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cupped it. With grave tenderness, he slid his fingertips into the hair at her nape. An unanticipated shiver ran across her shoulder and down to her breasts, tightening them beneath the silk wrapper.
    He rested his other hand ever-so-lightly against the small of her back, riveting her in place with that gentle touch.
    His dark gaze traveled her face, from her eyes to her lips, his expression changing…relaxing. Yes. He wanted her. Relief swept over her. “You are a rare flower, Ella. An exquisite rare flower.”
    His breath touched her chin. Her heart leaped in response.
    She truly wanted him to kiss her. She no longer had a point to prove or an agenda. Ella wanted this man to kiss her. Unfamiliar tears smarted behind her eyelids, so she closed her eyes to hide them.
    He raised her face with his palm, and his lips closed over hers in a warm tantalizing greeting. Hello. So this is what you taste like.
    She wrapped her arm behind his neck and urged him closer, into a fuller, more satisfying melding of lips and breath. He smelled good, like crisp linen with a hint of mint and champagne. His lips were firm and warm. Her head felt as though she’d finished a bottle on her own, but she’d only had two glasses of the bubbly liquid. The man himself was intoxicating.
    She’d had no idea there were kisses like this. She kissed him because she wanted to, because the act gave her pleasure. The recognition shocked her.
    Maybe courtship wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.
    He drew back a few inches. She opened her eyes and he gazed into them. Was he changing his mind? Would this champagne kiss lead to a night in her bed?
    “I’d better leave,” he said.
    She’d never quite understood disappointment in this heartfelt physical manner. She wasn’t a dreamer. Dreams were out of reach and easily destroyed. Nor was she a romantic, holding hopeless imaginings of love or faithfulness. She knew firsthand the true nature of men. She held no expectations, therefore experienced no disenchantment. His leaving was a mere frustration, she assured herself. She had a plan to endear herself to him, and he had thwarted that with his counterplan for a courtship.
    Ella released her hold on his neck and took a backward step on legs that trembled. His hooded gaze took in her hair, her lips, and fell to the base of her throat, where she suspected her pulse beat wildly. She gave him a demure smile.
    He would change his mind within a week.

    She’d been alone her whole life, so the solitude of her room was nothing new. The most unusual aspect she discovered was upon waking when she drew back the russet damask draperies to greet the morning. She had a clear view of the immense side yard, the roof of the carriage house and the broad expanse of sky—all without bars.
    The females who lived there had been told that the iron bars that covered every window at Madame Fairchild’s were for their own protection. Men in a cow town would do just about anything to get to a woman. But more often those barriers had prevented the girls from taking a notion to leave.
    Ella studied the neighboring house with its painted gables and glanced at the roofs of the other nearby homes. Yesterday one of the men had mentioned that vast improvements had been made to the streets and buildings along the main thoroughfares in hopes of having a governor chosen from Sweetwater. The locals had expectations of a territorial capitol and eventually statehood. She raised the window to the sound of a horse and buggy clattering on the brick street.
    Sights and sounds of freedom.
    For the first time, she recognized what marriage to Nathan Lantry had bought her. Freedom to come and go as she pleased, freedom to walk along the street and to shop with her head held high. Freedom to enjoy life without oppression or criticism.
    Ella wanted to become the person Nathan believed he’d married. And she would. Now that she had the opportunity, she could blend herself into this community and become