and his likeness were on Wanted posters all over the West, was probably the greatest piece of idiocy heâd committed in the past few years. He should have given his name as Jake Faulkner, or one of the many other aliases heâd used since heâd been on the run.
And coming here simply because sheâd asked him to, when he had no intention of taking any reward money from her, was even more stupid. He should be out buying a pack mule and the beans, bacon, salt, flour, sugar and coffee that heâd need to go up into the mountains, not taking tea with a foreign duchess who was so perfectly beautiful she might have been a princess from a fairy tale.
His thoughts made him angry at himself, and so he was edgy and nervous as he followed the womanâwhat did they call them, ladies-in-waiting?âinto the sitting room.
There were more flowers in vases around the room, but he paid little attention to them, for he saw the duchess arising, smiling, from a velvet-upholstered carved-back chair. âAh, there you are, Mr. Calhoun. It was good of you to come.â
She was dressed in a gown that was the same pink as the roses. There was pleated lace in the V-shaped neckline, which matched the lace at her waist. Her golden hair was once again artfully arranged in a coil at the nape of her neck, as it had been before he had knocked her to the ground and disarranged it. But it was her eyes that held his attention, just as when he had first seen her. Then, as now, he was reminded of the vivid blue of a Texas sky on a sunlit spring day.
He caught sight of the grumpy-looking fellow sheâd introduced as Lord Halston hovering unhappily behind her chair, looking even more unhappy as his eyes met Morganâs. Morgan saw a disdainful expression creep across Lord Halstonâs face as he stared at the clean denims and the white shirt Morgan had paid the widow who ran the boardinghouse an extra two bits to press for him. He stared right back until Lord Halston reddened and looked away.
âHello, MissâDuchess,â he said, feeling more awkward than he ever had in his life. âIâm sorry, I donât know what to call you...and I reckon these arenât goinâ-to-tea duds, but I didnât exactly come to Denver prepared toââ
âNo apologies are necessary, Mr. Calhoun,â the duchess interrupted, extending her hand but not enlightening him as to how to address her. âThe pleasure of your company is quite sufficient.â
He had the feeling he was supposed to do something with that hand besides shake it. Once heâd seen a European fellow kiss a ladyâs hand, but he couldnât imagine he was supposed to take such a liberty with a duchess. So he just took it in his, savoring its satin-smooth texture. He could just feel the slight tremor in it. So she was nervous, too, he realized. How much more nervous would she be if she knew I was a wanted man?
Lord Halston stepped forward as Morgan reluctantly let her hand go. âHer grace has asked me to prepare a reward for yourâahem!âheroic actions this afternoon,â he said, looking as if every word pained him.
Morgan saw that he was carrying a small leather pouch that looked as if it were heavily weighted with coins.
âGo ahead, take it,â Lord Halston urged, glaring at him. âYouâll find itâs a substantial amount in gold.â His expression told Morgan he hoped he would depart as soon as heâd accepted the bag.
Morganâs eyes cut back to the duchess. âMaâam, I told you this afternoon I wasnât going to accept any money, and Iâm not. You keep your money...though I thank you for offering it,â he added belatedly, when his words echoed back too belligerently at him.
Lord Halston appeared relieved, then he and the duchess exchanged a look.
âAre you sure, Mr. Calhoun?â Sarah Challoner inquired in her lovely, well-modulated voice. âSurely you