“You do still wish to marry immediately?” His voice was laced with a hesitation that made Sophia’s heart ache.
She didn’t dare look at him. What if he could see her masquerade in her eyes? “I . . . Yes.” She swallowed and tried to sound more decisive. “Yes, of course.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the faintest whisper of a smile cross his face. She’d made him happy, and for some reason, the thought made her heart swell.
“Only if you’re certain. After all, you’ve been through a trial I daresay most women—or men—never face.” He looked at her then, catching her eye before she could turn away.
Sophia forced herself to smile. Daisy would smile, after all. Because Daisy wouldn’t be deceiving him and feeling as terrible as Sophia did about it. “It was terrifying,” she said truthfully. “But they didn’t hurt me.”
He nodded, those blue eyes hardening just enough that Sophia knew her earlier thoughts had been correct. He would have taken on each one of those men if he discovered they’d hurt her at all.
She’d never seen that promise from anyone else, save perhaps from her own father.
It’s not for you, she reminded herself. But it certainly felt nice to bask in the glow of his protectiveness.
“How . . . how did you find out where I was?” she asked, trying to force her mind away from thoughts of something that would never happen. She was Sophia Zane, a woman who had left with an inheritance her father’s former business partner claimed was his. A woman he’d likely been tearing the city apart to find. A woman who’d pretended to be someone else to get away. She was certainly not Daisy Timperman, a sweet, unencumbered lady who’d made promises to marry.
“The wagon train finally arrived in Pueblo. When you weren’t there, and I learned the sheriff was uninterested in looking for you—” He scowled at that. “I left to look for you on my own.”
“And you found me,” she said.
“It feels like a miracle.” He gave her that warm smile again, the one that any woman might swoon over.
“A miracle,” Sophia agreed. And although she was often given to doubt, it did seem like such a thing had occurred.
They walked in silence again, but this time it felt companionable rather than awkward. Sophia forced thoughts of what she’d do once they reached Pueblo from her mind. After all, she had plenty of time to worry on that. First, they had to survive this journey.
And she had to survive the guilt that gnawed at her insides.
She would tell him, she decided. Not right now, but soon.
But the decision made her frown. He wouldn’t leave her here, no matter what. She was certain enough of his character, even after only knowing him half a day. He wasn’t the sort to abandon a woman alone in the desert.
No, it was fear. She ought to have told him immediately, but that time had passed. She’d let him entertain thoughts of their marriage, and worse . . . she’d liked it.
It felt nice having someone who cared enough for her to do anything to keep her safe. Who looked at her as if she were the most precious thing on earth. Who wanted to love her.
Sophia swallowed the lump that grew in her throat.
Mr. Canton passed her the canteen, and she took one tiny, grateful sip.
“Tell me more about Harriet,” he said after taking his own sip. “I enjoyed the stories in your letters.”
Sophia froze. This was it. He’d figure it out when it became clear she didn’t know who Harriet was, much less anything she’d supposedly written him.
He watched her now, waiting.
She had to say something. But what?
