For he had seen something, of that she was sure. Her senses were remarkably keen where her own interests were concerned. She had noted how he ignored her while he watched the girl perform. He had failed to respond to several of her comments. He had left her sitting on the hard chair without a word of explanation and gone running off to be with his new flirt just because she had taken a little fall.
“There, now,” the fat old man, Harry French, said to the girl. “It will be all right.”
“Of course it will,” Athena said. “Niall will get our own doctor. He is the best Denver has to offer.”
Caitlin made much effort to return the smile, doubtless basking in the attention. “It is… very kind of you, Athena.”
Athena. Cecily shuddered. How could Niall’s sister allow the whore to call her by her Christian name? Cecily scowled and felt a prickle sweep up her spine.
Morgan Holt was watching her. He stood too close to Athena, on the other side of the chair, like some black-haired watchdog. It was if he could see right through Cecily and into her thoughts. She had disliked him instantly, but his low status made it possible to dismiss him. That was not so easy when he was a few feet away.
This was what came of Niall’s permissiveness. She had thought that battle all but won. Now she must regroup, and consider new strategies to pave the way for Athena’s departure from Denver.
She met Morgan Holt’s stare and smiled with sure knowledge of her own superiority. So he found Athena attractive, did he? Niall must have observed the way he clung to Athena, and Cecily could easily make Holt’s stubborn and inexplicable dedication to the girl sound much more ominous than it actually was.
And as for Miss Caitlin Hughes…
“You should go,” Morgan Holt said.
Cecily started. “I beg your pardon?”
“Athena is with us. We don’t need you.”
Her amazement at his brazen command held her silent for several beats. Athena, talking to Caitlin, hadn’t heard. Cecily curled her hand around Athena’s shoulder. “I will do no such thing.”
Incredibly, he bared his teeth at her. She managed to keep herself from stumbling away to some illusory safety. “How dare you,” she whispered.
He took a step toward her. She gasped and placed an equal distance between them.
All at once it seemed that every eye was upon her. The dwarf with his curling golden locks looked up as if he were her equal in height and every other way. One of the clowns leered, and the strong man in his animal skin tunic worked his fists. Hostile, alien gazes met hers everywhere she turned.
The walls of the tent threatened to collapse upon her if she remained another second inside it. She hurried toward the exit. Once outside she was able to breathe again. With safety came sense, and righteous anger.
Who did they think they were to send her scurrying away like a frightened rabbit? What must Athena be thinking at this moment… if she had even noticed?
Ignored. First Niall, and now Athena. It was insupportable. And yet, when she set her feet to return to the tent, she found them rooted to the ground.
Morgan Holt was a madman. There was no telling what he might do if provoked, and he had plainly taken as much dislike to her as she had him. It might be best to wait until Niall returned.
She looked about for a place to sit and, finding none, folded her arms and prepared to endure. After far too long, she glimpsed the welcome sight of Niall’s carriage turning into the lot. The coachman drove it up the midway and stopped close to the big tent.
Niall jumped out of the carriage, followed more sedately by a bearded and white-haired gentleman. Cecily went to join the men at the fastest pace her dignity allowed.
“Oh, Mr. Munroe,” she said. “I am so glad you have returned quickly.”
“Why are you not inside with Athena?” Niall demanded, scarcely sparing her a glance. He urged the doctor along with a wave and headed at a blistering clip toward the tent.