To Tame A Texan (5 page)

“In my purse.”

“Don't you need them?”

“Only if I want to see,” she answered matter-of factly “This is going to be an interesting evening; I'm sure of it.”

“At least a very long evening.” He offered her his arm and imagined a ballroom full of beautiful, desirable women—and he was stuck with prim Lynnie McBride. Ace almost groaned aloud. Well, the dance wouldn't last forever.

Maverick stepped forward. “Remember, Ace, this is a member of my family.” His voice held a warning edge. “I'll expect you to be a perfect gentleman.”

What was Uncle Maverick hinting at? Oh, surely he didn't mean . . .? With
Lynnie?

“I'll bring her home early,” he assured his step-uncle.

“Not too early,” Aunt Cayenne said.

If he got rid of Lynnie soon enough, he might still have a chance with the blowsy, big-bosomed barmaid with the red, red lips. That thought cheered Ace a little.

“I've got a carriage waiting downstairs,” he said, and they went out the door and down the hall, heading for the big Valentine dance at the governor's mansion.

It was a crisp but clear night as the horse and carriage clopped along the street from the hotel.

Ace sighed. This was going to be a long, long evening. Even if some beauty did show up at the ball, Ace was under orders not to abandon Lynnie. Lynnie's delicate fragrance was overpowered by the scent of the roses and liquor.

Lynnie sniffed with disdain. “Just how much bourbon did you consume?”

“Not nearly enough,” he snapped back, then instantly regretted his words. A Texan was gallant to the bone, even when he wanted to wring a lady's neck. With any other girl on such a chilly night, Ace would have used the cold as an excuse to cuddle closer, maybe steal a kiss or two. He glanced sideways at Lynnie. She sat ramrod stiff, her mouth firm with disapproval. He didn't figure she'd ever been kissed in her whole life except by her father and maybe her little nephews. Ace didn't intend to be the first.

All that broke the silence was the creaking of the carriage wheels.

“So,” she said, evidently attempting conversation, “how are things at the Triple D Ranch?”

He stifled a drunken yawn. “'Bout the same as they are at the Lazy M, I reckon: just cows and more cows.”

Another long moment of awkward silence. In the moonlight, he could see Lynnie chewing her lip. She didn't look very happy to be heading for a big ball. Other girls would have been engaging him in silly, giggling conversation. Lynnie was as stern as a hanging judge.

“So remind me again why your father is called Trace.”

Even this feeble attempt at conversation was better than strained silence. “Uh, Dad is Diego de Durango the Third. He's half Spanish, and
tres
is Spanish for three.”

“Well, then it seems logical that if you're Diego de Durango the Fourth, you should be called Cuatro.”

“I like playin' cards,” Ace said, and wished he had a little flask to sip on, “so that's the reason for my nickname.”

“I hear you spend a lot of time in saloons and gambling halls.” She sounded stiff, disapproving.

“Well, that's where men play cards.” He grinned at her.

Another long period of silence that was cooler than the temperature inside the creaking carriage.

“I—I appreciate your volunteering to take me to the ball,” Lynnie said. “I've never been to one before.”

He almost told her that his mother had volunteered him, then decided it would be terribly ungallant. “So why'd you decide on this one?”

Lynnie hesitated. “The governor and most of the legislators and other influential men in town will be there.”

“Dad says the governor is an idiot.”

“I think so, too.” Lynnie smiled and fidgeted nervously with her small handbag.

When she smiled, she didn't look half bad, but then, he knew he'd had too much to drink, so he didn't trust his judgment at the moment. As they used to say at the cantina:
“All the women get purtier at closing time.”

“Thunderation, it's cold,” Lynnie said.

He might have taken that as an offer to cuddle from some other female, but from straitlaced Miss McBride, he was sure she was just filling the silence.

“Lynnie,” he said kindly, “ladies don't usually use a word as strong as ‘thunderation.' They say ‘goodness gracious' or ‘mercy me.'”

She fixed him with a green, nearsighted stare. “‘Mercy me' sounds sissy and idiotic. It's the kind of thing that addle-brained Emmalou Purdy would say. You know, she's my oldest pupil.”

Lordy, Emmalou Purdy. He sighed wistfully as he pictured the pretty, buxom girl. He'd like to be her teacher. On the other hand, there wasn't much he could teach that lusty girl.

The carriage pulled up and halted in the drive of the governor's mansion. From inside, light streamed through all the windows, and as the big front doors opened to accept new arrivals, Ace heard a faint melody drifting on the cold air. Carriages were everywhere, with people all decked out in their finest arriving for the evening. There would be lots of beautiful girls at this dance, and here he was stuck with prim Lynnie McBride. Ma drove a mighty hard bargain.

The driver came around, put down the step, and opened the door. Ace stepped out and reached to help Lynnie down. She stumbled, and he had to catch her by both arms. She was stiff to his touch. “Unhand me, you scoundrel.”

He stood her on her feet. “Lynnie, if you'd put on your spectacles, you wouldn't trip over the step.”

“And if you were a gentleman, you wouldn't notice my tripping.”

Oh, Lordy. He took her arm in case she tripped over the entry steps, and they went inside. Down the ornate stairs floated music, much laughter, and talk. The butler took their wraps. “Ballroom on the second floor, sir.”

He wasn't sure just how much Lynnie could see without her spectacles; she looked as blind as a newborn kitten. In fact, for a moment, she seemed almost fearful and very vulnerable.
Lynnie?
She could cut a man to pieces with just her sharp wit, he thought glumly. He took her elbow as he escorted her up the stairs. It wouldn't do to have her trip and fall all the way down in a tangle of pink silk and petticoats.

Many a young lady turned and gave him her best and most inviting smile, and out of force of habit, Ace smiled back. If he could palm his lady off on some luckless
hombre,
maybe Ace would get a dance or two with some of these eager beauties. He paused in the doorway of the big ballroom and watched the dancers sway gracefully to the music. “Lynnie, would you like some punch?”

“I suppose so.” She acted a bit bewildered, and he remembered that she hadn't had much in the way of a social life. Well, it was her own damned fault for being so prudish and smart. Ace parked her against a wall and ambled over to the punch bowl. Half a dozen fellows he knew were standing about, ogling the arriving young ladies.

Ace nodded to several of them. “Hey,
hombres,
good night for a dance.”

Bob Anderson nodded. He was a bit of a dandy, Ace thought. “I came stag so I could choose among the girls.”

“Me, too,” Sam and Howard said. “What about you, Ace?”

Before he could answer, Bob laughed. “Didn't you see? He's escorting Lynnie McBride. What'd it take to get you to do that, Ace?”

He almost admitted that his own mother had called in her marker on him; then he looked toward Lynnie looking a bit forlorn, and his heart softened a little. “I've had enough of brainless beauties. Lynnie can talk about politics and all sorts of stuff.”

“Since when does a man want to talk to a girl?” Willis Forrester joined them. He was older and had menacing blue-green eyes as hard as turquoise. “I brought Emmalou Purdy; you know, the one with the big . . .” He didn't finish, and the others laughed knowingly. He looked Ace up and down. “I wager Durango's dad forced him to bring the schoolmarm.”

The Forresters and the Durangos were old enemies, and Ace frowned at the other man—a little too handsome and dressed in the latest styles from back east. “Forrester, you should be so lucky to get accepted as an escort for a smart girl like Lynnie. Why, she's even graduated from college.”

Forrester sneered. “And just how does that help in the bedroom?”

The others laughed, but Ace grabbed Forrester's arm. “Watch your mouth,
hombre.”

“All right, all right.” The other threw up his hands in surrender. “I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that knowing your reputation with the ladies, we're all surprised to see you escorting that prim old maid.”

His reputation was on the line. All four of the men looked at him. He almost weakened then and told them how his mother had forced him to bring Uncle Maverick's spinster sister-in-law, but he looked across the floor at Lynnie, standing there by herself among the more beautiful girls, and for the first time in his life he almost pitied her. “I'm tired to death of brainless women who have nothin' to offer but good looks and hot kisses.” He waited a moment to see if heaven would strike him down for his brazen lie, then breathed a sigh of relief when it didn't happen.

He waited until Forrester had walked away, then turned on the other three. “Miss McBride's dance card probably isn't full, if you three are wantin' to hurry over and ask her.”

Nobody moved.

Ace frowned. “I
said,
she might have room on her dance card for three fellows that still owe me money from our last poker game.”

They looked at him. Then they turned and looked toward Lynnie standing forlornly yet defiantly across the ballroom.

“I might even forgive a gambling debt to a man who'd do the gentlemanly thing.”

All three looked as if they were surveying a hangman's noose. With a sigh, all three started across the floor toward Lynnie.

Humming to himself with satisfaction, Ace got two cups of punch, tasted his, and grimaced. Well, maybe someone in the crowd had a bottle of bourbon; that would improve the flavor to a Texan's taste. As he stood there watching his friends crowd around Lynnie, Emmalou Purdy minced across the floor and brushed up against him.

“Why, Ace Durango, mercy me,” she giggled. “I do hope you're plannin' on askin' little old me to dance.”

He bowed gallantly. “I do hope, Miss Purdy, you'll save me a place on your dance card.” He relished the idea of rubbing up against those big bosoms, if only for a few minutes.

“That I'll surely do.” She giggled again and floated across the floor toward Willis Forrester, who was frowning at Ace.

Ace looked over the beauties on the dance floor with a sigh before sauntering back over to where Lynnie stood. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Your friends came over and asked me to dance,” she said almost as if she couldn't believe it.

What he'd done made him feel good inside. He'd feel much better when he got to dance with some of the other girls during those three dances. “Uh, they all want a chance to dance with a smart girl, Lynnie. All these others have is looks.” He was looking down into the top of her ball gown and decided she wasn't as flat-chested as he'd first thought.

“Stop staring at my bosom,” Lynnie snapped as she accepted the punch.

He was startled that she was so straightforward. He'd never experienced such honesty from a girl. “I wasn't staring.”

“Yes, you were. Besides, my corset top is stuffed with hankies. That's what you're licking your chops at.”

He felt a mite foolish. “I don't know what to say to a girl who's frank enough to tell me something like that.”

“You didn't know?” She snorted. “Why, half the girls in this room have hankies or socks stuffed in the top of their ball gowns to fill them out.”

He turned and stared longingly at Emmalou Purdy as she danced by with Willis Forrester. She winked boldly at Ace over Forrester's shoulder.

“Including her,” Lynnie said under her breath.

“You mean, that's what I've been looking at?” Ace felt he'd been robbed. “Of all the cheating, deceitful . . .”

“Knowing you,” Lynnie said, “you're probably already imagining taking half of these girls out in the back of a carriage, pawing their corsets and drawers.”

He felt the flush rise to his face. “Lordy, Miss McBride, that's hardly fittin' conversation for a young lady.”

“I reckon not, but I know your reputation.” She looked about. “How long before the grand promenade?”

Ace shrugged. “As soon as the governor comes upstairs and the party's in full swing, I reckon.”

“Good. I want us to lead it.”

He was mystified. That didn't sound like Lynnie.

“Would you like to dance?” Lynnie asked.

“I'm supposed to ask you,” he said.

“Well, now, why is it the man gets to do the asking?”

Yes, it was going to be a long, long evening, Ace thought in resignation. “I don't know; that's just the way it is.”

“There are lots of things that need to be changed, then.”

He didn't want to argue with the little spitfire. The red-haired McBride women had reputations for being feisty. Unfortunately, the other sisters were prettier. He bowed before her. “Miss McBride, would you like to dance?”

“I suppose we might as well.”

They set their punch cups down on a nearby table.

She came into his arms, stiff as an ironing board. “Not so close, you rascal, you. Remember, I'm practically related to you.”

“No, you aren't, except by marriage.” Thank God for that. Her waist was small, as was the dainty hand she put in his big one. He maneuvered her out onto the dance floor. “Now remember, I get to lead. We'll argue over whether it's fair to women later.”

They did reasonably well and only tripped over each other's feet a couple of times as they waltzed.

Lynnie glanced around as they danced. “All the girls are watching you. I'll bet they're hoping you'll ask them to dance.”

He'd noticed that, too. Ace sighed wistfully and remembered he was under orders not to abandon Lynnie. “Now why would I want to dance with them when I have someone like you in my arms?”

She looked startled, then smiled. “I know you're lying, but it's nice of you to say that.”

He must be drunker than he thought; Lynnie looked almost attractive when she smiled. “Lynnie, please stop tryin' to lead.”

“Even that Forrester girl is smiling at you.”

Willis Forrester's sister. Her pale turquoise eyes were issuing a frank invitation. Ace smiled back.