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turning to close the door when a hand clamped over her mouth.
    “Don’t scream,” a deep voice said.
    He whirled her about to face him.
    “I was afraid when you saw me you’d yell and bring the whole town running.”
    His smile was coaxing, and despite overwhelming panic, Tess dared hope she was not really in danger.
    “Promise not to scream?”
    She raked him with doubtful eyes. He had thick ebony hair that touched his collar, and his eyes, intently searching hers, were the color of cinnamon. He was a full head taller, with wide shoulders, and his open denim shirt revealed a muscular chest tapering down to a flat belly.
    He was, she determined amid the turmoil churning within, a very attractive man.
    “Promise?” he prodded again.
    She nodded, and he let her go and said in a rush, “I’m sorry I’m late. I meant to be there when the stage got in so I could meet you, but—”
    She gasped. “ You’re Mr. Beckwith?”
    But no, he couldn’t be. The way her father had talked, Saul Beckwith was much older. Besides, the man standing before her was not the sort to have to resort to buying a bride, for heaven’s sake. He probably had his choice of women.
    “Yes, and I wish I could’ve got here sooner. They told me this was your room, so I just let myself in, then got worried, like I said, that you’d yell to high heaven when you saw me.”
    Flustered to the tips of her toes, Tess remembered she was wearing only her robe. Gathering the collar about her neck, she murmured, “It’s…it’s nice to meet you, and if you’ll wait outside, I’ll hurry and get dressed and then we can make better acquaintance.”
    “How about if I just turn my back?” he asked with a hopeful smile.
    Something was not right. Tess could feel it. Saul Beckwith was nothing like she had imagined, and he was behaving very strangely. Surely he could understand the propriety of leaving the room. “I really think it would be best if you waited outside.”
    “But I—”
    He was interrupted by a sudden pounding on the door.
    “Ma’am,” an unfamiliar voice called. “You in there?”
    “Yes, I—”
    His hand clamped over her mouth again. “Don’t say anything about me being in here,” he whispered. “We don’t want talk.”
    Now he was worried about gossip, she thought, annoyed.
    “Miss Partridge? That’s your name, ain’t it? Lester said it was. I’m Worley Branson, the law around here, and you don’t need to be afraid of me.”
    “Tell him you’re fine.” He lowered his hand.
    She did so, but uneasily, because she was anything but fine. In fact, she could not remember ever being so un fine.
    “Well, could you open the door and talk to me?” Worley Branson implored. “I need to speak with you about a couple of things.”
    She looked at the stranger, the man she was to share the rest of her life with, and, grim-faced and tight-lipped, he shook his head.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not dressed.”
    Worley Branson sighed. “Well, I’ll just have to talk through the door. There’s been a killin’, and the murderer got away. Somebody saw him near the stairs, and I’m checkin’ to see if anybody’s seen him up here.”
    A tiny worm of apprehension began to wriggle along her spine, and Tess fought against the ridiculous notion that the man standing behind her could actually be the murderer. He had known her name, known where she was…”
    “Miss Partridge?”
    “Yes.”
    “You seen anybody runnin’ through here?”
    It could not be him, and it made sense he would want to protect her virtue by not letting it be known he was in her room when they were not yet married.
    “No. No one,” she replied.
    “Well,” he said hesitantly, “there’s something else I got to tell you, and I sure wish you’d open the door. It just ain’t somethin’ I want to yell out.”
    “I’m afraid you’ll have to.”
    “It’s about the man you came out here to meet.”
    She smiled. No doubt he was going to tell her he