a man was down to his last dollar, and these men were. He couldn’t believe they were afraid of a woman. Especially a schoolteacher. Women who preferred books over men were usually lonely and quiet. They were like buds, needing a little sunshine to blossom, and he was happy to provide the heat. But this Mrs. Harbaugh had already known the touch of a man. So there had to be another problem.
“The town pays her salary,” he said. “Why not just have a meeting and vote to fire her?”
Big John shuddered. “We can’t. Our wives have already warned us that if we do that, they won’t be sharing our beds anymore. You know how much a man needs the warmth of a woman, Zeke.”
Zeke did. It was a threat to be taken seriously. He found himself intrigued by a woman who had inspired such extraordinary loyalty in such a short period of time.
“What’s she like?” he asked.
Billy shuddered. “She’s a powerful presence. Her eyes are cold and dark.”
“Her skin’s all scarred.”
“She walks as stiff as the dead.”
“The cats run from her.”
“My Bessy stopped giving milk the day she came to visit.”
Zeke pulled out his pocket watch. It was a little after three. “Where is she now?”
“The schoolhouse.”
He faced the men. “I’ll take care of Mrs. Harbaugh. She’ll be gone in a month.”
They started to cheer, then stopped suddenly and looked around. As if they weren’t allowed to be happy anymore.
“You swear?” Billy asked.
“In thirty days Mrs. Harbaugh will no longer be a problem. You have my word.”
He left them clustered together like cattle in a thunderstorm and started up the narrow street. Business had been good, he thought, taking in the two new stores and crowded streets. As he owned more than half the buildings and land in town, that meant his bank account would be full.
He saw there had been improvements, as well as trade. Wooden sidewalks had been started and there were flower boxes in front of many of the storefronts. A large sign in the general-store window proclaimed a meeting the next night for a reading of Shakespeare’s
He turned left at the Titanville First Baptist Church, then headed out toward the two-room schoolhouse on the edge of town. When the original smaller building had burned down three years ago, he’d donated the money for the larger structure.
Two boys raced across the schoolyard, a kite flying above them. A few girls sat together, playing jacks. As he approached, a woman stepped out of the schoolhouse, glanced toward him, then shaded her eyes to watch his approach.
From what he’d heard, he’d expected the new schoolteacher to be tall, rail-thin and old. The woman in front of him barely came to his shoulder. She was young and pleasantly rounded with a full bosom. As he got closer, she dropped her hand. The scars someone had complained about were freckles. They went with her flame-red hair. And the cold eyes were, instead, the color of spring grass. Big and green and bright, framed by long lashes.
Her mouth was full and made for laughing…or kissing. She was pretty enough, he thought, surprised that someone so
“Mrs. Harbaugh? I’m Zeke Titan.” He tipped his hat.
“Have you come to shoot me, Mr. Titan?”
“What?”
She pointed at the Winchester he still cradled in his arm. “I don’t allow guns on school property. Or weapons of any kind.”
“What harm can a young boy do with a knife?”
“Plenty of harm, sir. If your reputation is anything to go by, you are well aware of the danger knives and guns can present.”
“My reputation?” Excellent. “So you’ve heard of me.”
“One can hardly live in Titanville and not hear of you and your reputation for wildness.” She frowned slightly. “I’ll admit I’d pictured someone older, however.” Her gaze dropped to his flat midsection. “Someone of more girth, perhaps.”
He gave her a lazy smile. “Disappointed?”
Her green eyes narrowed. “Disappointment would imply your presence is of any consequence to me. I assure you, it is not.”
“Are you this prickly with all your visitors?”
“You are confusing my unwillingness to waste time with my temperament, Mr. Titan. You are the one who walked to the schoolhouse. For what purpose?”
“Why, to meet you, Mrs. Harbaugh.”
She frowned slightly, as if confused by the admission. “And now you have. I still have students here and they require my full attention.”
“Then I will leave you to them.” He tipped his hat again. “Until this evening.”
“What happens this evening?”
“We will dine together, Mrs. Harbaugh. You’re staying at the hotel, are you not?”
He already knew the answer to that question. Teachers stayed at the hotel for a year. If they made it to their second year-and so far no teacher had-a house would be built for them. Zeke covered the cost of the room, easy enough, as he owned the hotel. Meals were taken in the small dining room in back.
“I’m staying there,” she began, “not that it is any business of yours.”
“It’s my business now,” he said softly. “I will see you at six.”
“I will not be dining with you. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“A public place, surrounded by other people in a well-respected establishment? What could be more proper? It will give you the chance to save my soul, Mrs. Harbaugh. What goal could be more worthy?”
Annoyance flared in her beautiful green eyes. “I’m not interested in your soul.”
“But that is the only part of me you may have…for now.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Color stained her cheeks. Zeke held in a chuckle, then headed back to town. He knew everything he needed about Alethea Harbaugh. She would be more of a challenge than his other conquests, a circumstance he welcomed. But the outcome was already set-he would have her in his bed. And once he did, he would win. Having surrendered, she would leave, rather than face the good women of town. Being a widow, she would go quietly.
He would set her up with a house somewhere, he told himself. She could be a teacher back east, where her formal ways and love of Shakespeare would be appreciated. But until that day, he planned to enjoy every moment of his seduction. Starting with dinner that night.
Chapter Two
Alethea hated indecision more than anything else. A person should pick a direction and commit to it. But in the past ten minutes, she had started to go down to dinner three times, only to make it as far as the stairs and then return to her room.
It was all that man’s fault. That Zeke Titan-telling her he would have dinner with her. As if it was his decision to make. Typical man, she thought, pacing the length of her room. He had no right to force himself on her. No doubt he assumed that she was grateful for his company and any attentions that might follow.
Oh, she knew all about Zeke Titan. The ladies in town had a fondness for gossip, and Zeke was their favorite topic. She’d heard about how his father had run off, leaving his wife and son to fend for themselves. That Zeke had worked odd jobs as a small boy, to help support his mother, who was frequently ill. When she’d died, he’d been barely sixteen, with no family, no money and no future. She’d been told how a single card had changed his
