Countess in Cowboy Boots

by Jodi O'Donnell

  In the next instant Will, too, was cutting through the crowd toward Lacey. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to reach her before Lee did.

  They crossed paths just short of Matt and Lacey. Lee’s eyes widened at the sight of him and his obvious intent.

  “I’ve got the situation covered,” Will said in a tone that brooked no argument.

  “Whatever you say, big brother,” Lee said with a grin.

  Over Lacey’s shoulder, Will threw Matt Boyle a warning glance that made the younger man’s face blanch. She must have sensed something was in the offing because when he touched her arm, she whirled around as if expecting to defend her life. He realized he’d caught her off guard, utterly exposed. Utterly vulnerable.

  At the sight of him, unchecked fear like he’d never seen before engulfed her green eyes. His heart stopped cold.

  “Dance?” Will asked quickly.

  She gazed up at him as if he’d sprung a four-foot span of longhorns, and could he blame her? But all he knew was that he had about three more seconds before she’d bolt—maybe not literally, but he’d lose this chance forever.

  “Read my lips, darlin’,” he said. “Would you like to dance?”

  Her gaze actually focused on his mouth as if she were translating every word. She blinked. “But there’s no music playing,” she said.

  “If that’s your only objection, it’s easily remedied.”

  Will glanced toward the stage where the band stood, only then noticing he and Lacey had the attention of everyone in the room. He gave a short nod to band’s fiddle player, and with a swift eight-count they launched into a sprightly rendition of “Chattahoochee.”

  Will took Lacey’s hand to lead her onto the dance floor. She remained rooted where she stood, although now with that familiar wariness. He considered it an improvement while still falling far short of dispelling his concern.

  He tugged on her fingers. Lacey resisted. She did look like a rosebud in her flowered dress. And as irresistible.

  He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Though you’ve cordially invited me to,” he teased, “I won’t bite you—Cinderella.”

  That brought a bit of the old green fire to her eyes. “Yes, but I might,” she returned, “because I’m not Cinderella!”

  He laughed. “That’s good. ’Cause, darlin’, I’m no Prince Charming.”

  And, knowing he could resist no longer, Will pulled her into the security of his arms.

  * * *

  LACEY HADN’T DANCED the Texas two-step in over eight years.

  “Relax,” Will said against her hair as she stumbled through the first cadence. He could obviously tell. “It’s like ridin’ a bike, you know.”

  And it was. On her back, his hand, large and warm, guided her. His other cupped her fingers in his palm. He held her securely but with a respectful distance between them which seemed just right. It wasn’t long before she lost herself in the enjoyable—and particularly thrilling—sensation of being squired around a dance floor by a rugged cowboy.

  Step, step, slide. Step, step, slide. Now a two-handed twirl here, now eight bars of strolling there, and back again, facing each other. The steps felt as familiar as an old pair of boots, the rhythm as comforting as the gentle rocking of a hammock.

  Lacey glanced up at Will with a shy smile. He grinned back, which drew her gaze once again to that fascinating mouth of his. Her own went dry as cotton as she jerked her eyes straight ahead.

  She didn’t need this! Not now. Not yet.

  “Thanks for asking me to dance, Will,” she said politely.

  “Well, you looked like you could use a little help there with Matt.”

  She pulled back enough to look him squarely in the eye. “I was in no need of rescuing!”

  He shrugged. “Whatever you say. But Matt certainly needed a hand, because it was lookin’ aces to apples he was about to get punched by somebody, the only question being whether by Lee, myself—or you.”

  Lacey laughed, surprised that her indignation disappeared. “You’re right. I guess I owe you my thanks, too, for keeping me from making a spectacle of myself.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t savin’ you from that. I firmly believe that it sometimes takes nothing less than a public scene to get your point across.”

  “As you do at every opportunity?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  He looked at her keenly. “I’m not one to dally around a matter, that’s true. Leaves others too much wiggle room for interpreting the facts.”

  He glided her through a quick sequence of steps. “Anyway, it just seemed to me whatever button Matt had pushed with you was sure enough a hot one.” Will peered into her face. “You gonna tell me what was goin’ on a few minutes ago?”

  Lacey stiffened. Her sense of calm disappeared just like that, and she felt her guard go up like the slamming shut of an iron drawbridge.

  Will’s silver eyes turned as steely, but then he seemed to catch himself. “It wouldn’t have happened to’ve been that power issue you told me about?” he asked. “You know, of havin’ your choices cut off, taking away control over your life?”

  Her defenses dropped as she stared up at him in astonishment. “How did you know?”

  He didn’t answer for a few moments, as if he were weighing his words. Then he said, “I don’t know, of course.”

  He glanced away briefly, his expression bemused, before he brought his still meditative gaze back to hers. “Maybe it’s only after a man comes out of himself a bit that he’s able to see answers to some of the questions in his life he was unaware of before.” His lashes flickered as he perused her upturned face. “Answers that were practically under his nose all the time.”

  Lacey wrenched her gaze from his, her better instincts at war with her impulses. She wasn’t exactly sure what had changed or why, but this man definitely wasn’t the Will Proffitt she’d been keeping a healthy distance from for weeks now. Except, of course, for those few times when it seemed he’d understood, to a certain extent. And it was such times—like now—that made her more wary than ever.

  The gentle squeeze of his thumb and forefinger on her chin drew her eyes back to his. “Won’t you tell me what’s on your mind, Lacey?”

  She became aware that the band had segued straight from Alan Jackson into Shania Twain’s “Any Man of Mine,” which the girl singer in the band wasn’t half-bad at, injecting the words with the same sassy, take-all-of-me-or-nothing-at-all tone as the original.

  So maybe it was that, or his encouraging tone, or the genuine interest in his eyes—or maybe it was her overwhelming need to be understood—but Lacey couldn’t resist Will any longer.

  She gave a small sigh. “Oh, it’s simply perverse, the whole situation. It started with Matt turning me down for financing at the bank which, even though I was told my projection of income wasn’t good enough, I suspected there was something else going on. And sure enough, Matt as good as admitted just now that he’d axed the loan to guarantee I’d need a big strong cowboy to rescue me—with him in the starring role! And if that weren’t enough, city hall denied my application for a business permit, too!”

  Her throat got tight again just thinking about it. “I can’t believe it, Will, I really can’t. It literally astounds me, although I don’t expect you to appreciate how much. I mean, this is just how business gets done around here, and if I’m going to live in this town, I better get used to it, right?”

  “Not necessarily, Lacey,” Will said. He was back to his old forbidding self, and looked not the least happy with her estimation of the code he lived and breathed. Well, that was just too bad! He’d asked her to tell him what she was upset about—so fine, she’d laid out the facts as she saw them, and if he couldn’t handle it, that was his problem!

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” he said curtly, “why did you need a loa
n in the first place?”

  Lacey hesitated, then figured she might as well come out with it and let him do his worst. It wasn’t as if the situation could get any more discouraging.

  “I needed financing for the resource center I’m starting for the girls in Abysmal. To give them...choices.”

  She waited, wondering if he’d drawl one of those cutting comments that virtually slayed her. At the very least he’d cock a sarcastic eyebrow at her which spoke volumes—and none of them good.

  But Will’s face was dead serious as he said solemnly, “You mean you’d be doin’ the kind of thing you’ve wanted to, working with people to help them help themselves?”

  Lacey stopped in her tracks, so the couple behind them narrowly avoided plowing into Will. He got them both back into the flow with a few smooth moves she barely noticed, she was still so surprised—and, she discovered, excited.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, exactly. That’s what Lee’s been doing at my house in the afternoon, working with Daddy and me to turn the house into meeting rooms.

  “He told me what happened after I left those years ago. You’ve got to believe I had no idea what he’d been put through.” She looked askance at Will. “You did a very thorough job of getting people to keep the secret. I’ve been meaning to thank you for that—for Lee’s sake.”

  He didn’t say anything, but she knew by the tightening around his mouth and the almost imperceptible nod he gave her that he got her message that he had been out of line coming down on Lee. She supposed it was the best she would get from him.

  “So, how did you come up with the idea for a resource center?” he asked.

  “Actually, it came to me one day when I was talking to Jenna Barlow about her future here in Abysmal. She was about ready to light for Houston, where her cousin is—or even farther away—and I couldn’t help thinking she’d get there and be completely out of her depth and become dependent upon who-knows-who. It just seemed she has so much going for her—so much fire and spirit—I hated to think of her losing one bit of it because she’d made a bad choice, thinking that the only way to make somethin’ of herself was to get out of Abysmal and go looking for her happiness by way of a man taking care of her. And all I could think was, I can’t let that happen. Not again...”

  Lacey couldn’t believe it when her voice grew thick with tears. She cleared her throat but it didn’t help. Tucking her chin to hide her reaction from Will, she blinked rapidly and decided to go on. Needed to go on.

  “I also wanted to do something that was...fulfilling to me. And this center for girls really does that, if you can understand.”

  She didn’t dare look at him, afraid she’d once again revealed too much of herself to this man when she’d have been best to keep her emotional cards closer to her chest—and her heart.

  Then Will said quietly, his breath ruffling the hair at her temple, “I’d like to.”

  He’d been so stoic as her story had tumbled out of her, continuing to glide her about the dance floor, which was having the effect, she noticed for the first time, of drawing a lot of attention to the two of them. She found it did do her a world of good to catch a glimpse of Matt Boyle, looking rather poleaxed, on their way past him.

  Behind him, Lee gave her a broad wink.

  Of course, they were dancing pretty close. Sometime during the last song, Will had pulled her nearer to him.

  And it had happened so...naturally.

  Well, she had been pouring her heart out to him. She could still barely believe that she would to this man, even while she hadn’t been able to stop herself. She needed to do it. For whatever reason, it seemed to her Will heard her and validated her purpose as no one else had yet, not even her father or Lee—and they were the ones supporting her most with their help.

  But she hadn’t told them much as to why, and with Will...telling Will about her reasons for starting the center, even if the real reason was far from being revealed—simply felt unerringly true. And it was one of her goals to listen to and heed such moments.

  Lacey lifted her chin, found Will regarding her intently, his face only a few inches from hers, and quickly located her own gaze elsewhere in a continuation of the other dance they’d been doing all evening.

  “Tell me more,” he murmured into her ear.

  Those three little words sent an even more potent surge of electricity through her, making her stutter. “W-well, um, I—I actually got the idea to start a resource center when I was trying to come up with a way for Mother and Daddy to stay in their house.”

  “Really? Is there a question of whether they will?” he asked somewhat urgently.

  Lacey nodded. “The house is paid for, but the maintenance, taxes and insurance on it are pretty steep, as you can imagine.”

  “How have they maintained it up to now?”

  She hesitated, then remembered: heed the moment. “Nicolai. It was part of the agreement when he built the house for Mother and Daddy that he pay for its upkeep each month. But he isn’t doing that any longer.”

  “You’re kidding.” Will swore under his breath. “What kind of a man leaves his wife’s kin in such straits?”

  “But I’m not his wife. Not anymore.”

  “Sure, but it’s still his responsibility to keep the house up, especially if he promised to.”

  “Oh, that wasn’t the issue. Nicolai was perfectly willing to continue paying for the house.”

  He looked completely confounded. “Then why...?”

  “I refused to take anything from him, Will.” She lifted her chin. “So now you know. It was my choice. I’m the one who’s put my family into this position.”

  His expression was a study in speculation, his eyebrows practically touching in the middle and the lines of his rough-hewn face set even more severely than usual.

  Lacey made herself shrug as if she didn’t care. “I know it’s difficult for you to believe, for anyone to believe, but it’s true. I did give up the fairy tale. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  She bit back her next words, but then decided to let them fly. Because she didn’t care anymore. It was too much to keep inside. “The problem is, no one else wants to let go of the fairy tale. Matt Boyle and Dale Willis are just two of the people in town who are trying to keep me up on a pedestal.”

  Too late, she realized that once again her voice had risen, and if every eye in the place hadn’t been glued to the two of them before, they certainly were now.

  She didn’t care! It was high time everyone gave up the image of her as a sweet little fairy-tale princess!

  “What on earth will it take for people to get it through their heads that I’m not some damsel in distress waiting for Dudley Do-Right or Prince Charming or any other man to come riding up on a white steed and save me?” she demanded.

  Will didn’t bat a lash at her exasperation, even though it was aimed directly at him. Instead, he answered mildly, “Maybe because you haven’t put a fine enough point on it.”

  “Meaning?”

  “What do you say we give Matt Boyle—and a few other people—a load of the real McCoy?”

  She shook her head. “How?”

  “Just keep followin’ my lead, darlin’,” he said with a mysterious air.

  He danced them over to the stage. The fiddle player stooped and Will said something into his ear. The man gave a nod, signaled his boys to stop the music, and started up in the next moment with the familiar strains of Brooks & Dunn’s “I Am That Man.”

  And Will led her to the center of the dance floor again.

  It was impossible for her not to give herself up to the moment. Her body felt like the music itself, lilting and fluid, each movement like the notes, one lingering into the next, building upon each other.

  And all the while the words of the song floated about them, word
s of promises made and meant to be kept, of staying true to the end, with never a hesitation, never a doubt. Of giving all in complete surrender, for that was what it took to truly love a woman.

  She was vaguely aware that they had the floor to themselves, was achingly aware of the man who held her, who seemed tuned to her every movement or thought. Or wish.

  All too soon, the song wound to an end, but Will obviously wasn’t going to let the moment dwindle away without the Proffitt embellishment.

  “Think we’ve given people enough to convince them I’ve stopped believing you’re a princess on a pedestal and they can all follow suit—or should we take another spin around the dance floor?”

  She clutched his shoulders with both hands, trying to keep her balance, trying to keep her sanity.

  “I told you before, Will, I’m not looking to get rescued,” she protested, but her voice was reedy and faint.

  “That’s because you haven’t been even the least tempted with anything you’d need rescuing from,” he murmured as his mouth covered hers.

  Lacey’s breath suspended as every nerve ending in her body focused on his kiss.

  Through a haze of pure feeling, it occurred to Lacey that had she felt one tenth of this kind of warmth from Nicolai, she would never have left him. She’d have stayed forever, would have been helpless to turn away from it. Or him, no matter what he had done....

  Panic enveloped her then, and with a choked cry, Lacey wrenched her mouth from Will’s as she pushed away from him with all her might.

  Everyone was staring at them. Everyone. She didn’t care. She pressed her palms to her cheeks. They were burning. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her breath coming in gulps. Will’s breathing seemed pretty uneven, too, his chest rising and falling almost in perfect unison with hers. His gray eyes were dark and umbrous, like a full eclipse, frightening and fascinating at once.

  He slowly lifted one hand and ran the edge of his thumb across that lush lower lip of his, still glistening with their kiss.

  That’s when she knew: if there was any rescuing needing done, it was for someone to save her—from herself.