A Man to Call My Own

Chapter 9

WILL SAUNTERED INTO THE room a moment later, dusting off his clothes, his scruffy wide-brimmed hat on crooked. "Was that who I thought it was, you lucky son'bitch?"

Chad, sitting on the edge of the bed he would be sharing with the stage driver, was wearing a thoughtful frown. "And just who did you think it was?"

"Who else? A good-looking young fella like you wouldn't bother with the quiet one—"

"Now hold on, that's not what was going on. She mistook the room for hers. That's why she went tearing out of it in such an all-fired hurry when I showed up. Did you actually get a good look at her?"

"Sure—well, I reckon not. But that was a mighty fine figure in that skimpy cam-i-sole and ruffle-assed bloomers," Will said with a chuckle. "And only one of them's got such a nice shape."

Chad stood up, picked up the spectacles lying on the table, and twirled them about once in front of Will. "She left these behind."

Will blushed slightly, said, "Well, hell, all women look mostly alike under their wrappings, I guess. Never figured so much long hair could be bound up in such a tiny bun though. I didn't imagine that, did I? That was some really long golden hair that went flying past me."

Chad didn't know what to think, other than that his eyes might have been playing tricks on him. He'd seen her profile as she shot out of the bed, at least a partial view, what with her long hair covering a good portion of it. And he could have sworn, for a second there, that his ears had deceived him in leading him to believe it was Marians voice he was hearing, when it was actually Amanda dashing out of the room.

He'd turned to watch her exit as well, and his confusion had continued. From behind, with those long blond curls bouncing around her hips as she ran, and only wearing the ruffled bloomers that fit snugly down to her knees and the thin white camisole that clung like a second skin from her breasts to waist, that female body was just too shapely to belong to the spinster. It had to be Amanda's.

Once she was out of sight, he'd finished lighting the lamp and spotted the spectacles on the table, as well as the puddle of a brown dress on the floor, the same one Marian had worn that day. Confusion was back.

It had been the spinster, but she sure as hell hadn't looked like a spinster just then. The profile had so closely resembled her sister's, he'd been positive for a moment that it was the sister. Yet to look at the two of them in the bright light of day there was absolutely no resemblance between them—well, maybe there was. Maybe he just hadn't noticed it before because it was hard to notice anything about Marian other than those spectacles that made her eyes look deformed.

He held those spectacles up in front of his face, brought them closer to his eyes, winced and dropped them back on the table. He saw nothing but a solid blur when he looked through them. He felt a moment's pity for the girl. She had to be nearly blind to need such thick spectacles. The pity was incredibly brief, though. She was still a mean-tempered, ornery, insulting female that any man in his right mind would stay the hell away from.

He'd been managing that just fine for the most part and would continue to keep his distance—after he returned her spectacles to her in the morning. He was actually looking forward to that, just to clear away the last of his confusion, to get a good look at her without the spectacles detracting from the rest of her features.

When he found Marian the next morning, she was just coming out of her room, and damned if she wasn't already wearing another pair of spectacles. Try as he might, he simply couldn't see beyond the oversize eyes and tightly compressed lips. The nose was the same, if stuck up in the air, the cheeks just as sharply defined, the forehead might be the same, the brows weren't, and the chin he wasn't sure of.

Nor did she give him much chance for an extended observation. Red-cheeked over what had happened last night, she snatched the folded dress and spectacles from him, grudgingly mumbled her thanks, and hurried on past him for a quick breakfast before they departed.

He'd been tempted, really tempted, to snatch away the spectacles riding so high on her nose. He didn't quite have the temerity. Well, he did, he just didn't want to have to deal with the immediate tongue-lashing he'd no doubt get for it, or the harangue and insults that were sure to follow nonstop until he could dump her in Red's lap and be done with her.

And besides, Amanda had finally paid him some attention last night over dinner. He'd been beginning to wonder if she wasn't the least bit interested in him. She gave no typical clues to indicate that she might be, ignored him for the most part. Quite a unique experience for him. But after last night, it was definitely worth considering, getting to know her better—after he got her home.

Just two more days should see them riding into Trenton, then another long day out to the ranch. He could wait that long to see which way the wind blew where Amanda was concerned. And as for her sister, he wished a strong wind would just blow her away.