Chapter 17
Sheridan heard the commotion beyond her door, even over the sound of her own tears. She drew in a shuddering breath, willing herself to stop crying.
She knew she couldn’t keep doing this to herself. The amount of tears she’d cried since Wyatt dropped her off at the house should have left her completely drained, and yet, they kept coming, one after the other. It was making her ill, physically and mentally.
For a woman who never cried, had never been allowed that luxury, she was certainly making up for lost time now. And even though he stood outside her door at this moment, knowing that he’d come for her, she still couldn’t seem to make herself stop.
“All right, lass, that’s enough.” Mrs. Gallagher swept into her room, tea tray in hand.
She put the tray on a small table and looked at her, hands on her hips as she approached the bed.
“Now, I’m going to talk to you like your mother would.
” She sat on the edge of the bed. “You have a choice to make, Sheridan. You can stay here in your room, crying, wallowing in self-pity or you can go leave this room, tell Wyatt that you love him, and see what happens. I think you should do the latter.” She patted her hand then smiled.
“He’s waiting downstairs.” She pulled a handkerchief from the décolletage of her dress. “Now dry those tears.”
Sheridan took another shuddering breath. “I…can’t seem to stop!”
“Aw, lass, I keep forgetting how sheltered you were….still are. You’re hurt.
The first time is the hardest.” She laughed softly.
“Actually, any time your heart gets broken is the worst and all of us, at one time or another, go through this. Love is complicated and men sometimes can’t say what’s in their hearts.
They don’t feel like they have the words, but they’ll show you if you let them.
He’s doing that right now by being here, showing you how he feels.
” Her smile widened. “You didn’t tell him that you love him, did you? ”
She shook her head, then dabbed at her eyes.
“Well then, that’s part of the problem, isn’t it?
He might feel the same about you, as I’m sure he does, but he doesn’t know how you feel.
After what Katie did to him, he’s probably not sure he can trust his own heart.
” She shook her head, her white curls bouncing then let out a sigh as she rose and poured tea into a cup.
“Honestly, so many problems could be solved if people just talked to one another, told each other what’s in their heart.
Can you imagine how much happier we could be if we could do that?
How many arguments could be avoided? How many misunderstandings could be solved if we would just talk?
” She added milk and sugar, then handed her the cup of tea.
“And listen, too. We have to want to listen.”
Sheridan couldn’t argue with her logic.
“I love ya, lass, like you were my own, and I’m telling you this for your own good. Go to him. Tell him how you feel. At least, then you’ll know. But this—” Mrs. Gallagher gestured to the rumpled bed then reached out to wipe the tears from her eyes “—this has to stop.”
Sheridan nodded and dabbed at her eyes with the sodden handkerchief.
Mrs. Gallagher patted her cheek. “Splash some cold water on your face and come downstairs. He’s waiting.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Gallagher left the room, taking the tray with her.
Sheridan took another sip of tea and concentrated on just breathing, as she’d been taught.
Deep breaths, in and out, slowly, until she was in full control.
She finished her tea and rose from the bed, then splashed her face with water, like Mrs. Gallagher suggested.
She glanced in the mirror. The cold water didn’t help.
Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. Her nose was red, too.
And she was still in the clothes she’d worn yesterday, too, as she never bothered to change.
They were wrinkled, but she didn’t care.
She left her room, closing the door softly behind her.
Barrie, whose room was right beside hers, opened her door and pulled up the strap of her chemise. Behind her, Sheridan could see her guest buttoning the fly of his trousers, a big smile on his face. She gave a soft sigh, then winked. “Tell him you love him.”
Sheridan nodded, then slowly walked down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom, her hand clutching the newel post.
Wyatt was, indeed, waiting in the parlor, pacing from one end to the other, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
She must have made a sound because he turned and looked at her.
He didn’t move, just stood there, his eyes sweeping over her for the longest time.
Then, as if broken from a spell, he walked toward her, his handsome face filled with concern.
In moments, she was in his arms, exactly where she wanted to be and he was kissing her, his mouth moving over hers with such passion, such regret, she felt the emotions deep in her soul.
“I’m sorry.” They were the first words out of his mouth when he broke the kiss and traced her jaw with his finger, then smoothed that same finger gently beneath her eyes. “I never meant to hurt you. Never meant to make you cry. I was a fool, as so many have told me.”
“I thought you didn’t want me.” It was the hardest thing she’d ever have to admit, especially knowing that Odette and Estelle had never wanted her.
“How could you think that? I do want you, Sherry. The house isn’t the same. Duke misses you. He won’t even take a treat from me.” He smiled that devastating smile. “I miss you.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?” she asked, her heart thundering.
“I thought you wanted to go home.” He admitted, a little sheepishly. “Our agreement was to pretend we were married to convince your family. We never talked about what would happen after your folks went home.”
“I didn’t want to go, but I just couldn’t tell you. I’ve never been able to ask for what I wanted. I’ve always done what I was told.”
He smiled. “Well, that can change. Tell me what you want.”
She drew in her breath, gathered her courage, and asked for what she wanted, something she never thought she’d be able to do. “I love you, Wyatt MacLean. I want to go home with you.”
He let out a long sigh, as if relieved, then gathered her in his arms once more, squeezing tightly.
“I love you, too, Sherry DuBois. I never thought I would feel this way again, but I do. With all my heart.” And then he kissed her again, his actions as much of a promise as his words. “Marry me for real.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
She nodded, almost afraid to speak and break the spell.
He pulled away a little, his gaze intense, and she saw the love and happiness reflected in his tiger’s eyes.
At the same time, she heard the hinges of the kitchen door creak, then a loud sniff and she knew, just knew, Mrs. Gallagher stood behind the door, watching.
“You’ll need a new dress.” He laughed. “I’ll need a new suit.
We’ll have to wait until His Honor, Mr. Peabody, comes to town.
And my folks, too. They went to visit Preston in Albuquerque.
They’d be upset if you and I got married without them.
I’ll send some telegrams.” He lifted her chin with his finger. “Can you wait that long?”
“Yes, I can wait. As long as I can see you every day until then.”
“Good.” He smiled and then lowered his head to capture her lips with his own.
Oh, it was all so new, this feeling of being wanted, of being loved, of trusting someone. It was wonderful. Beyond wonderful. It was awe-inspiring, so much so that Sheridan could hardly contain herself. She’d never been so happy. Or so frightened.
She slowed her rented horse to a walk as she approached the house, the sandwiches and fruit she had brought in a burlap sack bumping against her leg.
Over the past couple of days, it had become her habit to ride out to the ranch to bring Wyatt lunch and spend some time with him while they waited for His Honor, Mr. Peabody, and Wyatt’s folks.
Delilah had even stated that she was glad he’d come to his senses, in response to his telegram, and she didn’t consider him a fool anymore.
She frowned, seeing a buggy she didn’t recognize in front of the house.
Did Wyatt have guests? Perhaps his brother, Kyle, had come into town early for the wedding.
She hadn’t met him yet, but she knew all about him.
He was the one who made and sold the brandy she’d had ice skating with Wyatt. She looked forward to meeting him.
Sheridan dismounted, untied the burlap sack and ran up the porch steps. She let herself in and stopped short in the doorway. She drew in her breath at the sight before her, which was not what she ever thought she’d see. The bag dropped from her suddenly lifeless fingers.
Lounging on the sofa, dressed as skimpily as the girls at Josie’s, was a woman. And not just any woman.
Katie. Wyatt’s old love.
She was more beautiful than the first time she’d seen her.
More beautiful than the photograph, too.
Dark ringlets, snapping dark eyes, a cupid’s bow mouth, now widened in surprise.
Obviously, the woman had expected Wyatt, not her.
She sat up quickly, then rose to her feet as gracefully and elegantly as a cat, but didn’t bother to pull her robe closer around her body, almost as if she was showing off her charms, comparing them.
Sheridan stepped into the parlor, not quite certain what to do as Katie came closer, slowly circling around her, making her turn her head to keep the woman in view. She found her voice, overcoming her initial shock. “What are you doing here, Katie?”
“Wyatt invited me.” Kate fairly purred, her eyes wide and filled with innocence. Beneath that innocent expression was something else. Confidence. The woman exuded it, the exact opposite of what Sheridan was feeling. There was something else behind her smile, too. Triumph. Like she had won.