He corrected himself.
“Not because I’m ordering you.”
“That sounded exactly like an order.”
“It was badly phrased.”
“You’re not known for gentle phrasing.”
“I’m noticing.”
Bella reached toward the chair where her plain housekeeping dress had dried.
“Why shouldn’t I leave?”
Nathan looked toward the door.
“Because whoever poisoned the whiskey may know you were in this room.”
Her hand stopped.
The ranch house suddenly felt larger.
Colder.
“They would think I saw something.”
“Possibly.”
“I didn’t.”
“They don’t know that.”
Bella stared at him.
Nathan’s voice lowered.
“And if they know I gave you money, they may assume you know more.”
“How would anyone know about the money?”
He looked toward the desk.
“My office accounts.”
Bella’s breathing slowed.
Numbers.
Accounts.
That language she understood.
“Who has access?”
“Me.”
He counted.
“My chief bookkeeper.”
“Ranch manager.”
“Bank liaison.”
“And?”
Nathan hesitated.
“Victor Hale.”
Bella knew the name.
Everyone at Drake Valley did.
Victor was Nathan’s right hand.
Forty-three.
Polished.
Educated.
Always wearing clothes too clean for a man who supposedly managed cattle.
He spoke softly and smiled often, which Bella had learned could be more dangerous than shouting.
“What about the house staff?”
“No direct banking access.”
“Your secretary?”
“Limited.”
“Paul?”
Nathan looked at her.
“Paul Mercer?”
“The man who sent me upstairs.”
“No.”
Bella thought.
Nathan watched her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That was not nothing.”
“I am thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“You can’t say that after forgetting poison medicine.”
He almost smiled.
Bella crossed her arms.
The motion made the nightgown pull across her full upper body.
She noticed.
Instantly tried to lower her arms.
Nathan noticed that too.
His expression changed.
Not desire exactly.
Something quieter.
He looked away first.
Bella felt heat touch her face.
Ridiculous.
They were discussing attempted murder.
She forced herself back to the problem.
“Why were you expecting poison?”
Nathan went still.
“Three weeks ago, one of my cattle buyers collapsed.”
“From poison?”
“Same whiskey.”
Bella stared.
“Here?”
“At a lodge I own south of Casper.”
“Did he die?”
“No.”
“Who poured it?”
“I did.”
Her stomach tightened.
“So people thought you tried to kill him.”
“Some.”
“Did he?”
Nathan looked toward the mountains.
“He disappeared before answering.”
Bella felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who was he?”
“Thomas Vale.”
The name meant nothing to her.
“He handled rail contracts.”
Nathan continued.
“He’d been negotiating winter cattle transport.”
“And someone poisoned him.”
“Yes.”
“Then he disappeared.”
“Yes.”
Bella considered.
“Why would someone poison the buyer?”
“Maybe they weren’t trying to.”
She understood.
“They were trying to poison you.”
Nathan nodded.
“Thomas took my glass.”
Bella looked toward the whiskey bottle.
“And you kept drinking from bottles left in rooms.”
Nathan sighed.
“Yes, Bella.”
“That may be the first thing about you that actually deserves your reputation.”
His mouth curved.