David whirled around, dripping sudsy water onto the floor. “What?”
Tessa giggled, a deep throaty giggle that took David by surprise. She moved to stand in front of him. “I said I like the little flowers on the plates.” Her heart seemed to beat a little faster at the picture he made standing there so tall and unbelievably handsome with a white dish towel draped over one shoulder. “You looked as if you were going to scrub the flowers off.”
“You look…beautiful.” He reached up for the end of the towel and dried his hands.
The yellow wool day dress fit her like a second skin. The soft fabric lovingly molded her curves in all the right places, and the color accentuated her vibrant red hair.
Tessa blushed. She’d heard many compliments when she worked at the Satin Slipper, but none so sincere or so flattering as the one David Alexander had uttered.
“You don’t think it makes me look too…too yellow, do you?” Tessa didn’t really doubt that the shade was becoming. She simply wanted to hear David confirm his earlier assessment.
“I think you look as fetching as a spring flower,” he assured her. “A daffodil.” He changed his mind. “No, an iris. A lovely, elegant iris.”
She spun around so he could view the back. “It fits perfectly. How did you know?”
“I told the seamstress you were about Mary’s size, only a few inches taller, and a redhead.”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “I’ve never worn a bustle before,” she admitted, “but I’ve always wanted to. Isn’t it grand?”
David focused his gaze on the back of her gown, paying close attention to the curve where her firm little bottom should have been. He frowned at the bustle. He preferred Tessa’s natural shape to the horsehair-enhanced version, but rather than spoil her pleasure in the fashionable bustle, David relied on his vivid memory. “It’s a work of art.”
“And look,” Tessa ordered, raising her hem a fraction. “Shoes to match.”
David looked at her trim ankles encased in dyed kid boots and the exposed portion of one calf in shimmering gossamer silk. The bill for her clothes would be outrageously high, made as they were on such short notice, but he wouldn’t complain. He’d already decided they were worth every last penny.
“Did you know there were three dresses?” Tessa asked, her lilting brogue thickening in her excitement. “This yellow one, a brown one, and a blue one. With gloves and…you know…everything to match.” She blushed again at the idea that he’d ordered more unmentionables for her. And lovely ones, at that.
“Everything except hats,” David told her. He despised hats, especially ladies’ hats with all the flowers and lace and b
ows and yards of tulle. He’d even seen some with stuffed birds on the brims. They ranked right up there with tea and—he stared at the back of her dress again—bustles. No hats. He’d telegraphed that message to the seamstress along with the others. He enjoyed the play of light on Tessa’s fiery mane. It would be a crime to cover it up.
“Well, who needs more than one hat, anyway?” Tessa smiled brightly, too brightly. She tried not to feel disappointed. After all, he had bought her all these lovely things. She should have known David would forget to order hats. She’d noticed he seldom remembered to wear his own.
“You can order a few hats if you want,” David offered impulsively, belatedly realizing Tessa liked feminine headgear and that he was being high-handed by denying her. “I’ll even take you into Cheyenne.” He hated the thought of going into Cheyenne, but if it would make her happy, it was worth it. Feeling generous, he added, “You can pick them out yourself. There’s a milliner in the city who makes hats of all descriptions, covered with bows and lace. Even stuffed quail and sparrows.” He tried not to cringe when her eyes lit up.
“When can we go?”
“In a week or so, after the circuit judge leaves,” David said, postponing it as long as he could. “I’ll have more time then.”
“Oh.” Again she tried to hide her disappointment.
“I might be able to fit a trip in sooner.”
“I can wait a week or so,” Tessa assured him although she wasn’t certain she wouldn’t be in jail then.
“I’ll see what I can work in between hearings,” David promised.
Hearings. David realized what he’d said almost immediately, and he could tell from the expression on Tessa’s face that she’d noticed as well. She had been accused of murder. Technically she was his prisoner, not his houseguest. She might not have any time after the hearing. She might not have any time at all.
“Tessa…”
“David…” Tessa gazed at him, unable to look away. She recognized the need in his voice. Lifting herself up onto her toes, she sought his lips.
David met her halfway, closing the distance between them.
Tessa wrapped her arms around his neck. The dish towel fell to the floor, unheeded. She pressed her lips against his.
He reached for her, touching the base of her spine with one hand. He felt the softness of the yellow wool as he pulled her to his body. Holding her cradled against him, he lifted his other hand to the back of her head. He tangled his long fingers in the silken strands of her hair, scattering the pins in every direction. The heavy mass tumbled from the confines of her braided coronet to hang well below her shoulders. David gently separated the braid and ran his hand through her hair.