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said he thought I’d been dying.
    “What’s wrong with you, woman?” he asked with wide eyes.
    “Do you like my dress?” I asked through a giggle. I curtsied clumsily.
    His stunning green eyes traveled the length of my tattered gown. Square corners of fabric stuck out here and there, and there were holes in the puff sleeves where my pieces hadn’t quite matched up. The stitches were loose and the front and back didn’t quite fit together. The corner of his lip twitched. Once. Twice, before he gave a chuckle that sent me into a fit of laughter all over again. I turned and admired my not-so-handiwork in the mirror once more. It was the least flattering, most ill-fitting dress I’d ever encountered.
    “Did I cut the pieces wrong?” he asked, watching me through the mirror with a half stifled smile.
    “Oh, I’m sure the pieces were cut fine, but you Dawson boys don’t seem to be hearing me when I say I really can’t sew.” There it was; the sob I’d been trying to keep in. This cloth meant something to Jeremiah and I’d ruined it forever just like I knew I would. I slumped onto the edge of Luke’s bed and cupped my cheeks with my hands.
    Luke looked terrified, as most men did in the presence of a crying woman.
    “I’ve ruined Jeremiah’s fabric,” I explained.
    “Oh,” he said quietly. He wiped the palms of his hands on his tanned hide pants and shut the door. “He’ll understand,” he said as the bed creaked beside me under his weight.
    I wiped my eyes on the deformed puff sleeve and hoped he was right.
    “You seem like you have a tender heart for a…” He didn’t finish and cleared his throat instead.
    “For a whore?” I was too defeated to be mad. “I was raised by a tender family and I was only a whore for a year before I came here. Not enough time to become bitter just yet.”
    “I don’t really know anything about you and I’m going to marry you,” he said, sounding surprised. “I don’t even know your name.”
    I held out my hand for a shake. A manly gesture, but hang it. “Kristina Yeaton. My regulars called me Kris.”
    He smirked at my hand and shook it. “Luke Dawson, ma’am. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
    I got a good look at his face for the first time since he’d barged in. “What in blue blazes happened to you?” I reached out and touched the open cut on the side of his cheekbone. The bruising was already making an appearance and his lip was split.
    “I fell.”
    “Off a building?”
    He hissed air through his teeth and jerked back when my prodding got too close. There really was no use fussing over a man who didn’t care to be fussed over. I lay my hands gently in my lap and waited with an impatiently arched eyebrow. All right, if he kept staring at me like that, I was going to melt into a useless puddle and fall right through the cracks in the floor boards. “What?”
    “Well, you look right pretty without all that powder on your face.” He stroked the curve of my jawline with his fingertip and my insides went warm from the line fire he created. “Your cheeks are all pink from crying and your skin’s fair.” He trailed his thumb softly over the fullness of my lips.
    “Are you saying you prefer me without my war paint?”
    His chuckle was deep and reverberated off my waiting ears. “I do.” Pulling away, he dug around in his pocket. “I’m sure you’ll do well enough as a wife and I’m not too picky besides.” He plucked a thin gold band from his vest pocket and slid it onto my finger. “Don’t really know how to do this but, you want to get hitched? To me?”
    It might not have sounded so, but sitting here in my ruined dress with damp tear tracks still on my cheeks, a good looking man giving me compliments about the way I looked, and an offered gold ring was just about the most romantic thing I’d ever witnessed—and it was happening to me.
    There was no reining in my smile. “Okay. Yes.”
    I was staring at the new band on my finger that