Dancing With the Devil (6 page)

Panic sparked in Rhea’s veins. “Like what?”

“To start with, you’re going to stop wearing widow’s black. You wanted to play a married woman, so that’s what you’re going to play. You’re a woman in love with her husband—more so now that he’s miraculously come back from the dead. You’ll be seen together in town, and you’ll damn well live under the same roof.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Colin. The three of us c an’t possibly live here—it’s too small.”

“You got that right. The two of you can go set up house above that blasted store.”

“What?” Rhea’s throat instantly constricted. “I can’t live with him by myself—it’s not proper.”

“What’s not proper?” Colin roared. “You’re married!”

“But people will think—”

“You’re damn right that’s what they’re going to think, and why shouldn’t they?” Black anger glared at her and Deacon. “They’re still jawing on you two from the last time he was here.”

“I—”

“Don’t.” Colin stopped Deacon cold. “You ruined my sister, and if she hadn’t convinced everyone that the two of you up ’n married in Houston, I’d have chased you to Hell and back to make sure you did right by her. She might have done wrong by you with this sham of a marriage, but you ain’t exactly innocent, either.”

Deacon stiffened. “While I admire your devotion to your sister, rest assured I did not ruin her.”

“No?” Colin grunted out a snort. “Well, you sure as hell didn’t do much to protect her, did you?”

“What are you talking about?” Rhea stepped between the two men. “I don’t need him to protect me.”

“Well you need someone to do it! Everyone in town saw the way you let him touch you, for God’s sake.” Colin’s face twisted into a look of complete disgust. “And if that’s how you let him behave in public, it doesn’t take much to guess what went on when the two of you were out here alone.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Rhea reached to touch him, but he pulled away.

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” He grimaced. “With him back, it’ll give you a chance to silence some of that infernal tongue-waggin’.”

He stormed out of the house, slamming the door hard enough to make the window rattle. In the quiet that followed, Deacon dropped back in his chair, scraped up every last bit of egg and then finished off Colin’s ham as well.

“The man’s right, you know.”

“Don’t—”

“You’ve put him in a bit of a predicament, what with him being the law and all.” Deacon slouched back against the chair and started to cross his arms over his chest, but after a sharp wince, decided against it. “Seems only right that you do what ever he says until we can clear up this mess.”

She snapped up the plates and forks and tossed them none-too-gently into the washtub. Everything had been fine yesterday morning, right up until the smug little devil walked through her front gate.

“Why aren’t you angry about this?” she asked. “Any other man would be furious about what I did.”

“Colin’s right,” he said, offering her a look of pathetic false innocence. “I did wrong by you the last time I was here, and I regret the trouble it caused.”

“You have a regret?” She snorted, then turned her back to him. The blasted dishes wouldn’t wash themselves. “Since when?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, but when he did, his voice was softer than she’d ever heard it—almost to the point of being emotional. Almost.

“Rhea. You know who I am and what my limitations are. But good or bad, surely you must know how much I enjoy you.”

“Enjoy me?” A sound, half laugh, half choke, ripped from Rhea’s throat before she could stop it. “How flattering that you consider me part of your life’s entertainment.”

“Oh come on now.” He covered the distance separating them in less than two strides and stood close behind her. Too close. “You had some fun with me, too.”

His scent tickled her nose, his voice a whisper against her neck, and though he didn’t actually touch her, his warmth surrounded her, blanketing her in that all-too familiar sensation that she was melting right where she stood.

“Yes,” she admitted when she found her voice. “We had some fun. But that was a long time ago.”

“Not long enough that either one of us forgets what it felt like.” His words caressed her skin, leaving shivers in their wake.

Rhea gripped the edge of the washbowl, trying to steady herself. “I remember it well,” she murmured.

He trailed his finger along the side of her neck, lifting a strand of hair, and breathed a kiss just below her ear.

“I also remember what it felt like when you took up with Salma, then left without so much as an apology or a good-bye.” She shrugged him away and then stumbled out of his reach. “I can’t go through that again.”

“Rhea…” He stepped toward her, that damn crooked smile of his doing its best to win her over again. “That night with Salma—”

“Don’t.” Taking a breath, she found her balance and looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t want to talk about her. I just need to know if you will do as you said and stay long enough for us to figure a way out of this mess I’ve created.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

She took in a long slow breath and exhaled it even slower. “I would be…” The words stuck on her tongue.

“You’d be what?” His grin widened, his blue eyes taunting her.

Fine, she’d say it. Let him have his fun. It was only a matter of time before he’d leave again, anyway, and then she wouldn’t have to put up with his teasing and prodding.

“Grateful,” she ground out. “I’d be grateful.”

“There,” he said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You have no idea.” She shoved past him and went back to work on the dishes, but his quiet laughter followed her.

“Be that as it may, if we’re going to be married, you’re going to have to at least pretend to trust me again.”

It took her a second to swallow the lump that began to build in her throat. “I don’t know if I can.”

He seemed to ponder that for a moment, his smile fading, his head cocked slightly to the side. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“And I’m sorry I’ve put you in the middle of this predicament,” she said, offering a silent prayer of thanks her voice hadn’t cracked. “But like I said, I never in a million years expected to see you again.”

“I know,” he said softly.

Rhea lifted her shoulder in a small shrug. Not only had he left that night without so much as a good-bye, but before he left, he’d made a spectacle of himself as he climbed the stairs to Salma’s room at the saloon.

Every man there had seen it, including Colin.

“That wasn’t—” An odd look came over Deacon’s face then; on a human, she’d have known it to be honest-to-goodness remorse, but on him, she couldn’t be sure. “I can explain about that night.”

“There’s nothing to explain. You are who you are, and I should have expected as much.” She cleared her throat past the lump that wouldn’t go away and forced the starch back into her voice. “What I didn’t expect was to be made a laughingstock. So while I’m sorry this
sham marriage can no longer be kept a secret, I’m sorrier that I find myself needing your help.”

She turned to face him, hands on her hips, her voice as even as she could manage. “So can I depend on you? Will you pretend to love me until we sort through this?”

“I’ll do my best.” His grin returned as he snapped the dish towel out of her hands. “I suppose the next best thing to having you for real is pretending for a while. What more could a man want?”

A chill twisted up Rhea’s spine. Knowing Deacon, he’d want more—a helluva lot more.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

D
eacon slipped the key into the lock and pushed the door open. It banged against the steep slant of the ceiling, making it impossible to open the door completely. He waved Rhea in ahead of him, then ducked to avoid cracking his head on the door frame.

Her description of the room above the store had been a slight exaggeration. It wasn’t small. It was downright tiny.

To the immediate left, a wide cot ran the entire length of the room. The bed was unmade, but there were two matching gray blankets tossed in a heap at the foot and two thick white pillows at the head.

Deacon tried to suppress his grin. Two of them and only one bed.
Interesting.

A small mirror hung on the opposite wall, and below it stood a circular table about the size of a large serving plate, upon which sat a blue washbasin and matching pitcher. A hardback rocking chair was near the large window, and two large brass hooks hung on the wall adjacent to the door.

Deacon took one step inside the room and stopped. “Home sweet home.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Rhea muttered, setting
her small carpetbag on the bed. “Hopefully we won’t be here long.”

Two steps took her to the rocking chair, which she shifted slightly so she could see out the window while she rocked. Or maybe it was to avoid having to look at him; Deacon couldn’t be sure.

She leaned her head back against the solid wood and eased the chair into a smooth gentle rhythm. A warm afternoon breeze fluttered through the thin white curtains, bringing with it the rank odors of horses and leather mixed with dust and wood shavings.

Rhea closed her eyes and breathed deeply. For the first time since he’d arrived, she almost looked relaxed.

“Don’t you love the smell of spring?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Deacon frowned and moved next to her so he could see out to the street below. “If by ‘spring’ you mean dust and horse sweat, then no.”

The town was alive with the hustle of people running their daily errands. A young couple, hurrying up the street, shot furtive glances over their shoulders before disappearing around the corner of the livery. A little girl in a bright blue dress and matching bonnet skipped down the boardwalk with her mother, both of their faces animated with excitement.

What could possibly give two people so much joy?

Deacon shook his head slightly. Humans were an odd bunch. And speaking of odd…

“Tell me,” he said, turning to face Rhea, “if this room’s been here all along, why haven’t you or Colin moved in? It’d be much more convenient than going out to the house all the time.”

“Colin won’t come up here.”

“Why not?”

Rhea shrugged. “Most of the time, I can’t even get him to come into the store.”

Interesting.

“Then why don’t you live here?”

“And leave Colin by himself?” she retorted, her voice distant. “You’ve seen him. He needs someone to look after him.”

Deacon fought back a snort. The only thing Colin needed was a sharp kick in the backside and a long hot bath. At least this morning he’d taken the bath, so that only left the sharp kick. Maybe Deacon could help him out with that.

“Seems to me—” he began, but Rhea cut him off.

“I have work to do.” In one fluid motion, she was off the chair and heading for the door, her sunshine-yellow skirt swishing around her legs.

“Good. I’ll help.” He almost collided with her when she stopped in front of him. Her soft, clean smell distracted him for a moment, tempting him to lean closer and inhale the scent straight off her skin, maybe from that spot right below her ear.

Giving himself a hard mental shake, he righted himself and grinned down at her. “Nice to see you wearing something other than black, by the way. It’s not your color.”

“I don’t need your help.” If the distrust in her eyes wasn’t enough, it practically seeped from her voice.

“Of course you do. So long as we’re married, what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours.” He tipped his head a little and grinned wider. “Of course, I don’t actually own anything, so I suppose it’s more accurate to say what’s yours is ours.”

Using the tip of her index finger against his chest, she shoved him none-too-gently back into the center of the
room. “You listen to me, Deacon.” Anger snapped in her eyes as her finger jabbed him over and over again. “We are
not
married, and once I can figure a way out, we can end this charade.”

“Just remember,” he countered, loving her fiery glare, “you’re the one who started
this charade
.” She would have made a great devil.

“I remember just fine, thank you very much.” Her glare hardened and her spine stiffened. “But if you’d stayed away like you should have, I wouldn’t need your help at all.”

“Come now, Rhea.” He wrapped his hand around her finger and pulled it to his chest. “Of all the methods you could have used to save your family name, for some reason, you chose to ‘marry’ me. Don’t you think that’s peculiar?”

“I was desperate!” She tried to jerk her hand free, but he tightened his grip. It was rather nice to touch her again. “And you know I had to use you—you’re the reason I was in the fix to begin with!”

Rhea could blame him all she liked; they both knew the truth. Nothing had happened between them that she hadn’t wanted.

“Calm down,” he said softly, “and just listen.”

“Let me go.” The vein in her neck pulsed harder, faster. Had it really been eight months since he’d kissed that spot? Sometimes, when he thought about the time he’d spent with her, it seemed like only yesterday. Other times, like now, when he itched to kiss that spot again, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

With a sigh, he set her free, but she didn’t move away as he’d expected. Instead, she stood there, toe to toe with him and looking up at him with eyes that simultaneously blazed blistering fury and ice-cold fear.

It was nearly impossible to think straight when she
was within his reach, and if she knew what was good for her, she’d hightail it out of that room and not look back.

Deacon fisted his hands together behind his back. “Like it or not, you made me your husband, and here I am—at least for the time being.”

“You could leave again.”

If he were capable of human emotions, those four little words could have wounded him deeply. Luckily, it was more of a sharp, painful nick than an all-out wound.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why?” she cried, slumping down on the edge of the bed. With a quick glance at the open window, she lowered her voice. “Why can’t you just leave? It’s not as though you’ve never done it before.”