Kathryn Albright - The Gunslinger and the Heiress

When someone finally emerged to meet him, it wasn’t Hannah or even Rachel. It was Dorian Lansing. Leaning slightly on the cane that had always been a statement of his power, he strode down the hall decked out in a stiff new suit. The ruffles at his collar seemed out of place on such a man. His appraisal was quick, but Caleb felt as if he’d been turned inside out and inspected thoroughly for bugs.

Dorian nodded briefly. “Mr. Houston. It’s been a while.”

“I’ve just arrived in town. Thought I’d let my sister know I was here and say hello to Hannah. Don’t mean to interrupt anything.”

Dorian peered at him with those piercing blue eyes. The years might have watered them down some but hadn’t blunted their sharpness. “You’ll understand if I don’t invite you in. This is an exclusive gathering. I will inform my granddaughter you stopped by.” Without waiting for a response, he turned back toward the party.

Caleb hadn’t expected to be treated like royalty, but then he also hadn’t expected to be treated like dirt. He took two steps following Dorian. The butler blocked him from going farther, so he called over the man’s shoulder, “I’ll see Rachel. Just to let her know I’ve arrived safely.”

Dorian paused halfway down the hall. He didn’t look back. “Very well. I’ll send Mrs. Taylor out.”

Caleb tried to corral his retaliatory thoughts. He’d better not be waiting until Christmas.

Sudden movement from a nearby doorway caught his eye. A young woman stood there, frozen like a deer in the woods before it breaks and runs. Recognition hit him like the wallop of finding gold at the bottom of the Indian River. Hannah. Last time he’d seen her, she’d been in braids and wore a pinafore to her shins. Now her fancy white dress hugged curves of a waist he’d never seen before—and her shoulders were bare. Bare! Where had he been while all this came about? She wasn’t quite a woman yet—but she was close, mighty close.

He tipped the brim of his hat and then signed her name. Hannah?

A smile transformed her face, dimples forming on both cheeks. She ran toward him, her arms stretching wide to hug him the way she always had.

“Miss Lansing,” the butler said, and coughed discreetly.

Immediately Hannah slowed, and the smile disappeared into tightly pressed lips as she lowered her arms. The transformation cautioned him. Guess she was a young lady more than a girl now.

She stopped a full three feet from him. Hello, Caleb, she signed. How lovely to see you. She was suddenly so stiff and formal that he half expected her to curtsy. Before he could answer, she wrinkled her small nose. You smell like fish.

He raised a brow. So the imp was still inside her. Reading her sign language came back to him naturally, as if he’d never had a four-year hiatus—a surprise after all he’d lived through in the north country. He looked closer at her, noting the changes. Still the same heart-shaped face, the same big gray eyes, but the young waif was turning into a butterfly. She carried herself as if she was royalty coming to call. A comb sparkled in the upsweep of her pale blond hair. Diamonds? Most likely...

“Miss,” the butler cleared his throat again.

Her hands flew in beautiful rhythmic patterns. I’m fine, Edward. Really. You may go.

Caleb hadn’t expected the way she spoke with her hands to be so elegant, so...so graceful. It was like a dance—mesmerizing.

Edward frowned but did as he was instructed and disappeared into a side room.

“Well, aren’t you all grown up, Miss Hannah?” Caleb emphasized the miss to tease her. He’d never called her anything but Hannah or peanut. She might not be able to speak, but her hearing was just fine. “And looking mighty pretty for your birthday celebration.”

Her cheeks colored. That was new. She’d never blushed before when he teased, and he always teased her. Mostly she’d tease right back or stomp off in a huff.

Laughter filtered in from down the hall, drawing her attention. She turned back to him. Won’t you come join us?

He’d rather drink a gallon of seawater. “I don’t fancy meetin’ a bunch of strangers just now. I’m fresh off the boat and could use a shave and a haircut.” He ran his palm over the four days’ growth of bristles on his face in emphasis. “Just let Rachel know I’ll be at the house.”

But you just got here! I want to hear all about what you’ve been doing.

The warmth of her greeting relieved him. He hadn’t known how she would be—growing up in this huge mansion and after all these years. He’d halfway wondered if she’d forget about him.

She glanced down the hall, pressed her finger to her lips and then grabbed his hand and pulled him the other way—outside. She led him down the front steps and onto a path through a flowering trellis that led to a large rose garden. Their floral scent filled the warm evening air along with something he hadn’t smelled in years—night-blooming jasmine. In the center of the garden, a bronze sundial stood next to a wrought iron swing. She sat down, a conspiratorial smile on her face, and patted the bench seat beside her.

He took care not to crush her fancy party dress as he joined her. “Just what are you up to, Hannah-girl?”

Her eyes shone, drinking him in and making him feel all of ten feet tall. You were gone a very long time. Where have you been?

“Alaska mostly.”

Her eyes widened into saucers . Looking for gold? Did you find any?

He chuckled, enjoying her exuberance. He gave a push with his feet to set the swing in gentle motion. “Some. Bears, too. Big black ones.”

You are lucky to have so many adventures—see so many new places.

“You’re pretty lucky yourself.” He tilted his chin toward the mansion behind her. “This looks like a big adventure in its own way.”

Instead of agreeing, like he thought she would, her shoulders sank, the movement nearly imperceptible.

He hadn’t intended to put a damper on the day. After all, it was her birthday party. “So how have you been, Miss Hannah?”

She blinked and seemed to shake off the mood. Next week I’m going to see a man about my voice.

Apprehension tasted sour in his stomach. “Thought you’d been down that road before.”

She frowned. I thought, of all people, you’d understand best.

Great. He hadn’t been here five minutes and they were arguing. “Understand what? Understand how many times you’ve had your hopes trampled? This isn’t some endurance contest, Hannah. You were all broke up the last time when it didn’t work like you hoped.”

But this is different.

“How so?”

It’s called hypnosis.

Coldness spread through his gut. “Like at a carnival? Some mind reader playing tricks with your brain?”

It won’t be like that. He’d be doing it to help me, not to make fun.

“Sounds crazy to me. Crazy and dangerous.”

She wilted at his words. Must have thought he’d be as enthusiastic as she was. He felt bad—selfish even—for throwin’ cold water on her hope. “I’m sorry I can’t be more excited for you. I just don’t want to see you hurt again. To my way of thinkin’ you’re fine just the way you are.”

That’s because you can read my hands. Not everyone can and... Her hands dropped to her lap.

“And what?” he prodded, knowing his voice was harsh and not caring. The gal would keep at this like a dog worrying a sore paw.

I...I... She squeezed shut her eyes. Never mind. I’m sorry I spoke of it.

Now he really felt like an ass. He just didn’t want to see her hurt. “Go on. I won’t laugh or give you any more grief.”

She took a deep breath. I want to sing.

It was a dream any young girl might have—rich or poor. Taken by surprise, he grinned. “Guess I’d like to hear that myself.”

You’re just scared I’ll talk too much once I learn how.

He smirked. That sounded more like the Hannah he knew—a bit on the sassy side. “Could be. But whatever happens—whether this hypnosis thing works or not—you’re still Hannah to me. Nothing can change that.” He said the words to convince himself. She was changing—right before his eyes, she was growing up.

A coyote howled in the distance, and the sound pulled him from his thoughts. The stars were popping out, too. Guess he best say what he’d come to say so she could get back to her party. He fished in his pocket and pulled out the leather pouch. “I...ah...have a little something for you—for luck.”

Her eyes took on a sparkle. A birthday present?

“Call it that if you want. Been carryin’ it for a while. It’s not much.” He handed her the pouch.

She loosened the drawstring cord and upended the bag. The necklace he’d had made slid into her waiting palm—a swirl of silver and abalone in the warm twilight. He watched for her reaction.

Her eyes opened wide in recognition.

She remembered. Unaccountably pleased, he said, “I’ve had that piece of shell with me ever since we found it on the beach. Been my good-luck piece. Figured it was your turn to have it.”

It...it is lovely. Will you put it on me?

She handed him the necklace and flounced around on the swing, turning her back to him. The movement wafted her flowery perfume up to fill his nose. His gaze slid down the gentle slope of her neck and farther to her shoulders. He’d never seen so much soft, creamy skin. Queer sensations pooled in his stomach as he circled the silver chain around her head. A tendril of hair danced in the breeze where he needed to lock the clasp. He leaned close and blew it out of the way.

She inhaled sharply.

He smiled at her reaction and then leaned in to tease her. “Goose bumps?”

She didn’t indicate she’d heard. In fact, she was mighty quiet. And goose bumps had formed on her upper arms. His fingers stilled in their task. He’d only meant to move the hair out of the way. After all, this was Hannah. He hadn’t given any thought to his actions being more than that. Suddenly they were. Suddenly they seemed...intimate.

He finished locking the silver clasp and pulled back. “Done.”

Hannah fingered the pendant as she turned to him. The gleaming shell rested just above the rose-colored satin neckline of her dress. He liked the way it sat there all shimmery on her smooth skin. “It’s not emeralds...or pearls....”

I have those things. It... She stilled her hands and then started over. This is special. It means a lot to me.

She leaned up and kissed him softly on the cheek.

Drawing back, she stopped close enough for her breath to tickle his skin. Gray eyes, large and luminous, blinked up at him. Her nearness set his entire body to thrummin’—not exactly the reaction he’d expected.

“You’re sure sayin’ a lot for someone who can’t talk,” he mumbled, unable to look away. They were friends—practically brother and sister. And she was way too young to be lookin’ at him like that. To give in to the urge forming—the urge to kiss her properly—would change things between them forever. He should get up and walk away right now, put some distance between them before he did something stupid.

Trouble was, his head told him one thing and his heart said another. And the second was drowning out the first. So he sat there like a dang fool, caught betwixt and between. Those pretty gray eyes of hers grew bigger, and she tilted her face up. His heart lurched to a new rhythm in his chest. Apparently the little lady was wantin’ the same thing. A fool he might be, but he didn’t need to be asked twice.