Read Online The Courting of Widow Shaw by Charlene Sands - Free Book Online Page A

carved walnut struck the eleventh hour.Gloria had left the kitchen earlier in the day in a huff, grateful to be away from the fallen women who defended their profession with all the dignity of heroic soldiers. With nothing to do and not a soul around, she’d fallen into a deep, mindless sleep. She’d woken up an hour ago well rested and completely bored.
    “Well, Glory,” she said, trying out the name on her lips, debating whether she preferred it, as her father had…and Steven. “What now?”
    “What now?” The door creaked open and she whirled around. Her traitorous heart rejoiced at seeing Steven, somewhat weather-beaten, standing in her doorway. He stepped inside quickly, shutting out the boisterous music and laughter from downstairs, as he closed the door.
    She was lonely and he represented company, someone to quell her boredom tonight for a moment or two, she rationalized. She tamped down the joy she felt watching his beautiful eyes move over her softly, in an assessing way, as if checking on her well-being. She could never have warm feelings for this man, despite the fact that he’d saved her life.
    “Are you talking to yourself?” he asked, a quick grin flashing across his face.
    She gestured with a swipe of her arms. “Do you see anybody else here for me to speak with?”
    “Yeah. I’m here now.”
    She bounced her bottom on the bed, much like a child who hadn’t gotten her way. “Why are you?”
    Steven moved closer and his scent, the smell of earth and fresh air and leather, assailed her instantly. It was a brutal reminder of her plight. She was a prisoner in this house, this very room. She longed to gooutside, to be free again. To have that right would be the grandest gift she’d ever receive.
    “I came to see you.”
    She glanced at him, his rugged, handsome face appearing road-weary. “You look tired.”
    “I worked all day at the ranch. Building the house with my own hands, and setting up the corrals for my horses.”
    “And you came all this way to check on me? To make sure I hadn’t escaped?”
    Steven walked over to the window, pulled the drapes apart and leaned heavily on the window frame. With his back to her, he spoke in an edgy tone. “You’re not a prisoner here, dammit. If you want to get your hide thrown in jail, walk down those stairs and out the door.” He turned to face her. “I guarantee you’d find Sheriff Brimley’s jail cell a lot less accommodating than this room.”
    Gloria bounded up from the bed to face him evenly. “I’m sorry. I do apologize. I suppose that wasn’t at all gracious of me. I, uh… I don’t know exactly how to handle this.”
    The hardness in his eyes softened a bit. “Did you go downstairs today?”
    “For a short time. I met Mattie.” She smiled, remembering how good it felt to make those pies. “We baked strawberry pies.”
    He raised a brow and nodded, apparently in approval.
    “But then some of the…the ladies came into the kitchen.”
    Steven scratched his chin and sighed. “They give you a bad time of it?”
    Gloria winced. “I think we gave each other a bad time.”
    “They’ll come around,” he declared, as if that would heal the situation.
    “I’m not sure I want them to.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m…we aren’t…”
    “Doesn’t your God believe in forgiveness, Glory? Doesn’t He believe we can all live in the world, differences and all?”
    Gloria put her head down. “I used to believe that. I don’t know anymore.”
    And then, Steven was there, placing a finger under her chin and lifting it up so that their eyes met. He searched her face for a moment, then smiled. That smile, a brief glimpse into the tender man who had nursed her injuries, created a stirring once again in her heart.
    “I’ll let you rest. You must be tired.”
    “I’m not a bit tired,” she stated, stepping away from his touch, his soft scrutiny. If she sounded the shrew, she couldn’t help it. A moment’s visit with Steven