Once again, Marguerite felt the burn of tears. Since Aidan’s death, she’d not had a friend, or anyone to look out for her.
A short time ago, she thought she’d found one—and look how that had turned out.
“There are other advantages,” the madame continued. “You won’t never again have to worry about having to do what’s proper, whether you want to or not. And you can say whatever you want, long as it’s true and not hurtful to my girls.”
“Like telling off Lydia McCleary?” Marguerite asked, relishing the thought.
Evangeline chuckled. “That, I’d like to see! Only Mrs. ‘Grand-Airs-and-Pouts’ wouldn’t let your polluting presence get within shouting distance of her, so you probably won’t get the chance.”
“A pity.”
Evangeline patted her hand. “You think about it some more. I’ll need to do some rearranging before I bring you in. So if you change your mind, just send me a note telling me so, and no harm done. Why don’t you go out and live at your ranch for a spell? I’ll let you know when I’ve got everything ready. And nobody has to know you’ve talked to me until I call you back.”
Marguerite smiled bitterly. “So I can remain ‘respectable’ for a while longer?”
“Don’t know that I ever was, so I never knew what that’s like. I do know how people treat you when you’re not. Pretending not to see you walking down a street—or crossing over to the other side if they see you coming. Talking about you like you’re not there, even if you’re standing not ten feet away. Looking at you like the dirt under their feet was cleaner. You’ll never be in danger at my house, which is a heap better than most places. But you’ll never be able to count on regular folk again, either.”
“I couldn’t count on them this time, could I?”
Evangeline smiled. “I suppose you’re right. Well, let’s get you back to town before anyone sees you. Then you pack your things and head out to your ranch.”
She’d have a respite at the cabin. A chance to remind herself, before she started this hard task, the reasons she was taking this drastic step. A few days with her horses, on the land she loved, to envision what it would be like once she paid off the loan and started living the dream.
At the wages she’d be earning, that day would come more quickly than she’d dared to hope.
She could do this. She would do this.
“Thank you for the opportunity, and your kindness,” she said, standing and offering Evangeline her hand.
The madame shook it, walked to the door and called for the maid. “Don’t worry,” she said, turning back to Marguerite. “Everything will work out for the best. Rosalie will check outside, and tell you when you can head back without anyone seeing you.”
“Thank you again,” Marguerite said, and followed the girl out of the room.
A few minutes later, the maid beckoned to her from the porch. Quickly, she walked out, ran down the stairs, and hurried in the direction of the town.
Panic fluttered in her gut as she walked. Everything will work out, the madame had told her, and it would have to. She was giving up life as she knew it. After this, she truly would never be able to go home again.
Her only future would be the ranch and the land.
Her only regret, that Lydia McCleary would be able to crow that she’d been right about Marguerite’s character all along.
Chapter Ten
In the early morning a week later, Booze sat at the desk in his hotel room in Whiskey River, looking over the orders for new goods he’d placed on his buying trip. He’d arrived too late last night to do any business, but a review of the figures this morning confirmed that he’d have enough stock to supply the mercantile, and the several other stores he furnished, for the next month.
He should, and usually did, stay on the road longer. But the irritation and restlessness that had driven him from town almost two weeks ago had, unexpectedly, only intensified the longer he was away.
He was worried about Marguerite McMasters. Lydia McCleary was a vindictive female, and unfortunately, she pulled a lot of weight in the town, especially with the school board. Although he’d felt at the time that staying in town or trying to intervene would only make things worse for Marguerite, he now worried that leaving might not have been the best strategy.
He’d called on his suppliers in Austin, a city which was also home to a lusty matron of large appetite and congenial temperament that he normally looked forward to visiting. He’d expected to do so on this trip.
Instead, though a few evenings in her arms would surely have provided pleasure and at least temporary relief from the tension that dogged him, he had never quite been able to make up his mind to visit her. He was out of sorts, she might notice, and he didn’t want to have to explain, he’d told himself.
For the same reason, he’d politely discouraged two very fine-looking women who’d approached him at the hotel in Houston where he maintained a suite of rooms. The manager, who kept an eye out for just such beauties to recommend to Booze on his frequent sojourns, must have thought he’d lost his mind.
Since when had he turned into some sort of dithering old maid, too preoccupied to seek out a simple, uncomplicated, and mutually enjoyable roll in the hay? he thought, disgusted with himself.
But returning hadn’t sweetened his mood, either. It infuriated him that, though he felt compelled to come back, he hadn’t yet figured out how he could help—or even approach—Marguerite McMasters without further damaging her reputation.
He was accustomed to using his influence to solve the problems of the people in whom he took an interest, leaving them in better circumstances—not making them worse. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so powerless, and he hated it.
Damn Lydia McCleary.
Damn her even more that her malignant threats would keep him from doing the one thing that would make him feel better about returning to town—visiting Marguerite at her ranch for another idyllic interlude.
That observation was so bitter, he felt it necessary to down a glass of whiskey, even though he’d not yet eaten breakfast. He was considering a second glass when a knock sounded at his door.
“Go away, Cooper,” he growled. “I’ll be down for breakfast later.”
Despite that command, the door opened, revealing not the hotel manager, but the proprietress of the town’s most successful business.
“Maybe you can have Cooper bring up breakfast for both of us.”
He jumped to his feet. “Miss Evangeline! Not that you aren’t an enchanting vision at any hour, but I’m really not fit for company this morning. I’d hate to inflict my churlish self on a lady who deserves much...warmer treatment.”
She laughed. “I’ve not come for that sort of treatment this morning, but I’d take it right kindly if you was to treat me to Della’s fine breakfast. One of the boys saw you ride into town late last night, while they was on their way to my place. I need to talk to you before you see anyone else.”
“I’d be happy to buy you breakfast,” Ronan said, bowing to the inevitable—and more than a little curious what news was so important Evangeline had felt it necessary to track him down so soon after his arrival.
She gave him a sweet smile. Somehow, despite her occupation, she always managed to seem almost innocent. “You always did take good care of me, Booze. Which is just as well, since I already told Cooper when I come in to have Della send up breakfast for us.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Very efficient of you, Miss Evangeline.”
“I am,” she acknowledged. “You were a good teacher.”
Booze rose and gestured to the desk chair. “Won’t you have a seat?” He pulled the bedside table over to the desk and perched on it. “While we wait for breakfast, maybe you can tell me what was so important you needed to talk to me before I even got my boots dusty walking to the mercantile.”
“You know my Lucy got herself married last month, leaving me one girl short. I’m about to get a replacement.”
; “Did Lucy know someone who could take her place? With the volume of business you do, you need every girl.”
There was a knock, halting conversation as Cooper entered with a tray and a pot of hot coffee. “Thank you kindly, sir,” Evangeline said, giving the manager a dazzling smile that made his ears turn red.
“Thank you, Miss Evangeline.” Leaning closer, he whispered, “I’d pay you a visit to show you just how grateful I could be, if I thought I could get away with it.”
She laughed. “Now, Cooper, you know Della would poison your coffee if you ever tried such a thing—and mine, too. We’ll have to settle for this.” Rising quickly, she leaned up and kissed the manager’s cheek.
His face going scarlet, he almost dropped the tray. Ronan snatched it away from him before he ended up with a lap full of hot coffee. “You’d better get back to Della,” he advised with a chuckle. “I bet she’s timing to see how long it takes you to bring the tray up and get back to the kitchen.”
“Hell’s bells, you’re probably right,” Cooper exclaimed, hurriedly backing himself out of the room.
Ronan laughed. “Shame on you, Miss Evangline. You nearly gave that poor man palpitations.”
“I just hope my news don’t give you palpitations,” she said, pouring him a cup and handing it to him. “My new Angel will be Marguerite McMasters.”
“What?” he cried, almost dropping his cup. Anger following shock, he said hotly, “That’s not very amusing, Miss E! She’s already had enough difficulties with Lydia McCleary, without anyone starting rumors like that.”
Evangeline nodded. “She’s had a barrel full of trouble with that Jezebel, and that’s a fact. Got her fired from her teaching job. So Mrs. McMasters come to see me, asking if I’d hire her as one of my Angels.”
Booze was so flabbergasted that, for a moment, he couldn’t get his mouth to form words. “You didn’t agree, surely!” he finally managed.
“And why wouldn’t I, if that’s what she wants?” Evangeline shot back. “The men of the town would be plumb delighted.”
The very idea of Marguerite being pawed and slobbered over by a passel of drunk and randy men made Ronan want to shoot or strangle someone. He jumped up to pace the room, then halted to face her. “You can’t let her do that! Her good name would be ruined! Now, you know in saying that, I don’t mean any disrespect to you or the girls, but—”
“I know,” Evangeline interrupted, the smile on her face looking a bit strained. “But the woman’s got to eat, Booze, pay her bills and her loan. She’s dead-set on keeping that ranch of hers and won’t hear of going back to her kin in San Antonio. How else is she to earn any money in Whiskey River? You know I’ll take good care of her, if I hire her.”
He glared at her. “Not if I outbid you.”
Evangeline’s face softened. “I kinda thought you might want to. That’s why I come to tell you straightaway what happened with Lydia and the school board. I told Marguerite I’d need time to get ready for her, and sent her out to her ranch to wait. It’s been a week now, and I ain’t heard nothing, so I’m pretty sure nobody saw her visit my place, or knows she was planning to come to me.”
“Good. Because she won’t be.”
“You hope not. You do know, don’t you, that you can’t just sling her over your shoulder and carry her off? You better know what you want to say to her before you see her, ’cause that little gal has a mind of her own and won’t be railroaded into anything.”
“Except ruining her reputation to save her ranch, thanks to Lydia McCleary?” he tossed back furiously.
Evangeline’s expression hardened. “Now, there’s a woman I’d like to see run out of town in her knickers. But I feel better, with you knowing what’s been going on. You’ve always been a fixer, even of things it wasn’t hardly possible to fix. I’m trusting you to do the right thing. After all, Lydia McCleary’s meanness might have triggered this, but it’s partly your fault, too.”
She looked him squarely in the eyes. “Sashaying around town with her? Kissing her in front of the boarding house? Visiting her out at her ranch?” She shook her head reprovingly. “That behavior’s all fine with the likes of me, or some matron with lots of money and important relations to back her up, but not with a woman who’s poor, alone, and an outsider to boot. And beautiful, meaning she’s already attracted the jealousy of half the matrons in town whose husbands aren’t as attentive as they might be. You shoulda been more careful.”
“I’m only too aware of that,” he said with a sigh.
“Eat your breakfast. You’ll think better with some food in your belly,” she said, rising. “And mind you figure out a way to do right by Mrs. McMasters. Or I will take her in, regardless of what you say.”
She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned over to kiss him lightly on the lips. “Be kind to her, Booze.”
He walked her to the door. “I will. If I don’t strangle her first, for having such a crazy fool idea.”
Strong coffee and hard liquor burning in his belly, after a few bites of egg, Ronan abandoned the rest of his breakfast. Grabbing his hat, he hurried down the stairs to fetch his horse from the stables and took the road west out of town.
Freed from the shackles of not being able to act, now that he no longer needed to worry about compromising Marguerite’s position as a teacher, Ronan pushed his horse to a gallop, impatient to see her. He’d give her some grief about her fool idea of working for Evangeline. But with the fire between them, he had no doubt she’d be amenable to a counter-offer from him. Finally, he’d be able to make her fully his, watch over and take care of her.
Already his needy body hummed with anticipation, and John Down Under was stiff enough to make an iron rod seem soft.
He couldn’t just carry her off, Evangeline had warned. He’d have to phrase his offer as a possibility, something she could consider and accept or reject. Otherwise, she might balk, like a high-bred filly directed toward a fence she can, but doesn’t want to, jump.
But he had no doubt, after the appropriate sweet words, token resistance, and appearance of weighing her options, she would choose him.
Would she give herself to him again at the cabin, this very morning? The thought made his breath hitch, his chest tighten, and his hands jerk at the reins. His horse shied, and Ronan had to kick him back into stride.
He remembered so vividly the taste of her, the scent of her skin—lavender and softness and woman. The feel of her hair, silky under his fingers, her skin softer than satin, plusher than velvet. The feel of her legs wrapped around his back, her hot wetness sheathing him, the sound of her panting breaths and her sharp little cries as she shattered around him.
He’d better drag his mind from contemplating making love to her, or he’d be too incoherent to be persuasive. With difficulty, he shut away the titillating images.
Soon, he wouldn’t need memories. The woman herself would be in his arms.
He made the journey in record time, pulling up his tired mount in her pasture just an hour later. Leaping down from the saddle, he turned the weary horse loose in the meadow and climbed swiftly up the hill to the cabin.
“Mrs. McMasters!” he called as he approached, not wanting to startle her by appearing unexpectedly. “Are you home?”
He certainly hoped so. He’d been so impatient when he reached the meadow, he’d neglected to look and see if all the horses were present. He didn’t think he could stand it if she were out riding somewhere and he had to drum his heels on the porch, awaiting her return.
Fortunately, as he approached the cabin, the front door opened and Marguerite walked out. “Mr. Kelly?” she asked, astonishment in her voice.
An instant later, a joyous smile lit her face. She took two running steps toward him before halting, her raised hands falling back to her sides. “How...how unexpected. I heard you’re usually gone more than a month when you leave on a buying trip.”
“So I am. But with what I understand has been happening here since I left, it’s a
good thing I wasn’t gone that long! May I come in?”
She shrugged, a bittersweet smile on her face. “I don’t suppose it matters anymore. Yes, come in. I’ll put on some coffee.”
She motioned him in, but didn’t take the hand he offered. In fact, though at first she’d seemed as delighted to see him as he was to see her, after that initial reaction, she’d...withdrawn, becoming more tense and unapproachable by the moment. An unfortunate fact that dumped cold water on his heated hopes for an immediate tryst.
Which meant he’d better take this slowly and carefully. Reining in his impatience, he let her make coffee and bring it in, hoping those familiar actions would calm her.
Not until she’d handed him his coffee—as careful to avoid touching him as she’d been that first time—did he begin. “I’m so sorry Lydia McCleary coerced the board into firing you. I thought my leaving town would settle her down. I would never have gone away and let you face her alone if I’d had any inkling she would take it that far. If I had the power to force the board to reverse its decision, I would. But unfortunately, I don’t, which infuriates me, since this is my fault.”
She nodded. “Thank you for that. Although, as you say, there’s nothing you can do to reverse the decision now. I hope you didn’t come all the way out here to urge me to return to San Antonio. I won’t give up the land. I just won’t.”
“That’s pretty obvious—when I hear you’ve offered to work at Evangeline’s in order to hang on to it!” he said, unable to keep the anger from his voice.
She gasped, her hands rattling her cup. “How did you know that?”
“I just returned last night. Evangeline came to the hotel this morning to tell me. As far as she knows, none but the three of us know you’d gone to see her for a job—thank heaven. Hell and damnation, Marguerite, what were you thinking? You can’t work for Evangeline!”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “I have to work somewhere, and that’s the only other place in this town for a female to earn enough money. I refuse to leave and lose my land, so don’t even try to talk me out of it.”
Scandal with the Rancher Page 10