Cowboy Christmas

by Carol Finch, Elizabeth Lane

The perfect world and ideal life that Tori presumed her sister led shattered. Her nephew was spoiled rotten and self-indulgent. At age five, he had already learned that his father allowed him to get away with murder and would counter his mother’s attempts to discipline him.

  “How long have you known that Randolph has become unfaithful to you?” Tori questioned gently.

  “Become unfaithful?” Priscilla sniffed caustically as she fluffed another of her elegant dresses with more vigor than necessary. “I swear he was born that way. Housemaids, casual acquaintances, you name them and he has approached them.”

  Tori was appalled and outraged for her sister’s sake. “That weasel! I have a few words to say to him and none of them are kind—”

  Cilla grabbed her arm before she breezed out the door. “You mustn’t interfere. We have settled into our arrangement. I have established my own life and he has his. It’s the best I can hope for without bringing down scandal on both families.”

  “I am so sorry. You know I only want the best for you,” Tori assured her.

  Priscilla nodded and smiled sadly. “I know, despite the ridiculous favoritism. I’m grateful our parents didn’t lead you down the same path they designated for me.”

  “I’ve teasingly referred to you as the Chosen One because you were selected to become the extension of their lives and the keeper of tradition.” She frowned pensively. “I think it’s the ingrained English custom of grooming and favoring the firstborn who will carry on the lineage. I was only the spare heir, but that was all right with me because I wanted no part of the regimentation foisted onto you.”

  “You trotted off to Houston to develop your independence and self-reliance and they permitted it,” Priscilla continued. “You were allowed to strike off to open shop in a town of your choosing. You’ve made a successful career while I tolerate being window dressed for a man whose only interest is showing off his well-connected, well-heeled wife in public. You don’t know how many times I’ve longed to exchange places with you.”

  Tori blinked, stunned. Her sister truly envied her? She longed for the life Tori had established for herself?

  “Furthermore,” Cilla went on to say. “You married a handsome, virile man who seems genuinely infatuated with you. I saw the way he glared at Randolph when he looked you over too thoroughly this evening.”

  “He did?” Tori scowled. “How dare Randolph think I would have the slightest interest in him when you are my sister and he knows I love you dearly!”

  “I appreciate your loyalty, sis. Some of my pretentious acquaintances in Boston have succumbed to Randolph’s shallow charm, just to spite me. Little did they know they could have him…with my blessing.”

  Tori chuckled in amusement when Priscilla carelessly tossed Randolph’s luggage in the corner without airing out his clothing. Good for you, thought Tori. Let the bastard tend his own wardrobe.

  Priscilla grabbed Tori’s hand and led her toward the suite at the other end of the hall. “We’ll stall a few more minutes by getting your belongings unpacked.”

  When Priscilla opened one of Tori’s satchels to air out her dresses, she gasped in alarm. “What the blazes is this?”

  Tori paused from her task of hanging up Logan’s new suit to note the horrified look on her sister’s face. “That’s a bullet hole.”

  Priscilla gulped, wide-eyed. “Sweet mercy!”

  “Not to worry. I wasn’t wearing it at the time.”

  “I should hope not.” Priscilla poked her forefinger through the hole. “It would have gone straight through your heart!”

  “We encountered two outlaws on the first leg of our journey by buckboard,” she explained as she went back to unpacking Logan’s garments. “Logan made short work of scaring them off. He even let me blast away at them with a shotgun.”

  Priscilla sighed whimsically. “I should have rebelled against the life our parents designed for me. I wish I would have left Randolph standing at the altar and struck off to enjoy the adventure and excitement that I only read about in dime novels.”

  “You should come for a visit. For thrills, I’ll round up a few bandits and you can scare them away with a loaded shotgun,” Tori teased playfully.

  “Maybe Randolph should be my first target.” Cilla smiled wickedly. “Then I could marry a man who cares enough to protect me from harm. Someone capable like Logan.”

  “Logan is definitely an expert at his job,” she agreed, but she didn’t confide that she had paid him to portray the devoted husband. Especially not while Cilla presumed Tori led the envied life of freedom and adventure.

  After so many years of living in Cilla’s shadow, Tori allowed herself to savor the moment. Coming home for Christmas was turning out to be better than expected. She only wished she could bundle up Cilla and Timothy and cart them off to a place where they were free to make their own choices and set their own expectations.

  Meanwhile, downstairs in the study, Logan was sharing another drink with Franklin and listening to Randy boast—ad nauseam—about his accomplishments in factory management. Logan would have bet a year’s salary the cocky rogue took credit for some of his underlings’ innovative ideas then passed them off to Tori’s grandfather.

  “So, tell us about life in…where is it? Nowhere, Texas?” Randolph sniped insolently. “Does the little spot in the road merit a place on a map?”

  Randolph’s ridicule rolled off like water down a duck’s back. “Lone Ridge,” he corrected nonchalantly then finished the second glass of white wine. “You would like it, Randy.” He noticed the arrogant gent pulled a face at the shortened version of his name. Even more reason for Logan to use it—repeatedly. “Lots of wide-open spaces and plenty of fresh air. Not the stench of huddled masses. There’s plenty of game for hunting and spring-fed creeks for fishing. It’s a man’s paradise.”

  “Truly?” Franklin perked up, though Randy’s pale face puckered with distaste.

  “You should visit us sometime,” Logan invited, then asked himself what the devil he thought he was doing besides asking for more complications with this charade. “The view atop Lone Ridge is nothing short of breathtaking. You can see for miles and it feels as if you’re standing on top of the world. I’m sure it’s like Fort Worth’s beginning when your family ventured west to seek your fortune.”

  “Yes, I believe you’re right,” Franklin murmured pensively. “I had almost forgotten how much my father loved the challenge of investing and overseeing his financial interest in a nearby cattle ranch. He loved the idea of establishing a life for his family in a fledgling town.”

  “Much like Tori, who had the courage to make a life for herself,” Logan said pointedly. “She has a thriving business, by the way. She has dozens of requests for pies, cakes and pastries for special occasions, besides furnishing desserts for local restaurants.”

  Franklin smiled. “I’ll admit I was leery of her venture, but with you there to look after her I don’t worry so much—”

  His voice dried up when the sound of shattering glass exploded nearby. Logan sped off when he heard Belinda yelp in dismay. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tori and Cilla dashing down the steps. He made a beeline into the dining room and he scowled when he saw Timmy-the-terror standing by the china cabinet. Belinda was down on her knees, picking up the pieces of a hand-painted plate and gravy bowl.

  “This was my great-grandmother’s china,” she said remorsefully. “It was my mother’s cherished keepsake brought over from England.”

  “Timothy Spradlin! Apologize to your grandmother!” Priscilla demanded as she squatted down to help her mother, who couldn’t see what she was doing because of the tears clouding her eyes.

  “No,” Timothy said stubbornly.

  Logan had had enough. He was accustomed to taking charge of situations. The moment Randy opened his mouth to make excuses for the ornery brat, Logan grabbed the kid’s hand and hauled him toward the front door. Despite Timothy’s loud objections—which Logan ignored—he stepped onto the
porch.

  “This looks to be the perfect time for little Timmy to become better acquainted with his new uncle.” Logan glanced back at Tori who bit back an impish grin that made her luminous green eyes sparkle. “If we miss supper, don’t fret, sweetheart. We’ll grab a bite when we return.”

  “I do not wish—” Randolph tried to object but Priscilla bounded to her feet and planted herself in her husband’s path. “Timothy is in capable hands. Tori has been telling me what an exceptional, well-respected law enforcement officer Logan is.” She glanced over her shoulder and nodded decisively. “You have my blessing, Logan. I would love for my son to spend time with you.”

  Logan left, tugging the brat along with him. He didn’t know what Tori and Priscilla had discussed upstairs, but Priscilla was displaying newfound bravado. Obviously Tori’s independent spirit had rubbed off on her. In Logan’s opinion, the pretty blonde had received the perfect gift for Christmas.

  Tori had bathed and dressed for bed by the time Logan returned. Garbed in her nightgown and a modest robe, she waited anxiously for Logan’s report. “Well, did you have to lecture the precious little darling on the importance of good manners or threaten him by suggesting Santa Claus didn’t stop by to see bad little boys?”

  “Neither.” Logan shed his jacket and stared eagerly toward the brass tub nestled behind the dressing screen in the corner. “I took Timmy to jail while I introduced myself to the local police commander. Then Timmy took a tour of the foul-smelling cells and I told him about the prisoners I chase down and lock up because of their bad behavior.”

  Tori chortled softly. “Did your tour and pointed remarks make an impression?”

  Logan nodded his raven head and grinned. “I told the kid that I locked up people who stole, lied, cheated and broke precious possessions that belonged to others. I also told him that if he didn’t behave himself he would grow up in a cell and his parents wouldn’t be allowed to bring him gifts and provide the comforts he took for granted.”

  “And he actually listened?” she asked curiously.

  “Yep.” Logan unbuttoned his shirt then cast it aside. “We had the discussion over a loaf of stale bread and a cup of water in the park. After that we viewed the holiday decorations the city put on display.”

  Tori darted over to hug the stuffing out of Logan. “Thank you. For everything! The gold wedding band, your doting attention in front of my family and your willingness to help Cilla steer Timothy down the right path.”

  “You’re welcome.” He dropped a kiss to her lips then grinned. “But I told you the price went up. I wasn’t kidding.”

  Tori stared into his obsidian eyes, his devilish grin and his bare muscular chest. Warm tingles danced down her spine as she impulsively traced her forefinger from one male nipple to the other. “Name your price, Mr. City Marshal. Whatever it is, you are definitely worth it.”

  His smile faded and sensual tension sparked through the air. “You wouldn’t approve of my price, so don’t be so generous with your offer.”

  When he stepped back, Tori yearned to reclaim her grasp on him, to caress his muscular flesh. “Try me.”

  “Don’t tempt me. I don’t think your idea of getting into the Christmas spirit is the same as mine.”

  Tori became hopelessly distracted when his bronzed skin rippled with muscles. She could stare at his masculine chest and washboard belly all night—and enjoy every tantalizing minute of it. Mesmerized, she speculated on how he’d look without a stitch of clothing. Then she gave herself a mental slap for allowing her thoughts to drift down such provocative avenues.

  “I asked the maid to fill the tub for your bath, but the water might be cool by now,” she chirped, unable to take her eyes off him.

  He turned away, giving her a tantalizing view of his broad shoulders and lean hips. “The colder the better,” he mumbled as he veered around the dressing screen.

  She listened to the splash as Logan sank into the tub. Her imagination went wild, wishing she could join him. Good gracious! she thought. Suddenly she wanted much more for Christmas than Logan’s willing participation in a charade. She wondered how much extra he’d charge for love lessons. If she was going to pretend to be married once in her life, she might as well enjoy the full benefits and discover what she had been missing.

  Reining in her wild thoughts, Tori wheeled toward the door. “I’m going downstairs to fetch a drink,” she called out.

  “Better not go overboard. I already consumed two glasses of wine for you,” he said wryly.

  “It wasn’t enough. Can I bring you something?”

  “Yes, but not that colorless wine. It’s for sissies,” he insisted. “Make it something strong.”

  As strong as the wild, reckless sensations bombarding her? she wondered as she fled the room. She was absolutely certain that sharing the bedroom with Logan would tempt and torment her to no end.

  “Torment. That isn’t what Christmas is supposed to be about,” she muttered on her way down the steps.

  She surveyed the liquor cabinet in her father’s study then grabbed one bottle for her and one for Logan.

  Her thoughts circled back to the man sloshing around naked in the bathtub. Suddenly he was all she wanted for Christmas. She didn’t think the substituted brandy she sipped on her way upstairs was going to be enough to satisfy her, either.

  Chapter Five

  Tired, frustrated and unsure how to keep his hands to himself while sharing a bedroom with Tori, Logan stepped from the bathtub. He grabbed the towel when he heard the door open and close. Tori might as well have been wrapped up in ribbons and bows, like the special gift she was, he thought, exasperated. Unfortunately she was the one Christmas package that did not have his name on it.

  “This is going to be one long damn night,” he mumbled.

  “Come again?” she called from the other side of the dressing screen.

  “Nothing. Just talking to myself.” And I better listen to the voices of noble intentions and propriety, he warned himself harshly.

  He cocked a curious brow when he heard the clank of a glass against a bottle. He walked around the screen to see Tori propped up on the bed—in a sheer golden nightgown. Desire hit him like an unseen fist. Despite his discomfort and torment, he frowned warily while he watched her pour another drink and down it in three swallows.

  “How many of those brandies have you had?”

  “Not sure.”

  Her gaze locked on his half-naked torso then dropped to the private parts of his anatomy that were covered by the towel. Having Tori’s gaze roam over him and watching her blush profusely made him grin. He walked over to retrieve the bottle from her hand but she thrust her glass at him.

  “More.”

  Logan downed his own drink in one swallow first. Then he reluctantly refilled her glass.

  She offered him a toast. “To Christmas.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” He filled his glass to the brim.

  “You and me both.”

  She thrust her empty glass at him again but he didn’t refill it because he noted a slight slur in her voice.

  He held the bottle away from her when she reached for it. “You need to slow down so I can catch up.”

  “I don’t want to slow down…Logan?”

  “What?” he asked between gulps.

  “I’ve thought it over and I’ve decided I want you to make love to me for Christmas.”

  Her forthright comment made him choke and sputter.

  While he wheezed to catch his breath, she levered herself upright to whack him on the back. “How much will the love lessons cost me?”

  He couldn’t speak. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and his brain froze up like an icicle.

  “It has occurred to me that the only way to act intimate, as you suggested, while we’re under my family’s scrutiny is to actually be intimate. I must admit the prospect has become most appealing to me.”

  Logan’s willpower took a direct hit when he peered into
that exquisite face, surrounded by frothy mahogany curls that tumbled enticingly over the peaks of her breasts—that were barely concealed by the near-transparent fabric. Damn! How was he supposed to deny her request when it was at the very top of his wish list? And how could he even think of accepting her offer when he knew she had drowned her inhibitions and usual good sense in brandy?

  All these years he’d thought he’d suffered through one sad excuse after another for what should have been happy holidays. But this had to be the Christmas from hell. What he wanted most was the one thing he knew he shouldn’t have.

  “Logan, I want you. It’s as simple as that.”

  Tell her no! the noble side of his brain shouted.

  His thoughts scattered like buckshot when she reached over to grasp the towel tied loosely around his waist. Hungry need exploded inside him when her hand brushed his abdomen. Her gaze flowed unhindered over his body when she tossed aside the towel and left him exposed—mind and body.

  “Victoria Thurston, if we do this, you are going to hate yourself…and me…in the morning,” he rasped as she stared at his arousal.

  “My goodness…”

  Her gaze finally lifted to his amused smile. He wondered if it was possible for her face to turn a deeper shade of red than it was now. He couldn’t imagine how.

  “Should I douse the light?” he asked.

  “The first time, yes,” she mumbled as she set aside her glass.

  “First time?” he croaked as he snuffed the lantern. “How many times are you planning to do this?”

  “As many as it takes. I never do anything halfway.”

  Logan could feel the sexual tension buzzing around him like a hornet. Moonlight sprayed across the room, guiding him to her. Not that he needed light to lead his way, he realized as he stretched out beside her. His body was a compass and she was magnetic north.

  He pulled the nightgown over her head so he could do what he’d wanted to do since the first time he’d kissed her a few nights earlier. He wanted to savor every tantalizing inch of her satiny flesh by taste and by touch.