Almost a Lady Read Free Page A

and yawing and singing along—though not always in key—to a loud, lively rendition of “Old Dan Tucker."
    Half an hour later, singing the foot-stomping ditty for the third time in a row, the candy canes—as Brandt had come to think of them—skipped their way off the stage and into the melee of eager cowboys. He watched them for a few minutes, then turned his head back to where Willow stood.
    Or where she'd been standing. He got to his feet, straining his neck for any glimpse of sapphire blue. But all he saw was an empty stage.
    "Damn,” he swore, bumping his way through the crowd, searching for Willow Hastings. But it was no use.
    She was gone.

Chapter Three

    Dearest Papa,
    Please don't be angry with me, but I've lost Grandfather's gold pocket watch. I know how much the watch meant to you and would do anything to retrieve it. I do believe someone must have interfered with its placement.
    I will continue to search for the watch as I await word from you.
    Your loving daughter,
    Willow

    Willow quickly scrawled her name across the bottom of the page. Sealing it with a smear of melted wax, she tucked the letter beneath a corner of the mattress until she could see it safely posted.
    That done, she gave a calming sigh and moved across the room. She stripped out of her confining show clothes and hung the blue dress in the wardrobe, tossing the matching slippers in after it.
    " Ahh ,” she sighed, wiggling her pinched toes. She strode to the bed, tying the sash of her red oriental robe, a seething golden dragon surrounded by exotic flora emblazoned on the back. The robe had been a gift from Robert after one of his many trips overseas.
    Balancing one foot on the high mattress, she slipped the scabbard from her garter. Without concentrating, without even taking aim, she hurtled the knife at the far wall. The dagger hit its mark—a notch left in the rough wood from a time when Willow had been bored enough to practice her marksmanship while hanging upside down over the side of the bed.
    Willow sighed and flung the leather sheath toward her pile of earlier discarded clothes. She slid the dark blue garter past her knee and down the rest of her leg. Then she began rolling the soft silk stocking over the same path.
    As she lifted her other foot to the bed, the red satin of her robe fell away, revealing the length of her leg from ankle to hip.
    "Lovely."
    Willow raised her head, not the least bit surprised to find someone in the doorway of her room. There were no locks on the doors, and Beverly's girls were always popping in to borrow this or that—which was why she hid anything she didn't want them accidentally “discovering."
    What did surprise her was seeing Brandt Donovan standing just inside her room, looking for all the world like he belonged there. She'd forgotten about him during her performance, assuming he would take one of the girls upstairs after the show like the other men did.
    She began to suspect that Brandt Donovan was not at all like other men.
    "I do have impeccable timing,” he said, closing the door behind him. A wolfish gleam shone in his eyes as he stared unabashedly at the ample view of her leg.
    Willow knew he meant to intimidate her with his lustful glare. And if she ever made a habit of anything, it was not backing down.
    She hooked a finger under the tight lace of her garter, dragging it slowly, seductively down her thigh. It caught on the angle of her knee and she leaned forward to help it along, knowing that when she did so, the front of her robe would fall open to reveal a risqué amount of lush flesh. She'd worn no frilly undergarments earlier with her male clothing and hadn't had time to put any on before dressing for her performance. There was nothing beneath the robe that God hadn't given her. She wondered if Brandt could tell.
    The garter fell to her ankle and she slipped it carefully over her foot. “Like what you see, Mr. Donovan?"
    She couldn't help but notice that his gaze had shifted to