Here Comes the Bride (25 page)

Thomas accepted their deference with a forced smile. He helped the others disembark from the coach, wishing to God that he could go into the saloon and have a shot of whiskey to warm his bones. But now he was supposed to be the preacher, Thomas Hall, and he couldn’t afford any missteps. Especially in front of Emily Potter.

She appeared at the stagecoach door almost as soon as he formed the thought, one hand clutching the bag with the cat in it, in her other hand a book. He smiled to himself as he recalled her antics with the magnifying glass. The women on the coach had been close to starting a mutiny, but Emily had seemed oblivious to everything but her own objectives. He had to admire the way she’d handled those women, and her obvious intelligence, but there was an undeniable naïveté about her. God only knew what she would have said to the businessman if given the chance. He reminded himself to be careful around her, for Emily was no fool. In spite of his own good sense, Thomas found himself admiring her.

The object of his thoughts was looking around as if to get her bearings. This time he surreptitiously subjected Emily to as thorough an appraisal as she’d given him. Prim and proper, dressed in a simple dove gray dress with purple plush at the sleeves, a pretty veiled bonnet trimmed with feathers, and suede gloves, she was the epitome of a spinster, a women determined to be alone. In spite of himself, he tried to do what she had done by examining her sleeves and boots, but they revealed nothing to him. Instead, as she bent over to pick up her case, his eyes wandered over her figure, which hinted at being magnificent. She straightened, and he noticed that her face held a promise of beauty, her chestnut hair was splendid, and her mouth was downright kissable. There was a vulnerability about her, a sensitivity to life that he’d already sensed from their brief exchange.

Thomas’s thoughts drifted back to the innocent brush of their fingers when he handed her the cat, and her firm hand-clasp when her formally introduced himself. A hot rush of sensation had swept through him at the simple contact, a sensuality so compelling that it momentarily caught him off guard. He couldn’t remember ever touching a woman who evoked that kind of emotion so quickly. Her reaction told him he wasn’t imagining it, that she had felt the same thing and was just as confused.

He continued to smile, but the warmth had gone out of him. Emily Potter might enjoy mysteries, but she had no idea about the one she was about to walk into. Nor that he, the Reverend Thomas Hall, would play a major role in the plot.