The Duchess and Desperado by Laurie Grant Page A

hoped Calhoun heard it.
    Â 
    The next morning she had Donald escort her down into the stable through an entrance in the back of the hotel. Her secretary had told her Calhoun had gone there to check on his horse.
    Uncle Frederick had been beside himself when he’d returned last night and received the full report on what had happened. Once again he’d begged Sarah to leave Denver immediately, not even waiting till morning. But when Sarah had once again adamantly refused to go, he’d proceeded to give her a stern dressing-down for her display of temper at the reception.
    She found Morgan Calhoun in a stall, currying a tall, skewbald horse.
    â€œMr. Calhoun, if I might have a word?”
    Calhoun whirled as if he’d been shot. Clearly he’d been deep in thought and hadn’t heard her approach.
    â€œI’m sorry... I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said.
    â€œWhat are you doin’ here, Duchess? I thought I told you not to leave your room without me.” His eyes were like green icicles.
    â€œIt’s all right, Donald came with me,” she said, indicating her secretary standing behind her “Donald, why don’t you go and post the letters I dictated? Oh, and don’t forget to take the note I wrote my sister—I left it on the tea table.”
    She waited, staring down at her feet, feeling his eyes on her, until they were alone. “I—I’ve come to apologize,” she said at last. “I realize, after talking to my uncle, and doing some thinking, that I behaved rather badly last night.” She would not tell him that she had tossed and turned last night, and had even contemplated leaving her bedroom in the middle of the night to apologize right then and there. The only thing that had stopped her was the impropriety of waking him. “My attitude at the party, when you were only trying to counsel me for my own safety...and when we returned here...did me no credit,” she went on, then darted a glance upward to see how he was receiving her words.
    She saw surprise flicker across his face, but nothing more.
    â€œI’m afraid arrogance...and a dislike of being told what to do...are failings of mine. I want you to know that while I may not always agree with you, I shall not be discourteous again. I will cooperate as fully as possible.” There. She’d said it.
    A trace of a smile made his lips curve the least bit upward. “Well...maybe you’re not arrogant, but you do put me in mind of a horse’s long-eared relative sometimes,” he admitted, mischief dancing in his green eyes. “But I reckon we can start over from here, Duchess.”
    She was so relieved, she didn’t even mind his comparing her to a mule. “Capital, Mr. Calhoun,” she said. Then, wanting some kind of confirmation that peace had been achieved, she extended her hand over the stall door. “Pax.”
    She could tell he didn’t know the word. “It means ‘peace’ in Latin, Mr. Calhoun,” she explained as he took her hand and shook it. As before, she found his touch disturbingly powerful.
    â€œThe Indians would say we were buryin’ the hatchet, I reckon,” he said. “And while we’re bein’ so peaceable, do you think you could call me Morgan? You keep callin’ me Mr. Calhoun, and I keep lookin’ around for my pa.” His grin warmed her soul.
    â€œI reckon I could, Morgan,” she said, smiling back at him. Of course, she couldn’t reciprocate and ask him to call her by her given name, but he didn’t seem to expect that.
    She was loath to just turn around and leave. “So that’s your horse, this skewbald?” she asked, gesturing toward the brown-and-white-splotched horse, who watched her with pricked-forward ears. “He—he’s very handsome.” You sound like a giddy schoolgirl, Sarah.
    But Morgan didn’t seem to find her remark stupid. “His