Rachel Donnelly (25 page)

Christie offered a small smile — a reflection of the larger one inside. “You’re home.”

He lifted a sardonic brow. “Am I? I hardly recognize the place.”

“Perfect.” She flashed him a saucy grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But if there’s anything you don’t like, it can be easily changed.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Then you like it?”

He cocked a wry smile. “I don’t dislike it.”

Christie released a groan of exasperation. “You won’t hurt my feelings if you do. Men rarely have an eye for decorating. That’s what wives are for.”

“Is that so?” He drawled. “Well, I’ll take that into account when I decide to go hunting for one.”

“You speak of it as though it was as inconsequential as snaring a rabbit for your supper.”

“I don’t have to snare rabbits anymore. Holt brings them down with barely a scratch.”

“Then, perhaps you should ask him to find you a wife.”

“We don’t have the same taste. Besides, I’ve always enjoyed a good chase.”

His slow appraising gaze sent fresh heat to her cheeks, reminding her of her state of undress and making her wish she’d held her tongue.

Inez and Morena exchanged meaningful glances, causing her to exclaim hurriedly, “Yes, well, perhaps we should discuss your wife hunting another time. There’s much to be done before the fiesta.”

Nat’s features sobered. His voice took on a serious tone. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

“Very well. But I’m sure you can appreciate, I can’t offer my full concentration until I’m fully clothed.”

He grinned. “Strange, it’s the opposite for me.”

Christie’s cheeks flamed at his sensuous tone. Why must he always do that — say improper things and leave her gaping like an utter fool? Her mind scrambled for a reply.

But he spoke before she could think of an adequate reprimand. “Meet me downstairs in my study as soon as you’re decent.”

After he’d gone, she let out a huff of annoyance. Decent, indeed! He was the one who’d barged his way into the room. If he were any kind of a gentleman, he would have excused himself from her presence instead of standing in the doorway ogling her like a depraved fool.

She handed the dress to Morena, then stalked down the hall to her bedchamber.

Men! They were all the same.

They could abandon the household for weeks, then, arrive back out of the blue to begin issuing orders.

Well, if he thought to change any of their plans for the fiesta, he was much mistaken.

They’d worked too long and too hard to accomplish this day.

Besides, it was too late.

The guests were already on their way.

“Cancel it?” Christie stared at Nat as though he’d sprouted a second head. “But we’ve been planning this for weeks. The guests are on their way as we speak.”

He rubbed one long tanned finger along the edge of his chin, as though absently measuring how much stubble was there. He looked much like he had the day they’d met in the mercantile — rough and unkempt, blue eyes dark and cold as the sea. “It can’t be helped.”

“Have you thought of how disappointed Inez will be?” She rose from the stuffed leather chair, too agitated to keep her seat. She took a long quavering breath, willing herself calm. “You saw what a spot on her gown cost her. If you cancel her engagement party, she’ll fall to bits.”

“She’ll survive.”

“She’ll be devastated.” She began to pace.

“You’re overreacting.”

“Fall into a swoon.”

“It’s only a party.”

She halted, casting her eyes heavenward for strength. It wasn’t in her nature to grovel, but if begging was the only way, she’d give it her best effort. “Please, Nat. How can you disappoint her again?”

He glowered at her under his darkened brow. “I am not the cause of this!”

She resisted the urge to flinch, saying tightly. “There’s no need to raise your voice.”

He ran one hand roughly through his hair, appearing suddenly drawn and tired. “Look, I understand how you feel, but it just isn’t safe. The Everetts are here — somewhere. I can feel it. They’re waiting for the first opportunity, when I let my guard down. Can you imagine? A large group of people out on the lawns? It would be a turkey shoot.”

“But if what you say is true, that Billy blames you for Frank’s death and is tired of running, then he’s interested in you. Why waste time killing guests at a fiesta?”

“Because he doesn’t think that way. He has no conscience. You of all people should know that.”

Billy was as crazy as a bedbug, but would he risk capture to kill just for the sport of it. “Let’s be reasonable. If he wanted to kill you, he’d wait until you were alone with no witnesses.”

“Is that what you’d do? I mean, if you were a desperate outlaw?” He flopped back down in his chair with a sardonic look on his face. “You know what your problem is? Relentless optimism. You can’t admit there’s a problem, even when it’s staring you in the face.”

“I recognize a problem when I see one, but unlike most people I believe it can be fixed.”

“And you think you can fix everything.” His tone hardened. “Well I’m telling you right now you can’t — not this.”

She drew herself up to her full height. “I won’t give in, if that’s what you mean. I won’t bow to the terror of their threats or change my life for them. Because then they win. And I won’t let them win.”

His humorless laughter bounced off the paneled walls of the study. “Jesus, take me! You are the most persistent woman I have ever known, if not the most naive.”

Seeing him beginning to weaken, she pressed her advantage. “You could post guards couldn’t you? We could keep the festivities as close to the house as possible.”

His cool blue gaze narrowed.

The room grew still and silent.

Finally, she could stand it no more. “You said yourself you don’t know for sure they’re here. Holt may be right. They may have ridden on to Sacramento to rest up before they try to kill you.”

His lips twisted into a wry smile. “That’s very comforting thought. But, since it’s my life that’s in jeopardy please pardon me for being a wee bit skeptical.”

Christie had the grace to flush. He must think her an unfeeling creature to speak so lightly when his life was in danger. But it all seemed so unlikely — there was no proof the Everetts were even out there. Even if his instincts were right, surely they could take precautions. To postpone Inez’s engagement party on pure speculation seemed cruel.

She widened her eyes a tad, allowing her bottom lip to sag in a half pout. “Will you at least consider it?”

A weary sigh, bordering on a groan, seeped past his lips. “Very well. But if anything doesn’t seem right — if there’s the least sign of trouble, I’m calling it off. Do you hear me?”

She wanted to whoop for joy, but in light of his dark scowl, she tapped it down to a small grateful smile. “Oh thank you, thank you! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do before Ellie gets here.”

She sailed from the room with the speed of a clipper, for fear he might come to his senses and change his mind.

• • •

Nat planted one foot on the bottom rail of the round pen. The warm morning breeze stirred the dew-drenched earth beneath his feet. He was dog tired — so tired his eyes itched. All he yearned for was his bed.

But Antonio wanted to show him a new mare he’d been working — one of the mustangs rounded up in the spring. After much time at the snubbing post, she’d taken to the bridle well. She’d make a solid mount some day.

“She has a gentle temper, this one.” Antonio brought the bay to a halt beside the rail. “She is a high stepper, no? Señorita Christie calls her Little Dancer. She wishes to ride her, but I explained you must approve every mount and this one is not fully broke.” Antonio beamed a big smile. “But she continued to ask, saying you might never come home and then what would I do, turn her loose? The señorita is very determined.”

Nat ran his hand down the white star in the middle of the mare’s nose. “Determined, that’s a good word.”

“But I did not give in.” Antonio said with a proud smile as he cantered away.

A familiar chuckle greeted Nat’s ears. He turned to find Holt leaning up against the fence next to him wearing a cocksure smile. “Seems like you could take a few lessons from old Antonio.”

Nat slashed him a frigid glare.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.’ Holt slapped him on the back. “Antonio has a way with the ladies. Must be all that Spanish charm.”

“I don’t need charm. I own this damn ranch, and if I want to change my mind I damn well will.” Nat’s blood rose. “You got a problem with that?”

Holt held up his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes danced with laughter. “No problem. Although it’s peculiar to me how your mind could be so dead set against something and then change just like that.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?

“I’m just curious how she does it.” Holt looked ready to bust a gut.

“Are you here for a reason, or did you just come to gloat? I thought you were down at the bunkhouse taking a nap.”

“I was until old Walleye Pete came in hollering that the fiesta was still on. He rattled off a list of chores Miss Wallace requested, and those vaqueros flew out the door like bees from a smoking hive.”

“I’ll bet they did.”

“Yup, that lady sure knows how to get things done.” Holt didn’t bother to hold back his smile. “She has a way about her that makes folks think she’s doing them a favor. I hate to say it, but she kinda blows your theory of Easterners all to hell.”

Nat opened his mouth to respond, then thought better of it. Debating with Holt when he was in one of his cocky moods was like wrestling a greased pig. “I’m going to bed, and the only thing that’s going to be blown to hell is the thing that wakes me up.”

“With a house full of primping women?” Holt called after him. “Good luck!”

• • •

Nat pounded his pillow for the umpteenth time. What were they doing out there? It sounded like a whorehouse on a Saturday night. No, he took that back, sporting women saved their energy for more important things.

He rolled out of bed with a growl. He jerked opened his bedchamber door, just in time to spy Li Ling swishing down the hall with an armload of neatly folded towels.

She took one look at his state of undress, and her eyes popped. “You marry me now, Mister?”

Nat gritted his teeth. “No!” How many times did he have to tell her? He was beginning to regret rescuing her from that slave trader. But he couldn’t stand by and watch her being beaten to death. At least she had a job and a roof over her head. “I am never going to marry you,” he ground out.

She didn’t bat an eye. “You go back to bed then. You ugly. You need rest.”

Ordinarily he’d have apologized, but right now he was too exhausted to care. “How can I rest with all that caterwauling? What are they doing, preparing the ark for the next flood?”

Her mouth twitched suspiciously. “No, Mister. They prepare for fiesta.”

He forced a patient smile, tempering his voice to calm. “Could you please impress upon them that I wish to sleep, as I have had very little in the past two days.”

Li Ling bobbed her head. “Yes, Mister.”

“Thank you.” He closed his bedchamber door with a firm click, then heaved a hopeful sigh. He staggered toward the bed, but on the way tripped over his boot and landed on the hard wood floor with a loud thud.

A string of oaths exploded from his lips. But seeing how close his skull had come to the bedpost promptly ended his cursing. He flopped down on the bed with a groan and closed his eyes.

He had barely drifted off when the sound of female laughter pierced through his blissful fog of sleep like the screech of a hawk.

He came bolt upright in bed, reaching for his gun. But it wasn’t there. Then he recollected himself. He fell back on the pillows, grinding his teeth in vexation.

Holy mother of God!

What did it take to get a few hours of shuteye around here?

He should have slept in the bunkhouse.

Another peel of laughter shot through his skull like an arrow.

That was it!

He’d asked nicely.

Now there was going to be hell to pay.

He catapulted to his feet, grabbed his dressing gown, and was out the door in a trice. If Li Ling’s scolding hadn’t worked — perhaps the murderous look in his bloodshot eyes would simmer them down. He strode down the hall to Christie’s bedchamber, took a deep breath, then rapped his fist twice on the door.

• • •

Christie froze with the wet sponge in her hand at the sound of Inez’s gasp. She turned to find Nat standing in the doorway wearing a thunderous scowl. The predatory gleam in his eye made her breath catch. The sponge slipped from her hand back into the tub.

Inez skittered behind the dressing screen.

Christie could feel her face light up like a beacon under his fierce accusing glare.

Ellie stood with her hands behind her back looking as innocent as the day she was born. “Welcome home, Nat.”

He lifted a censoring brow. “Thank you.”

Christie offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, did we wake you?”

“No, you didn’t wake me,” he said in an unusually quiet voice. “I have yet to fall asleep.”

Christie’s lips formed a silent O. Her mind scrambled for a way to placate him before the steam she envisioned filtering from his ears changed his mind about the fiesta. But the sight of him in his black silk dressing gown molded intimately against his firm thighs had her so rattled all she could come up with was another lame, “Sorry.”

He gave a stiff nod, then turned on his heel and vacated the room without a backward glance.

“Now see what you have done,” Morena admonished when the door closed behind him. But she could barely be heard over the younger women’s muffled peals of laughter. She administered three stern glares before hustling from the room, supposedly to comfort her disgruntled employer.

“You’d think he’d never witnessed a water fight before.” Ellie lobbed the sponge she’d been concealing back into the tub. “The drawback of being an only child I suppose.”