The Marshal's Promise. Rhonda Gibson
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to reach out and hug her to him, to absorb the softness that her sleep-filled eyes promised. But he knew that would never happen. He couldn’t allow it to.
A light pink flush filled her cheeks. “Are you hungry? Would you like for me to fix you something to eat?”
“No, I think we’d better get you home before the gossips find out how late you were here tonight.” He pushed back his chair and walked toward her, surprised when she didn’t move. He held out his hand and waited until she took it. Then he helped her from the chair.
“Thank you.” She looked up into his eyes and a small smile tilted the edge of her mouth. “I probably should have gone on home, but I was starting to worry about you. Where have you been?”
Seth liked the idea that someone worried about him. He pushed the warm feeling away and released her hand. He’d had that kind of love three years ago, but Clare had paid the ultimate price for their love. “I picked up a prisoner and took him to Durango. I’m sorry I worried you.”
Rebecca walked to the front door and pulled her shawl from the nail. “It’s all right. I know your job is a dangerous one—that’s the only reason I worried.” She opened the door.
The night had grown colder and he wondered if her shawl would be enough to keep her warm. Pulling the door closed behind him, Seth took her elbow and helped her down the three short steps. “I think we’d better talk about your hours. The thought of you walking home this late doesn’t sit well with me.”
She looked over at him. Under the moon’s light, her hair created the illusion that she had a halo over the crown of her head. “You might be right.”
“You can continue to come in the mornings at the same time, but I really think you should return home before dark.” Seth stepped up on the wooden sidewalk and helped her to do the same.
The hem of her skirt brushed the wood and snagged on a nail. Rebecca bent to work the cloth free. Her words floated up to him. “I did the first night you were gone and my roast and potatoes were ruined.” She stood. “I’m surprised you didn’t stop by to tell me you were going.”
Seth pulled his shoulders up straighter. The accusing sound of her voice struck a chord in him. Who did she think she was? His mother? Wife? Fiancée? Fresh, painful thoughts of Clare filled him once more. No, Rebecca Ramsey wasn’t his fiancée. That position had been Clare’s alone. He didn’t owe Rebecca an explanation. “I didn’t think about it.”
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