She stepped forward and hugged him. His strong arms wrapped around her and he kissed her forehead. Vaguely she was aware of someone entering the lobby. She broke his grip and stepped back. A side-glance led her gaze to the startled eyes of Bordeaux. He glanced at the flower over her ear. If she hadn't witnessed his exchange with the woman earlier, she would have been certain he was disappointed. His mouth was grim when he spoke.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." He spun on one heal and left the hotel.
It wasn't the way she had envisioned facing him. She wanted to tell him how much he was like her father. She wanted to inflict pain. Instead his retreating back filled her with shame.
Davis cleared his throat and she glanced up at him. He was frowning. "I'm afraid he got the wrong impression."
"It's just as well."
"I thought you two were getting married."
"I thought so too, but..." her voice caught and she swallowed a lump in her throat. "It looks like he has other plans. I wish someone had told me he was a Mormon. Surely Pete must have known..."
"Mormon? Bordeaux? What gave you that idea?"
"I just saw him with a girl over at the saloon and..."
"Oh," Davis interrupted, raising his brows. "I wouldn't worry too much about that sort of thing. He was probably washing some of the dust off his insides last night and overdid it. I'm sure it's nothing serious."
Nothing serious? But if Bordeaux wasn't a Mormon, why would he propose to two women in one day? Of course, why would a Mormon propose to two women in one day? Did Bordeaux feel pressured into marrying the girl - to save her reputation? But no. He said he loved her. He had known her for a long time, and he had come to Ashley hoping she would be here. No, Bordeaux had only one reason for wanting to marry Cassie - the ranch. He did tell the girl he had a ranch in Texas. Was she the business he had to take care of? That must be it then.
"My offer is still open." Davis interrupted her thoughts. His regarding was troubled. Good old Davis. At least he was honorable, but if the look on his face was any indication, he was regretting that offer.
She shook her head. "No, it wouldn't be right. I don't love you. Not in the right way."
"Not the way you love Bordeaux?"
His tone was kind, even understanding, yet it tore a sob from deep in her lungs. She turned her head so that he would not see the tears burning her eyes. The question needed no answer. She felt his sympathetic gaze on her back as she turned toward the stairs. She raced up the steps, wondering if men who could not be trusted would plague her entire life. In her room she threw herself on the bed and sobbed herself free of tears. Finally she dried her eyes and pushed away from the bed.