Loving the Lawmen

by Marie Patrick

  And a bigger sin for her to have stared so long.

  But she’d never seen a man naked before. The sight of his manhood standing at attention, looking so thick and hard had shocked and thrilled her all at once. And the way he had looked at her—like he might devour her whole, made her shiver just to think of it.

  Luckily, she’d come to her senses and ran before anything else happened. His kisses were intoxicating enough, sweeping her away, making her forget what she was doing—who she was. She lost her moral barometer when he was around.

  Everything right was him.

  And somehow that had to be wrong.

  He wasn’t interested in marriage. He’d made that clear. If she allowed this strong attraction for him to go any further, she’d become what people were already imagining she was—a fallen woman. Worse still, it would be her fault.

  She’d just have to avoid him.

  That was all there was to it.

  • • •

  Inez burst into her Christie’s bedchamber in a flood of tears.

  Christie halted in the balcony doorway where she’d just finished a leisurely breakfast. “Whatever is the matter?”

  “Señorita Christie! A terrible thing! A terrible thing has happened!”

  Christie’s froze.

  Her legs grew weak.

  Had something happened to Nat?

  Her voice came in a half-whisper, “What do you mean?”

  “Tonight, Mama was to ask permission for Heriberto and me to marry.” Inez wiped angrily at the two fat tears on her cheek. “But now,” she spread her hands wide. “She tells me Señor Randall is riding to Sacramento and will not be home until late. If he leaves tomorrow, again, it is over!” Inez threw her hands in the air, sinking back into the rocker in a half-swoon.

  Christie’s lips twitched at her dramatic display, but she managed to contain her smile. “It can’t be as bad as all that. I’m certain there’s something we can do. Have you suggested she speak to him now, before he leaves?”

  Inez rolled her dark eyes in a look of disgust. “She does not wish to bother him. He is down at the corral inspecting the mustangs Señor Williams has brought for him to buy.”

  “Well then, we haven’t a moment to spare.” Christie untied the silk sash around her borrowed white wrapper.

  Inez sprang to her feet to help her dress.

  By the time Christie pulled a clean chemise over her head, Inez had returned from the wardrobe with a blue poplin gown she’d altered the day before.

  Christie had only a moment to admire the bias folds of blue satin and the blue silk fringe before Inez had hooked up the back.

  They both sprinted to the dressing table, where Inez brushed, coiled, and pinned Christie’s hair.

  By the time Christie reached the landing about to descend the stairs, she was as winded as a nag who’d run a quarter mile.

  It was just as well she was forced to assume a more ladylike pace down the stairs and through the foyer, or she’d have been in a lather before she reached the door.

  The sun blasted against her face as she descended the veranda stairs. She put a self-conscious hand to her head, but continued on. It wasn’t the first time she’d stepped out without her bonnet and it wasn’t likely to be the last. At least Leigh wasn’t here to imply she’d turned hussy. Not that it mattered, since most of Murdock would think her infamous by now.

  But somehow her spoiled reputation paled when compared to hunting down Nat Randall in the light of day after what had taken place at the lake last night. So much for her plan to avoid him! Thanks to her pudding heart, now she was seeking him out.

  Hopefully, he didn’t get the wrong impression.

  In truth, she did admire him, but not for the reasons he might imagine. She admired his courage and loyalty to his friends—his capacity to love someone so much he would chase her killer for three years and still not give up. But he wasn’t the sort of man she could become entangled with.

  Oh, no, no, no.

  His strong will would jeopardize her independence.

  And that she would not allow.

  As she rounded the right side of the whitewashed, two-story barn the smell of hay and manure grew stronger. She hastened down the dirt path, skirts snatched high in one fist.

  Nat lounged beside the rail, conversing with a man on a black horse with three pretty white socks.

  The man grinned when he spotted her, causing his sunburnt skin to crinkle around his wide hazel eyes. He appeared as tall as Nat, though it was difficult to tell with him sitting so high up. “Now what do we have here? When Ellie finds out you’re hiding a lady, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

  Christie cast Nat an inquiring glance.

  “Ellie’s his wife.” Nat pushed away from the rail to wave a hand in her direction. “Mr. Roscoe Williams, Miss Christie Wallace.”

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Roscoe said, putting a hand to the Stetson covering most of his chestnut curls.

  Christie inclined her head. “Mr. Williams.”

  “Call me Roscoe,” he said with a wink.

  Nat smiled ruefully. “Can you make it home alone, you old rogue? Or should I send a few vaqueros with you to keep you out of trouble?”

  “I expect I can find my way. If you’re so worried about me, you can bring Miss Wallace over for supper. Ellie’s been asking after you ever since she found out I was delivering these dang horses.”

  “Can’t tonight. My lawyer is waiting in Sacramento with some papers he needs me to sign.”

  “Doesn’t he usually ride out to the ranch?”

  Nat gave a slight shrug. “I thought I’d save him a trip.”

  “Well then, I’ll just have to tell Ellie your business was so dang important she’ll have to wait another month to enjoy your company. But I wouldn’t want to be you when she claps eyes on you next.”

  Nat rolled his eyes heavenward. “I suppose he’ll show up tomorrow if I don’t arrive today.”

  “Good.” Roscoe tipped his hat to bid farewell. “We’ll eat early so you can make it home before dark.”

  “There’d better be peach pie!” Nat called after him.

  Christie watched Roscoe ride off, feeling somewhat annoyed. Neither man had asked her if she wanted to come to supper. They’d just assumed she’d be delighted.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” Nat said. “But I didn’t want to disappoint Ellie.”

  “No, that’s fine.” She didn’t wish to appear churlish when he was doing the neighborly thing. Besides, perhaps Ellie might shed some light on Nat’s wife. “I could do with a change of scenery.”

  “Good.”

  It took a moment to remember why she was there. Her mind had already turned to the evening ahead. Now that Nat wasn’t riding to Sacramento, there was no need to wrangle him into speaking with Morena. The last thing she wanted was for him to accuse her of interfering again. “I came to thank you for the wardrobe you lent me,” she lied. “Inez altered several of the gowns. I hope you don’t mind.”

  His expression remained inscrutable. “You might as well get some use out of them.”

  One of the vaqueros hailed Nat from the other side of the corral.

  Christie retraced her steps to the house.

  At least she could inform Inez that Señor Rañdal would not be home late. Morena would have no excuse now not to speak with him.

  That should make Inez happy.

  Unfortunately, she’d paid a hefty price.

  Instead of avoiding him as she had hoped, they’d be spending the entire evening together. Not to mention the ride to and from the Williams Ranch. But all the gold in California couldn’t have kept her from meeting Ellie.

  Ellie was her best bet at satisfying her curiosity about Nat.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was a good hour’s ride to the Williams’ ranch. Nat spent most of the time berating himself for giving in to Roscoe’s sentimental plea. He should have gone to Sacramento instead of putting himself through
the torture of battling his lust. Christie looked too damned good in that sapphire riding habit, hugging every one of her curves—every spot he yearned to touch.

  But he was determined to keep his hands off of her, even if he had to grit his teeth all the way home. One thing was certain, it would take more than a finger of whiskey to put him to sleep tonight.

  When the Williams’ hacienda came into sight, he reined Diablo in to give Christie a chance to collect herself. In his experience, women set great store in the little adjustments they made to their hair and clothing before a first meeting.

  She reined in beside him, appearing frazzled.

  No doubt a result of the dapple grey she chose to ride. The mare was a little on the green side, requiring a light touch. He’d warned her, but she insisted she could handle it. He had to admit, she’d done a fine job so far. She and the grey devil had a lot in common—sassy, proud, and full of spunk.

  “Why are you smiling?” Christie put a hand under her straw hat. “It’s my hair, isn’t it? I knew I should have braided it.”

  He chuckled at her flustered state. He’d been right, even a woman as practical as Christie Wallace fretted over her appearance. “Your hair looks fine.”

  “You must be looking forward to seeing them again.”

  “I’m looking forward to tucking into a big slice of peach pie.”

  She shot him a quick glance. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

  “Ellie loves company, so do the children.”

  “Children?” She sounded like she was stalling. “How many are there?”

  “Last time I counted there were three, one for every year Ellie and Roscoe have been married.”

  Color stained her cheeks. “I’m looking forward to meeting them.”

  “Good.” He nudged Diablo into motion. No sense in delaying. If Christie was nervous, Ellie would soon put her at ease.

  After dismounting in front of the Williams’ veranda there was no time left to consider it.

  Ellie hugged him soundly, kissing him on the cheek. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. What do you mean, trying to sneak off to Sacramento without paying us a visit?”

  Nat smiled back, thinking for the hundredth time how lucky Roscoe was to have found a woman as beautiful and loving as Ellie. She never failed to look happy. Her skin glowed like a fresh peach. “You know I can’t resist a good home cooked meal.”

  She held him away from her slender frame, tilting her auburn head of curls to look him up and down. “It’s a good thing you came. You look thinner. I think you’re losing weight.”

  Nat gave a snort. “If you had to eat Holt’s cooking, you’d know why.”

  Ellie chuckled heartily at the standing joke. “You’d better not let him hear that. It might be the last rabbit you ever eat.”

  “I told you to tell Bernice to make something other than rabbit stew.” Roscoe said in dour tones.

  “Stop that!” Ellie gave him a playful slap on the arm. “You’re making Nat’s eyes roll back in his head. Bernice has been cooking all day. We’re having a lovely roast of beef and her famous Yorkshire pudding.”

  Nat turned toward Christie to make the necessary introductions.

  “You don’t know how happy I am to meet you. If Nat hadn’t brought you,” Ellie said with a wink, “I’d have skinned him alive.”

  “She can be mean like that,” Nat said to Christie.

  “Don’t you believe him!” Ellie laughed. “Come on in!” She hustled them inside to the bright sitting room of the sprawling Spanish style ranch house.

  Bernice, their silver haired housekeeper, stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen. She took up most of it with Edward, the newest offspring, balanced on her hip. Young George, the eldest, and three year old Catherine, who was the spitting image of her mother, flanked her in their Sunday best.

  When Nat held out his arms, Catherine raced right into them. “Uncle Nat! Uncle Nat!”

  He lifted her high in the air over his head. “Hello firefly.”

  Catherine gave a loud squeal of delight.

  “She’s too big to be a firefly,” George said, looking perturbed that his sister was getting all of the attention.

  “I expect you’re right.” Nat set her back down on the floor, then reached over to ruffle George’s auburn hair. “You and I will have to think up a better name.”

  “She’ll always be a sparker,” Bernice said stoutly, her round features creasing into a smile. “I think that name will suit for many a year to come.”

  “What a beautiful home,” Christie observed.

  “Thank you,” Ellie’s voice rang full of pride. “I admit to having a fascination for all things Spanish.”

  “In other words, as fancy as a wedding cake,” Roscoe said. “Come on Nat, we’ll leave the women to gab in private. That will give Ellie time to crow to Miss Wallace about how she connived me into shipping all this furniture from Mexico City.”

  Nat followed Roscoe to his office, leaving Christie in Ellie’s capable hands. Ellie would likely give her a tour of the house, as she was especially proud of it, then sit down to fill her in on the local gossip. Ellie was never shy on words.

  But the office was Roscoe’s domain, a place where they talked horses and sipped ten-year-old scotch. Tonight, it would be difficult to keep his mind on the price of horseflesh, knowing only a foot of stucco stood between him and Christie. He kept picturing her by the lake, standing on his diving rock with her wet chemise clinging to every luscious curve.

  When George skittered in to announce dinner, Nat rose to his feet like a shot.

  As soon as they entered the sitting room, his gaze sought her out. She and Ellie sat on the striped yellow and red sofa conversing like old friends. Catherine lounged in Christie’s arms, her bright head resting against Christie’s shoulder, while one chubby finger twirled an auburn curl.

  It was a shame to break up such a pretty domestic picture. But when Bernice announced dinner, everyone rushed to the table, or risked a sharp tongue lashing. There was no worse crime than making her dinner late.

  “Well, Mother, are you ready?” Roscoe said. “I could eat the hind end out of a steer.”

  “Lucky for you, that’s what we’re having.” Ellie rose to her feet with an impish smile curving her lips.

  Roscoe took her by the arm to lead the way to the dining room.

  “Come on, firefly.” Nat plucked Catherine from Christie’s lap. “You can sit beside me.”

  “I want to sit beside Christie!”

  “You can’t have her,” Nat teased. “She’s mine.”

  “Is she your wife?”

  “She won’t have me,” he whispered against her little pink ear. “Whenever I try to kiss her, she runs away.”

  Catherine shook her head with a look of disgust. “Papa catches Mama every time.”

  Nat threw back his head and laughed.

  Christie came to her feet red faced. “You can sit between us.” She accepted the arm he offered, avoiding his gaze. “Then perhaps he’ll behave.”

  The silver and crystal on the table and the sideboard shone so bright in the coral papered room, they needn’t have lit candles. But Nat couldn’t take his eyes off Christie. The lavish ornate atmosphere paled next to the warm glow of her skin.

  Roscoe placed a quick kiss on Ellie’s neck as he pushed in her chair. “Now don’t say I never did anything for you.”

  “Behave yourself!” Ellie admonished. “Everyone needn’t know what a devil you are.”

  “A handsome devil, you labeled me this morning when you were scrubbing my back in the tub. By the way, I don’t believe that soap really slipped out of your hand.” He jumped away with chortle of glee when she tried to swat at him.

  Christie’s shoulders shook with suppressed laugher as Nat pushed in her chair.

  “He’s not really as bad as he seems,” Ellie assured them. But her cheeks appeared flushed as she bowed her head. “George, would you like to show Uncle Nat how well you’ve
learned to say grace?”

  George folded his chubby hands together in a steeple, then began gravely, “Bless us oh Lord for these thy gifts which we are forced to receive.”

  “Which we are about to receive,” Ellie corrected.

  “Which we are about to receive,” George remanded. “From thy bounty, through Christ our Lord.”

  Catherine chirped in, “We love our bread. We love our butter, but most of all we love each other.”

  “Hey! You’re not supposed to say that!” George’s face creased with a frown. “I’m saying grace.”

  “Amen,” Roscoe finished, silencing them both. “Dig in.”

  Nat looked across the table to see how Christie was holding up under the commotion, but she appeared to be taking it all in her stride. In fact, he’d never seen her look so happy.

  • • •

  Christie sat wrapped in a spell of enchantment. The children’s chatter, Roscoe and Ellie’s warm candor, good food—gathered up tidily in an elegant, loving atmosphere. It was like a hug from home.

  No wonder Nat spent so much time here. The Williams took the place of family—the thing missing most in his life.

  “I wonder why she won’t let you kiss her?” Catherine mused to her desert more than anyone else.

  “Catherine!” Ellie admonished, though her lips twitched with amusement.

  Christie choked loudly on her tea.

  “He kisses me all the time,” Catherine declared.

  Nat gave her a broad wink. “That’s because you taste better than a peach pie.” He reached behind Catherine to give Christie two firm slaps on the back, supposedly to help her regain her breath. “Miss Wallace, on the other hand, eats so many lemons it makes her sour.”

  Christie recovered in time to flash him a healthy glare. Though it was true, she had wandered out to the orchard almost every day to partake of the delicious fruit.

  But how on earth did he know that?

  Later, as they rode away from the Williams ranch, a brief rush of melancholy swept over Christie. Visiting their busy family had made her pine for her own. Soon her father would receive her letter and her future would change forever. Perhaps it already had. She wasn’t the same young woman who’d come to Nevada two months earlier—the young woman who’d banked her future on a kiss.