Read Online An Unlikely Lady by Rachelle Morgan - Free Book Online

again she felt Jesse’s strength wrap around her, could almost feel the power of his arms and the bliss of his touch . . .
    Honesty swallowed the lump of regret in her throat. She should have let him bed her when she’d had the chance.
    Oh, now, there’s a sensible thought. Yes-siree, just give yourself to the first man who turns your head. She didn’t have much anymore, but she still had her virginity. If she ever did give herself to a man—and that was a very big if—it would be to one who put a ring on her finger, not coins in her palm.
    She almost laughed at the irony of it. Working in a saloon, playing the part of a well-versed doxy, and here she was, worrying about being ruined before the “I do’s”. But she had no intention of marrying for marrying’s sake. The only way she’d ever consider tying herself to a manwas if she found one with honor, courage, and unwavering devotion. Someone she could trust never to hurt her or use her. Someone who could make her heart laugh and her soul sing.
    A man like her father.
    Good cow feathers, this was ridiculous. She was acting like a smitten fool, and it had to stop. Her life was complicated enough without throwing some devilish drifter into the mix.
    She crumpled the dress into a ball and tossed it into a corner of the armoire. The last thing she needed to take with her was any reminder of her folly.
    She finished shoving the last of her garments into the bag and was just about to buckle the strap when a sweet tinkling sound drifted up the staircase. She froze, then lifted her head.
    The piano? Who on earth . . . ?
    With a puzzled frown, she slipped out her door and went down the hall to the balcony overlooking the main room. An angel sat at the piano—an angel with streaked golden hair spilling past a set of broad shoulders . . .
    Jesse?
    Astonished, she could do nothing more than gaze down at him as his long fingers glided over the dingy keys. It took her a moment to recognize the tune, but once she did, it knocked the breath out of her.
    â€œLorena.” One of Deuce’s favorites.
    Honesty closed her eyes against the swell of bittersweet memories. Of riding with her father across windswept prairies, of roasting chestnuts over a mountain lodge cookstove. Of curling up in his big arms on a cold November night, his deep voice lulling her to sleep.
    Of their own will, the words of the second stanza slid from her mouth. “A hundred months have passed since, Lorena, since last I held that hand in mine, and felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena, though mine beat faster far than thine . . .”
    She hardly noticed when Jesse’s playing slowed, but she knew the instant he turned his head in her direction. Their eyes locked, and as she sang the lyrics of a lover who’d lost his one true love to duty, their connection became a tangible thread, drawing her down the staircase. Memories of her father dimmed. In Jesse’s eyes, she watched last night replay itself, and felt as if he were seducing her all over again. Not with his eyes and hands and mouth, but with his music, melody and harmony blending together in a mating of such poignancy that it pierced her to her soul.
    With the last note still fading, they continued to stare at one another. The air hummed with an awareness that transcended the physical attraction she’d felt last night, a longing bordering onpain. Her eyes shimmered, turning the interior of the Scarlet Rose into shades of green and blue. And in the back of her mind, she could hear a small voice calling out her name . . .
    Clapping broke the spell. Honesty swung toward the bar, where Rose was slapping her hands together with such enthusiasm that it made her cheeks burn.
    â€œThat was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Rose declared, then dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “Honesty, why didn’t you tell me you could sing? With a