Running Wild (7 page)

“Don’t be obtuse,” Morgan snapped. “Star is a grown woman
now, and long since past that sort of behavior. Nicholas is my concern.”

Ward raised his head, lifting his brows. “Nick? I see no
reason for concern. In these last weeks, I’ve observed in him nothing less than
striking intelligence, good sense, and the strictest adherence to duty.
Moreover, he’s traveled these mountains most of his life. You need not fear for
either his or your daughter’s safety.”

“It’s not for her safety, but his, that I fear, and not harm
from the elements, but from Star. When it comes to men, she’s shockingly
unsteady, and you must know that she’s set her sights on him.”

“Aye, Mistress,” he said, employing his rare grin to melt
Morgan’s anxiety. Nick, it seemed, had wormed his way into her heart as he had
Ward’s, for Morgan’s merry disposition generally made her disinclined to worry.
It was that disposition, combined with barely checked rebelliousness, that he’d
fallen in love with thirty years earlier. “I suspect she’s plotted a course, as
well.”

She wagged her finger at him, although a sparkle lit her
eye. “Do not smile at me, Ward Montgomery, nor try to charm me out of this.
She’s dangerous, I tell you! I love her. She is my daughter and I am
extraordinarily proud of her and all she has accomplished during her short
life, but I like Nicholas. I don’t wish to see him as her latest victim.”

“I like Nicholas, also. He is. . .” Ward searched for a word
to describe his growing kinship with the man. Though their social circumstances
could scarcely have been more dissimilar, they’d hoisted similar loads in their
youths, loads that formed a man’s character, for better or worse. “He is a good
man,” Ward finished, “and quite capable of handling Star.”

“Like the five—or is it six?—fiancés before him?”

Ward chuckled and rose to cross the room to seat himself on
the sofa next to Morgan. He took her hands in his. “Like her mother who went
through three husbands before she managed to keep one alive.”

A twinkle entered her eyes, although she refused to
acknowledge it. “It’s not the same thing.”

“No, my dear, it is not. No one is dead in this case. No,”
he said holding up a hand. “You shall wait while I have my say. McGraw is no
youth, but a bachelor of thirty-five years. He’s unlikely to fall into the one
hundred or so traps our
very
inventive daughter will set for him. If you
fear for a broken heart, fear for Star.”

“I do fear for her. Would that she could contemplate
marriage.” She sighed. “’Tisn’t healthy for a woman of such temperament to be
forever unmarried.”

“On that we are agreed. Has it occurred to you, my dear,
that McGraw may well be her cure?”

“Oh, but how?” she exclaimed, turning in her seat. “She’s
intent upon a seduction, not a connection. Would you see her ruined?”

“No,” he said with a sigh, “but I would see her happy, and
we possess no knowledge that she’s not already ‘ruined.’ Trust, Morgan, that
you’ve educated her well enough to avoid permanent trouble in that regard.
Moreover, should she succeed in her goal, Nicholas will be as discreet as a man
can be. I don’t expect that she will, however. He’s much attached to his
honor.”

“Yes, so were you,” Morgan exclaimed irritably. “Yet you
succumbed to desire within a few hours’ time with very little provocation! Men
are notoriously unrestrained in matters of passion.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I object, Mistress, to the
presumption of very little provocation. As I recall, you offered yourself to me
in such a manner that even a saint would have been hard-pressed to refuse you.
Secondly, Nick has learned to govern those needs instead of ignoring them as I
had always done. He’ll not yield easily, and that will be better for both of
them. We love most, that for which we fight hardest.”

“But Star’s been in love countless times, and it’s never
lasted beyond six months.”

“She’s never met a man like McGraw,” he said, patting her
hand. “Take ease in this, Mistress, that while I have every expectation that
the seas will be rough, they shall navigate them with great success. Star means
to have Nick as her lover. I mean to have him as our son-in-law.”

She sighed, but Ward spied a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “I
should relish such a match, even though it means losing our daughter. Still, if
you would but reason with her, my dearest Captain, I am persuaded they might
avoid the storm altogether.”

He smiled and rose, pulling her with him. “And deny her the
opportunity to fight for what she wants? Never. Sit back and enjoy the show,
Morgan. Not only does Nicholas intend to thwart Star’s plans, but both Lee and
Port appear inclined to meddle in their sister’s affairs as well. And you
know
none of them will abide by our advice.”

Morgan chuckled as she allowed him to lead her from the
room. “No, they never shall! And I collect, by that sparkle in your eye, that
you will be the most meddlesome of all!”

Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Socrates

“Oh, Nick, wait a minute,” Melinda hollered, rushing out of
the kitchen with a brown paper parcel in her hand. “Mac packed your lunch in
your saddlebag, but these cookies are just out of the oven. I know how much you
love my lemon drops.”

Standing next to the front door, Nick finished buttoning his
coat, and then smiled down at his sister-in-law. “I’d fight a grizzly for ’em,
Mel,” he said, taking the bundle and dropping an affectionate kiss on her
forehead.

“Just make sure it’s not rabid. Speaking of which, you are
taking your rifle with you, right?”

Nick frowned. Melinda’s eyes appeared a mite glazed, and
Nick’s shoulders tightened. For all her genius at child rearing, housekeeping,
and matchmaking, Melinda wasn’t what a body would call smart. In fact, she
could drive a man mad trying to follow her convoluted thinking. But she had an
intuition—she called it a sixth sense—that’d saved lives.

“Sure enough. Wouldn’t go into the mountains without it.”

“And you’ll keep it with you at all times, right?”

He nodded slowly. “I do gen’rally. Why? Is there something
wrong?”

“No. No, everything will be fine then,” she said, her face
brightening. The dazed expression vanished. “Just make certain that you keep it
near, that’s all.”

Maybe he could use her woman’s intuition to escape . . . .
He frowned. “Maybe we shouldn’t go—”

“Oh no, now that won’t do. You do your duty by your guests,
Nick.” She pulled the door open and Nick, cookies tucked under his arm, stepped
out onto the porch. Melinda closed the door behind him with a final click, loud
in the cold morning air. Stomach clenching, he looked across the yard toward
two horses saddled and packed. Mack stood at the head of his mount, while Star
held the reins of Belle, stroking its chestnut neck and whispering something in
its ear. She wore a brown, hooded wool cape and a ridiculous green velvet top
hat, which somehow didn’t look ridiculous on Star.

Miz Montgomery, Nick corrected himself as he crossed the
yard, his boots crunching on the frozen ground. The trick was to keep his
distance as much as possible, and he’d avoid the kind of entanglements that
could cause scenes and cost friendships. A name was a good start.

Detecting his approach, she turned toward him. Her cloak was
fur-lined and pushed back on her shoulders to reveal a green riding habit,
which, absent bustle or petticoats, clung to her curves. Nicholas sucked in his
breath as his eyes rode over her, while his brain assured his runaway
imagination that there was nothing at all erotic about a riding habit.
Unfeminine and stark, that’s what they were.

Except on Miz Montgomery.

Heat and excitement bubbled through his veins. Damn,
damn
.

A smile crept across her face, and her eyes gleamed
brandy-brown. Her cheeks were pink in the cold morning air, two bright spots of
color in the midst of a grey winter day.

“Getting to know Belle?” Nick asked as he reached his mount
and shoved the cookies in his saddlebag.

“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she? Gentle and quiet. Did you
suppose I couldn’t handle a more spirited horse?”

Nick’s eyes caught hers across the back of his mount. “Never
occurred to me. I chose Belle for you because she’s sure-footed, which is a lot
more useful in the mountains than spirit.” He spied her saddle and raised his
eyebrows in surprise. “No sidesaddle?”

“It seemed safer to ride astride, and Melinda assured me it
was perfectly proper under the circumstances,” Star answered, lifting her chin
in defiance.

“It surely is, ma’am,” Nick replied, grinning. For all her
Eastern gentility, she possessed a deal of spunk, and her sporadic disdain for
decorum touched a joyful, but deeply hidden, rebellious part of him. He relaxed
a little. “You need a hand up?”

She shook her head and, with more grace than he’d have
thought possible clothed as she was in long skirts and cape, swung into the
saddle. Melinda, Nick reflected, always needed help into the saddle. Then
again, she was several inches shorter than Star.

Nick mounted up while Miz Montgomery, expertly controlling
her mare with her knees, adjusted her skirts. She turned to him. “Up the
valley, then?”

“No, that trail’s too steep in winter. You sure you want to
wear that?” He nodded to the top hat.

She arched one pretty eyebrow. “Why ever not?”

“It’ll be even colder in the mountains. I reckon you’ll want
to use that hood instead, ’specially if it snows.”

Her eyes sparkled and she let out a small gurgle of
laughter. “A hood? How terribly unfashionable of you, Nicholas. You must know
that no woman of delicacy would ever forfeit fashion for comfort.”

As always, her laughter tickled his heart and created silly
bubbles in his belly, bringing a grin to his face. Damn, but he couldn’t help
it, he liked being with her. “No, ma’am, I’d never ask you to do that, but
there aren’t too many fashionable people where we’re going.”

“Ah,” she said, removing her hat to reveal her dark hair
swept back as usual, into a loose knot at the back of her head, only this time
it covered her ears, no doubt to keep them warm. “And the wildlife won’t
object? You’re certain, are you?”

“Sure enough. And I have a rifle,” he drawled, nodding to
the Winchester in its scabbard, within easy reach, “if’n they object too much,
so don’t you worry none. Won’t be any squirrels malignin’ your good name.”

She leaned over to hand the hat to a grinning Mack. “If
you’d be so kind as to bring this to Mrs. McGraw, sir? Ever so obliging of you,
Mr. McNamara. Thank you.” She kneed her horse and they started down the valley.
“A rifle against a squirrel, Nicholas? Isn’t that far more firepower than
necessary?”

“Maybe for one of your Eastern squirrels, but out here we
grow ’em a mite bigger.”

“Why, I own that you do seem to grow everything a ‘mite
bigger’ out here,” she said with a seductive gleam in her eye. “I find it
remarkably intriguing.”

Nick’s jaw tightened as he guided his horse northwest. Yup,
she was fun. And a whole slew of trouble.

***

He rides
, Star thought, risking a sideways glance at
Nicholas,
as if he and the horse are one
. Today he wore his customary
blue jean pants, his tan Stetson hat, and shiny tan leather coat. He held his
horse’s reins casually in one hand, while skillfully guiding the horse with his
knees. A perfect specimen of a man.

And particularly difficult to seduce. It had not concerned
her during the planning of the wedding, for she’d not been able to throw her
full attention into the seduction. However, this past week she’d resumed the
endeavor with singleness of purpose, to no avail. Amused though Nicholas
appeared to be by her attempts, in all other ways he remained unmoved.

She, on the other hand, tensed at every meeting over the
sparks fairly flying between them. At least
she
felt the sparks. Was it
possible he did not? The thought disarmed her. Certainly in the past men had,
from time to time, fought the lures she cast out, due to some misbegotten sense
of morality, but she’d always before secured at least
some
interest.
Perhaps she’d not been forward enough? Perhaps Western men, with their more
relaxed view of sexual expression, required more blatant signals.

Perhaps she ought to concede defeat.

She risked another glance in his direction, her eyes
coasting over his tall, straight figure and drinking in the easy confidence of
his one-handed hold on the reins: strong calloused hands, hidden under tan
leather gloves. She had never before marked a man’s hands, but Nicholas’s had
caught her interest as surely as if he’d reached for it. She remembered with
perfect clarity the sight of his long, lean fingers wrapped around a glass of
brandy—and his hard lips wrapping around the rim.

Ah, but that mouth had seized her attention as well, and
then bedeviled her with dreams of warm, wet kisses, followed by a slow,
practiced touch, demanding a response. Oh yes, Nicholas most assuredly would
wish for a responsive woman in bed. A man as comfortable in his own skin as he
was would not require a docile female to prove his male superiority. He would
seek out an enthusiastic participant. Like her.

The trail opened up, allowing them to ride side by side.
Shoving aside erotic thoughts, Star searched for a topic of conversation. “And
so, Nicholas,” she started, “you never have given me your position on women’s
suffrage. I believe I asked you at Lee’s wedding, but my parents interrupted
us. What
do
you think of the women’s rights movement?” Then she wanted to
kick herself. What an idiotic choice of topics for a woman resolved upon
seduction!