"When did enjoying the company of a lovely lady get to be an imposition?"

"Why can't you say things like that?" Melody asked Chet.

"Because I'm not a hopeless flirt. Watch out for him, Belle. He never stops talking. Women have been known to lock themselves in their rooms after only a few hours in his company."

"At least I don't bore them with long silences." Dan stood. "Come on, Belle, before I have to take him down a notch. If he doesn't say anything after the first fifteen minutes, you're welcome to catch up with us," Dan said to Melody.

"If he doesn't talk more than that, I'll go to bed."

But after Belle and Dan had gone, Melody was the one who fell silent. There was so much she wanted to say, but they'd gone over all of it before. She didn't know how to begin again without replowing old ground.

"You like Dan, don't you?" she finally said.

"Yes."

"Was his the kind of job you took?"

"When I could."

"And when you couldn't?"

"I took the jobs being offered."

"Are the other men you worked for your friends?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Men hire me to do jobs they don't want to do themselves, or can't do. When it's over, they don't want to be reminded of that. Dan worked along-side me from the beginning."

Melody stood up. "Let's go for a walk."

"There're not many places to go."

"There's the creek. I've always been fond of moonlight on water."

Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Melody could see Dan and Belle strolling along the boardwalk. A little way ahead she made out Sydney and Neill peeping into a saloon. She was relieved when Sydney pulled his little brother away from the window and they moved on to the next building.

There were very few people out tonight, none of them women. No one seemed to be in a hurry. No one seemed to be with anyone else. They looked in windows, turned into doorways, and walked along, solitary figures all seeming to neither have nor want any a.s.sociation with their fellow man. Melody didn't understand it. With so few people living here, she would have thought they'd want to be friends with as many as possible.

The main street of Timberville ended on the bluff overlooking the creek below. The creek appeared as a tiny ribbon of silver below.

"Are you sure you want to walk that far?" Chet asked.

"Yes," Melody said, anxious to have Chet all to herself.

It took all of Melody's attention to make it down the rocky path from the bluff. When they reached the bottom, they headed for the only tree left. Apparently others had enjoyed doing the same thing. The ground around the tree and the rocks bordering the stream had been pounded smooth. The sounds from Timberville didn't reach down to the creek bottom.

"Aunt Emmaline's farm was on the James River," Melody said. "Sometimes we used to go down to the river at night. It was peaceful, a lot like this."

"We shouldn't be down here," Chet said. "We shouldn't be anywhere alone together."

"Why?"

"Because I'm leaving in a few days. There's no point in hoping for things that can never be."

"Why, Chet? Dan Walters likes you. Other people might like you, too."

"Dan's different. He never thought of me as a gunfighter. I was just a man willing to help him out. He paid me, but he treated me like an equal from the first. The rest are like Lantz."

"We can avoid people like him."

"You can't avoid the whole world."

"I'm not interested in the whole world. Just you."

"We can't ignore the world. I know a gunfighter who thought he could, but he was wrong."

"What happened?"

"He decided to quit. He got married and bought himself a nice little farm. He stopped wearing his gun because he thought going unarmed would protect him. A young hothead anxious to make a reputation came looking for him."

Melody didn't want to hear this story, but she knew it was useless to try to stop Chet now.

"When the man wouldn't strap on a gun, the hothead starting shooting at him, hitting him in the arm, then the leg, hoping to force him to pick up his gun. He wouldn't, and in a fit of temper, the hothead killed him. Do you know what the worst part was?"

"Don't tell me his wife had children had to watch?"

"No, she was spared that. The worst part was that the townspeople stood by and didn't do a thing. It was a clear case of murder, but they didn't interfere because he was a gunfighter. They didn't want his kind in their town."

Melody had seen Chet angry, but never as angry as he was now. "You knew that man, didn't you?"

"He sided me in a fight when I first started. I owe my life to him."

Melody was sorry for that man and his family, but she couldn't let that stop her from fighting for her chance to marry Chet. "I'm sorry for what happened to your friend, Chet, but that doesn't mean it has to happen to us."

"It does. People are the same all over."

"Not always."

"Let's not waste time talking about it, or arguing over what can't be changed."

Chet's obstinate refusal to listen to any opinion but his own infuriated Melody. Her first impulse was to argue even more vehemently. Her second impulse was to climb right back up the slope and leave him to contemplate the creek by himself. She yielded to the third, and leaned against him and let him put his arm around her. She wasn't through yet. She wasn't the daughter of a Civil War officer and Texas rancher for nothing.

She'd gotten her share of the spit and fire that enabled her father to stand up to Lantz Royal. She intended to marry Chet Attmore despite his certainty that decent people would shun her and a gunman would someday kill him right before her eyes. She didn't know how to prove to him she loved him so much she would take any risk, bear any hardship. He could have killed a thousand men and it wouldn't make any difference.

Well, yes, it would have made her very unhappy, but it wouldn't have stopped her from loving Chet. Nothing could ever do that.

"Tell me about yourself," she said. "Do you realize, I don't know anything about youyour parents, brothers and sisters, anything."

She felt him stiffen, but that didn't surprise her. She figured there was a reason he'd never spoken about his life.

"There's nothing much to tell."

"Then tell me what there is."

He started to pull away, but she held on to the arm that encircled her waist. "Don't say anything if it's going to make you pull away."

"There's nothing about me that's good."

She sat up and turned to face him, all the while being careful not to move his arm. "Everything I know about you is good. Why do you think I fell in love with you?"

"Why did you?"

"Because I couldn't help myself." She stroked his arm. "Outside of being ridiculously tall, absurdly strong, and sinfully good-lookingand believe me, a woman doesn't really need more than that!you're the kindest, sweetest man I've ever met. There's nothing you can't do, and so far, nothing you won't do for me and my family. The real question is, why did you fell in love with me?"

She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to that question, but she'd been wondering for a long time. "I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you."

"You must have seen many women far prettier than I could ever hope to be. And richer. And more anxious to please you. If you'd treated me the way I treated you, I'd have slapped your face, turned around, and ridden away."

"I tried to, but Blade shot me and you fetched me back."

That didn't amuse her, but she tried not to show it. "Now tell me about your past. I'm agog with curiosity. It is riddled with scandal, isn't it?"

His smile at her attempt at humor was brief. "Nothing so respectable. My father was a gunfighter, and my mother ran off. After my father was shot in the back, my brother and I were shifted from one home or orphanage to another. We probably would have been dead by now if Jake and Isabelle hadn't adopted us. The dumbest thing I ever did was leave their ranch. I spent the best seven years of my life there and was too stupid to realize it."

"Is your brother still there?"

"He left before me."

"Why did you leave?"

"I used to think it was because guns and fighting were in my blood. Now I know I followed my brother to make sure nothing happened to him. But either way, I can't marry you."

Melody felt warmth spread through her. He did want to marry her. He'd been so busy trying to convince her they couldn't have any future together, he'd never actually said what kind of future he was talking about. As much as she loved him, she couldn't have lived with him except as his wife. She might demand that men treat her like a human being with a brain capable of rational thought, but she was too conventional for any other kind of arrangement.

She settled against him, holding him a little tighter. She really felt quite sorry for him. She didn't see why a man should be punished all his life for one mistake, even in Texas. She had every intention of seeing that it didn't happen to Chet. "Tell me about Jake and Isabelle," she said. "They must be very nice people."

She laughed at his stories about Will and Drew, felt sorry for Hawk and Zeke, was glad to know Buck had finally found the family he'd been looking for. The only thing that really surprised her was Chet's desire to go to college. She supposed it was another example of her biased Easterner's view of Texans. But the one thing that struck her most forcefully, that came through in virtually everything he said, was his love for Jake and Isabelle. He called it respect and admiration. She decided anything that warm and vibrant had to be love.

It was love that kept him from going back, just as it kept him from marrying her. Melody decided men weren't as logical as they pretended. If he'd been a woman, he'd have married whom he wanted, gone where he wanted, and d.a.m.ned the consequences.

No, she was wrong there. She'd seen too many women do just the opposite, but she didn't intend to be one of them.

"I think you ought to go home and take me with you," she said when he fell quiet. "Don't tell me why you can't. I already know. But be warnedI haven't given up. Now, before you start to argue with me and ruin a perfectly good mood, kiss me. I know it's horrible of me to ask such a thing, but I feel desperate and that has made me brazen."

Apparently Chet didn't mind brazen females. His kisses managed to make her forget, if only for a short while, that he was being amazingly obstinate. Honor was a good thingshe thought every man ought to have a healthy dose of itbut not when it kept her from marrying the only man she could ever love.

He liked to tease her by kissing parts of her body no proper Virginian would have touched with his lips until after he was married. No man had ever kissed her neck. She wouldn't have thought of letting him. No man she knew would have dared to push her dress down so he could kiss her shoulder. Chet didn't ask. He just did it. It had shocked her at first. Now she looked forward to it. There was something about it that was much more exciting and far more intimate than kissing the inside of her arm. She'd stopped the only man who attempted to do that. But she wouldn'tcouldn'tstop Chet from doing anything he wanted. She always ended up wanting more.

She tilted her head to one side, allowing him to reach even more of her neck and shoulder. She wasn't sure exactly how he was kissing herit seemed to involve his teeth and tongue and tiny puffs of warm air against her moistened skin as much as his lipsbut she did know it stirred feelings inside her from some long slumber. She'd always enjoyed the company of men before, had even considered herself practically engaged once. But none of those feelings bore any resemblance to what she felt for Chet. With all other men, she'd kept her distance, preserved social decorum. She couldn't imagine Chet shining in any social gathering, but that was fine with her. She didn't want to keep him at a distance, and decorum never entered her mind. She wanted him close to her, touching her, holding her. She didn't want anybody else around to draw his attention from her.

He was nibbling at her ear, sending shafts of aching weakness through her body. She slumped against him, unable to summon the energy to sit erect. Leaning against Chet was like leaning against stone covered with soft leather to make it warm and touchable. He had broad shoulders and strong arms, but she never realized his true strength and size until he held her in his arms. She liked being in his arms. She could imagine staying there for years to come. She felt safe from Lantz's predatory interest in her and her ranch.

She was safe from Chet, too, but she didn't want to be.

She wanted to feel that he was pursuing her, driving her to the edge, forcing her to give him everything she held most precious. Knowing he had enough self-control for both of them did little to heighten her romantic sense of danger.

But he didn't seem quite as much in control tonight. He had only progressed as far as tracing the outline of her ear with his tongue, but his breathing had become uncharacteristically rapid. He held her against him more tightly than ever before. His grip on her arms was almost painful.

She pulled back to look at him and immediately wished she hadn't. He wore the look of a tortured soul, a man suffering mortal agony. She didn't know if she should speak, but she couldn't help it. "What's wrong?" He buried his face in her hair. "Nothing."

He held her so tightly, she could hardly breathe. "That's not true. Tell me."

"I was thinking this may be the last time I can hold you like this."

"Chet, I've told you"

He quickly released her and put his fingers to her lips. "Don't," he said. "I can bear knowing I'll never see you again. What I can't bear is being promised hope when I know there isn't any."

A whole armada of arguments jostled for supremacy in her mind. She would not allow him to be defeated by fears she was certain were more in his mind than in reality. She wouldn't give him up, not for anything, but she wasn't about to waste this evening with fruitless arguments. "Then hold me," she said. "If this is going to be our last evening alone together, I want it to be one to remember."

Chapter Eighteen.

His kiss was fierce and brutal, full of the anger and need that were in him. Her lips felt bruised, as if they were encircled by bands of steel. He probably didn't realize he was close to hurting her. She wouldn't tell him. It would only make him feel worse. Besides, his barely controlled attack was having a disconcerting effect on her. She felt like attacking him back. She'd never thought herself capable of feeling such wanton pa.s.sion.

What was worse, she wanted to be such a woman.

The struggle with herself was brief, the battle a rout. Melody abandoned herself to Chet and anything he wanted to do with her.

His kisses had a desperate quality about them. They came in rapid succession, short and fierce rather than long and lingering, as though he was trying to get in enough to last a lifetime. When their seated position didn't allow him to hold her as close as he wanted, he pulled her to her feet and pressed her hard against his body. The desire that had been buried deep within her, waiting for the perfect moment to emerge, suddenly came to life.

She wanted him. It was incredible to her she should feel such an urge, should know it so certainly. Nothing in her experience with men had prepared her for this invasion of every part of her body and soul by a hunger so powerful, so pervasive, there was no possibility of denying it. There was no doubt. She wanted himmind, body, and soul.

It occurred to her briefly to wonder why she'd never felt any part of these feelings for another man. Just as quickly she knew the answer. There was no man for her who could even begin to compare to Chet. There never would be another.

"We've got to stop," Chet said.

Mercifully he paid no heed to his own words. Melody didn't think she could have let him go. He was as necessary to her as the air she breathed. He didn't seem to know it, but she was part of him. They belonged together. If he'd had any doubt, the feeling that had exploded between them now should have convinced him.

Melody became aware of the tingling in her b.r.e.a.s.t.s at almost the same moment she realized that Chet's body had reacted powerfully to their closeness. The combination of the two heated her whole body. The heat of Chet's desire seemed to burn through her skin and into her own body. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s grew increasingly sensitive until even the slightest movement sent delicious pleasure arcing through her. Pressing herself ever harder against his chest only served to intensify the feeling. It grew within her, filled her, growing hotter, stronger, more forceful until she felt as though she would be swept away by it.