Texas Rose TH2

by Patricia Rice

  Jerking her into a doorway, out of sight of the crowd hurrying to disembark, Tyler claimed payment for his fortitude. He pulled Maryellen into his arms and bent his head to taste her sweet lying lips again. She fit perfectly into his embrace, her breasts pressing just where they ought to against his chest, her waist neatly cinched by his hands. Her lips were soft and inviting, and he drank deeply of their heady nectar until he pressed too far, and she bit his lip and pulled away.

  "I don't need to be molested by the man who is supposed to protect me. If you can't do any better than this, sir, you may stay here in New Orleans and we'll go on without you."

  Evie brushed past him and stalked toward the stateroom with Tyler following close behind, cursing every sway of her cute little rump.

  "Damnation, Daniel, if you don't keep her under lock and key, I will," Tyler shouted when the lad limped into his path, cutting off his access to Evie.

  Daniel watched his sister's irate back as she kept on going. "If I could keep her under lock and key, we wouldn't be here now. That's your job."

  "Fine, if that's my job, don't complain when I do it." Inexplicably as irritated with himself as he was with the impossible Peytons, Tyler skirted around Daniel and went after Evie.

  When he caught up with her, he dragged her kicking and protesting into the stateroom, slammed the door, and trapped her against the wall with a hand on either side of her head.

  Evie bit her tongue and forced her fury and fear back into their cages. She hoped her eyes weren't as wild as Tyler's right now. She had never been so frightened in her life as she'd been when she'd realized she'd been about to be chloroformed. She was doing everything she could to keep from shaking. She had thought that awful man she'd been talking to was the director of a traveling acting troupe! And now this bully was trying to terrorize her more.

  To be fair, she had wanted Tyler's arms around her. She had wanted to curl up against his broad chest and weep hysterically, as if he really were the hero of her dreams. She had even welcomed his kiss as a balm to her shattered defenses. But she realized it wasn't comfort Tyler Monteigne was offering.

  She clenched her fingers behind her back and glared at him, waiting for his lecture. She wouldn't give him the advantage of knowing she had just been scared half out of her mind. That wasn't fear for her in Tyler's eyes now. It was just plain male frustration.

  "It's time for another little talk, Miss Peyton."

  "I should have thought a little faster action would have been called for over talk, but you're the expert," she answered sweetly.

  She was quite certain if she had been a man, he would have socked her one. To his credit, Tyler only pounded the wall.

  "I'm not going one inch farther with you until you learn a few ground rules, Miss Peyton, a few things your 'mother' should have told you. Or your nanny. Or whoever was responsible for bringing up an undisciplined brat like you."

  He was still too close for comfort. Evie could see the shining pearl buttons on his shirt. His hips were pressed uncomfortably close to hers. The crinoline that went with her new dresses only had a hoop in the rear. That made it much too easy for a man to get close to her front. And it was impossible to press backward against the wall any more.

  "I'm certain it was my fault that whelp of an unmarried mother tried to abduct me," she asserted coldly. "Won't you please tell me where I went wrong?"

  Whelp of an unmarried mother. Tyler had an irresistible urge to smile, but as soon as he did, she would be on top again. He couldn't keep letting her get away with it.

  He wasn't at all certain what "it" was, but Maryellen Peyton had plenty of it.

  "You're damned right I'm going to tell you," he said forcefully.

  "Your language, sir," she admonished with a sweet smile.

  "Bitch, bastard, hell, and damn!" he shouted in frustration at his inability to get through to her. "They're words, Evie, not weapons. They won't kill anyone. Now shut up and let me finish."

  She regarded him with those sloe eyes, and Tyler felt himself going under. Shoving away from the wall, he paced the room, carefully keeping his gaze away.

  "Men outnumber women three to one in Texas, and they're not the type to politely carry you off when they take a fancy to your pretty ass." He heard her gasp but ignored it. "They're tough, undisciplined men, and they carry guns. They'll respect a lady, but damn it, Evie, they're men. You go flaunting that swinging rear end of yours and winking those big dark eyes, and they'll do what men naturally do. And you're not going to like it one bit."

  He swung around to see how she was taking this. She looked pale enough to faint. Pushing her down in the chair, Tyler poured a glass of his bourbon, mixed it with some water, and shoved it in her hand. "Drink it slow."

  Evie sipped and grimaced, then handed it back. "Poisoning me won't help."

  Tyler threw back the contents and immediately felt better. "Knocking you out until we get there would make me feel better," he replied as he set aside the glass.

  "I didn't do anything. I was just standing there. Why are you blaming me?"

  "Damn it, Evie, you know perfectly well what you do to men when you pout those little lips of yours. I've watched you do it on purpose. Your flirting will get you in even bigger trouble one of these days. You have to promise me you'll stop it, or I refuse to take responsibility for you any longer."

  She pouted. Her little chin trembled. Lashes fluttered over her big blue-black eyes and he could swear he saw a tear trickle down her cheek. But Tyler knew damned well she hid laughter behind those lashes.

  With a swift jerk, he pulled her out of the chair and threw her down on the bed. Obviously the devil had created this hell just to make him burn right here on earth. He fell on top of her and began to scatter kisses across her cheeks.

  "I'm going to do this every time you play that game," he warned.

  Evie struggled against Tyler's greater weight. Since she had never been in close contact with a man, she had never thought of them in terms of their greater weight or strength before. She didn't like the feeling of vulnerability created by his heavy weight pinning her from the waist down. She was used to men dancing to her tune, but force was beyond her circle of knowledge. She didn't like the feeling one bit, but she couldn't keep her gaze from straying to the firm lips hovering tantalizingly above hers.

  "You're going to crush my dress!" she responded, ignoring the instinct demanding she throw her arms around him and pull his head down and kiss him until both their heads were spinning. Tyler worked on a woman's instincts like that. She wouldn't let herself be one of the many women who fell into his wicked trap. Tyler Monteigne definitely wasn't Ivanhoe, or even a Pecos Martin. She'd have to keep remembering that.

  "I'm going to crush a damned sight more than your dress if I don't have your promise, Evie. I'll put you in sackcloth from head to toe. I want your word, Evie. I want you to swear on whatever in hell it is that you respect the most. No more flirting."

  Tyler lowered his head and bestowed one of his kisses dangerously near her mouth, and one of his hands developed a tendency to wander. Evie caught her breath as his thumb stroked lightly at the side of her breast. This was why ladies weren't supposed to be alone with men. What was keeping Daniel?

  She had forgotten what she was supposed to say as Tyler's mouth moved inexorably closer to her own. She wanted to feel his lips again. She wanted to taste his tongue, feel it probing for hers. The place where his hips were pressed against hers was beginning to burn, and she even had the urge to turn so his thumb would do more than just caress the curve of her bodice.

  "Promise, Evie." Tyler's voice was soft and coaxing.

  "I promise," she managed to repeat, just before his mouth closed over hers.

  He was supposed to get up now, Tyler thought mindlessly as his tongue did a slow exploration of forbidden passages. He was supposed to get up and leave the brat lying there feeling like he did every time she teased him and left him hot and bothered. Instead, he feathered kisses acros
s her delectable mouth and felt her breathe a sigh of relief. She wanted this as much as he did, he told himself. There was no reason why he should stop.

  But a pounding on the door warned Tyler there were at least two very prominent reasons why he had to stop. No doubt both of them were standing outside the door right now.

  Reluctantly, Tyler stood and pulled Evie up with him. She wasn't laughing at him now. She was staring at him with bewilderment. Lord, she was as innocent as she looked. If his mother were here, she would smack him silly.

  Running his hand through his hair, Tyler shouted at the door, "What do you want?"

  "The captain wants to apologize to Evie, to Maryellen, that is." Daniel's voice stuttered through the door.

  Tyler grimaced, glanced once more to the stunned girl in the pink confection, and reached for the door.

  If he had any sense at all, he'd get off right here in New Orleans and never look back.

  * * *

  Sunlight glistened through the open draperies, sparkling off the silver lamp base and throwing rainbows through the polished crystals dangling from the shade. The colors danced across a desk covered with scattered papers, but none of the men present noticed.

  "I'm sorry about your ma's death. She was a good woman." Hale, the lawyer behind the desk, ran his hand through hair already going thin, though he was no older than the two brothers facing him.

  Jason Harding, the elder of the brothers, paced the cluttered office as if the confinement of being inside was more than he could tolerate. He was a tall, well-built man with thick dark hair and a dent in his chin that women sighed over. His features weren't so much handsome as they were strong and determined.

  "You don't have to tell us that. If it weren't for her, me and Kyle would no doubt be wilder than Indians by now. It's been a long day, Hale. We appreciate your sentiments, but let's get this over with. I didn't even know ma had a will."

  Kyle, the younger brother, sat slumped in a leather chair, his hands shoved in the pockets of his dark suit. He looked as out of place in a suit as a donkey would, and his fidgeting reflected his discomfort. "Why don't you two handle this? I'm going to go down and see to the horses."

  He started to rise until Jason gave him a steely glare that sent him slouching back into the chair. He muttered a curse and stared out the window, watching a fat cumulus cloud float past on a blue sky. If it hadn't been for the funeral, they'd be starting the roundup by now. It was the perfect day for it.

  "You both need to hear this," Hale said. "You know your father didn't buy the ranch until your real mother died?"

  Jason Harding nodded curtly. "Pa earned every cent he ever made. We've heard the tale before."

  "And your stepmother, Louise, you knew she came from a wealthy family before she married your father?"

  Kyle groaned and rolled his eyes heavenward. Jason merely stopped his pacing and stared out the window.

  At their silence, the lawyer continued nervously, polishing his unrimmed glasses as he glanced over the papers on the desk. "You have to understand that Louise made this will out when her father died leaving her all that money. At the time, your father was already doing very well for himself. The two of you were young men with promising futures and didn't need more than you already had."

  Jason threw him a look of disgust. "She showered us with everything money could buy and taught us how to behave at the same time. Quit making excuses. We loved her just like she was our own ma. Get on with it."

  Hale sighed and picked up the yellowed pages in front of him. "Well, there's something that you don't know, and I don't know how I'm going to tell you this. Louise's father always did business with my father, and he's the one who drew up this will and the trust agreement for Louise. I never looked at it until your father died in that accident and it looked as if your stepmother wouldn't survive. I knew about the payments leaving the estate, but I never looked into the reason. I didn't think I would find anything. My father was a very closemouthed man, he kept everything in his head, and his files went with him. I just honored the agreement. It wasn't until I found this will that I understood."

  Kyle's attention had wandered to the dancing prisms, but Jason was watching the lawyer more intently now. His eyes narrowed as the lawyer hesitated.

  Hale lifted his head, noted the angry twitch of Jason's jaw, and hurriedly returned his attention to the aging papers. "Your mother, your stepmother, that is, left her entire estate to a child by the name of Evangeline Peyton Howell."

  Both Jason and Kyle were staring at him now, and Hale ran his finger between his stiff collar and his neck. Both men were larger than he, and they were notorious for their quick tempers. He counted on the fact that they still didn't grasp the legal implications.

  "Who in hell is Evangeline Peyton Howell?" Jason asked quietly.

  Hale shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that there have been payments going out of a trust set up by your mother in this girl's name for the last seventeen years—since Cyrus, her daddy, died. The payments are sent to a woman in St. Louis for the girl's maintenance. I had always assumed that the woman was some retired servant of her father's." Or his mistress, but Hale didn't say that. Cyrus Howell had been an important man in Mineral Springs. One didn't cast wild aspersions on a man of consequence, even after he was dead.

  Jason watched Hale with a dangerous calm. "All right. So ma's money goes to some female in St. Louis we've never met. Pa never let her use the money on the ranch, so it's not as if we'll miss it. She used it for foofaraws and gimcracks around the house, and we have more of those than we need. We'll not suffer for it. If her money is all that this Evangeline person has for support, I daresay she needs it more than we do."

  Hale took a deep breath and polished his glasses again. "That's mighty open-minded of you. According to the trust agreement, the child inherits the bulk of the trust when she turns twenty-one, which should be roughly six months from now. I wouldn't have concerned you in the matter at all if it weren't for one thing."

  Jason leaned both hands on the desk and waited. Hale glanced down at his paperwork.

  "Your father's will left half his estate to you and Kyle. The other half went to Louise, as his wife. I don't believe he was any more aware of Louise's will than I was. Like I said, when she drew it up, you two had everything. She had no need to leave you anything. She was just recently wed to your father. I don't think it occurred to her that your father would leave half the ranch to her."

  Jason lifted his hands from the desk and clenched them into fists. Even Kyle was listening now, and his glance went worriedly to his older brother for confirmation of what he was thinking. The look on Jason's face sent his stomach into spiraling knots.

  "You're saying that because pa died instantly in that accident, half the ranch went to ma, even though she was dying, too. And now her half of the ranch is going to this mysterious Evangeline Peyton Howell."

  Hale cleared his throat and nodded.

  Kyle whistled in shock, and Jason's face crumpled into a blank wall of disbelief.

  Chapter 6

  Tyler's conviction that he should have stayed in New Orleans hadn't changed by the time the steamboat reached Houston. He'd managed to secure a second stateroom on their new boat to prevent the certain insanity of staying any longer than necessary in Evie's company, but there was an inevitability to their continuing encounters that made Tyler curse the fates.

  Since returning from the federal prison where he had languished the better part of the war, Tyler had made it a point not to get involved with any so-called "good" women. The ties that bind weren't for him. For seventeen years he had been tied up in a cocoon of love that had burst with the onslaught of war. Now he was free and damned certain to stay that way.

  But he had never anticipated a free spirit like Evie Peyton. In a manner of speaking, she was the kind of innocent miss he avoided at all cost. When he had taken up the gambling life, he had left behind the genteel society of his youth. He meant to t
ake no part in the polite world of courtship that kind of innocence entailed. He wanted his women hot and willing and with no strings attached. Evie Peyton, however, seemed to fall into some category between the two.

  In the constant company of her or her brother, he couldn't indulge himself as he would like in the charms of the other women on the boat. And with Evie constantly in sight, her big eyes flashing laughter, her slender waist wagging that enticing tail, Tyler couldn't find the urge to deliberately stake out another woman. He didn't look too closely into his reasoning. He just assumed the momentary aberration would disappear the minute he dumped Evie and her brother in Mineral Springs.

  As Tyler stared now at the garrulous man in bowler hat in the Houston stagecoach office, he had to wonder if he would ever get rid of the troublesome pair.

  "Only one stage a week? What am I supposed to do, put the lady and her trunks on a mule and send them in the general direction of Mineral Springs?"

  The ticket seller shrugged. "There's still two seats available on tomorrow's stage. You could send her ahead with her brother and take the next one yourself the following week."

  If only he could. The temptation was strong. He could just put them on the stage and wave his hat good-bye and walk away. What could happen to them on a stage going to nowhere?

  Contemplating all the things that had happened between here and Natchez, Tyler cursed. Evie would no doubt convince the driver to allow her to ride on top, and they would have red Indians chasing after them to capture a piece of her tempting scalp. He had never disliked being in the company of an attractive woman before, but most attractive women didn't have the propensity for trouble that Evie Peyton did. The combination was deadly. He almost wished she had a hooked nose and a pointed chin.