pleasant as she remembered, and the shops were just as prosperous. Many of the shop owners followed the Creole custom of bringing their wares out into the street, but Selena scarcely noted the produce a grocer had on display or the bolts of calico and silk a mercer had stacked on a table. At the moment there was only one shop that interested her—Chandler’s General Mercantile.
When the gig drew up before the shop, Selena sat there in her seat for a long moment, staring at the storefront window. She recognized her jealousy, but like a tongue probing a sore tooth, she couldn’t keep away.
Finally she stepped down from the gig. At the door, however, she hesitated another long moment. The dampness of her palms beneath her gloves had nothing to do with the warmth of the late-May afternoon.
She had dressed in one of her best walking dresses, a gown of lilac lutestring with a high waist banded in deep plum. Armor, she thought with little humor as she took a deep breath and entered the shop.
It took a moment, but when her eyes adjusted from the brightness outside to the cool, dimmer light inside, she could see tables laden with goods—everything from bullet molds and leather goods to cutlery and tinware. After gazing around the shop, Selena glanced beyond a line of barrels to where a waist-high counter stood. Then she spotted Danielle.
Red hair. Of course. The lustrous auburn hair of the woman behind the counter gleamed like the heart of a fire.
Selena’s heart sank. Danielle wasn’t voluptuous, precisely, but her breasts were full and her features strikingly beautiful. She wore her richly colored hair pinned in a thick knot, and while her brown muslin gown was plain and serviceable, it took on new life when adorned by such glowing locks.
Her head was bent since she was engaged in counting nails. She paused after saying “thirty-seven” and looked up, smiling pleasantly. It was a preoccupied smile, but even so, it was breathtaking.
Selena’s heart dropped to the vicinity of her knees.
“I shall be with you in a moment,” Danielle said sweetly. “Oh, no—now where was I?”
“Thirty-seven,” Selena supplied, wishing she had never come. She turned away, gazing blindly down at a display of candles.
When Danielle reached one hundred and said, “Now, how may I be of assistance?” Selena gathered up a handful of the candles and took them to the counter for purchase. She had to have some pretense for coming.
But her effort was wasted. Danielle glimpsed the pale hair under Selena’s wide-brimmed straw hat, and her smile slowly faded. “You must be Selena,” she said quietly.
The two women stared at each other for a long moment, brown eyes gazing at blue.
Finally Selena broke the silence. “I had to come…to see…”
She didn’t complete the sentence, but Danielle nodded slowly. Selena realized then that words weren’t needed, that Danielle understood. The powerful instincts that had driven her to search out her rival were as old as human existence: a female protecting her claim to her mate. And in a strange way, the understanding bonded them together. Selena felt it like a tangible force between them. They were two women linked by the same man.
Danielle spoke next. “I don’t know what to say…Explanations seem inadequate.”
“No, there’s no need to explain anything. As Kyle says… what’s done is done.”
“I want to assure you there is nothing now between me and Kyle.”
“You—” Selena broke off, her throat tight. “You have a son between you.”
Just then there came a scrambling sound from behind the counter and the patter of small feet. Danielle glanced down quickly, then gave a soft cry of dismay. “Clay, no! Come back here this instant.”
Even as she spoke, a towheaded child dressed in a floor-length nankeen shirt ran around the corner of the counter. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw Selena, staring at her with bright green eyes. Then he grinned at her, and Selena’s heart fell to her feet. She could fight against another woman, perhaps, but not this beautiful child.
And he was beautiful, with the same breathtaking smile of his mother and the masculine charm that belonged to his father. In the dimpling creases in his cheeks, in the lively directness of his gaze, Selena could clearly see the young boy’s resemblance to Kyle.
Danielle came around the counter then, to place one hand on Clay’s small, blond head. Selena didn’t miss the significance of the action: a mother protecting her son.
Selena felt the ache in her throat swell further as Clay wrapped his short arms around his mother’s knees.
He clung to Danielle’s skirts as he pointed at Selena. “Lady?”
“Yes, that is a lady,” Danielle said, bending to scoop him up. “Come now, you know you aren’t allowed to play in the store.”
Selena tore her gaze away, trying to get hold of her emotions, ashamed because they were so unadmirable. It wasn’t commendable to be jealous of a two-year-old child just because he could command Kyle’s affection when she couldn’t. Nor was it commendable to envy a woman her son. But she couldn’t deny she would have liked to have claimed Kyle’s love or that she would have liked to have Clay as her own.
As Danielle was returning Clay to his authorized play area, a man appeared in the door behind the counter, his arms filled with a large bundle of cane baskets lashed together.
“Danielle, where do you want these?”