The Emperor's New Clothes

by Victoria Alexander

  “But Venice was probably my favorite city.”

  The Merchant of Venice. “Venice is lovely.”

  “What did you like best?”

  “Best?” She racked her brain. All that glitters is not gold. Great, that one line she could remember. Was there anything in the damned play about the city itself? Absolutely nothing came to mind. She shrugged in a vague gesture. “It’s so terribly difficult to pinpoint one particular thing. It’s simply an amazing place. What did you like best?”

  “The way the city’s built on water, perhaps,” he said. “It’s a fascinating feat of engineering.”

  “Fascinating,” she echoed.

  “But I think it was the light in Venice that I remember most.”

  “The light?” What in the hell was he talking about?

  He nodded. “The sunlight. It’s different there somehow. It seems almost golden. I believe that’s why it’s so popular with artists.” His gaze pinned hers. “And lovers.”

  “Lovers?” Even to her own ears her voice sounded higher than normal.

  He nodded. “The light casts something of a magical glow on everything. It serves not merely to illuminate, but almost seems to caress each person it touches.”

  The intensity in his voice seemed to caress as well. She swallowed hard. “It does?”

  “Um-hum.” With him on his horse and her on the porch, they were at eye level. It was a dangerous place to be. She couldn’t seem to pull away from the smoldering depths of his gaze. His eyes seemed to draw her inward, and without thinking she stepped closer. “And it’s not just by day. Surely you remember the moonlight in Venice.”

  “The moonlight?” Her voice was breathless. “Oh…my…yes.”

  “The moonlight casts a spell all its own.” His voice was as seductive as his eyes, and again she stepped toward him until she was but a few inches away. At once all she wanted was to lose herself in that voice, drown in those eyes, feel the pressure of his lips on hers.

  “A spell.” She sighed.

  “The moonlight in Venice was made for love.” He leaned forward, and she wondered if he meant to kiss her.

  She’d been kissed before, of course. Grabbed and forced to endure the sloppy smacks of men who believed she could be had with a fine phrase. They’d always paid for it. Usually a slap across the face made her point. Now and then she’d have to brandish the derringer she usually kept conveniently secreted on her person. And occasionally she’d have to resort to a knee planted swiftly in that most vulnerable spot of male pride and lust. But she’d never, ever returned their desire. Never, ever particularly wanted to be kissed.

  Never, ever. Until now.

  “Was it, do you think?” she said softly, drawing closer to him. So close the hot, heady scent of bay rum and man drifted around her. “Made for lovers?”

  “I’m certain of it.” He leaned forward precariously, tipped her chin up with two strong, tan fingers and stared into her eyes. Her breath caught at the blatant desire she saw there and her own shocking yearning. For the first time in her life she wanted what she knew this man was about to offer. He was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. “And Venice is lovely this time of year.”

  “Lovely,” she whispered. Gad, he was going to kiss her. And Lord help her, she was going to kiss him back.

  His lips brushed against hers lightly, and she gasped at the shock of sensation that rushed through her. Maybe it was her sharp intake of breath. Maybe his balance in the saddle was off. Or maybe his horse didn’t like her any more than she liked it.

  Abruptly, the beast emitted one of those revolting animal noises that sounded like a cross between a snort and a snicker. She jumped back and glared at the animal.

  “Hell and damnation,” she snapped.

  “What?” Tye’s eyes widened with surprise.

  “Oh, dear! I mean…um…” What did she mean? “Bloody hell.”

  The creature responded with that nasty noise again. It was definitely a snicker. The beast was snickering at her.

  Tye laughed and slid from his saddle. In two steps he was beside her on the porch, pulling her into his arms. “Now, where were we before Whiskey decided to put her two cents in?”

  She stared at him, and for a brief moment wanted to give in to the still-lingering desire that had been so very tempting. But the satisfied look on his handsome face triggered a swift return of her senses. Where were they? Why, she was about to sacrifice herself to this far too confident, much too fast-talking charmer of a cowboy.

  She pushed against him roughly and stepped away. “You presume too much, Mayor.”

  “Do I?” The smug smile remained firmly in place. Tye crossed his arms and leaned against the porch rail. “You didn’t seem to mind a moment ago.”

  “I was merely being…polite.”

  “Polite?” He scoffed. “If that’s what you call polite, I’d love to see you being downright friendly.”

  “Mr. Matthews!”

  “It seems to me we were simply having a pleasant conversation about Venice…and moonlight.”

  “Yes, well.” She struggled to regain her composure. “We are not in Venice and it’s broad daylight. There’s no moonlight whatsoever.”

  “You’re right about that.” A slow, easy smile spread across his face, and a wicked twinkle danced in his eye. “But next to Venice, Wyoming moonlight is a close second. The moon here is so big you can practically reach out and touch it. I’d expect artists would appreciate it here, and…lovers.”

  “Well,” she said haughtily, adjusting her parasol, “I have no intention of finding out. I am not of an artistic nature.”

  “I said”—his voice was low and seductive—“artists would appreciate it, and—”

  “Don’t say it again!” Annoyance surged through her. “Do your duties as mayor also include seducing female visitors?”

  He shrugged idly. “I don’t know. I’m new at this mayor stuff.” He tossed her a challenging grin. “But I’m certainly willing to find out.”

  “Mr. Matthews!” Gad, this man was infuriating. Her hand itched to slap the self-satisfied expression off his face. Better yet, she could shoot him. What an excellent idea! Now, where did she leave her gun?

  “Countess. Tye.” Big Jack strode out the door and approached the couple. He nodded at his nephew. “Glad to see you could make it today.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Tye said casually.

  “I hope you and the countess here have been getting along without me.” Jack turned to Ophelia. “Has he been filling you in on our little corner of the world?”

  “He’s been filling me in, all right,” she said in a deceptively mild manner. “Mostly on the duties of being mayor. They’re far more involved than I suspected.”

  Tye grinned. “It seems the countess and I share a lot in common.”

  “Not exactly,” she said under her breath.

  “Oh?” Jack raised a bushy brow. “What do you two have in common?”

  “Travel and the like,” Ophelia said, forcing a pleasant smile.

  Tye nodded. “Yep. We were just discussing the relative merits and the attraction of cities like Venice for artists and—”

  “Tourists,” she said quickly.

  Tye nodded. “Tourists.”

  “I knew it.” Jack slapped Tye on the back in a good-natured, if forceful, gesture. “I knew sending you back East and on to Europe was a good idea. See what the rest of the world is like. Give you, what is it your aunt calls it?”

  “Polish?” Ophelia said innocently.

  Tye laughed. “I’ve been polished, all right.” His words were directed at his uncle, but his gaze remained fixed on her. “I just never thought it would do me any good. Until now.”

  “One never knows when experiences in life will come in handy,” she said loftily. “Still, it’s probably best to note that even with the thickest coat of polish, some things can’t be disguised.”

  “Or denied,” he sa
id softly, with a look that would have melted her knees if given half a chance.

  Jack’s considering gaze darted from Ophelia to Tye and back, and he smiled, as if he was all too aware of the undercurrents in the conversation. “Now Tye, your aunt was right on that score. I’d bet she’s right on others as well.”

  Abruptly, Tye’s smug expression took on a shade of warning. “That’s a bet I wouldn’t make, Jack.”

  “You never know,” Jack said thoughtfully. “You just never know.”

  Obviously, there was more than one topic up for grabs here. Ophelia had no idea what it was and couldn’t care less. All she wanted right now was to put a fair amount of distance between herself and Tye Matthews.

  She turned to Jack. “Mr. Matthews? Perhaps we should be on our way.”

  “Of course, darlin’.” Jack offered her his arm, and she took it gratefully. “But I’ve got to tell you. We’re not real big on formality out here. And since I think we’re all going to be great friends, I’d be pleased if you’d call me Jack.”

  “I’d love to,” she said. Relief surged through her. It wasn’t easy responding to “Countess” all the time. Staying in character constantly was proving to be much more difficult than she’d expected. Answering to her own name would eliminate at least one possibility for error. Still, a real countess no doubt wouldn’t offer to drop her title. But even a real countess would be gracious enough to accede to local etiquette or lack of it. At least her version of a countess would. “And you’re absolutely right. We will be friends and you must call me Ophelia.”

  “Ophelia it is, then.” Jack grinned and led her down the steps to the carriage, Tye trailing in their wake.

  “Ophelia,” Tye said reflectively. “It’s an unusual name, isn’t it?”

  “Not at all.” She turned toward him. “It’s from Shakespeare. My father was a Shakespearean act—scholar. He studied the Bard most of his life. He named me Ophelia.”

  “Hamlet?” Tye said.

  “That’s right.” Surprise colored her voice. Lord, was there anything this man didn’t know?

  Tye smiled with satisfaction. “It seems I just keep amazing you.”

  “Amazing is the word, all right,” she muttered.

  Again Jack looked at the couple with a speculative eye. What was the man thinking? He helped her into the carriage and strode around the vehicle to the other side. Tye was there before him.

  “You go ahead and ride, Jack,” Tye said, leaping into the surrey and taking up the reins. “I know how much you hate this rig.”

  Jack tossed him a relieved grin. “Thanks, Tye.” He nodded toward Ophelia. “Lorelie talked me into buying this fancy little toy. It’s pretty, all right, but it’s damn near worthless for anything beyond a social call.” He shook his head with the tolerant exasperation of a man long married who still cherishes his wife. “She thought it was high time we brought some of the trappings of city life out here. Make life a little more civilized.”

  “I see,” she said thoughtfully. There it was again. The desire for civilization. “It is quite a respectable, sophisticated vehicle.”

  “What it is is a waste of money,” Jack snorted. “But if it’s what Lorelie wants…” He shrugged as if further explanation wasn’t necessary.

  “Are you ready…Ophelia?”

  Startled, she turned to find Tye’s smiling face a bare few inches away. She’d been so busy concentrating on Jack’s comments she’d barely noticed Tye settling in beside her.

  “Ophelia?” He said her name as if it were an intimate suggestion or a wicked promise. His hip was snugly fitted to hers, his leg touching her own. Heat seemed to generate between them, penetrating her clothes and bringing on the insane desire to run or press closer.

  She straightened her spine and glared. “Would it be possible for you to move over?”

  Tye pulled his brows together and shook his head in a mock display of remorse. “Nope. Can’t do it. This carriage is just too tiny. There’s nowhere to go.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m certain we can think of somewhere you could go.”

  Laughter glittered in his chocolate eyes. “Where?”

  She pulled a deep, steadying breath. He was impossible. The desire to shoot him grew stronger. He had no idea how lucky he was she wasn’t armed.

  “If you two are ready, we’ll head off,” Jack said. He sat on an enormous, almost golden-colored horse that had a white mane and tail. It would have been an extremely pretty animal if it hadn’t been a horse. The beast would have made an absolutely charming dog, or even better, a rug. “I thought we’d head south a ways, to the back range.”

  Tye snapped the reins, and the black creature pulling their carriage started off with an easy gait. Jack rode beside them, with a steady stream of commentary about the country and the cattle and Lord only knows what else. Every now and then she’d nod or smile or emit an occasional “You don’t say” or “How interesting” or “I never would have suspected,” but for the most part her mind wandered, returning again and again to the annoying presence of the man beside her.

  She shifted uncomfortably on the seat in a futile effort to put a modicum of distance between them. Tye glanced at her, grinned and settled even closer than before, as if that was remotely possible. She squeezed her parasol and gritted her teeth. Had there ever been a more irritating man in the history of the world?

  She stared at his strong, handsome profile. No. She was wrong. He wasn’t attractive at all. Why, his nose was too aristocratic, his jaw too firmly chiseled, his eyes too darkly mysterious and those dimples—well, she shrugged to herself and turned away. Add to that the man’s impressive height, the hard, powerful body she’d noted when he took her in his arms and the revolting way he seemed to put out heat like a furnace, and what did you come up with? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Why, she’d known dozens of actors, maybe even hundreds, who were far more handsome than he.

  No, he wasn’t at all attractive and she was not at all attracted. She nodded firmly. “All’s well that ends well.”

  “What?” Tye cocked a questioning brow. “Did you say something?”

  Had she said something? She cast him an innocent smile. “No, nothing at all.”

  “Funny, I thought I heard—”

  “Mr. Matthews.” She gazed at him innocently. “I believe your uncle is trying to explain a pertinent detail.” She pointed at Jack, who rambled on without apparent notice that his audience was paying no notice whatsoever.

  “Tye,” Tye said, his voice heavy with some unstated meaning. “You’re supposed to call me Tye.”

  “Yes, of course. At any rate, Tye”—she fairly spat the word—“I think we should be listening to Jack.”

  “Why?” Insolence colored his tone. “You haven’t paid any attention up to now.”

  “I most certainly have,” she said with indignation. She glanced at Jack, who continued his stream of commentary without pause.

  “Nope.” Tye shook his head. “You certainly have not.”

  Sarcasm dripped from her words. “And exactly what have I been doing?”

  “You’ve been thinking about our kiss,” he said softly.

  “What kiss?” she hissed in a quiet tone. “We didn’t kiss.”

  “I know. And that’s exactly what you’ve been thinking about.” His smug smile was back. What she wouldn’t give right now for her gun. No. Shooting was too good for him. She’d rather torture him. Yes, that was it. Stake him out in the burning sun and force him to listen to Shakespearean tragedies performed by incredibly bad actors over and over again until even death began to look good and his—

  “So what do you think, Ophelia?” Jack waved at the vista confronting them, and her mind jerked back to reality.

  They were on a slight rise. The land stretched before them endlessly, dotted here and there with herds of cattle that looked like children’s playthings in the distance. Far off, mountains reached heavenward under skies so blue it took her breath away.


  “It is beautiful, Jack,” she said with a quiet reverence that seemed to fit their surroundings.

  Jack nodded with satisfaction and tipped his hat back on his head. “This is why I don’t understand all the talk in town, and from Lorelie, about respectability and civilization. This”—he gestured at the panoramic view—“to me is civilization. I own every acre, every foot of it. Once, it was nobody’s. Now, men like me put it to good use. Raising cattle, feeding the rest of the country. It doesn’t have all the trappings of the city, but it’s civilization nonetheless.”

  Tye’s eyes narrowed, and he gazed at the scene before them. “You’re right, Jack. Land, and the use of it, really is what sets us apart from other creatures on this earth.”

  Jack chuckled. “I bet you’ve never seen anything quite like this,” he said to Ophelia.

  “No.” She sighed with the beauty of the scene. “Never.”

  “It’s true everywhere, I’d imagine. The taming of the land is man’s way of civilizing the earth. What could be more civilized, and respectable even, than using the land the way God intended it.” Jack glanced at her. “Of course, we’re fairly new at it here. In your country, the land’s been tamed for a long time.”

  “Oh my, yes.” What did she know about land in England?

  “Sedge says for centuries the worth of a man and his title depended on his ownership of land,” Tye said.

  “Indeed.” She nodded. “Alford used to say that all the time.”

  “Alford?” Tye raised a curious brow.

  “My husband,” she said with a touch of hauteur. Confusion washed across his face and she hurried to continue. “Alford firmly felt it was the estate that kept him and his title from becoming a mere shadow of what the nobility once was.”

  “It’s that title business that makes the difference between your county and mine” Jack said. “Why, I’ve got enough property here for my own country.” He released a long-suffering sigh of disbelief. “But my darlin’ Lorelie still doesn’t think it’s good enough. Why, if titles came along with land here in Wyoming the way they do in England, she’d be as happy as a cow in clover.”