on the cheek and sped off down the street as fast as her little legs would carry her, black braids flying behind her. Morgan watched her go, the smile never leaving his mouth.
Then he saw Sarah.
She expected that wall of belligerence to come slamming down between them again, yet it didn't—at any rate, not right away. For a heart-stopping moment it seemed to Sarah asif he had been left vulnerable and exposed, his emotions clearly revealed on his face. There was an ache there that turned Sarah's insides to jelly. For a moment she wondered whether his infamous facade was only a mask he presented to the world to conceal emptiness and loneliness.
Ridiculous. Morgan Kane was never lonely, not with women and awestruck Indians falling to their knees in either worship or lust each time he snapped his fingers.
As he reentered the store, Sarah remained rooted to the walk, twirling her parasol on her shoulder and trying her best to retrieve a small portion of the anger that had driven her to storm after him in the first place. Finally she forced herself to move through the doorway, where she tried to focus in on the room's darker interior. Kane stood in the back, running his finger down a lengthy list of supplies. Henry was perched on a counter, swinging his bare feet and nodding each time Morgan read aloud from the series of items.
Sarah cleared her throat.
"Miss St. James!" Henry declared. "Please, come in."
Morgan looked up, "Here comes trouble."
Sarah yanked her parasol closed and stepped inside.
Henry leapt to the floor and hurried to her. "My dear, what brings you out so early?"
She smiled, finding pleasure in Henry's company. Kane had mentioned during their brief conferences after the market incident that he had a partner who would see to the hiring of the men who would attend them on their journey. Of course, she had been extremely shocked upon first meeting him. But they had become fast friends since leaving Georgetown. His story of how he'd been raised and educated in England had brought her hours of pleasure.
"I've decided to become more involved in the arrangements you and Mr. Kane have been making." She swept the cluttered shop with a glance. There were crates of sup- plies stacked near the door. Two were labeled "Whiskey."
"I told you," came Kane's voice. "Everything's been taken care of."
"So I see. I do hope, Mr. Kane, that you have provided us with something more substantial to drink than whiskey.''
' 'Don't worry, you'll get your tea, lady. I believe Henry's even provided you with a china pot to brew it in."
"Do I detect some sarcasm in your tone, Mr. Kane?"
He tossed the supply list onto the counter. "So what?"
"So what?" She slammed the tip of her parasol against the floor so hard that it stirred up a little cloud of dust. "I will tell you what, Mr. Kane. It is my money that is financing this journey and paying your salary. You would do well to remember that I am your employer, and therefore have some say about the outfitting of mis expedition."
"Yeah?"
He walked toward her, his height exaggerated by the low ceiling, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor. Henry, who had been watching Sarah carefully, placed himself between her and Morgan and said, "By Jove, but we're getting along smashingly, aren't we?"
Morgan nudged him aside as Sarah quelled the urge to flee. Instead, she gripped the parasol in both hands as if it were a weapon and met the American's stare without blinking. An eternity ticked by as he stood towering above her, the heat of the musty room bearing down on her, the smell of Kane's skin burning her nostrils. His was the scent of bay rum and sweat; it made her chest constrict so tightly she could hardly breathe.
"All right," he finally said, making her jump. "It's your move, boss lady. I'm open to suggestions. What have you got to say?"
Unnerved by the gleam in his eyes, Sarah backed away, but only slightly. Twisting theparasol in her hand, she moved about the room, chewing her
Then he saw Sarah.
She expected that wall of belligerence to come slamming down between them again, yet it didn't—at any rate, not right away. For a heart-stopping moment it seemed to Sarah asif he had been left vulnerable and exposed, his emotions clearly revealed on his face. There was an ache there that turned Sarah's insides to jelly. For a moment she wondered whether his infamous facade was only a mask he presented to the world to conceal emptiness and loneliness.
Ridiculous. Morgan Kane was never lonely, not with women and awestruck Indians falling to their knees in either worship or lust each time he snapped his fingers.
As he reentered the store, Sarah remained rooted to the walk, twirling her parasol on her shoulder and trying her best to retrieve a small portion of the anger that had driven her to storm after him in the first place. Finally she forced herself to move through the doorway, where she tried to focus in on the room's darker interior. Kane stood in the back, running his finger down a lengthy list of supplies. Henry was perched on a counter, swinging his bare feet and nodding each time Morgan read aloud from the series of items.
Sarah cleared her throat.
"Miss St. James!" Henry declared. "Please, come in."
Morgan looked up, "Here comes trouble."
Sarah yanked her parasol closed and stepped inside.
Henry leapt to the floor and hurried to her. "My dear, what brings you out so early?"
She smiled, finding pleasure in Henry's company. Kane had mentioned during their brief conferences after the market incident that he had a partner who would see to the hiring of the men who would attend them on their journey. Of course, she had been extremely shocked upon first meeting him. But they had become fast friends since leaving Georgetown. His story of how he'd been raised and educated in England had brought her hours of pleasure.
"I've decided to become more involved in the arrangements you and Mr. Kane have been making." She swept the cluttered shop with a glance. There were crates of sup- plies stacked near the door. Two were labeled "Whiskey."
"I told you," came Kane's voice. "Everything's been taken care of."
"So I see. I do hope, Mr. Kane, that you have provided us with something more substantial to drink than whiskey.''
' 'Don't worry, you'll get your tea, lady. I believe Henry's even provided you with a china pot to brew it in."
"Do I detect some sarcasm in your tone, Mr. Kane?"
He tossed the supply list onto the counter. "So what?"
"So what?" She slammed the tip of her parasol against the floor so hard that it stirred up a little cloud of dust. "I will tell you what, Mr. Kane. It is my money that is financing this journey and paying your salary. You would do well to remember that I am your employer, and therefore have some say about the outfitting of mis expedition."
"Yeah?"
He walked toward her, his height exaggerated by the low ceiling, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor. Henry, who had been watching Sarah carefully, placed himself between her and Morgan and said, "By Jove, but we're getting along smashingly, aren't we?"
Morgan nudged him aside as Sarah quelled the urge to flee. Instead, she gripped the parasol in both hands as if it were a weapon and met the American's stare without blinking. An eternity ticked by as he stood towering above her, the heat of the musty room bearing down on her, the smell of Kane's skin burning her nostrils. His was the scent of bay rum and sweat; it made her chest constrict so tightly she could hardly breathe.
"All right," he finally said, making her jump. "It's your move, boss lady. I'm open to suggestions. What have you got to say?"
Unnerved by the gleam in his eyes, Sarah backed away, but only slightly. Twisting theparasol in her hand, she moved about the room, chewing her
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