Morrow Creek Runaway. Lisa Plumley
Читать онлайн книгу.
was in fighting spirits.
He needed a counterattack. Something more effective than a cuddly puppy. With unswerving deliberation, Miles found one.
“I have a confession to make.” Still standing with his hat in his hands, he looked up. “I am Miles Callaway.”
Rosamond’s self-assured expression flickered. Only for a moment, but it did. The same as it had outside with Riley.
He’d known she’d love that puppy. He’d also known she believed he’d forgotten all the girlish dreams and hopes for the future she’d confided in him. But Miles hadn’t forgotten a thing. Not when it came to Rosamond. His memories of her had driven him here. They’d kept him going on trains and on foot.
“I know that probably doesn’t mean a thing to you,” he went on, more disingenuously this time, “since you say you aren’t the Rose he knew, and you didn’t know him—I mean, me—yourself. But I heard how hard it was to get in to see you, so—”
“So you thought you’d lie to me?”
“No. I never lied to you.” Miles thumbed his hat brim, buying thinking time. “Maybe some of what I said was misleading, and for that, I apologize. But this was important to me—”
“Infiltrating my household was ‘important’? Sidestepping my guards and stealing the loyalty of my children was ‘important’?”
“Interesting that you’d say they’re your children.”
Was, Miles wondered, one of them really her child?
It could have happened. Arvid Bouchard believed it had.
For the first time, Rosamond appeared flustered. She flashed Miles an impatient look, then paced across the parlor’s wide pine floorboards. “They’re as much mine as any I would ever have. I love them just the same. And it’s none of your business, besides. My household is my own, to run as I see fit.”
“Of course. You’ve done an admirable job of it, too.”
She stopped, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for the armchair’s support. She seemed...moved. “Yes. I have!”
Miles grinned. The sprightly housemaid he knew would have sounded exactly that proud of herself for her accomplishments.
“Most people don’t say so, though,” Rosamond went on. “In fact, you’re the only one who has. No one here knows exactly where I started, how far I’ve come—” Her gaze met his, full of tremulous pride, then whisked away as she took up pacing again. Deliberately, she changed the subject. “If you’re Miles Callaway, why didn’t you say so yesterday?”
He’d already explained the difficulty in getting an appointment with her. Now, Miles added, “I can only blame the discombobulating effects of whatever you dosed me with.”
“Hmm.” Undeterred by his teasing, Rosamond surveyed him. She was indomitable, he’d give her that. “If you’re that susceptible to intoxicants, I hope you’ll stay away from the high-stakes faro games in town. You won’t stand a chance against the cardsharps who arrive for the occasional tournaments we host here. Even Jack Murphy’s saloon is full of men who’d as likely pick your pocket as share an ale with you.”
“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”
As though evaluating that claim, Rosamond moved her attention southward. Her gaze encompassed his chest and his arms...and the region where another man would have worn a gun belt, too. The innocent housemaid he’d known would not have done that. Miles couldn’t help wondering if she approved of what she glimpsed. Her friend, Miss Yates, certainly had. But before he could discern the same of Rosamond, she turned hastily away.
“You look it. Hale and hearty and strong. Probably this ‘Rose’ of yours would be glad to see you looking so well.”
He hoped she was. He hoped she dreamed of him, the same way he dreamed of her. Last night had been...fitful, to say the least.
“Maybe. I’ve decided to give up on looking for her.”
Rosamond wheeled to face him, her brows arched. “Really?”
Miles shrugged. “Sometimes folks don’t want to be found.”
A nod. “Sometimes they shouldn’t be found.”
“Sometimes a man’s got to know when he’s licked.”
Another nod. She lifted her face to his. “That’s true.”
Had her chin just wobbled? Were those tears in her eyes?
Miles couldn’t hesitate to wonder why his supposed abandonment of his search was affecting Rosamond so strongly. He pushed onward, knowing that he had to brazen out this encounter if he was to have any hope of succeeding. “That’s why I came here today,” he said. “To say goodbye.”
Her mouth dropped open. Her brows knit. “Goodbye?”
“Yes. The puppy—Riley—was a goodbye gift.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t want to leave you unprotected in my absence.”
“Of course.”
“Also, you seemed as though you could use some uncomplicated affection in your life.”
That revived her. “You don’t know anything about me.”
He remembered everything they’d shared and knew she was lying. “I think we both know that’s not true.”
Their gazes met. Rosamond broke that contact first. In the game of cat and mouse they were playing, she wanted to win.
“You’re suggesting something that’s preposterous. You don’t know the woman I am. It’s better for you if you never do.” Rosamond squared her shoulders, then inhaled. “I asked you here to my parlor to tell you, privately, that you have to leave.”
Her confident tone would have fooled another man.
Miles was different. He took a step closer. “Go ahead, then.” He gestured with his hat. “Tell me I have to leave.”
Rosamond wavered. He’d known she would. “I—”
“Tell me you want me gone, and I’ll leave forever.”
That appeared to stymie her. “If you’re leaving anyway, why did you bother to tell me the truth about who you are?”
Because I wanted you to trust me. But Miles couldn’t say that, so instead he shrugged. “I had to tell you. Just to see what you’d do. It’s a bad habit of mine, being curious.” For so long, he’d been curious about her. “I reckoned that any woman who’s contrary enough to refuse a puppy would have an interesting reaction to a revelation like my name.”
“I see. And have I satisfied your expectations?”
Not in the least. He still wanted to see her smile again, to hear her laugh, to know that she wanted him there simply because she wanted him, not because he’d maneuvered her into doing it. But since beggars couldn’t be choosers...
“Partly. My expectations are partly satisfied,” Miles conceded. “I guess we’ll never know what could have been.”
She was audacious enough to agree. “I guess we won’t.”
Against all reason, he admired Rosamond for her spirit. It turned out that she possessed even more resilience than anyone had credited her with. Given the conditions they’d put up with at the Bouchard household, that was saying a great deal.
“Take care, Mrs. Dancy.” He put on his hat, then headed for the door. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. I would have liked to have joined your society—to have courted one very special woman.”
He meant her, of course. Rosamond divined as much and appeared flummoxed by it. Typically, she