Wilde Bunch

by Barbara Boswell

  “Nice kitty,” he murmured, reaching over to pet the cat who’d settled himself on Kara’s lap with a disgruntled meow.

  Tai tried to bite his hand.

  “He’s nervous around strangers,” Kara half explained, half apologized.

  “Not to worry. He’ll have plenty of time to get to know me.” Mac would’ve liked to rest his hand on her leg, perhaps even link his fingers with hers. It seemed a romantic gesture that she would like, and it would set the possessive aura he wished to convey.

  But Tai’s less-than-amiable disposition and sharp white teeth precluded that.

  “Did I mention that Reverend Will’s oldest daughter, Tricia, is severely allergic to cats?” Mac asked casually. “The reason I know is because the Rev and Ginny bought her a cat for her birthday several years ago, and poor Tricia ended up in the hospital emergency room with a serious allergy attack. The Rev pleaded from the pulpit the next Sunday for somebody in the congregation to please give the cat a home because the Franklins couldn’t keep it. There were several offers and a happy ending to the story. The cat got a new family and Tricia got a pet bird.”

  “You’re making that up!” Kara accused.

  “Now why would I do that? I was just providing you with some essential information.”

  “You’re implying that Tai won’t be able to stay at the Franklins’ house with me!” Kara’s hazel eyes widened with apprehension, despite her doubts about his credibility.

  “Oh, he won’t be. That’s a given,” Mac assured her.

  What if it were true? It occurred to Kara that she hadn’t asked Uncle Will if she could bring Tai. She’d assumed he would know the cat would be coming along with her. After all, her former stepfather was well aware of Tai’s existence; she mentioned him several times in every letter she wrote. There were times when Tai and his feline antics were more interesting than anything going on in her own life!

  “But I want you to know that Tai is welcome to stay at the ranch, even if you decide to stay in town with the Rev,” Mac offered, sounding for all the world like a Boy Scout bent on doing a good deed. “Of course, leaving him by himself in a strange place with a household of strangers could definitely be traumatic for such a sensitive cat. He might suffer long-lasting emotional scars.”

  “As if you care!” Kara flared. “You just want to make me—”

  “Yeah,” Mac cut in, a devilish grin lighting his face. “That’s right, I do.”

  It took Kara a moment to catch on, her experience with suggestive banter being practically nonexistent. She flushed scarlet and fell silent.

  For the remainder of the drive, conversation was desultory and always initiated by Mac. There wasn’t much to see in the darkness, but Mac commented on the terrain, the mountain peaks towering to the sky and promised a view of breathtaking fall scenery during the daylight hours. He told her a little about the history of the area and some Wilde family history, as well.

  The Double R Ranch, whose brand was two R’s back-to-back, had been owned by the Wildes for four generations, passing from father to son.

  “It was an easy tradition for the first three generations because each family had only one son, along with some daughters who were not eligible to inherit the ranch,” Mac explained. “Then my dad and mother had three sons, Reid, James and me. Crisis! Who’d get the ranch? It ended up being me because I loved the place and wanted to stay here. Reid headed for Southern California, and James to the world of academia. My dad signed over the ranch to me ten years ago, not long after Mother died. Dad lives in Scottsdale, Arizona now and is the sought-after bachelor in senior citizen circles.”

  Kara listened attentively. “So you got the ranch and your brothers got nothing?” She had no siblings of her own but could imagine the hard feelings such partiality must engender.

  Mac nodded. “Reid didn’t care, he’d married into money. James was resentful. He thought Dad should give him some sort of cash equivalent, but Dad refused to even consider it. He told James that he’d paid for his education, that James was earning a comfortable living as a college professor and the ranch was for the Wilde son who’d live and work there. End of story.”

  “Does James still feel cheated?”

  “Of course. James thrives on collecting injustices done to him. Reid’s kids made a major contribution to his collection. Don’t count on him or Eve coming out for our wedding,” he added dryly.

  Kara was not about to touch that bait. “Well, I think it’s terribly unfair that all the Wilde daughters were automatically cut out and not even given a choice if they wanted to live and work on the ranch,” she said instead, in defense of her own sex. “It’s downright medieval.”

  Mac nodded. “Yeah, my aunts weren’t too pleased. Neither were their aunts. But that’s tradition for you.”

  “No, that’s stupid, sexist tradition for you,” Kara retorted. “If I had a daughter—”

  “Hopefully, we will,” Mac interjected. “Along with the requisite Wilde male heir, of course.”

  Kara ignored him. “If I had a daughter, she would split any inheritance evenly with her brother. There would never be a single doubt about that.”

  Talking about her and Mac’s hypothetical children was entirely too provocative a subject. She felt edgy and belligerent, needful to keep him at bay.

  “We’re jumping the gun here, honey,” Mac drawled. “After you meet Reid’s kids, you may opt for immediate sterilization.”

  “They can’t be as bad as you say,” Kara insisted, feeling the need to disagree with anything he said.

  “You’re right—they’re even worse.” Mac turned off the main highway, onto a dirt road. “The house is a few miles ahead. Prepare yourself for the onslaught.”

  Three

  The headlights of the Jeep lighted the gravelly road leading to the ranch house. Kara saw clusters of tall, thick evergreens horseshoed on three sides of the house—to protect it from the sweep of blustery winter winds, according to Mac. The house itself was a sprawling stone-and-wood one-story structure with a wide porch spanning the front.

  Lights blazed from every window, illuminating the landscaped bushes, shrubs and small ornamental trees surrounding the paved stone walk leading from the circular drive to the front door.

  “Home, sweet home,” Mac said drolly. “I can hear the welcoming cacophony already.”

  He was exaggerating, of course. From the confines of the car, Kara could hear nothing at all. The apprehension that had been gnawing at her for miles erupted into a surging force. She was in the middle of nowhere, miles from the only person she knew in the state of Montana! And she was about to face a tribe of brats, so monstrous that their own blood relative was willing to marry a perfect stranger in an attempt to cope with them.

  She turned to Mac, feeling as desperate as he must have felt when he’d shelled out the money for her plane ticket. She couldn’t spend the night in his home! The idea of such intimacy sparked a nerve-tingling anxiety that was one part fear and three parts excitement. Oddly, the excitement was more disturbing than the fear.

  “Mac, please, I—I can’t do this. Please, please take me to Uncle Will’s tonight.”

  Mac studied her face, which was a picture of distress. Her enormous hazel eyes were filled with tears, her lips were quivering. “You make me feel like a rat,” he murmured. “Scaring a pretty young woman, making her cry. Damn, I am a rat!”

  He reached out to trace the sensual curve of her warm full lips. Remembering the feel of that sweet mouth under his and remembering her immediate and passionate responses to him caused a tightening ache in his loins.

  “I—I’m not crying,” Kara protested, but her voice quavered. She lifted her hand to remove his from her mouth. His touch was unsettling, exciting. She craved it as much as she feared it.

  Mac succeeding in interlacing her fingers with his. She watched, wide-eyed, as he brought her hand to his cheek and held it there. His skin was slightly stubbled and sensually abrasive to her already over
charged senses.

  Her heart jumped. She had to get away from him before...before... Kara trembled. “I—I just want to—”

  “I know, I know,” he soothed. “You’ve been very brave, considering the way you were caught off guard by—uh—the plan. You’ve been a helluva good sport, Kara. I’m sorry you’re upset. Damn, I’m worse than a rat, I’m a flea on a rat for upsetting you.”

  “It isn’t really your fault,” Kara acknowledged charitably. “Uncle Will should have told me the whole story right from the start. Then we would have been spared this unfortunate mis—”

  “—understanding,” Mac chimed in.

  Their eyes met and they smiled at each other. Once again, her smile had a peculiar effect on him. Mac felt a possessive urgency shoot through him. He wanted her. He certainly hadn’t expected to be aroused by his mail-order bride, but for the children’s sake—and his own—he’d been prepared to be a proper husband. It was a wonderful surprise to find himself attracted to her.

  And it bolstered his determination to proceed with his plan.

  “I’ll take you into town to the Rev’s place,” Mac said silkily. “But first, I’d like to check on the kids. See if Webb’s back yet. He ought to be by now. See if they’ve killed each other yet. Will you come inside while I do a body count?”

  Relief flowed through her. There was no reason for her to be anxious and fearful, Mac was not going to force her to stay. He was a reasonable man, not a threatening one. Her fears had been for naught. A body count? His sardonic edge made her grin.

  Calmer now, she had no problem granting his very reasonable request. “Of course I don’t mind waiting while you check on the children.”

  Mac smiled his satisfaction. He had no intention of driving her back into town, though he didn’t know how he was going to get out of it, having just promised to do so. Well, he’d cross that bridge when the time came. Right now, he was elated that she’d agreed to come into the house. That was a major victory. Forcing her inside definitely would’ve been a tactical error.

  He gazed into Kara’s warm, trust-filled eyes. She’d wholeheartedly believed his promise to take her into town. Had he called himself a flea on a rat? Mac decided that he was something even lower, which would probably make him a plague-carrying flea on a rat.

  “Thank you, Mac,” Kara said warmly. “And don’t worry, I’m sure the children are getting along just fine.”

  “I bet you believe the weather predictions in the Farmer’s Almanac, too.”

  She chuckled appreciatively. “Meanwhile, I’ll call Uncle Will and tell him where I am and when I’ll be arriving at his house.” She made no reference to his claim regarding Tricia’s allergy to cats; she still wasn’t sure she believed him on that one. It was just a little too convenient for his purpose.

  “Good idea. Call the Rev.” Mac got out of the Jeep and came around to open the passenger door for her, every inch the chivalrous gentleman. He even took her arm and helped her climb out. His fingers lingered, rubbing from her shoulder to her elbow, then sliding along to take her hand. He raised it to his lips, lightly brushing her fingertips. “Welcome to the Double R, Kara,” he said, smiling into her eyes.

  Kara’s knees felt strangely weak. She was lost in his deep, dark eyes.

  “Shall we bring the cat inside?” Mac asked solicitously.

  It took a moment or two for his words to penetrate the dreamy cloud enveloping her. “Y-Yes, maybe he’d better come in. Even a few minutes alone out there would be too terrifying for Tai.”

  “My thoughts, exactly.” Mac dropped her hand and reached for the cat carrier.

  He and Kara walked onto the porch, Tai’s meows announcing their every step.

  The door was unlocked. Mac pushed it open and Kara followed him inside.

  They entered a room-size entry hall, its hardwood floor well-scuffed by foot traffic. The walls were painted a creamy beige, rather dull but functional. At the end of the vestibule, the hall narrowed to a passageway, leading to other parts of the house.

  Kara looked around her. To the left was a closed door. A bit farther down, on the same side, she caught a glimpse into the dining room. A massive breakfront and long rectangular table almost filled the room.

  To the right was an enormous room, a combination living room and den, dominated by a big granite fireplace. Above the fireplace was mounted the head of a moose. A baseball cap hung jauntily from one of its antlers. There was a wall of windows which undoubtedly offered a spectacular view during the daylight hours, although all that was visible now was the vast blackness of the night sky. The other walls were paneled with a dark wood, giving the room the feel of a rustic, oversize cabin.

  A young boy and girl lay on big bright floor cushions in front of a large-screen television set. Neither child looked up when Mac and Kara entered. Not even Tai’s indignant howls drew a glance from them.

  “There are Clay and Autumn,” Mac murmured. “They love TV. It’s the one thing that can keep them occupied for hours. I bought a satellite dish after they moved in so they could always find something to watch. We’ve seen everything from Mexican soap operas to rugby meets in Australia.”

  He’d bought a satellite dish after the kids had arrived to keep them entertained? Kara pondered that one. Though she made no claims as an expert in child psychology, incessant TV-watching didn’t strike her as an ideal way to spend a childhood. What about reading and playing indoors and out, what about activities with other kids?

  But Mac sounded sincerely proud of his efforts to keep the children happy. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that round-the-clock viewing, however diverse, might not be in their best interest.

  “What are they watching now?” Kara asked, wondering which nation could be held accountable for the pandemonium currently roaring on the screen.

  A number of very scantily clad young women were running in circles screaming, while a gang of menacing young toughs in black leather terrorized them. It was a veritable festival of blood and mayhem, and Clay and Autumn watched raptly.

  “Hey, kids, what’s on?” asked Mac.

  “A really good movie,” young Clay replied, without turning his attention from the set. “Biker Vampires Go To College.”

  “Ah, an educational film,” Mac remarked dryly.

  “The biker vampires got into the sorority house and hid in the attic till nighttime,” Autumn explained. “When I go to college, I’m keeping a cross and some holy water right beside my bed, just in case. Ohhh!” She hid her face in the pillow as one particularly graphic scene flashed across the screen.

  “Won’t that give them nightmares?” Kara murmured. “It’s so gory, it’s sort of making me queasy.”

  “It’s just fake blood,” Clay piped up reassuringly. “There aren’t any real vampires.”

  “Sometimes real killers pretend to be vampires and drink people’s blood, though,” Autumn interjected with relish.

  Mac winced. “Turn that off and come here and meet Kara. She’s a—uh—a friend of mine.”

  When neither child moved to do his bidding, Mac crossed the room and switched off the set. Two small scowling faces turned to Kara. Clay’s was covered with drying, crusting lesions which had been swabbed with some pinkish lotion.

  “Did I mention that Clay is recovering from chicken pox?” Mac asked a little too heartily. “He was out of school all last week, and will probably have to miss most or all of this week, too.”

  “And you need someone to stay with him while you’re working,” Kara surmised. No wonder he was desperate! Poor Mac had been cooped up with a sick child for a week and was facing the prospect of still another. She was beginning to understand his impulsive action in sending for a wife candidate. She felt genuine sympathy for his plight, but that was certainly not grounds for marriage!

  “I’m not much of a nurse,” Mac admitted. “Of course, Clay isn’t much of a patient, either. The itching drove both of us nuts.”

  “I was terrible!” Clay agreed.
“I scratched all the time, even when Uncle Mac paid me not to.”

  “You paid him not to scratch the pox?” Kara asked, incredulous.

  Mac shrugged uncomfortably. “Nothing else worked. Not lotion or medicine or even threats about having pox scars for life. The kid likes money, so I gave it a shot.”

  “I’m pretty rich now,” Clay confided. “But I still scratched sometimes.”

  “There’s a cat in here!” Autumn exclaimed, walking over to investigate Tai’s carrier. “Oh, she’s pretty. What’s her name?”

  “He is a male and his name is Tai,” said Kara. “He’s very upset, he’s had a long trip.” She felt obliged to explain as Tai continued to meow at the top of his feline lungs.

  “Poor kitty!” Autumn crooned. “Can he come out of that cage?”

  “I don’t think we’d—” Kara began, but Autumn moved with the speed of sound and had unlatched the carrier door and opened it before Kara had even finished speaking. Tai leapt out like the springing figure in a jack-in-the-box and took off, running around the room before disappearing into the entry hall.

  “He likes it here!” Clay cried delightedly. “He wants us to play hide-and-go-seek with him!” He ran out of the room, seeking Tai.

  “I saw him first, Clay!” Autumn bellowed. “I get to find him first! I get to play with him first! Me, not you!” She charged out of the room, screeching her demands.

  Kara and Mac exchanged glances.

  “Just like a heartwarming scene from one of those feel-good family flicks, hmm?” Mac’s grin was nothing if not sardonic. “Is there anything more charming than kids and animals together?”

  “Biker vampires on the loose in a sorority house runs a pretty close second,” Kara murmured.

  Mac gave a shout of laughter. Kara felt ridiculously pleased she’d made him laugh.

  The children’s voices echoed down the hall, but there were no more meows to be heard. Apparently Tai was hiding out from his enthusiastic pursuers and was not about to reveal his whereabouts.

  “Mac! Thank God you’re back!” The deep male voice, filled with unmistakable relief, drew their attention to the far side of the room.