But Hazard’s voice was mild as he spoke and his expression gave nothing away. “It’s not what I wish. It’s what Jo wishes. Did you ask her?”
“No.”
“Do you want to?”
Perhaps still infatuated with the events of the evening past, Flynn heard himself say, “I wouldn’t be averse.”
Hazard’s mouth quirked faintly. “She may not find that reason enough to marry you.”
Reminded of the necessary courtesies, Flynn tipped his head. “I would, naturally, express myself in more suitable terms.”
“I sure as hell would hope so.” Hazard shoved the handgun aside and leaned forward slightly. “How long have we known each other—ten, fifteen years?”
Flynn nodded. Hazard had helped his father as well run off intruders on more than one occasion.
“I’m not saying I’m happy about what happened—with gossip being what it is in a small town. But Jo has a mind of her own as you may have noticed, she’s a grown woman and I can’t tell her what to do. If she wants to marry you after knowing you for less than a day, fine.” Hazard smiled. “I rather doubt she will. But don’t hurt her or you’ll hear from me.” Sitting back in his chair again, the man whose power extended throughout the territory, spread his hands wide in a benevolent gesture. “That’s all I have to say.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”
The men were a generation apart, but they shared an understanding that the world was far from benign if your skin was a shade different from the norm. And they’d fought to hold what was theirs for as long as they could remember. Both were well qualified to allocate lesser concerns to their proper place.
Flynn’s relationship with Jo was not life or death.
And neither man was vulnerable to gossip.
“So you don’t think she’d say yes?” Although Flynn had always prided himself on avoiding entanglements, he found himself mildly chagrined at Hazard’s assessment.
“Don’t take it personally.”
“How else should I take it?”
Hazard looked at him from under his brows. “You don’t seriously want to marry, do you?”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Whatever you say,” Hazard observed, kindly, knowing what it felt like to want what you want. “Why don’t you go home, and bring Jo back for breakfast or lunch if you like. If you have an announcement to make, I’ll be the first to congratulate you.”
“She might not want to come.”
Hazard’s dark eyes were suddenly very direct. “Really.” “She said she wanted to stay with me as long as she could. She wants to come back to the ranch with me.”
“Impossible.” Hazard’s tone was curt.
“I agree. I told her it was too dangerous.”
“Those Empire boys are out for your skin,” Hazard declared, brusquely. “I don’t want her mixed up in that.”
“Nor do I.”
Hazard inhaled deeply, then spoke in a brisk, sharp cadence. “Bring Jo to dinner tonight.” His gaze was chill. “Consider it a command performance. If she doesn’t wish to come, bring her anyway. I want her to understand she is not to travel north with you under any circumstances. In all else, I’ll indulge her whims. Are we clear on that?”
“Perfectly.”
Hazard tapped his fingers on his desktop. “Good. Dinner’s at eight.”
Chapter 12
"You were where?” Jo exclaimed when Flynn returned to A bed. Coming fully awake, she pushed herself up on her elbows and glared at him. “How dare you! I’m not some ingenue who needs protecting! I can take care of myself!”
“It was a courtesy call. I’ve known your father a long time.”
She looked daggers at him. “And you men had to discuss my life as though I wasn’t capable of making a decision without you. God, I hate that! As if my actions require male approval!”
“Calm down. We have an invitation to dinner. No one’s upset.”
“Fm upset in case you didn’t notice! I’m bloody damned well upset! I don’t want you interfering in my life!”
“You didn’t seem to mind last night,” he said with a faint smile.
“That’s completely different and you know it.” It wasn’t fair that he was so flagrantly virile and so delectably naked; it made it so much harder to focus on her resentment.
“Darling, no one has to be angry about anything.” He shifted slightly, half-turning in a tantalizing display of rippling muscle and long-limbed grace. “We’re all alone; I sent the servants away this morning and if you get hungry”—his smile held a lush insinuation that had nothing to do with food— “Cook left some fresh blueberry scones and a lemon cake.”
“Blueberry scones?” Jo murmured, wavering between possible gratifications. “Hot?”
“Hot,” he whispered. “Like someone else I know.”
“Don’t you dare use sex and food to appease me.” But the petulance had vanished from her voice.
“Which do you want first, as if I can’t tell.” He was already rising from the bed.
“Bring the lemon cake, too.”
He turned back, magnificently nude, magnificently aroused, his brows arched in query. “All of it?”
“Oh my God,” she whispered, feeling herself open in welcome, suddenly beginning to reconsider the importance of food.
His mouth curved upward in a lazy grin. “We don’t have to leave the house until dinner at eight. There’s plenty of time.” “So I can have scones, and then you’ll entertain me?”
“At your service, darling.”
She smiled. “You’re still going to pay for your early-morning visit.”
“We’ll see.”
“No, we won’t.”
“Let’s discuss it after you eat.”
The particular hushed quality of his voice when he said the word eat caused a tantalizing ripple of response deep inside her, as though her ravenous senses were immune to resentment. As though she had no control over her desire when he looked at her like that. “I should say no,” she breathed.
“If you could,” he said even more softly.
She threw a pillow at him, but he caught it deftly and set it aside. “If it’s any consolation, darling, you’re not alone in your feelings; I’m as insatiable. And even if you wanted to go, I wouldn’t let you. That’s why I had to talk to your father.” “And he allowed it?”
“I told him I’d marry you.”
Her surprise almost instantly gave way to a look of displeasure. “Were you planning on asking me or have you men already sealed the bargain?”
“Don’t get ruffled. As a matter of fact, your father said you wouldn’t marry me.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really.”
“Do I get an opportunity to voice my opinion?”
“Of course. Would you like to get married? I can be more poetic if you wish or get down on one knee and offer you my heart.”
“It’s not your heart I’m interested in, but thank you.” In some irrational portion of her brain, a little voice was screaming, yes, but she’d not yet lost all sanity. “I have no interest in marriage.”
He should have been relieved; if he wasn’t still in full rut, he would have been. “Why not?” he inquired, gruffly.
“Because much as I adore your accomplished, dare I say, gifted sexual talents,” she declared with lifted brows, “I don’t consider that sufficient reason to marry someone I barely know.”
His smile was wicked. “You know me better than most women in town.”
“Very cute,” she said with a mildness she thought commendable considering her heart was beating so rapidly there was a good possibility it might jump out of her chest. “Nevertheless, my observations on marriage—with the exception of my father and Blaze—don’t recommend the institution. Marriage ensures neither love nor faithfulness and surely doesn’t guarantee happiness, so why bother?”
“How cynical,” he drawled.
She shrugged. “That may be,
but you’ll thank me when your brains are less addled by lust. Now, bring me my lemon cake and scones.”
Overlooking the blow to his vanity, she was right, and for a frightful moment, he realized how perilously close he’d come to disaster. “Milk or tea?” he inquired pleasantly, as though they’d been discussing nothing more important than their breakfast menu.
“Tea, please, with milk.” And when he looked pained, she said, “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You can’t make tea?”
“I’m half Japanese and half Irish. What do you think?”
“I think you like Japanese tea better—without milk. But seriously, Flynn, you can’t mean with lemon cake.”
“With anything, darling.”
“With sex?” He was standing there gorgeously male, and suddenly sex and anything didn’t sound so odd after all.
He grinned. “I’ve found the combination excellent.”
And he was right. In fact, no matter what Jo ate that day and for some reason she was ravenous, sex was the natural accompaniment. They had sex before, during and after their lemon cake and scone breakfast. They had sex with their ham sandwiches at noon. They had sex with afternoon tea although it required a degree of dexterity since they were having tea in Flynn’s splendid large marble tub. And again as they were readying themselves for dinner, although this time there was no food or tea involved. Flynn had sent for a local modiste and selected a gown for Jo despite her protest. His method of placating was particularly heated, and they arrived, breathless at the Braddock-Black mansion, only ten minutes late and only mildly disheveled.
Chapter 13
When they entered the drawing room, conversation abruptly ceased.
“He asked me to marry him. I said no. I hope that sufficiently clears the air.” Jo looked up at Flynn and smiled. “He’s very relieved, I might add.”
“Not necessarily.” Flynn’s smile was affectionate.
“I, for one, am relieved,” Hazard noted, drily. “No offense, Flynn.”
“Amen to that,” Trey muttered. “Not that I don’t wish you the best, sis,” he added, lifting his whiskey glass to her. “But you know what they say about marrying in haste.”
“Or in your case, marrying at all,” Daisy observed lightly. “I’m too young.”
“But not too young to put yourself in the way of a paternity suit or twenty.”
“At least we don’t have to worry about that with you.” “That will be enough, children,” Blaze remarked with the casualness of much maternal refereeing. “I like your new gown, Jo. Is that Lucinda’s design?”
Jo glanced at Flynn.
“Yes,” he said, looking embarrassed. “She was kind enough to send it over.”
“And that beautiful brooch. Is that new?” Blaze inquired, with a smile.
“Flynn had it. He gave it to me—it was his mother’s. I shouldn’t take it, but I love the sweep of the wings on the crane.” She half shrugged and smiled up at Flynn again. “So I was greedy and took it.”
“I didn’t need it and Jo liked it”—Flynn met Jo’s gaze for a heated moment—“and well... it seemed appropriate—I mean—”
“Come in and have a drink,” Hazard interposed, saving Flynn from further explanation and embarrassment. “What can I get for you?”
Conversation at dinner was occasionally awkward, even though everyone tactfully skirted the fact that Jo had been absent a night and a day. The faintest hint of threat was perceptible beneath Hazard’s bland demeanor, as if Flynn were still on probation. And when Hazard made it clear that the controversy between Flynn and his neighbors put the Sun River country out-of-bounds for Jo, she knew better than to argue.
With finesse, Blaze quickly steered the conversation toward less controversial topics, asking Jo about Florence, inquiring of Flynn how his parents had first come to Montana, bringing up the subject of territorial politics, which always elicited considerable interest. As active lobbyists, the Hazard-Blacks were instrumental in keeping the deprecations on the Absarokee reservation to a minimum. They also monitored any new mining laws that could be harmful to their investments.
“It wouldn’t hurt you to come down for the sessions, Flynn,” Hazard suggested. “It’s a game, I know, but a useful one.”
“Since Senator Bailey has an interest in the Empire, he’s not likely to put his investment at risk, regardless of what I say or do.”
“It depends how much he has invested,” Trey observed. “Some of these grazing land disputes can be settled for the right sum.”
“I shouldn’t have to pay someone to stay off my land.”
“You can take them to court, you know.” Daisy tipped her head faintly, as though saying, “If you were a sensible man.” “That’s a possibility.” Flynn’s tone was polite.
“Their inroads on your land are subject to reparations; the law is quite definitive.”
Flynn smiled. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“You needn’t look at me like that, Father,” Daisy said, crisply, setting down her fork. “If this territory is ever going to become civilized, it’s men like you and Mr. Ito who must set an example.”
While Hazard recognized the logic in Daisy’s argument, lawyers and courts were too slow to deal with the immediate crisis of armed marauders. “I remember when justice automatically meant a rope strung over a tree branch. Particularly if your skin was a shade darker, not that we’ve made much progress in that regard with the seven Indians hung on the Musselshell not too long ago. But, perhaps,” he added, diplomatically, “with more good lawyers like you, Daisy, and better judges, at least the violence might be curtailed.” His dark brows rose faintly. “Although, I’m not so sure.”
“But you can’t give up, Father.” Daisy’s voice took on an impassioned tone. “If we don’t deal with criminals and tyranny within the framework of the law, there’s no hope for a peaceful future. Do we keep shooting until everyone is dead?”
“I’m not sure an injunction will necessarily deter the Empire’s illegal use of my grazing lands,” Flynn asserted, although his recent attack on their home turf may have dissuaded them. “But if you’d like to represent me”—his smile was conciliatory—“we could test your premise.” What did he have to lose?
“I’d like that very much.” Daisy didn’t quite smile, but it was clear she was pleased. “Thank you, Mr. Ito, for looking to the future.”
“Call me Flynn, and I wish you luck.”
“It’s not a matter of luck, but of the law. Could you be in my office at ten o’clock tomorrow morning and we could begin?”
He knew what he’d prefer doing at ten o’clock tomorrow morning and it had to do with the lush beautiful woman at his side, but under the gaze of Jo’s family, he understood there was only one possible answer. “Ten would be fine,” he said.
“Would you mind if I tagged along?” Jo asked, her gaze shifting from Flynn to Daisy. “The legalities intrigue me.”
“It’s up to Mr. Ito—er . .. Flynn.”
Flynn nodded. “Please do.”
“If you need any help,” Hazard said. “Of any sort,” he added, the significance of his offer plain. “Just let us know.”
“Those men running the Empire haven’t quite come to terms with the fact that they’re not in England anymore.” Trey grinned. “Or that the quarterings on their family crests don’t matter when you’re looking down the business end of a revolver.”
Hazard shot a glance at his wife. “Trey meant that in a hypothetical way,” he said, giving his son a warning look.
“I was speaking in generalities, Mama,” Trey said, with a disarming smile. “But you know what they’re like. Those English lords talk to us as though we’re native bearers.”
“I agree some of them are beyond bearing. However,” Blaze noted, “they’re not worth dying over.”
Which was the dilemma, was it not—that fine line between maintaining one’s sovereignty and dying. Every man at the table understood the di
stinction.
“Daisy is here to see that we settle our disputes in a civilized way.” Hazard’s tone was soothing. “Starting with the Empire, right, Flynn?”
“Absolutely.”
And the discrepancy between reality and admirable sentiment was smoothed over with well-mannered grace.
❧
After dinner the ladies retired for tea or in this case, champagne, while the men, under express orders not to tarry long, stayed at the table for brandy and cigars.
Jo took the opportunity to offer her apologies to Blaze the moment they were alone.
“You needn’t apologize,” Blaze replied. “You’re capable of making your own decisions. Although, I must say, your father is pleased now that you’ve taken what he views as a sensible course. He wasn’t altogether certain you’d refuse Flynn’s marriage proposal.”
“Because of my mother, I suppose.”
Blaze smiled politely. “I’m not sure.”
“To be truthful,” Jo said with a faint grimace, “I thought I might be very much like her when I practically carried Flynn away last night. I’m terribly embarrassed in hindsight; I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“Why should only men be allowed to take the initiative.” Daisy’s cool gaze matched her voice. “It’s not fair that we be required to sit demurely and wait for a man to take charge of our lives. So, you needn’t apologize to me, although, allow me to reserve judgment on Flynn’s propensity for violence.”
“I’m not so sure his reputation wasn’t imposed on him,” Blaze pointed out. “Your father has had to fight more than his share of battles because of his Absarokee heritage. And the Empire is a vicious lot.”
“That’s true—and Flynn seems willing to try another course of action. Perhaps the stories are—”
“Much exaggerated, I’m sure,” Jo interposed. “He’s really very sweet.”
Daisy politely curbed her response. Flynn wasn’t known for his sweetness.
“He’s charmed you, I see,” Blaze murmured.
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