“She tricked me!” Warily, Mr. Jister rose from the ground, his huge chest heaving.
“Mr. Jister,” Theodosia began, placing her bonnet back on her head, “it was not my intention to reveal the secret of winning your egg game until you laughed over that little boy’s misfortune. That not being enough to feed your hunger for cruelty, you pushed him as well. I understand that your livelihood depends on your customers’ ignorance of the law of inertia. However, what I do not comprehend is the callous attitude you exhibit when people lose their money.” With a turn of her head, she dismissed him and peered up at Roman. “Shall we have our dessert now, Mr. Montana?”
Roman glanced down at the boxes of food he’d dropped the moment he saw Mr. Jister attempt to attack Theodosia.
“Oh, Mr. Montana,” she murmured, “when you struck Mr. Jister, you spilled our dessert.”
“Well, what did you want me to do? Stuff a piece of strawberry cake up his nose? Look, I still don’t understand what the hell went on here while I was gone, but you—”
“She ruined me, that’s what!” Mr. Jister blasted.
Calmly, Theodosia walked among the assembly of townspeople. “In gratitude for your assistance, I would like for you to please take your pick of the prizes.”
Squealing and hollering with delight, the people hurried toward the rack and promptly began stripping it of its treasures.
In an effort to salvage at least one of the valuable prizes, Mr. Jister started toward the rack, but he stopped instantly when he felt a gun barrel sink into the fat at his waist.
“Sometimes you win, Jister, and sometimes you lose,” Roman said, his revolver steady in his hand. “Today you lost.” With the glitter in his eyes, a stiff nod of his head, and a wave of his Colt, he ordered the game man to leave.
Mr. Jister slunk away.
“Let me congratulate you, Miss Worth,” Roman said, taking her arm and leading her toward the dessert stands. “You’re very talented.”
“That is a very poor choice of words, Mr. Montana. Understanding the law of inertia is not a talent but an acquired skill that is the result of years of study. To explain: Centrifugal force is the pull exerted by a moving object along a circular path on the body constraining that object. The force acts outwardly away from the center of rotation. In a raw egg, the center is liquid and is therefore unevenly distributed within the confines of the shell. When spun, the raw contents slosh—”
“A thousand thanks for making all that clear to me, Miss Fountain of Knowledge. But I wasn’t talking about your study habits of the past—I was talking about your amazing ability to find trouble! Didn’t it ever cross that brilliant mind of yours that winning all that egg man’s prizes might not sit too well with him?”
She skirted to the side when a youngster’s ball came flying toward her. “No. My only concern was gaining retribution for that dear little boy who wanted the perfume for his mother.”
Roman hadn’t the heart to continue scolding her over her lack of judgment. To her way of thinking, she’d performed a good deed, and she had. But even so, he vowed to keep a closer watch on her.
“You aren’t angry with me, are you, Mr. Montana?” Taking his hand into both of hers, she raised it to her upper chest and rested her chin upon his knuckles.
Her tender worry and gentle gesture affected him deeply. He felt vulnerable to her sweetness at that moment, as if he were standing unarmed before a benevolent, yet powerful force.
“Mr. Montana?”
He feigned a somber expression and resorted to teasing. “Yes, as a matter of fact Iammad at you. I told you to get me that Winchester if you won the egg game. Instead, you let someone else have it.”
“You wear two guns at your hips, have a knife strapped to your leg, and carry a rifle on your saddle. Why do you desire yet another weapon?”
“Well…just to have it.”
How like a little boy he was at this moment, she thought, watching his crooked grin and the naughty twinkle in his eyes. On impulse, she reached up and slid her fingers through his long black hair, then trailed them down his chest. Finally, she stopped her hand at his waist and caressed the stretch of muscle in his back.
Roman stood riveted, his heartbeat the only motion in his entire body. She’d never touched him like this before, and judging by the innocence in her eyes, he knew she had no idea that her simple caresses were arousing him to such a degree that it was all he could do not to ravish her in front of the whole township of Kidder Pass.
He had to be alone with her. Now. Right now. And when he had her all to himself, he knew exactly what he would do.
She hadn’t mentioned her sex-treat book in a while, but he hadn’t forgotten about those highly unusual things the dead Tibetan men had practiced. Maybe reviewingThe Sweet Art of Passionwith Theodosia would lead to some highly unusual fun. “Miss Worth, why don’t we go back to the room now?”
She dropped her hand from his waist, then picked a bit of lint off his shirt. “May we savor a bit more diversion first? I’ve a mind to see that number game.”
He couldn’t deny the pretty plea glistening in her eyes and resigned himself to waiting awhile longer before exploring the Tibetan sex secrets. In truth, perhaps it was better that he had a chance to cool down. “The number game, huh?” He looked at the booth.
Sensing he was in accordance, Theodosia picked up her skirts and headed toward the other carnival game, and Roman followed.
When they arrived, Roman saw that Burris Jister had joined the number game man. The men resembled each other, and both wore matching rat hats, leading him to realize they were brothers. He knew, too, that the other Jister brother was probably just as crafty as Burris.
