Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose(34)

“You checking the window?” he asked.

Her glance went back to the room and the new window he’d installed. “Yes,” she lied, clutching her bag more tightly. “You did a nice job of replacing it.”

“Thanks. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Everything secure in the back?”

“Yes.”

“Then we are ready to go.” She pushed the screen door with her backside. “Please lock it.”

She waited and watched as he inserted the key, turning the lock into place. He raised his hand to place the key back in its hiding spot, but her voice stopped him.

“Wait.”

He gave her a puzzled look.

If someone was watching her house, she didn’t need to give them an easy way to get in. Thinking fast, she said, “It will be late when we return. I wonder if possibly you might keep the key in your possession until then.”

He tossed the key in the air and caught it in his hand. She watched his fingers close over it. “As you wish.”

“I do wish it.” Relief flowed through her as he stuck the key into the pocket of his trousers. Waiting for him to take her elbow, Mary Rose took some satisfaction in the thought that if someone was in the house they would not find the treasures in her box, nor would they get out without leaving further evidence of their having been inside.

****

She watched Elaine laugh and round the corner of the front desk as Trace escorted her inside.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. Good to see you, Mary Rose, Marshal. What brings you to the hotel?”

“I was hoping you could spare a bath and a room for a bit,” Mary Rose asked. “My shoulder prevents me from hauling warm water to my tub room.”

“Say no more.” Elaine reached to take the gown from Trace’s arms. “My, what a pretty thing. You wore this at the Christmas social, didn’t you?”

Mary Rose nodded. She cast a shy glance at Trace. “I, um, have a dinner function to attend tonight.”

“Oh?” Elaine’s eyebrows rose, and she too looked at Trace. “Well, let’s get you upstairs so we can gossip.”

Turning to Trace, Mary Rose said, “I’ll see you a little after five?”

“After five.” He nodded.

She turned to walk away and felt his hand upon her arm. She turned her head, and he pressed his lips against her cheek as heat rose to her face.

“I will return,” he whispered.

“Do.”

She stood in the lobby and watched him walk out into the late afternoon sun. Her heart swelled as she recalled him as he stood against the window—the wide chest, the build of his body—and the security she felt in his arms. Without thinking, she sighed. Behind her, Elaine Harmon cleared her throat.

“Care to enlighten me on what’s going on?” she asked as they walked toward the staircase.

Hesitant to say too much, Mary Rose returned Elaine’s smile. “Later, in privacy,” she began. “There are things I need to ask.”

Elaine looked baffled. “Sure, hon. We’ll go to my rooms.” With that, she led the way up the stairs and to the right, where a suite of three rooms awaited.

Behind the silk screen, Mary Rose removed her clothing, tossing her skirts over the screen and pulling her blouse from her body, as Elaine rummaged through her dresser for something.

“Here, this may work for you,” she said, tossing a flowered silk robe over the edge of the screen.

“Thanks.” The soft cloth slid over Mary Rose’s body, and she tied the sash tightly around her waist. Stepping around the screen, she watched Elaine pull the top off a container and sprinkle it across the steaming water. “What’s that?”

“Bath salts,” was the answer. “I hope you like the scent of roses.”

A smile tugged at Mary Rose’s lips. “I’ve no problem with it.”

“You slip in while I turn my back, and then we’ll talk.”

Curls of heat rose from the water brought up from the kitchen, and the scent of fresh flowers wafted through the air as her fingers tugged against the sash.

“Are you in yet?”

“No.” Mary Rose looked over her shoulder at Elaine’s back. Opening the robe, she dropped it and slipped nearly soundlessly beneath the bubbles. Closing her eyes, she laid her head against the back of the warm copper tub and sighed.

“Feels that good?”

She wanted to say, “Not as good as making love with Trace,” but she didn’t. “Yes,” she replied, giving the only safe answer.

Elaine turned and moved to the overstuffed chair by the wall. “So,” she began, as she sat. “What’s important enough that you need to speak to me privately?”

Mary Rose plucked the soap from the holder and began to build up a good lather. “It’s about Trace Castillo.”

“The marshal?” Elaine’s voice gained an octave.

Looking across the rim of the tub, she could see the twinkle in her friend’s eyes. “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I want to know the best way to get a man to say those words.”

“Words, as in, ‘Will you marry me,’ or as in, ‘I love you’?”

She stared at the bubbles on the cake of soap. Since he’d already decreed they would wed, she wanted the other. “I love you,” she replied.

“Have you kissed?”

“Yes,” she answered. Not wanting to give too much away, she coated her arm with the bubbles and rinsed them away.

“I see. I suppose the main question I should ask is do you love him?”

The steam rose from her pink skin as she pulled her knees up and, wrapping her arms around them, leaned close. “I think so,” she whispered.

“Think?” Elaine raised a brow.

Mary Rose’s own brow wrinkled. “He makes me feel things… Things I shouldn’t.” Fearing to bring up the fact that his touch could send her over the moon, or the fact that she loved the way his tongue swirled over her breasts, she concentrated on general feelings.

“Shouldn’t?”

“He ties my stomach in knots, and when we kiss I lose all concentration.”

“I see.” Elaine sat back and tapped her fingers against the arms of the chair. “Well, men are such simple creatures at times. I think if we give him a sight he’ll never forget, those words will tumble from his lips in quick fashion. The dress you picked is perfect for this little operation.” She got up and went to touch the silk hanging by the door. “By the way, I hear he’s staying over at your place. No hankie-pankie going on, is there?”

“Guarding me,” Mary Rose answered, rubbing the soap on the other arm to avoid meeting Elaine’s eagle eye. “He seems to think whoever killed Daniel is after me.”

Elaine nodded. “He’s probably right. You have to wonder if all this is wrapped up with the killing of the Willard family, with so much meanness going around.” She shook her head. “Well, never mind that. I think we might need to have that little talk mothers have with daughters.”

“What talk is that?”

Elaine smiled broadly. “It’s called ‘the birds and the bees.’”

Mary Rose bit her lips, trying not to smile, for they had gone way beyond that point. The bird had all ready flown the coop.

****

Having a few minutes to himself, Trace walked down past the saloon to the modest boarding house at the south end of town. Over the doorway stood the painted sign proclaiming it as Lucille’s, and as he drew closer he could see an older woman sitting on the porch swing, snapping beans.

“Hello,” he called out, not wanting to frighten her.

She looked up from her work. “Afternoon.”

He placed a boot on the bottom step and leaned on his thigh. “I understand Moe Horne rented a room from you.”

The woman put the bowl down beside her. “I wondered when you were gonna get around to talking to me. You’re that U.S. Marshal the town’s been buzzin’ about.”

He chuckled. “That would be me.”

She took a deep breath and wiped her hands on her apron. “I got some lemonade in the kitchen. Let’s go have a glass. I have a feelin’ there are a couple of things you need to know.”

His brows rose, arching just below his hairline. “You’re very astute,” he replied, stepping up to hold the door open for her as she gathered her things.

The woman winked. “I used to be the town’s schoolteacher. It’s in my nature to understand character.”

Her piercing gaze rolled up his frame. He squashed the urge to shiver.

“Humph. You’re a good man. The best thing we can do is put an end to this mess and get Mary Rose on stable ground. Follow me, young man.” He followed her to the kitchen of the two-story farmhouse and stood quietly as she placed the pan of beans in her sink. “Sit down.” She motioned to the chairs at the table. “We don’t stand on ceremony here.”