Gladness burst through him, lighting his face with a true smile. “Alice.”
She didn’t respond, didn’t smile. She merely stood in the doorway, expressionless.
A thread of trepidation crawled along his skin. “Is everything all right?”
Still no response, only now he noticed the tension in her shoulders, the clench of her jaw, her arms rigid at her sides, and her hands balled into fists.
Trepidation wove to dread. Affecting formality, he stood to one side. “Mrs Reynolds, won’t you please come in?”
Finally, a reaction. She entered the room, but she still had no words for him. She had none for Smith either, who turned his battered hat around in his hands as he nodded a greeting.
“Ma’am.”
Again, no reaction.
Christ.
Smith glanced at him. “I’ll be going downstairs then, boy. You holler if you need anything.” Nodding at Alice in farewell, he made his way to the door. “I hope that plan of yourn is damn good, boy,” he muttered as he passed him.
It probably would have been, if he had a goddamn plan.
Shutting the door behind Smith, he stared at the grain. He had no notion what she was riled about, but it looked bad enough that she would tear into him good and proper. Or maybe this was an act for Smith’s benefit? Yeah, and if he believed such, he was a few bob short.
Great.He was descending into slang he hadn’t used since he was a child. A few bob short? He might as well just admit he was going insane.
And now he was stalling.
Christ, Llewellyn, just bloody face her.
Steeling himself, he turned.
Face averted, Alice stood in the middle of his rooms. She’d yet to remove her coat, gloves, or hat, as if she intended not to stay.
He swallowed. Bloody hell, why wouldn’t she want to stay?
Determining to ignore her odd mood, he walked to her and placed his hands on her shoulders as if nothing were wrong. “I can’t begin to tell you how glad I am—”
Her muscles tensed beneath his hands. “Tell me why you are in Ironwood.”
Fear slid through him. “What?”
She met his eyes, and the expression she wore chilled him to the bone. “Tell me again why you’re in Ironwood.”
Removing his hands, he crossed his arms, gripping his biceps hard. “I wanted to buy a saloon.”
Something flickered in her eyes. “That’s the truth? Full and unvarnished?”
Well, he couldn’t out-and-out lie to her. Raising his hand, he attempted to cup her cheek. “Alice...”
Blocking his hand, she shoved him away. “Don’t touch me.”
The flash of emotion—of anger—disappeared. Drawing herself to her full height, she looked him dead in the eye. “Mr Llewellyn, I would like to discuss what Wyoming Coal and Mining can offer me for my land.”
Everything in him stopped. How could she…? When did she…?
Christ. She’d called himMrLlewellyn.
Blood running cold, he stared at her and couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
