“All right, Garrett.” Ol’Alfred’s voice trembled just a little as he gathered his questionable courage and stepped forward. He grabbed Luke’s arm. “It’s best you move along.”
“I suggest you remove your hand from my person,” Luke said in a cold, dead tone.
“I know some townspeople are willing to put up with the likes of you because you spread your money around Fort Worth, but the fact remains you don’t belong in polite compan—”
“Mr. Garrett! I’m sorry to keep you waiting so long. Thank you for your patience.” A lovely young woman with honey hair and shining green eyes swept up beside him and slipped her hand around his arm. “The Elgin Watch Band has begun to play. Shall we join the dancers now?”
Luke hesitated but a second. “I’d be honored.”
As he led her out of the art exhibit toward the ballroom, the whispers and murmurs and scandalized exclamations escalated to a near roar. At that point, he heard Wilhemina Peters exclaim, “Oh my heavens! Look at that. I knew it. I knew those Menaces would eventually come to no good. I wonder if Trace McBride knows his daughter has taken up with an outlaw?”
Trace McBride’s daughter? Another one? Luke studied her features, recognized the similarities between the two young women and allowed himself the slightest of winces. Seven thousand people at this shindig, and he runs across another McBride Menace? This night was just getting better and better.
The rumbles faded behind them as he led her into the crush occupying the dance floor and joined in a waltz. “Miss McBride, I presume?”
“Kat McBride.” She smiled sheepishly. “I was standing on the other side of the partition waiting for my beau to join me, and I heard the entire thing. I’m sorry, Mr. Garrett. It was presumptuous of me to interrupt that way, I know, but I was curious. I heard about your visit to my sister Mari’s chocolate shop today, and of course, I’m well acquainted with both Mrs. Peterson and Idalou Whitaker. That harpy gossip columnist has been the bane of my existence for years, and as far as Idalou Whitaker goes, well, I know you’re not the father of her baby.”
Luke all but tripped over his own feet. “Baby?”
Kat McBride nodded. “Idalou said it was yours just to make her father crazy. Her mother ran off with a gambling man a few years back and ever since then, Mr. Whitaker has been downright mean. He said cruel things when he found out she was in a family way, and naming you was a way for her to strike back.” She offered him an apologetic smile as she added, “I’m sure if she’d known you’d be paroled this soon, she’d have chosen another notorious man to name as the father of her child.”
Dryly, Luke replied, “In the future, I’ll be sure to publicize my travel plans.”
Her eyes sparkled as laughter bubbled up, and in that moment, she reminded Luke of his sister Janna before life had sucked the joy from her soul.
“Are you really as bad as they say, Mr. Garrett?”
The question brought a grin to his face. Such an impertinent little filly. “What if I am? Shouldn’t you fear being in my company?”
“La.” She dismissed the question with a wrinkle of her button nose. “We’re surrounded by hundreds of people. What damage could you do me in such a public place? Besides, I don’t believe you’re as wicked as people allow. You remind me a lot of my father, you know.”
After a moment’s pause, Luke deadpanned, “How flattering.”
This time she giggled. “That wasn’t an insult, sir. My father might be…well…mature, but he’s still a very handsome man. Graying hair looks good on a gentleman.”
“My hair isn’t graying.”
Her eyes twinkled at him. “Once upon a time, his reputation was almost as bad as yours, but he never was as bad as people believed. I think you’re probably the same way.”
“I think I understand why your father has graying hair. You, too, have a certain reputation here in Fort Worth, Miss McBride. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m not the only alleged train robber in this conversation.”
She lifted her chin. “Youthful indiscretions, long behind us. The McBride Menaces retired two years ago when my eldest sister, Mrs. Casey Tate, married.” Kat McBride hesitated, her countenance dimming. “She lost her husband a short time later, and I’m afraid Emma hasn’t felt like Menacing since then.”
“My condolences to your sister.”
“Thank you. It’s been a difficult time, what with Casey’s death and then Mari’s heartbreak. Our family is cursed when it comes to love.” Going dreamy eyed, she touched her necklace and added, “However, I’m going to change that.”
Luke only partially listened as she rattled on about bad luck and palm reading and a fairy prince. His thoughts returned to the matter at hand. Perhaps he need not abort his plans. Perhaps he could turn all this attention to his benefit.
Kat McBride continued to prattle about her family, relaying stories about her younger brothers whom she affectionately referred to as the McBride Monsters. She captured his attention with a tale about sneezing powder in a church air vent and they shared a good laugh. When the joy in her manner abruptly died, Luke braced himself. “Trouble?”
“Definitely.”
“Mrs. Peters?”
“Worse. It’s Mari. We’re in the midst of an argument regarding my beau. Ever since her fiancé jilted her, she’s been a veritable shrew, and she thinks I’m headed for trouble by stepping out with my sweetheart. I was very much hoping to avoid her tonight. I thought she’d fix her attentions on our sister Emma and leave me alone. It doesn’t look like I’ll be that lucky.” Kat McBride chewed at her bottom lip. “Mr. Garrett, in light of the briefness of our association would it be presumptuous of me to request your assistance?”
“What can I do to help you?”
“Slow her down?” she asked, her emerald eyes pleading as they began to move off the dance floor. “I need to get lost in the crowd for a bit. I’m supposed to meet Rory at the theater in twenty minutes.”
Rory? Unease climbed like a spider up Luke’s neck. No, surely not. It wasn’t that unusual a name. And yet, he’d been hearing rumors about a man around town. Luke stopped her with a hand on her arm. “This sweetheart of yours. Where’s he from?”
“Well, that’s a matter of debate. He ordinarily speaks with the most wonderful Irish accent, but upon occasion, he’ll slip into a luscious Southern drawl.”
Well, hell. “How long have you known him? What does he look like? How old is he?”
Kat gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “My goodness, Mr. Garrett. Now you sound like Mari. I’ll be fine, sir. Please don’t worry. Just delay my sister. Ask her about her chocolates. That’s all she talks since she opened her shop downtown. Oh, dear, here she comes. I must go. Thanks for the dance, Mr. Garrett.”
Luke watched Kat McBride weave her way through the crowd and attempted to convince himself that his suspicions were groundless. If only the girl wasn’t pretty, young and blond. She’s just Rory’s type.
“Excuse me, Mr. Garrett?” came a voice from behind him. “The woman you were dancing with is my sister, and I think it’s only fair to warn you that my father is even more protective of her than he is of me.”
Luke turned around. Dressed in fashionable sea-green silk, the woman took his breath away. What kind of idiot would be stupid enough to jilt her? He cleared his throat. “That’s good. I get the impression she needs a keeper. You, on the other hand, appear to be a woman well in charge of her life, prepared to handle any challenge. Dance with me, Miss McBride,” he said, offering his hand.
Refusal gleamed in blue eyes moody like the Galveston seascape, so Luke hurried to add, “I have concerns regarding your sister I wish to share with you.”
Following a moment’s contemplation, Mari McBride stepped into his arms, and Luke again felt a shimmer of unease.
The woman felt as if she belonged there.
MARI KNEW better than to dance with Luke Garrett. With his dark chocolate hair and caramel eyes and spun-sugar smile, he tempted a
woman to take a taste— even someone who’d sworn off his sort of sweets.
Mari had fallen for broad shoulders and a handsome face once before, and she’d be hanged if she’d go that route again. Never mind how appealing she found the wicked glint in Mr. Garrett’s eye, the swagger in his step and the air of danger that surrounded him like a cloud of confectioner’s sugar. Never mind that his physical form brought to mind her grandmother Monique’s marble sculpture of Theseus, the Greek hero who slew the Minotaur, or that the sound of his slow drawl warmed her like smooth Southern whiskey. Luke Garrett had a reputation in town next to which hers paled in comparison. She’d be a fool to go anywhere near him. Yet, if Kat was in trouble…
Mari joined him in a dance. The moment his hand touched hers, that old, familiar sense of foreboding kissed the back of her neck.
“Chocolate is my sister’s favorite treat,” he told her as he swept her into a waltz. “As I travel about, I send her samples from different locales. Thus far her favorites are chocolates filled with coconut cream from a little shop on Jackson Square in New Orleans, followed closely by dark chocolates filled with an almond-and- honey nougat from a Parisian chocolatier.”
Mari clumsily missed a step. “You send your sister chocolates? From Paris? France?”
His mouth twitched in amusement. “Oui. It’s a place called Pierre’s. On—”
“Rue Saint Michel,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been there. His dark chocolate is fabulous.”
“Janna likes it. However, I suspect she’ll like your chocolate even more. I plan to send her a box of those Sinfuls I tasted this afternoon.”
He wants to buy my chocolate to send to his sister. What kind of criminal was he?
One who loved his sister. Maybe that’s why he wanted to talk to her about Kat. Maybe he had a soft spot for sisters. Or, maybe sisters had nothing to do with anything. Maybe he made up the sister-who-loves-chocolate just to sneak past Mari’s defenses. Scoundrels did that sort of thing. She’d learned that hard lesson from her former fiancé, Alexander Simpson.
Mari’s experience with Alex had taught her to be suspicious of men and their motives. However, she wasn’t one of those silly twits who allowed the dishonorable actions of one man to color her opinion of an entire gender. No daughter of Trace McBride, no niece of Tye McBride, would be so stupid.
“Mr. Garrett—”
“Call me Luke, please.”
She smiled politely. “Luke, then, and I am Mari. So, Luke, may I be frank with you?”
He winced in a charming manner. “A question such as that tends to make me wary, but yes, please feel free to speak your mind.”
Mari’s lips twitched with a grin. “My family would advise against such a blanket invitation.”
“You father would tell you not to speak to me at all.”
“True. However, he’d also tell me to keep an eye on my sister Kat whenever I suspect she might be headed for trouble. I’m worried about her. You said you had concerns…?”
Luke tilted his head toward the edge of the dance floor where Wilhemina Peters watched them while wagging her jaw to a handful of her cronies. “Let’s walk, shall we? I’ve heard the exhibit of mosaics made from natural products is quite impressive.”
Only too happy to get away from the gossip queen bee, Mari nodded her assent and allowed Luke Garrett to guide her off the dance floor.
Architects had designed the Spring Palace in the shape of a Saint Andrew’s cross, with a dome 150 feet in diameter at its center. All the large gatherings, including tonight’s gala ball, occurred beneath the dome. With a crowd as big as this one, people spread out to all parts of the building. With any luck at all, Mari wouldn’t run into Trace while in Luke Garrett’s company, a complication she’d just as soon avoid. She’d hate to have a public confrontation with her father, and unless Jenny could talk some sense into the man, Mari feared that a confrontation was unavoidable.
Neck niggle or not, the King of Overprotectiveness would have to abdicate his crown, for all his children’s sakes. He could be watchful without being so dictatorial. Mari suspected that part of the reason Kat was playing the fool over the actor was their father’s overbearing attitude.
“Your father appears more relaxed tonight than he did this afternoon,” her companion observed, nodding toward the right.
Mari whipped her head around. Sure enough, her father stood near the entrance to the agriculture gallery, talking to his brother. Both men had smiles on their faces.
Obviously, her father hadn’t seen her yet.
Mari ducked her head and picked up her pace. She didn’t breathe freely until they had turned a corner and entered the mosaic exhibit. While Luke Garrett made a thorough inspection of a likeness of the Texas Spring Palace created entirely from seeds, tree bark and bits of stone, she silently fumed in self-disgust. She’d just run and hidden from her father. Could she act any more childish?
Seeking a distraction, she asked, “Luke? About those concerns of yours?”
He responded with a request of his own. “Tell me about this Rory fellow.”
Mari grimaced at the name. “She’s meeting him tonight, isn’t she? I knew she was up to something.” She sighed heavily. “She’d better hope that Papa doesn’t find out or he’ll lock her in her room for a year.”
“He’d do that?”
“No.” She waved her hand. “But he wouldn’t be at all pleased. He’s forbidden her to see him, which was a big mistake, of course, because that only made Kat want to see him more. My sister adores drama, and she’s cast herself as Juliet in this contretemps.”
“And is Rory a Romeo?”
This time Mari showed her displeasure by wrinkling her nose. “I don’t quite know what Rory is. He’s outrageously handsome, undeniably charming, and obviously talented, but that’s the problem. He’s an actor, a very good actor, and I think he could play just about any role he wished. My fear is that he’s playing a role for Kat.”
“You don’t trust him.”
“Not one little bit.” Mari lifted her head and challenged him with her gaze as she asked, “Why do you ask? Do you know him?”
“As far as I know, I’ve never met your sister’s beau. I once knew a man by that name, however, and I wondered if Kat’s Rory might be the same man.”
“Was his last name Kelly?”
Luke took hold of Mari’s elbow and led her toward the next mosaic on display, a street scene of San Antonio made of brightly colored tiles. “The Rory I knew changed his surname as often as he changed his socks.”
“Was he blond, about twenty years old, six feet tall, with blue eyes and dimples in both cheeks?”
It was the dimples that did it. She could see it in Luke’s eyes. “It’s him, isn’t it?” she asked, her thoughts racing. “Kat’s Rory is your Rory, too.” Before he could so much as nod, another thought occurred and she clutched the sleeve of his jacket. “Is he an outlaw like you? Is my sister in danger?”
“The Rory I know is a scoundrel, but I doubt Kat would find herself in any physical danger from him.”
Luke angled his head and studied her a moment before saying, “It appears that my reputation has preceded me. Tell me, Miss McBride, does present company make you fearful for your own safety?”
Yes, but not for the reason you would think.
Mari lifted her chin and calmly looked into his eyes. “I understand that you are a convicted felon on parole, Mr. Garrett. Ordinarily in a town like Fort Worth, such a fact would make you a pariah at an event such as this, and yet, tonight I’ve watched you be greeted by the mayor, two aldermen, the editor of the newspaper, two preachers and a priest. That tells me that you must be an intelligent man. Too intelligent to harm the daughter of one of the town’s leading citizens.”
He flashed a grin, showing the dimple in his cheek. “You wield your father like a weapon, don’t you?”
Mari nodded. “And he’s just one part of my arsenal. Have you ever met my mother, Jenny?”
�
��Actually, I have. We have a mutual friend, Rachel Warden. You’re right, your mother is a formidable woman. I quite admire her, and I wouldn’t cross her on a bet.”
“She keeps my father in line. Then of course there’s my Uncle Tye and Aunt Claire. They’d walk through fire for any of us. So while I recognize that you are indeed a dangerous man, I believe myself to be safe in your company tonight.”
“A dangerous man,” Luke mused, his attention drifting to her lips. “I rather prefer that to being called an outlaw.”
Mari felt the tangible force of his gaze and it sent a little thrill surging through her blood. Time hung suspended, and she licked her suddenly dry lips. His eyes narrowed, then his focus shifted and their gazes locked.
His caramel eyes heated. The air between them seemed to thicken and sizzle. Mari felt herself swaying toward him like…like…like an idiot.
She took a full step backward, then said in a shaky voice, “Dangerous.”
After a moment’s pause, he nodded, his mouth sliding into a smirk. “Yeah, probably so.”
Mari drew a deep, calming breath, then said, “I’m worried about my sister. She’s impulsive and she has a tendency to do infinitely foolish things. I think I should look for her.”
“Probably that would be a good idea. I was supposed to meet a gentleman here tonight, but it can wait. I’d like to get a gander at this Rory of hers. We’re easing up on half an hour now. Let’s go.”
He took her hand and led her rapidly away from the activity at the center of the Spring Palace, toward the sparsely populated far end of the exhibit hall. “Hold on,” Mari said. “Wait a minute. Slow down. Where are you taking me?”
“To find your sister. She’s meeting him at the theater.”
“She told you this,” Mari stated.
“Yeah. If he’s the Rory I’m looking for, it’ll be backstage.”
“Backstage.” Mari had a vision of dark, private nooks and crannies perfect for a scoundrel’s nefarious deeds. Kat was primed to go along with it, too, the McBride Menace side of her nature up and flowing in the aftermath of her recent battles with their father.
Her Bodyguard Page 4