length of the place, then started up the two dusty steps to the open doorway.
There was a portly, balding man behind a counter that stretched in front of a wall with rows and rows of just about everything. There were rolls of fabric, mostly cottons and linens, but there were brocades and silks and satins, too, and smaller rolls of elegant laces. There were sacks of flour and coffee and tea and sugar, and there were sewing goods and farm supplies, leather items, blankets, sheets, canteens. The whole store was composed of shelving, and Shannon saw jars of jams and preserves, pickled vegetables and smoked and dried meats. As small as this town was, it seemed to be a prosperous place.
'Howdy,' the portly man said to the two of them.
Malachi grinned broadly, walking up to the man. 'Howdy, sir.'
'What can I do for you, young man?'
'Well, the wife and I are heading out west. We just need ourselves some food supplies.'
'We can take care of that, Mr.—'
'Uh, Sloan,' Malachi said.
'Gabriel,' Shannon said quickly at the same time.
Malachi frowned at her, his jaw locking. The balding man looked from one of them to the other. 'It's Sloan Gabriel, sir,' Malachi said. He jerked Shannon over to his side. 'And this is my wife, Sara.'
The man looked from Malachi to Shannon. Shannon smiled and escaped Malachi's punishing grip, wandering away to look over the merchandise in the store. 'Nice to meet you, Mrs. Gabriel.'
'Likewise, I'm sure,' she murmured demurely.
The man leaned toward Malachi. 'My wife's got herself a little tea parlor next door, young man. Maybe the lady would like a cup?' He winked. 'And you could take a walk on over to the saloon and have yourself a pint or two.'
'That sounds mighty nice,' Malachi told him. A saloon was always the best place to hear whatever news was passing around. He looked at Shannon.
'Sweetheart.' She was looking at a roll of calico and didn't pay him the slightest heed. He walked over to her, catching her hands and spinning her around and into his arms. 'Darlin'! That nice man, Mr.—'
'Haywood,' the balding man supplied.
'That nice Mr. Haywood says his wife has a little tea shop next door. Wouldn't you like to have a cup of tea, complete with milk and sugar? It's been a long, hard road.'
She smiled sweetly. 'Are you going to have a cup of tea, darlin'?' she asked him. She came up on her toes, slipping her arms around his neck.
'I had reckoned that I might have a beer across the way,' he told her, his jaw twisting. Her smile had been dazzling, and her eyes were absurdly large and innocent. Her body was pressed tight to his and he could feel all the curves and soft slopes that he had recently come to know so well.
His eyes narrowed. 'Careful!' he mouthed. She couldn't be that innocent. She had to know what she was doing to him.
'Why, darlin',' she drawled sweetly. 'I don't mind. I'll come over to the saloon with you.' She wrinkled her nose up prettily. 'I don't rightly care for that nasty old beer, but—'
He untangled her arms from around his neck. 'Sweetheart,' he said firmly, 'you go on and have tea. It might be a rough place. There might be some…talk…I don't want you to hear.'
'If you're there, my love, I'm sure that I'll be safe.'
'You'll be much safer, sweetheart, having tea.'
'But I don't mind hearing talk, beloved.'
He was losing control. There was a definite note of irritation in his voice. 'Honey love, sometimes a man just don't talk as freely when there's a lady present. You'll have tea.'
'But, darlin', I—'
He didn't let her finish. He could hear Mr. Haywood snickering behind him, and he'd had about enough. She was the one pressing it. He pulled her even closer and slammed his lips down hard upon hers in a bruising, punishing kiss. He held her so tightly that she could barely breathe, and that was what he had intended. When he released her, she was silent, gasping for breath. He spun her around so that his back was toward Mr. Haywood and he whispered with vehemence. 'Go over and have tea. Now. You ruin this—'
'But I want to hear, too—'
'Go. Now. Smile, kiss me sweetly, and damn you, go have a cup of tea. I mean it, Shannon.'
He could hear her teeth grinding, but she went still. Mala-chi spun around. 'Next door, you say, Mr. Haywood?'
'Sure thing. The little lady can go right through this door here.'
Shannon didn't see a door. Then she realized that even the door was lined with shelves that were filled with merchandise.
'See you soon, sweetheart.' Malachi pulled her into his arms, kissing her on the forehead. She longed to slap him, hard. She smiled instead, and threw her arms around him again, rising up on her toes, and quickly threading her fingers through the hair at his nape. She kissed him…
She kissed him with purpose…and with menace, pressing her lips fully against his, and teasing his lip with the thrust of her tongue. Startled, he gave way. She pressed her tongue fully into his mouth, slowly, provocatively, filling it.
Then she withdrew, dropping back on her heels with her body tight to his, rubbing him with the length of it. She saw a dark sizzle in his eyes, but ignored it despite her own breathlessness. She turned to Mr. Haywood and smiled brightly. 'Newlyweds, you know!' she explained, flushing and batting her lashes. 'I can't bear to see him go, even for a second. It's just been so hard, what with the war and all. The cows scattered, then the fields were trampled, and then the whole ranch was burned down one day. But now we're finally together, heading west, and it is just so hard to let my darlin' out of my sight…'
Both men were silent. Malachi was as stiff as a poker, not saying a word. But when she looked at him, his eyes were narrowed. Real narrow. The way he looked at her caused her heart to jump and shiver, and she decided then to make a hasty retreat. She offered Mr. Haywood another smile and quickly passed through the shelved door that he held open for her.
She found herself in a large parlor. For a moment, it reminded her so much of her home that she inhaled quickly, feeling a little dizzy. It was lovely. A piano stood on a braided rug before a polished wood staircase. Beautiful Victorian chairs sat all around the piano in pleasant angles, a grouping of three here, two there. There was a grouping around the fireplace, and there were lovely little marble-topped tables all around.
'Hello?'
A short, buxom woman with small brown eyes, iron-gray hair and warm, rosy cheeks came through a doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. She smiled at Shannon, then eyed her outfit.
She didn't fit in the beautiful little parlor, Shannon realized. Not in her dusty breeches and checked shirt.
But the woman didn't hesitate long. It was ranch country, farm country, and Shannon's outfit was not completely alien here.
'Hello, miss…'
'Uh—Gabriel,' Shannon said quickly. 'Sh—Sara Gabriel, Mrs. Haywood. Your husband sent me over.'
'Oh, how lovely. Well, do sit down. I'll bring you in some of our finest, young lady.' She extended her arm around the parlor. 'As you can see, we're not terribly busy at the moment.'
Shannon nodded, wondering if they were ever busy. It seemed to be such a small town to support the shop and boardinghouse.
'Sit, sit!'
She shooed Shannon into one of the chairs by the fireplace and disappeared. Shannon barely had a chance to get her breath and look around before Mrs. Haywood was back, carrying a large silver tray. She set it down on one of the marble-topped tables. She poured tea from a pot through a strainer and looked at Shannon. 'Sugar, cream?'
'Yes, please,' Shannon said.
As Mrs. Haywood continued fixing the tea, Shannon looked over the curve of her chair toward the street. Malachi was just going into the saloon, pushing his way through a set of swinging doors.
'Is that your husband, dear?' asked Mrs. Haywood, following Shannon's eyes.
