A Perfect Arrangement Part 5

As for Mr. Hunter, she couldn't figure him out at all. He had made sense to her when she first went to mm and told him the truth. Like all the other men, he seemed to hate her honesty. Dorie knew that Rowena would have lied to him and flattered him and he would have been eating out of her hand. But Dorie had told him the truth and he'd made it clear that he couldn't stand her.

Unfortunately this hurt Dorie, because much to her disbelief, she rather liked him. She had no idea why she liked him, but she did. Maybe it was that heroic aspect of him. The truth was that when he saved her from the bank robbers, she had felt, well, rather like the heroine in the type of novel her father refused to allow in the house.

But Mr. Hunter had not felt the same way she did. When she went to his room to apologize for whatever it was that she had said to make him so angry the first time, she had succeeded only in making him furious.

But then he had shown up at her hotel room and told her she was to marry him. Maybe he thought Rowena was part of marriage to Dorie.

That was the only thing that made sense to her. He had disliked her rather heartily when she alone was involved, but he wanted to marry her after he saw Rowena.

Oh, well, what did it matter anyway? The arrangement was only temporary; in six months he'd be gone. He'd have his five thousand dollars, and Dorie would be back where she'd started. She wasn't fool enough to believe any of his talk about wanting to learn a trade; she knew all he wanted was the money-and maybe a chance at Rowena, but then, all men seemed to want that. It was a perfect arrangement.

Now, sitting across the tiny table from him, the big bed looming behind them, a wedding ring-courtesy of Rowena -weighing down her finger, Dorie pushed her food about on her plate. It was a moment before she was aware that Mr. Hunter was saying something.

"I beg your pardon," she said, looking up at him.

"I said that if you want to get yourself a husband-a real one, that is- you ought to try to be more, well, charming."

Dorie could only blink at him. Charming. It was a word she had heard connected with Rowena's name and with witches' spells but not much else.

Ever since that cold little farce that was called a wedding, Cole had been asking himself what in the world he had done. He'd never thought of himself as a romantic, but that quick, boring ceremony, with the preacher anxious to get back to his dinner, was not his idea of a wedding.

Wasn't a woman supposed to want flowers and a pretty dress? Weren't women supposed to be sentimental about weddings and such? Wasn't the man supposed to act as though that sort of stuff didn't matter to him, but secretly he rather liked the smell of flowers and the sight of a bride dripping lace?

Since the wedding she hadn't said a word, had just let that bossy sister of hers manage everything. After a few hours around Rowena, Cole was beginning to realize that under that coaxing, honey-coated exterior of hers was a core of steel. She had complimented Cole so much that, had he believed her, he would have thought he was the smartest, bravest, best-looking man on the planet. But while she was flattering him, she was making sure her little sister got married. She told Dorie where the wedding was going to be, where Dorie was going to spend her honeymoon, and when the couple would return to Latham. Rowena arranged the wedding supper and ordered Dorie's clothes packed and readied for the trip. It was at the end of the ceremony when Rowena said, "You may kiss him now, Dorie," that Cole had put his foot down.

"She's my wife now," he said quietly but in a voice he'd used to tell men that he believed they were cheating at cards. One good thing about Rowena was that she seemed to know when to back down. Graciously she stopped giving orders and stepped aside, smiling happily, pleased that she had arranged everything.

So now he was alone with a stranger who was and was not his wife, and he had a sudden urge to get to know her better. Was she as hard as she'd seemed the first time he met her, or was she as soft as she sometimes seemed? Was she calculating or innocent? Did she mean to wound with that tongue of hers or did she just not know any better?

"I'm afraid I don't know how to be charming," she said, not looking up from her food. "I leave the charm to my sister."

After today he knew that in order to wade through Rowena's "charm"

one needed very tall boots. As Cole looked at the top of his wife's head, he realized that he'd never really seen her smile. Did she smile? What would she look like if she did smile?

He sat up straight in his chair, like a schoolteacher. "Attention, Miss Latham-er, Mrs. Hunter," he corrected himself and found that he rather liked the sound of that name. "We are now going to have a lesson in charm."

She looked up at him in surprise.

"Now, answer me this: If you find yourself alone with a man and you want to engage that man in conversation, what do you say?"

The look on her face told him she was taking this very seriously. "What does he do?"

"He doesn't do anything. In most of the world it is up to the woman to be the social one. The man is to be the strong silent type, and the woman is to try to draw him out."

"Oh," Dorie said. This was something she'd never heard before, but it explained some things she'd never been able to understand. "I mean, what does the man do for a living? To support himself. Perhaps there is conversation in that."

"Good point. The man is a farmer."

"Well, then, I would ask him how his crops are doing."

"Mmmm," Cole said. "That might be all right for a man who's old enough to be your father, but what about a young, good-looking man, someone with broad shoulders?"

A little sparkle of humor came into Dorie's eyes. "Just exactly how broad are this man's shoulders?"

Cole didn't smile. Holding out his hands, he said, "Oh, about this wide.

No, this wide."

Dorie's eyes sparkled more. "Mr. Hunter, no man has shoulders that broad."

For a moment Cole looked defensive as he looked from his outstretched hands to his own shoulders and saw that he had his hands apart exactly the width of his own shoulders. When he opened his mouth to point out that his shoulders were indeed that broad, he looked at her eyes and saw that she had been teasing him. Well, well, he thought, I'll get her back for that.

"On second thought, this man you're sitting next to is a renowned peacemaker."

"Peacemaker? Do you mean a gunslinger? A killer?"

Cole's face was very serious. "Mrs. Hunter, would you please listen to the a.s.signment? The lesson is in charm, and so far you haven't convinced me you know the meaning of the word."

"Oh, yes, I do. It means lying."

That threw Cole for a loop. "Charm means lying?"

"Rowena practices charm by lying."

"Please give me a demonstration."

Dorie started to say that she couldn't possibly show him what she meant by Rowena's lying, but then she realized she had spent a lot of time watching her sister. She should be able to pretend to be Rowena.

Her elbows on the table, she leaned across her plate so her face was close to his and batted her lashes at him. "Oh, Mr. Hunter, I've heard so much about you. I've heard of your wisdom, how you settle disputes and save entire towns single-handedly. My goodness but you are an important man! I do hope you don't mind my staring. It's just that I've been looking for a sapphire just the color of your eyes, and I can't find that deep a shade of blue anywhere. Perhaps the next time I visit my jeweler you'll come with me so I can show the man just what I mean."

Dorie leaned back from the table, her arms crossed over her bosom.

For a moment Cole couldn't speak. She had been making fun of him and of her sister, of course, but, dame it anyway, he liked hearing what she'd just said. He had an almost uncontrollable urge to pick up the knife and look at his eyes in it.

What made him control himself was the look in her eyes that said she knew just what he was thinking. That's two for her, he thought.

"Lies," he said. "They are terrible. You know that men lie too, don't you?"

"Not to Rowena. They don't have to. What can they make up about her beauty that is a lie?"

"True charm contains no lies."

"Ha! Rowena is an expert at charm, yet all she does is lie."

"Then it is not true charm. What wins the men's hearts is her beauty.

But what will happen to her when her beauty fades? No man is going to fall for her lies when they come from lips that are no longer beautiful."

He could see he had her interest now. Obviously she liked lies that sounded as though they were true.

"Here, let me show you what real charm is. Give me your hand."

She kept her hand where it was, folded close to her body. "If you tell me lots of really dumb lies about my magnificent beauty, I won't like it."

"Could you give me credit for a little sense? Now, give me your hand!"

d.a.m.n, but the woman got to him. He was sure there wasn't another woman on the earth who would refuse a lesson in seduction. Especially when the man trying to seduce her was her husband.

Gently he took her hand in his. With another woman he might have worried about scaring her, but he wondered if anything scared this little creature. Holding her hand, he raised it to his face but didn't kiss it.

Instead, he pressed the back of her hand against his cheek. "You know what I like about you, Mrs. Hunter?" He didn't wait for her answer. "I like your honesty. All my life I've heard compliments. Men have been too afraid of me to say much of anything that wasn't nice, and women have so much liked the look of me that they purred when they were near me."

At the word "purr" he rolled his r in a soft, silky way that made Dorie's eyes widen.

"It is refres.h.i.+ng to meet a woman who is honest with me, who tells me that I have things to learn. And it is invigorating to have my mind challenged. You make me want to work hard around you; you make me want to show you that I can do the work, even though you think I can't."

He brought her hand to his lips and began to kiss her knuckles one by one. "As for beauty, there is a sparkle about you that your sister cannot match. She is a rose, full blown, lush, and showy, but you are a violet, sweet and shy, gentle but strong. Yours is not the kind of beauty that a person sees merely by looking. Your beauty is gentler. One has to search for it, and it is therefore worth much more."

Dorie sat still, her eyes widening with every word he said. Little p.r.i.c.kles of feeling ran from her hand up her arm, then spread throughout her body.

Abruptly he released her hand. "There," he said. "That's what I meant.

Charm without lies."

Dorie had to shake her head to clear it. "Charming lies. That's what I think," she said.

"And what do you think is the truth?"

"You think I am a pest and a nuisance. I am, however, a rich pest, and you need money."

Cole didn't know when he had ever felt more insulted. She was saying that he had married her for money and money alone, which of course wasn't true. He had married her because... d.a.m.n it! He wasn't exactly sure why he had married her, but it wasn't only for money. A man who married for money was... was... What was that word? A gigolo, that's what. He didn't mind being called a killer, but he wasn't going to be thought of as a man who took advantage of women.

Abruptly he stood up. "Let's get something straight right now. I married you because you needed protection, and you're paying me for that protection. I'm a bodyguard of sorts for you. When my arm is healed and your sister is out of the country, we'll shake hands and part company and that'll be the end of it. Agreed?"

"Of course," she said calmly, her eyes clear, showing no emotion at all.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed. It's been a long day."

At that her eyes widened just enough that he knew what she was thinking.

Not knowing exactly why he was so angry, he grabbed two carpetbags from where they were set against one wall and plopped them down in the center of the bed, creating a wall between the two sides. Maybe his anger was caused by the fact that all his life he'd had to fight women off and now suddenly this mousy little thing was acting as though he'd turned into a satyr, something vile and repulsive. She disliked him so much that she was reluctant even to give him her hand across the dinner table.

"There," he said nastily, nodding toward the divided bed.

"Does that suit your sense of propriety? I don't know why you persist in thinking I'm a deflowerer of reluctant virgins, but I can a.s.sure you that I'm not."

"I didn't mean-" she began, but he cut her off.

"Just go to bed. I won't bother you, so you can stop looking so worried."

"I wasn't worried," she said quietly, then moved behind the pretty little screen that stood in the corner beside the bed and began to undress.

Rowena had talked to Dorie alone after Cole announced that he and Dorie were getting married. Rowena had said a lot of nonsense about not being frightened and had told Dorie to do her best to make Mr. Hunter feel as though he were the smart one. "This is important to a man,"

Rowena had said. "It is necessary to a man." Dorie had no idea what her sister was talking about.

"d.a.m.nation!" she heard Cole say, then the little tinkling sound of a b.u.t.ton hitting what sounded like the porcelain washbasin.

Peeping around the screen, she saw Cole frowning in concentration as he tried to undress himself, his incapacitated arm making the task very difficult. A hero, she thought, a man who wouldn't ask for help.

Wearing an enormous white nightgown that covered her from neck to toes, she walked around the screen and went to him. Immediately she saw that he meant to tell her he could certainly undress himself, but here at last Dorie felt competent. For the last year of his life her father had been an invalid, and she had been the only one he would allow to take care of him. She was used to dressing and undressing a full-grown man.

"Here, let me," she said in an efficient voice, and within a few moments she had divested Cole of his clothing down to his long cotton underwear. She was unaware that he was smiling down at her in amus.e.m.e.nt and some disbelief.

She was also unaware of the way he was looking at her thick hair tucked into an innocent braid. During the day she kept her hair pulled tightly and astonis.h.i.+ngly neatly against her head, not a strand out of place. But now it looked soft and there were little curls about her face.

And oddly enough, her prim nightgown was almost provocative. He was used to seeing women in black or red lace, not pure, clean, virginal white.

Seeing her completely hidden the way she was made him wonder what was under her clothes far more than see-through silk did.

When he was in his underwear, she pulled back the covers of the bed and half pushed him down onto the bed. Then, as though she'd done it a thousand times-which she had-she tucked the covers around him, gave him a quick, perfunctory kiss on the forehead, turned away, blew out the lamp by the bed, and started toward the door.

She had her hand on the doork.n.o.b when she realized where she was and what she had just done. With astonishment on her face, she turned back to look at him. Cole had his good arm folded behind his head and was grinning broadly at her.

Spontaneously they burst into laughter.

"Don't I get a bedtime story?" Cole asked, making Dorie turn red.

"My father-" she began to explain, but then she laughed and said, "What kind of bedtime story do you want? One about bank robbers and showdowns at noon?"

"Would my friends be in it?"

That made her laugh more. "If it's about criminals, it would have to be about your friends, wouldn't it?"

He gave a half frown, half smile. "You make it sound as though if I were sent to prison it would be a family reunion."

"I suspect the closest you'd ever get to church would be the cemetery,"

she said. She meant to make a joke, but it fell flat as there was too much truth in what she'd said. Neither she nor Cole wanted to think how near he lived to death.

A lamp was burning by her side of the bed, and now that she had come to her senses and realized she wasn't in her father's house and this man wasn't her invalided father, she went to her side of the bed. Refusing to even glance at the heavy bags he had placed down the middle of the bed, she pulled back the cover, blew out the lamp, and slipped into bed, her back to him. It was a while before she spoke. "Were your parents nice?"

"No." He hesitated. "What about yours? Did you like that tyrant of a father of yours?"

"I never thought about it. I guess I did. He was the only parent I ever knew."

"So now the only family you have is your sister?"