“Why are you without family?”
He teeters back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Always favored soft women. You know—high society-like. But they turn their noses up at a working man like myself. Well, I may have made my money with my hands and not business, but it’s wealth all the same.”
I nod. A spark of pity nearly ignites something in my chest that gets quickly snuffed out. “You never fancied a woman of your own class?”
“Never trusted them. All their toil, they’re tired of working. Looking for a day off, not a husband.” He clears his throat, eyes widening slightly as I fold a pillowcase. “Not that the labor’s the issue. Find it mighty attractive you stuck by your husband even when he treated you poorly.”
I almost laugh, offering a wry smile instead. “I suppose someone might consider that a compliment.”
He shakes his head. “All I’m saying is there’s no shame in finding company under the same roof, you and me.”
There’s the offer, quiet but clear—finding company, paying for company. It’s all the same while I live under this man’s roof, earning my keep.
“There’s shame enough already, Mr. Collier. Best we not add to it.”
Something flickers in his eyes—irritation, maybe. “Suit yourself, Mrs. Sherman. I was only being neighborly.”
“Of course,” I murmur, watching him turn toward the porch.
“When you’re done there, help Mrs. Baxter with supper.”
Have I hurt his feelings? Wounded his ego? I hope so. I offer a lopsided grin. “Yes, sir.”
That night, I carry a folded towel to my chamber, slow on the stairs from the weight in my hip and the ache in my arms. My door creaks open and I step inside.
The floorboards shift behind me.
I turn, heart pulling tight. Collier stands in the doorway, coat off, boots muddy from the porch, face blank.
“This isn’t proper,” I say, loud enough for the corridor to carry it. “You have no business here.”
He props a shoulder to the frame. “Calm down. I only came to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Steps echo from down the hall. Fred’s voice. “Everything all right up there, Miss Alice?”
“I’m fine,” I call. “Mr. Collier was just leaving.”
Collier doesn’t budge. “Go on back to bed, Fred,” he says calmly. “No need to play chaperone.”
Mrs. Baxter’s voice joins from further down. “You can’t go in a lady’s room!”
“That’s enough out of both of you,” Collier snaps. His friendly mask crumbles. “Back to your bunks. This is a house matter.”
A pause, then reluctant retreating footsteps.
He shuts the door behind him. The latch clicks.
I take a step back. “This is not your right. I belong to this house, not to you.”
“Calm yourself.” He crosses the room in three strides but does not touch me. His voice is heavy. “You belong nowhere.You said so yourself. It doesn’t need to be that way.” He leans in close, breath warm with whiskey and want. “I could give you a home. A warm bed. A bit of comfort. That’s all this is.”
“No.” I make it sharp, complete.
His hand shoots out, catching my wrist. “You think you’re too good?” he sneers. “A woman defiled by an outlaw?”
Something inside me cools. I lift my eyes to his, steady. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
