Running Wild

by Denise Eagan

  Del rubbed his eyes and sat up. The porter turned and walked toward them.

  “Star?” Del muttered.

  “Ma’am, can I help you?”

  “Yes, please. I’ve elected to get off at South Bend. If you would kindly have someone see to my trunks in the baggage car, I would appreciate it. I’m taking the next train headed west.”

  A huge grin spread across Del’s face. “Now that’s my girl.”

  ***

  With every nerve in her body either taut or shaking, Star rode into the Bar M’s dirt yard. Dust flew up behind her horse, so different from the last time she’d been here, arriving by coach. The man from whom she’d rented her mount had been less than happy about letting “an Eastern-bed lady like yourself” ride alone. He’d reluctantly agreed, however, when she’d borrowed his Winchester ’76, and proven her capability with it by naming all the parts and loading it.

  Thank God he’d never asked her to shoot the thing.

  As she pulled the horse to a halt, a man in blue jean pants and a faded blue shirt exited the barn. He hit his thigh with his Stetson as he moved, releasing dust. She’d know that walk anywhere.

  Nicholas raised his head. Her heart rose in her throat.

  He halted, shocked. His eyes narrowed as he took a moment to scan her face. At length he strode toward her, yelling, “Mack, come see to this horse!”

  “In a minute, Boss!”

  “Now!”

  Reaching her, he took the reins and held her gaze. His eyes were bright with hope, with excitement, but wariness bracketed them as well. “Star. Mind tellin’ me what you’re doing here?”

  Rudeness. So rare in “her cowboy.” “Why I’ve come for a visit. I should think it obvious.”

  He continued his scrutiny, not saying a word as Mack reached them. He greeted her by name, and then with a bemused glance at Nicholas, waited while she dismounted. Mack led the horse away. When he was out of hearing, Nicholas spoke. “Well you’re more ’n welcome to spend the night. The company’ll thrill Melinda. But here’s the deal, ma’am,” he said, his voice roughening. Her heart squeezed at the sound of the word, once so formal and yet so dear to her now. “Here’s the deal. You want to stay longer, then you’re stayin’ for life.”

  She sucked in her breath. So quick! No leading up, just straight out “for life.” And she in her stained, brown travel gown which, she thought with a twinge of merriment, she’d sliced down the back to allow her to ride. She was scarcely dressed to receive a marriage proposal; her trunks and marriage-proposal-suited clothing were two days behind her. “Might I—might we—discuss it a bit? Life is—well, it’s a long time.”

  He blinked. Then a smile pulled at his mouth. “Not a no then?

  She shook her head mutely.

  “Well O.K. . . O.K., let’s mosey on into the library and see if we can hammer out a deal.”

  “Why, yes, let us by all means hammer out a deal,” she said with a little chuckle.

  He took her arm and they moved quickly across the yard, just as Melinda opened the door. “Oh my heavens! Star Montgomery, as I live and breathe. What are you doing here? It is so good—”

  “In a little while, Mel,” Nicholas said, moving past her. Jim, coming from the kitchen eating some kind of sweet, exclaimed, “Stwaw Mongumwy?”

  “Later, Jim.”

  He pulled her into the library and shut the door. Nicholas’s desk sat in the middle of the room—a heavy mahogany desk, with a lamp in one corner, a neat pile of papers in another and the rest gleaming wood. Set in the corner of the house, the library possessed several long windows, open now to let in the late-summer breeze. The combination of pine and sun-heated earth mixed with the fragrance of past fires and the leather of the books lining the walls, quintessentially Nicholas. This was his sanctuary and Star’s favorite room. She could imagine many winter nights spent here with him, she thought, a lump in her throat as she crossed the room to a small table, set with crystal glasses and decanters.

  He chuckled behind her. “Straight to the booze, huh?” he said, settling in a dark leather armchair in front of a stone fireplace.

  “Why, of course! Port’s not here,” she said, pouring a drink. She turned and on rubbery legs made her way to a matching chair across from him. “Besides, we have much to consider, don’t we? Don’t men generally ‘hammer out’ deals over booze?”

  His eyes sparkled. “Sure. Gettin’ the other party drunk gen’rally makes ’em more agreeable.”

  “Why, Nicholas,” she said with a laugh, “I am always agreeable. When I’m not arguing, that is.” She took a sip. “I must point out, however, that you appear be a trifle rusty on business negotiations. I should have expected an offer that is, shall we say, more committed?”

  Nicholas grinned and leaned back in his chair. He gazed at her with softly affectionate eyes, and a tiny lump formed in her throat. Oh, how she loved it when he allowed her to see the gentleness that he hid so well underneath his rough exterior. “You asking for commitment, ma’am? I never thought I’d hear that.”

  She laughed. “Nor did I ever expect to wish it, but I find that I’ve changed my mind. When it comes to you, at any rate. From you not only do I wish it, but I’m afraid I must demand it. A proposal, sir, on bended knee, with a deep and true confession of your sentiments. Speak to me words of love, Nicholas.”

  He raised his eyebrows and laughter sparkled in his eyes, but that heart-stopping affection still lurked just below. “Fair enough.” He pulled his chair so near to her that their knees touched. He took her hands in his.

  “No bended knee?” Star asked. Good gracious, tears were welling in her eyes.

  “Not unless you agree to fall to your knees, too.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “That was my point,” he said. He stared down at her hands, his brow creased as he thought. Finally, he raised his head to hold her gaze. His eyes were bright—oh with unshed tears! She blinked quickly to stop hers from rolling down her face. Useless attempt.

  “I fell in love with you, Star, during that first visit. Asking for a glass of brandy, and then later at the coral,” he said in a husky voice. He shook his head and smiled in recollection. “Damned if I didn’t think you were just shy of mad. But fascinating. I’d never met somebody like you, never even imagined somebody like you existed.” He paused, drew in a breath, then continued. “I’m thirty-five and not married because I never could see a reason to get shackled. Had my nieces and nephews, and well, there wasn’t anything else I needed from a woman that I couldn’t get in town. I was happy.” His eyes narrowed briefly. “I thought I was happy.”

  “Then you came along and I suddenly saw this canyon-sized hole in my life. Never thought of a woman as a companion. Hell, I never met one worth talking to. Fifteen minutes and I’m generally wondering where the door is. Same thing with you, Star, only with you, I’m wanting to lock you in.”

  He paused, thinking for a minute before continuing. “I don’t agree with half the stuff you believe. Some of it, yeah, you’ve convinced me. Minnie—” He shook his head. “Women ought not to live that way. But women doctors and lawyers? Well, I reckon if you marry me, we’ll argue about that stuff ’most the rest of our lives. But I’ll love each and every second of it, because I love you. Head over heels, don’t-want-to-live-without-you love.”

  He stopped, regarding her closely as if expecting a reply. Her throat clenched and her heart beat so swiftly she could scarcely breathe. “No vows,” she said as tears slid down her cheeks, “to make me happy? To protect me?”

  He dug into his pocket for a handkerchief. “You’re already happy. That’d be a fool’s errand.” He wiped her tears away. “And you’re better able to care for yourself than ’most everybody I know. But I’ll promise not to stand in the way of the things you want to do, and I’ll be here in whatever way you need me.”

  “As,” she said, breathlessly, “as a partner?”

  He frowned. “A partner? That’s what yo
u want?”

  “It is.”

  “Well then, sure, partner it is. But,” he said, drawing a breath as wariness crept into his eyes, “any children we have are more important than your work. Not always, but when they need their mother, well they come first. I won’t budge on that.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “Yes, yes, I do believe that. I . . . I always did. And you too. You won’t ask for yourself, I know, but you come before my work.”

  He sucked in his breath, and his throat worked a minute before he answered. “O.K. Sure. Sometimes, anyhow.”

  She swallowed too and dug down deep for merriment to prevent herself from dissolving into full-blown weeping. “Naturally, I’ll expect you to give speeches with me, as well.”

  He laughed. “No, ma’am. But maybe if you’re real good, I’ll let you beat me at rowing now and again.”

  Oh no, but she was about to sob. And he just kept on wiping the tears. . . . “On the Charles? We’ll spend time in Boston? You know I should miss the ocean.”

  He nodded solemnly. “A few months a year. Just don’t make me drink any more of that frightened water.”

  “Even if I make tea as thick as . . . as . . . oh you’d better just give me that handkerchief!” she exclaimed, trying to pull it from his hands.

  He held tight. “Not till you say yes. I’m holdin’ it hostage.”

  “Yes, then! I’ll marry you,” she said. With an ear-to-ear grin gracing his face, he let it go. She wiped her eyes. “And I love you too, even though you didn’t ask, which makes you a dreadfully poor loser!”

  “Loser? Hell,” he said sitting back and watching her, “you agreed to marry me. I figure I won but good!”

  She tilted her head, tears done and a familiar excitement stirring in her blood. “Did you? Well then, I suppose I ought to give you your prize. Properly. As I recall, you have beds here in the Great Uncivilized West.”

  He started. Then desire filled his eyes. “We do. No doubt Melinda’s getting your room all cozy right now.”

  “Why don’t we go discover that together then,” she said leaning forward to run her hands over his thighs. Rock hard. And when naked, slightly furred.

  “Not until we’re married.”

  “Until we’re married?” she asked. “Why ever should we wait?”

  “Reckon I’m holdin’ that hostage too. Just to make sure you don’t change your mind.”

  “Change my mind? Nicholas, I just took a train two thousand miles—”

  “Only about a hundred from Chicago,” he said rising.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To tell Melinda and Jim.”

  “No!” she said rising also. Oh, but this was going to be the quickest engagement anyone had ever seen! “I can’t argue this in front of her!”

  “Ma’am, you could argue anything, anywhere.”

  “I cannot. Nicholas, you come back here!” she said as he strode across the room. “We’re not done.”

  He flashed her a grin. “Wildcat! Try and catch me!”

  Other Books By Denise Eagan

  The Wild Half

  Chasing her was his first mistake. . . .

  Lilah Martin is a hunted woman who has roamed the West for three years, staying one step ahead of men who are trying to kill her. Fear is her only friend; staying alive is her only goal. Then she lands a job at the Bar M, a prosperous and well-protected ranch in Colorado, where she finds friendship, sanctuary and a life that is almost normal. Or so it seems until she falls prey to the wildly seductive and dangerously inquisitive Rick Winchester. . .

  A former outlaw, Rick has spent five years searching for distraction from guilt over his wife’s death. He finally finds it in the simmering sexual attraction between Lilah and him, and the dark intrigue surrounding her. But the more he delves into her secrets, the more of a mystery she becomes, until, frightened, she flees the Bar M. Determined not to lose this woman, Rick races after her, catapulting them into a clash of wills, which can only end in the discovery of a deadly secret locked away in Lilah’s mind. A secret that could make them both rich. Or get them both killed. . . .

  More of the Montgomerys

  The Wild One

  Betrayed and abandoned by her adulterous husband, actress Jess Sullivan has only one goal: to return home to the happy, comfortable “good girl” life she so foolishly forfeited in the name of love. Before she can do that, though, she must save enough money to pay back what she and her husband stole from her brother. Jess has no use for men or romance, especially a man like Leland Montgomery, an ultra-charming aristocrat turned footloose gambler.

  Lee, however, is enchanted by Jess’s breathtaking beauty and quick, sharp wit. Assuming she follows the casual immorality of her profession, and hoping for a brief, torrid affair, Lee is determined to to seduce her. As his feelings for her deepen, though, he realizes she’s hardly the shallow, loose woman he expected. Any sexual relationship with her must be respectable, but men of his background do not marry actresses, especially ones who are already married. Before he can reconcile those two things, Jess’s stage manager is murdered and she and Lee are blamed for the crime. After narrowly escaping the hangman’s noose, they set off across the Colorado prairie, one step ahead of a posse, and shadowed by desire and a love that can’t possibly end well. . . .

  Wicked Woman

  After the death of her third husband, former English noblewoman Morgan Turner flees Philadelphia police, who want to arrest her for murder. Her money takes her as far as Boston, where she ends up in the arms of Ward Montgomery, captain of the ship that brought her to America. Desperate and penniless, she succumbs to the simmering attraction between them and, concealing her deadly past, brazenly offers to become his mistress.

  Ward has pledged to restore honor to his proud Boston name, ruined by his lecherous father. Consumed by desire, however, Ward recklessly agrees to her offer, believing he can keep the affair a secret from his family and Society. But as desire turns to love, their secret is threatened, first by Morgan’s pregnancy—and then when the Philadelphia police discover that the infamous Wicked Widow is living in Boston. . . .