Wild Texas Rose Page 8

  “Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think it best if I call it a night.” Killian yawned. “I just stepped out for a smoke. Maybe the garden downstairs would be quieter.”

  As Killian passed Duncan, he took his hat and disappeared into the night. The major couldn’t have noticed for he stormed across the sitting room and began pounding on the far door leading to Victoria’s bedroom.

  After three knocks, a robed Victoria appeared looking as if she’d just awakened. “Father,” she mumbled, “is something wrong?”

  The major cooled. “No, dear. Sorry to have woke you. Go back to bed.”

  Victoria followed orders, as she’d done all her life. She turned around, walked into her room, and closed the door.

  The major left the way he’d come without saying a word.

  Rose turned on Duncan, but he was already backing away.

  “I think I’ll join Judge O’Toole for a smoke. Good night, Rose.”

  To have her say, she would have had to yell, and Rose told herself a lady never yells. So, as calmly as she could, she said good night and closed the balcony door.

  Once alone she blew out the lamp in the sitting room and went to her bedroom. As she got ready for bed she wondered if the judge had seen the couple kissing in the corner of the balcony. Probably not, she decided, or he would have mentioned it. He seemed a cold, hard man who might have interrupted the loving couple and threatened to charge them with public displays of affection, if there were such a crime.

  Then Rose remembered the hat Duncan had used to re-create the couple’s scene. Killian’s black hat.

  Could it be possible that the judge and the ice princess had been the two lovers on the balcony?

  Logic told her no, but in an odd way the possibility of their pairing was the first thing that had made sense in days.

  Chapter 9

  After a few drinks with the judge, Duncan decided to spend the night in Fort Worth. The rain had stopped, but the water on the roads was already freezing. The trail to Dallas would be much easier to follow in daylight and he didn’t have to be on guard until noon.

  He rented a room across the street from Rose’s hotel. It was a noisy place with rooms above a saloon, but he felt more at home here than at the fancy hotel. The memory of the sweet kiss he’d given Rose lingered in his thoughts. He had a feeling when she thought about what he’d done there would be hell to pay, but in truth, he really didn’t care. Kissing her had been in the back of his mind for years.

  She wasn’t right for him. He doubted any woman ever would be, but every time she sent a man packing Duncan saw a sadness in her eyes. She was a woman who should be kissed, but he knew none of the men who courted her would ever measure up to her standards . . . to what she deserved. And neither would he. Even the black suit he’d borrowed hadn’t impressed her. She wanted polished oak, and he was in the rough, with the bark still on.

  Even with the whiskey floating in his brain, he couldn’t get the taste of her out of his mind. Maybe it was the rainy night or the couple kissing in the shadows, but he’d felt a need to hold her tonight. She’d always seemed comfortable when they took naps together on the long porch at the ranch or under the trees in Austin on hot afternoons, but he figured she’d draw the line at sleeping next to him tonight. He’d probably broken one of her thousand unwritten rules.

  He knew he’d never be the man for her, but every time they were together he found himself hating the thought that one day she might find a man who would be right. A man who’d make love to her like he never would.

  She wasn’t the type of woman he needed either, all soft and sweet, and he’d never make her happy roaming around the state. He didn’t remember his real parents, but they must have had Gypsy blood in them. If they’d come to Texas so early, they probably loved adventure. He liked the made-up image he had of them and wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was in the letter tucked safely away in Rose’s traveling bag. He thought of them as like him, wild and free, hating the idea of settling down.

  Frustrated, Duncan went back downstairs to the saloon. Maybe all he needed was a woman, any woman. He’d never been a man who frequented the services of soiled doves, but tonight he might make an exception.

  The saloon was almost empty. A few drunks sleeping on the tabletops and two groups of gamblers settled in to play the night away. Several pretty girls sat at a table near the back. Their dresses were low cut in front and short enough to show off their legs.

  He walked up, tipped his hat to the group, and held his hand out to the nearest black-haired beauty. She had on too much makeup and her eyes weren’t brown, but in the dark she’d do.

  She gave him a tired smile and took his hand. Without a word, they walked back to his room. Just inside the door, he removed his hat and gun belt while she stood silently watching. Then, with one hand, he pushed her against the wall and kissed her hard as he tugged the straps off her shoulders.

  Her dress slipped even lower as she leaned her head back giving a view of what promised to be large and lovely breasts. He leaned his body into hers and she made a practiced sound of pleasure.

  Duncan hesitated an inch away from kissing her again. She waited, in no hurry, for time was money in her line of work.

  She had a pretty face and a soft body that fit nicely against his, but he smelled the hint of cigar smoke in her hair and knew he wasn’t the first to dance with her tonight.

  After one more kiss, he pulled away. She’d done nothing wrong. She’d done nothing right. He handed her a few bills and opened the door for her.

  “That’s all you wanted, cowboy?”

  “That’s all,” he answered.

  She wasn’t in the habit of questioning customers. With a shrug, she stuffed the money down her dress and left.

  Duncan dropped on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He had enough real problems to worry about. One more day of trial to deal with and he still hadn’t gotten around to telling Rose about Victoria’s groom.

  Yesterday, after the trial had ended for the night, August Myers had walked over to the nearest saloon, spent ten minutes writing notes and the rest of the night drinking. He didn’t act like a man who had a bride waiting thirty miles away. Duncan had taken his turn guarding the Tanner brothers, but one of the rangers later reported that the newspaperman spent the evening drinking with three of the saloon girls. He left at closing time, pulling the drunkest one along behind him toward the alley. When the bartender tried to stop him, Myers said he’d pay for her services but that he didn’t want her in his bed. He claimed the alley would do fine.

  August Myers didn’t sound like the kind of man who’d marry Victoria Chamberlain. Though he had enough money to drink and his clothes were expensive, he didn’t seem to fit with Victoria. She’d listened to her windbag of a father for twenty-five years, and it looked like she’d be spending the next fifty doing the same thing with a husband. Both were radicals and she’d always just be an audience for their rants.

  Today Duncan had left right after his guard duty, hoping to reach Fort Worth before dark. For August to make it in time to be kissing Victoria on the balcony, he would have had to ride faster than Duncan. Impossible. Not with the kind of horses rented at the livery.

  Which left one possibility: The man kissing Victoria wasn’t August. Judge O’Toole’s black hat was all the proof he’d needed. When they’d shared a drink, neither mentioned the couple in the shadows, but for a man who’d just kissed a woman the judge didn’t look very happy. When he said good night, he looked like a man walking back to an empty room, not a man who had an unlocked balcony door waiting for him.

  Duncan closed his eyes knowing he’d be back in the saddle heading toward Dallas before dawn. He’d worry about Killian O’Toole and August Myers after the outlaws were sentenced and handed over to the federal marshals. With luck tomorrow would be the last day of the trial. If the Tanners planned to make a break, they’d make it before dark.

  Chapter 10

  Monday

&nb
sp; Second Avenue

  Abe watched Miss Sara Norman as she rang the school bell and welcomed her students back from their holiday break. If she’d glanced up, she would have seen him standing in the doorway. He told himself he’d wave when she noticed him. Then maybe she’d nod slightly or even wave back if he were lucky.

  But she never looked his way.

  All day he found himself stealing looks out the window toward the school, wishing, hoping to see her returning them. But it never happened. The weather was too cold for the children to go outside. He’d seen them eating their lunches at their desks and then marching around the room on parade like a small band, laughing and clapping.

  When he saw her like that, a teacher—a good teacher—he couldn’t think of her as an almost lover. It wouldn’t be right. She was smart and caring and too good for a crippled-up man who rarely left his store.

  That evening, he watched her light burning late in the little schoolroom. He knew she was working, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her. Seeing her all alone at the desk made him think of the lists she made for herself and the letter she’d started to her mother. He thought of her as lonely, maybe as lonely as he was, and he wanted to hold her.

  When she finished, she blew out the lamp, locked the door, and walked home to her boardinghouse without looking his direction. He’d feared she wasn’t coming back to him. Maybe he’d been too bold. Maybe he’d been too mean, too demanding. He made up a hundred ifs. If he’d moved slower, maybe asked to hold her hand. If he’d just talked to her and not told her he was going to kiss her. He couldn’t remember saying one nice thing to her. He’d only demanded she remain silent while he kissed her like he was sure no gentleman ever kissed a lady.

  Maybe she wanted to forget the whole thing. What had meant so much to him might be nothing more to her than a memory she’d like to forget.

  He went about his job, waiting on late customers just getting off work and stopping by to pick up things before heading home. A few of the girls from the saloon on Main Street came in. They probably hadn’t felt comfortable in the fancy stores a block over, but this time of night no one would notice them buying a few necessities. They giggled and talked among themselves. When they finally made their selections, they walked shyly to the counter.

  Abe always treated them like fine ladies and they always thanked him as properly as if they lived in one of the big houses and not in the back of a saloon.

  Nights were the worst for him. Abe wished he could have at least walked Sara home. In his mind he would try talking to her, though even there he struggled with words. You’re every thought I have, seemed a little much, and How are you? didn’t seem nearly enough. So he’d remained in his prison with his nightmares of the war and his days filled with thinking of things he wished he’d said. Before holding her in his arms, he felt like he’d been asleep through his days. With one kiss, she’d awakened him and he learned how lonely his life was.

  The air had turned icy when he finally locked up. He wanted to stand at the corner of his porch and look down the road where he could see the windows of her boardinghouse, but Abe forced his mind on other matters. He’d decided not to remodel the bakery next door. Sara often used the space for her own supplies because the little schoolhouse lacked room, and he liked the thought of her visiting the storage area from time to time to retrieve desks and chairs and whatever else she needed. He’d even had Henry take her a key to the old bakery door just in case she ever needed to pick up something when he wasn’t around. As if that would ever happen; he was always at the store.

  As far as he knew she’d only been over to the storage space a few times with a couple of the older boys to help carry desks. He’d checked and she’d always made sure to lock the door before leaving.

  He turned the sign and pulled down the shade on the door. She would be eating supper at the boardinghouse about now. He had no idea which room was hers and saw no way to find out, but he liked to think that she could see his lights above the store from her window.

  When he moved through the empty store, he was glad she’d gone home before the rain had turned to ice. In her way, she worked as hard as he did, and he admired that about her. If he were honest, he admired everything about her and he hated the way he’d been hard and cold to her. The one lady who mattered to him and he hadn’t treated her like a lady. Maybe she’d come back that second time thinking that he’d be kind.

  He turned off all the lights except the one over his desk and almost stumbled as he noticed the dim glow from the study lamp just behind the store’s wall of shelves. His first thought was that he’d left it on, but he never left it on by accident.

  He slowly moved into the storeroom and opened his study door. The possibility that she might be there frightened him almost as much as the fear that she might not.

  Sara Norman stood still and silent as if waiting for a train. Her long cape, a hunter’s green, covered her completely. She’d lit the lamp but not the stove. The room was more in shadow than light, making it seem even colder.

  With no greeting, he moved to the stove and lit the fire inside. He thought of telling her he’d kept everything ready, but he wasn’t sure he wanted her to know how dearly he’d hoped that she would come again.

  When he faced her, she’d lowered her head so that most of her face was hidden by her hood. The rain glittering off her shoulders told him she’d just arrived. She must have gone home, maybe eaten dinner, then slipped back into the night and walked the shadowed walkways to him.

  Moving around his study chair, he gripped the leather arm for support. When she didn’t look up, he lowered her hood, hungry for the sight of her.

  Her hair hung long and rich over her shoulders as she looked down at her hands. She was a woman fully grown, but her shyness made her seem younger. Moving his hand over her dark hair in a slight caress, he waited for her to look up.

  She’d come back to him. The joy of it made his heart pound so loudly he was surprised she couldn’t hear it.

  When she didn’t look up, he knew what he had to do. He had to tell her he was sorry. He had to be kind, when all he’d ever considered himself was simply fair and honest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he lowered his hand to his side. “You’re a lady. I shouldn’t have . . . We shouldn’t have . . .”

  Raising her gaze, she stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise.

  He fought to find more words about how he felt while she studied him as if looking for something that was no longer there.

  “I shouldn’t have . . .” he began again. The way he’d touched her had been far too bold.

  One tear bubbled and moved slowly down her cheek. She began to shake her head and back away. When her hip bumped the washstand, she looked at the door behind him as if waiting for a chance to run.

  He saw all he needed to see. His words made her frown. They were turning her away. An apology hadn’t been what she’d wanted.

  She pulled her hood up as she tried to inch around him without touching him, as if she’d returned and found nothing of interest.

  With a sudden stab to his heart, Abe knew he hadn’t given her what she’d come to him for. He’d thought of a hundred reasons why she’d let him behave as he had toward her, but never once had it occurred to him that this was simply what she wanted. Someone else to take charge. Someone who told her what he wanted and acted without discussion or debate.

  She’d set the rules. She made the choice to come here, and apparently she wanted him to do the rest.

  He caught her wrist just before she was out of his reach. “Where do you think you’re going, Sara?” He used her first name to remind her she wasn’t just anyone to him, she was special. “We’ve only just begun.”

  Tugging her toward him, he ignored her protest as he lowered into the chair and pulled her atop him. When she was on his lap, he moved his hand along her arm and over her shoulder until he reached her throat and closed his fingers gently around her cool skin. “Close your eyes and open your mo
uth. I plan to kiss you long and completely before you go.” His voice came hard and demanding as he drew her to him.

  Before she could say anything, his mouth covered hers. She pushed at his chest, but his arms held her. When she tried to turn her head, he grabbed her jaw and held her steady. “Don’t move, Sara. Don’t try to pull away from me. I know you didn’t cross the night to run away from me now.” He could feel her tears falling, but he didn’t let go of her. If she didn’t want his apology, he’d try this. Either way, he might lose her forever.

  After a hard kiss against her closed mouth, his fingers dug into her hair and tugged, pulling her an inch away. “Kiss me back,” he ordered. “Kiss me back.”

  He could feel her heart pounding wildly against his as he loosened his grip on her hair to a caress.

  She timidly moved her lips to his. For a few heartbeats she barely brushed his mouth with hers. He didn’t move. He wanted her to come to him willingly, and slowly she did. She was fighting her own shyness, her own hesitation, her own fears, not him.

  When she finished another kiss and leaned a few inches away, he said simply, “That’s the way to do it, my love. Now again.” His fingers caressed her face. “Kiss me, Sara.”

  He thought he saw a smile a moment before her mouth touched his. With a laugh, he drew her near and deepened the kiss she’d offered.

  As the room grew warm, she melted against him without protest. He pulled off her cape, letting it fall on the floor. Underneath she wore only a blouse and skirt, not her normal suit. He set her a few inches away. Her eyes were bright as she watched him, gulping for air as she waited to see what would come next.

  “Be very still,” he said, his hand moving along her jaw.

  She nodded slightly.

  He tugged at the scarf she’d knotted almost like a tie around her throat. As it gave and drifted to the floor he felt as though he were opening a wonderful gift. He’d watched her for years, even spent time trying to think of how to talk to her about something other than school supplies. Only tonight, here she was, sitting on his good leg, letting him touch her. His fingertips brushed over her face, needing to know every line, every curve, and loving the feel of her warm skin.