A Touch of Camelot by Delynn Royer Page B

of his coat, her heart pounding.
    The wheels of the locomotive were once again on firm, straight track, but Gwin didn't let go and Cole still held her. Gwin could feel the unyielding firmness of his chest pressing against the soft fullness of her breasts, and it was an unexpectedly welcome pressure.
    His head was bent close to hers and she thought, for an instant, that he might kiss her. She tilted her head back, feeling his breath on her cheek as her eyes traced the straight line of his nose, the angle of his jaw, the shadow of his hair where it brushed the nape of his neck.
    She knew in her right-thinking mind that he was her adversary, that they were at cross purposes here in the real world, but now it was just the two of them here in the dark, alone; and at this moment, it didn't matter who they were outside of this place and time. She wanted him to kiss her, just this once, because then she would know if it was really him. Lancelot ...
    "Stop pushing up against me, Gwin. It's not going to work." His voice was strained and uneven, thoroughly unconvincing. Gwin could still feel the heat from his hands, the strength of his fingers where they gripped her waist.
    She swallowed hard, and, with no small difficulty forced herself to speak. "You're the one pushing. You stop it."
    He let go of her, stepping back in one abrupt move that almost put her off balance. The moment had passed. He didn't say anything and it took a minute for Gwin to gather herself.
    "I meant what I said, Shepherd. I'm not lying about what happened in San Francisco. I don't care if you believe me or not. I won't let you take us back there." But even as she spoke the words, Gwin was struck by the dismaying realization that she did care if he believed her.
    "Well, Gwin, that's just too bad, because I'm not going to let you stop me."
    *
     
    The remainder of Gwin's first night aboard the Union Pacific Express passed restlessly, and her morning wasn't going much better.
    She sat forward in her seat and craned her neck to see to the rear of the car where a long line had formed by the ladies' washroom. It hadn't budged an inch in the last ten minutes. She sat back and shifted the carpetbag on her lap from one knee to the other. Along with her bag, she clutched a new cake of soap wrapped in a clean towel, the latter two items purchased by Shepherd this morning from the newsboy.
    He had also bought a new deck of cards. At the moment, he was using his tally book to keep a running score of the rummy game he and Arthur had been engaged in since earlier this morning. Arthur, of course, was trouncing Cole.
    Knowing Shepherd's suspicious turn of mind, Gwin thought he probably suspected Arthur of cheating, but that wasn't the case. Arthur didn't need to cheat. Gwin wondered how long it would take this clever Pinkerton detective to figure out that Arthur memorized every card as it was played, that he could recalculate his odds of obtaining any given combination at each new turn, and tailor his strategy accordingly.
    "Oh, yes! Perfect." Cole grinned as he pulled a card from the deck and laid out three sixes. Despite the fact that he couldn’t have gotten much more sleep than Gwin had, he seemed in good spirits.
    Gwin turned back to the window, idly biting at her nails. They were in Colorado now. The flat featureless prairies of Kansas were left behind. The lay of the land had taken on an almost desert-like character, but Gwin's restless mind couldn't focus on appreciating the change in scenery.
    Gwin stopped biting her nails and rested her head back. How could she expect Cole to understand anything of her life? To him, everything was right or wrong, black or white, good or bad. Appearances were all. Why, last night he had come close to accusing her of trying to seduce Mr. Monroe for money. And that had hurt, maybe more than she was willing to admit. She might be a liar and a thief, but she certainly wasn't a...
    Gwin closed her eyes. It stung all the more because she'd