The Unlikely Wife by Cassandra Austin

surprises, but his own behavior was no less baffling. He had barely made it through her visit with his control intact before he consented to a rematch. Was he testing his own willpower? Or had she already destroyed it?
    He should be furious with her. She had used blackmailto win a place on his supply caravan. She used flirtation to win a game of chess. What would she win tomorrow?
    And why wasn’t that apprehension he felt curling through his bloodstream?

Chapter Five
    R ebecca couldn’t sleep. She stared at the darkness above her and tried not to disturb the others in the wagon. Why had she said those things to Clark? What had she hoped to accomplish by turning serious? Men didn’t like that!
    She had intended to flirt with him just a little, then go. But the rain had surprised her, and the chess set had drawn her. And how she loved the way his brows shot up when he was surprised! Clearly that had been her downfall. He refused to show any response to her smiles or quips, refused, in short, to be dazzled. But he couldn’t hide surprise.
    Still, she shouldn’t have said he didn’t respect her. And she shouldn’t have beat him at chess. She had momentarily lost sight of her goal. Which was, she reminded herself firmly, simply to enjoy his attention for a time. She knew how to get and keep a man’s attention, or had always thought she did. And turningserious was not the way. He was probably a lost cause now.
    The disappointment she felt was inappropriate. He meant no more to her than any of the others. If it was over, she would forget him. Being near him the next few days wouldn’t matter. It never had before. In fact, it was probably better that it was over sooner rather than later. Once before she had made the mistake of continuing a flirtation too long, and the young man had begun to imagine she wanted something permanent.
    She rolled to her side and tried to picture Clark asking to marry her. She couldn’t In fact, it was probably the farthest thing from his mind. Another possibility struck her like a blow. Perhaps he didn’t pretend to ignore her; perhaps she didn’t interest him at all.
    The pain she felt was merely her stung pride, of course. He didn’t matter any more than any of the others. And she would prove it to herself in the morning. She would return his blanket before they left camp and while she was at it, tell him she had changed her mind about the chess game. She would tell him she had something to do, something that would sound boring—like mending. Then he would know how unimportant he was to her. And she would know it, too.
    With that resolution in mind, she closed her eyesbut it took some time before her mind gave in to sleep.
    The camp was filled with activity when Rebecca made her way to Clark’s tent. She blamed her melancholy mood on all the sleep she had missed while she sorted out her feelings for Clark—or rather her lack of them.
    This wouldn’t be difficult, she told herself. She would simply smile and be apologetic. She couldn’t join him for chess this evening. Maybe another time.
    She had already pasted on the smile when she came to a sudden stop. Her hands clenched around the folded blanket she held close to her breast. Clark stood outside his tent, more than half turned away from her. His suspenders dangled at his sides and a towel was slung over an otherwise bare shoulder. He had fastened a small mirror to a tent post and was shaving that gorgeous jaw.
    Her mouth dropped open and her throat went dry. Her fingers itched to touch his cheek. With each scrape of the razor she felt her knees tremble. He raised his chin to shave his neck, bringing his jawbone into greater prominence. She swallowed a groan.
    He shaved above his lip, his chin. She touched her own chin and licked her dry lips. When he went to work on the cheek away from her she considered circling his camp to improve her view.
    She couldn’t, of course. He might catch her reflection in the mirror. So she watched