to see all of you. I've been wanting it for so long."
"How long?" she asked. Lifting a hand, she brushed a lock of his soft, wayward hair from his eyes.
He grinned like a demon-man, like the very devil himself. "Since I first looked at your thigh."
"I was an injured woman."
"I couldn't help myself." His strong fingers grasped at the clothes separating them. "You were wounded and couldn't run from me."
She laughed. He was teasing her. "I can run away now."
"Do you want to?"
