A/N This chapter is rated slightly higher than T for suggestiveness, although not high enough to change the rating-in my opinion. If you prefer not to read that sort of thing, you can skip it, although you might miss out on a small plot point or two.

Chapter 3

Kitty lay back in the lavender scented water and breathed a long sigh of relief. It had been days since she'd had anything resembling a bath and it felt good to be clean again, particularly after spending those few minutes in Andrews' filthy shack. She shuddered at the memory of it. The hot water soothed her aching muscles as much as Matt's thoughtfulness at arranging it for her soothed her soul. After tipping the boy who brought her bags what he clearly thought was the outrageous sum of a quarter-at her instruction-he gave him another quarter to bring hot water to the room so Kitty could take a bath before they went to supper. She closed her eyes and smiled thinking of Matt. This had been one of the worst trips she'd taken in her life and it was mostly her own fault, running off due to her own wounded pride as she had, but Matt's presence had made it bearable. He came after her. Kitty truly hadn't expected that. She wasn't the type to play games. If her intention had been to force Matt's hand in some way, she'd have told him point blank that she was leaving while he was in town, and avoided this situation. He told her he loved her. She knew him well enough-as a friend-to know he didn't lie, and more importantly, he didn't say such things lightly. And when he'd kissed her and held her, there was no denying the physical attraction between them. An attraction that seemed likely to be consummated that night. Why else would Matt have asked for a double room? She knew, even better than Matt did, that there was no father to promise to look out for her, and they were most definitely not cousins. He called her honey. Apparently without even thinking about it. Kitty pondered once more what that might mean.

Once her bath water was delivered, Matt left to check on getting tickets for their stage back to Dodge, and casually added that he would also go to the barber shop for a bath-to save time, he said. Kitty had entertained thoughts of Matt joining her in the interest of saving even more time, but quickly gave up on that idea when she saw the size of the bathtub. It was hardly big enough for one. And she quickly reminded herself that they might get so carried away they would miss supper. At the thought of food Kitty's stomach growled loudly.

She had barely eaten anything since leaving Dodge, and what little she'd eaten at the stop before Matt found her had disagreed with her in a rather spectacular fashion. The one restaurant in the town they'd stopped in had a terrible cook, much worse than any of the ones at Delmonico's. She strongly suspected the burned stew she was served was deliberately prepared that way in order to hide the fact that it was spoiled. She only managed a few bites, along with dry, stale bread and cold coffee, before she gave up and spent the rest of the stop sitting on a bench outside. That night Matt, a light sleeper even in the best circumstances, awoke to find her retching violently in the corner of the stall. He did what he could for her, wiping her face and helping her back to the bedroll afterwards, and then did even more. He removed the "evidence" with a shovel and spread more clean hay to cover the spot. Then, after assuring her that he was coming right back, he brought her fresh, clean water from the well to drink, and even found an empty pail in case she was sick again. Which she certainly was, more times than she cared to think about. By dawn her stomach had finally settled down, although she was so weak and shaky that Matt expressed concern as to whether she was going to be fit to travel. Kitty raised her head as far as she could from the bedroll and informed him in no uncertain terms that she was getting the hell away from Andrews and his hog wallow if she had to hang her head out the window of the stagecoach all the way to Dodge City. At least that's what she thought she said before she blacked out. Once she came to, she had no appetite for the beef jerky Matt was eating for breakfast. He offered her one of his dry biscuits and she nibbled at that all morning, thankfully keeping it down, and was working on a second one when the Hays stage came in that afternoon.

Matt, freshly bathed, shaved, hair trimmed and slicked back with tonic, with stagecoach tickets in the pocket of his clean set of clothes, ascended the hotel stairs to the rooms he shared with Kitty. In his room, a sweet scent wafted from the french doors separating Kitty's room from his, one of which was left ajar a couple of inches. He heard the occasional splash of water and realized that the woman he had dreamt of holding and loving for over a year was naked mere feet from him, separated by only a partially closed door and a tub of water, probably with a layer of soap suds covering her-he quickly shook his head trying to clear that image from his mind. As a marshal, he was a law abiding man who had the utmost respect for women, but at present he wasn't confident that he could restrain himself from going in and taking something Kitty might not be ready to give-or at least not starting something they wouldn't be able to finish before they had to meet Sheriff Roth for supper. Determining that the best thing to do was to keep busy until Kitty was ready, he hung his saddlebags over the back of a chair and removed his dirty shirt and pants to hang them up and let them air out.

"Matt?" Kitty called out from the other room. "I guess I lost track of time." More splashing.

"It's all right, Kitty." Matt glanced over at the clock on top of the bureau. Quarter past six. "There's plenty of time," he added, before he realized he actually had no idea how long it would take Kitty to get dressed. He remembered Kitty using the phrase "fashionably late" a few times, and while he wasn't sure of the exact definition, he figured it meant Tom Roth wouldn't mind waiting to eat supper with a pretty girl any more than he and Doc did.

The splashing got louder and Matt pictured the water running down Kitty's body as she stood to get out of the tub. He sat down at the table with a groan and buried his head in his hands. "Woman, you're killing me," he muttered.

"Matt," Kitty called again sometime later. "Can you help me with something?" He could hear the uncertainty in her voice. Was she unsure if she really wanted his help, or whether he would be willing to help her? He opened the door hesitantly. Kitty stood in front of the closet, holding her untied petticoat around her waist with one hand and another lacy undergarment he couldn't identify up to her chest with the other. She gave him an apologetic smile. "I can't seem to get my corset laced by myself. Could you…?"

"Uh, Kitty, I…." Matt felt his face flush. He had his share of experience with helping women undress, but none to speak of with helping them into their clothes. Despite his lack of knowledge about women, he sensed that it might be better not to mention that. "How do you usually...uh...do it?"

"Most of the time there's another girl around to help me with it."

"Sure," Matt said, smiling with a confidence he didn't feel. "What do I do?"

Kitty turned her back to him and Matt's heart beat as erratically as it had that time he lost half his blood supply from taking Dan Grat's bullet. The corset was laced with a wide, heavy blue ribbon across an expanse of several inches of Kitty's creamy white back. Even better, or worse, depending on how one looked at the situation, the lower edge of the corset ended just above her silk-clad bottom, and the blue ribbons draped across it, unmistakably accentuating its shape. Matt felt the blood rush from his head to a location much lower in his anatomy.

"Pull the ribbons as tight as you go; don't worry, you won't break them. Then tie them as tight as you can and tie them again in a bow."

A bow? Matt somehow managed to pick up the ends of the ribbons without actually touching Kitty. "Hold it!" she ordered, and he dropped them immediately. What had he done wrong? Kitty took a deep breath, gritting her teeth. "All right, now," she instructed without breathing. He picked up the ribbons again and pulled gingerly until the edges of the corset met. He was enjoying the sight of Kitty as well as being in such close proximity to her in that state of undress, but he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his lower regions. "Tighter!" she ordered. He pulled again, and right on cue, the front of his pants became even tighter. "Is this enough?" he asked in a strangled voice.

Kitty nodded. "Now tie it as hard as you can," she rasped, seemingly oblivious to Matt's predicament-or was she, he wondered. Her business was men, after all. He tied the ribbon and then his fingers fumbled until he had produced something approximating a bow.

"Done." He stepped back, and Kitty breathed again. "Is there uh, anything else you need help with?" Part of him hoped she did, and the part of him that needed to be able to think coherently knew he needed to get back to his own room before the buttons of his pants popped free and flew across the room.

She shook her head. "Thank you, Matt."

"Forget it," he said hoarsely. He knew he wouldn't.

"Sorry I took so long," Kitty said as she made her entrance through the french doors. Matt glanced at the clock, which read ten minutes after seven.

Standing, Matt smiled at the sight of her. "Well, it was worth the wait," he said somewhat shyly. She was wearing one of her prettiest dresses, in a shade of pink she'd told him was called coral, with black beaded fringe trim. She carried a matching reticule and her face was framed by the gold jewelry and the big feathered hat she always wore with the dress. His favorite part of the dress, though, was the neckline that flattered her-Matt cleared his throat and crossed the room, touching her arm lightly. "Let's go. I'm hungry."

"Aren't you hungry, Kitty?" Matt looked at her with concern. "Or are you still not feeling good?"

Kitty stopped pushing her supper around on her plate and set her fork down. "Oh, I'll be all right, Matt." She smiled, hoping to reassure him. "I guess nothing sounds good yet." She took a sip from the cup in front of her. "At least the coffee's good."

Matt didn't seem convinced. "Are you sure? I can see if there's a doctor in town."

Kitty shook her head and reached across the table and put her hand over his. "I'm fine. Really." She couldn't blame him for worrying. She'd eaten next to nothing since they boarded the stage to Hays the day before, after having been sick all night. "Traveling always ruins my appetite." Hoping to distract him, she nodded toward the other side of the restaurant. "I don't suppose we could be lucky enough for this to be their last stop."

Matt glanced at the Tylers. "I guess you didn't hear. He's the new president of the Hays City Bank. We have the pleasure of their company until tomorrow."

Kitty sighed. "Well, that's...lovely. How could I have missed that?" She hadn't realized just how little she'd been impressed by the man's boasting.

She hated to be less than truthful with Matt, but she was hungrier than she was letting on. She was always hungry when she traveled by stage. With few stops and usually little time to rest or do other business in order to stay on schedule, she'd found it made things easier if she didn't eat or drink much on the trip. If not for the Tylers' constant presence on the stagecoach with them, she might have found a way to communicate that to Matt, and perhaps ease his mind some. Yet another reason, as if she needed one, to resent the Tylers' presence. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing she wanted to discuss with him in a crowded cafe, either.

"You said they have a good restaurant in Hays, right?"

TBC