Warrior's Prize (Panorama of the Old West Book 15)

by Georgina Gentry

  The food was superb, Wannie thought as she ate the steaming vegetables and potatoes. The meat tasted moist and excellent. Jeeves hovered nearby with a basket of delicious breads and refills of the finest imported wines.

  Wannie noted that Keso tasted the wine, then pushed it back. “I’d really like a glass of milk.”

  Everyone at the table blinked. Mr. Brewster signaled the butler and within minutes, Keso had his milk, served in an expensive crystal tumbler.

  “So,” the host said as he watched him, “you were born in the West?”

  Keso nodded.

  “Had a nephew in the cavalry in Nebraska in ’73—my sister’s boy, Lexington B. Radley. He went missing during that Massacre Canyon thing.”

  Wannie’s curiosity was piqued. “What do you mean, went missing? Did he desert?”

  “Of course not!” Mr. Brewster snapped. “That would be very poor form. He simply went missing during the height of the battle—never even found his body.”

  “The West can be a dangerous place,” Keso agreed, “if you aren’t prepared to deal with it.”

  Cleve paused in cutting up his roast beef. “Dreadful place—needs civilizing as soon as possible.”

  Keso frowned but didn’t say anything as he continued eating.

  Wannie breathed a sigh of relief. Keso seemed a little more at ease now that he had the right fork and was engaging both Cleve and Mr. Brewster in a discussion of horses and the hunt to be held in the morning.

  “Do you have the proper coat?” Cleve asked.

  Keso looked baffled. “I need a coat to go hunting? It isn’t cold outside.”

  “There’s a proper outfit,” Wannie hastened to say. “Of course you don’t own one; we don’t ride to the hounds in Colorado.”

  “Dearie me,” Mrs. Brewster said. “What an uncivilized place.”

  Cleve finished eating and signaled the butler to take his plate. “I don’t suppose there’s a coat large enough for Wannie’s brother in the spare things, and there isn’t time to have one made.”

  Keso shrugged. “It’s hot, I’ll ride in my shirtsleeves.”

  Alexa looked aghast. “You can’t do that—what would everyone say?”

  “I reckon they’ll say ‘there’s a fellow who doesn’t own a proper coat.’ ” Keso smiled and returned to his food.

  Wannie was torn by her emotions. She was embarrassed for Keso and upset with herself for being embarrassed. He was so noticeably out of place in this environment and he didn’t have the foggiest idea about the rules and traditions of the hunt. During her years at Miss Priddy’s, Wannie had not only acquired the proper riding habit but had ridden to the hounds several times at friends’ estates.

  She turned to Mrs. Brewster as a rich chocolate dessert was being served. “Will you ride tomorrow, Mrs. Brewster?”

  “Dear me, no.” The lady made a polite gesture of dismissal. “But I’ll see to the hunt breakfast and refreshments.”

  Cleveland Sr. had returned to his talk of bloodlines. “Horses are like people,” he said, as he ate his dessert, “blood will tell. Just as Brewsters are superior, so are my horses.”

  “I would think,” Keso said with a slight edge to his voice, “that raising and environment might have a little to do with it.”

  The older man shook his head. “I disagree—can’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear, so to speak. My family can trace their lineage back hundreds of years. He looked proudly at his son, then at Wannie.

  Wannie blurted, “Mine can, too.”

  “Why, of course they can,” Mrs. Brewster beamed at Wannie. “Imagine—a duchess. I can hardly wait to introduce you to my friends.”

  Why had she lied like that? Keso was staring at her wide-eyed and she was ashamed of herself. Wannie was not sure she could handle this move up into a very blue-blooded social set, but she was determined to try. She didn’t want to humiliate her fiancée.

  Once the dishes had been cleared, Jeeves put delicate fingerbowls before each person. Wannie dipped her fingertips daintily in her bowl and started to wipe them on her napkin. She heard a smothered giggle from Alexa, and looked up in time to see Keso drinking from his. As Wannie watched in horror, he drained it, put it down, and wiped his mouth.

  “Thanks,” he said to the butler. “I was getting thirsty.”

  She wished she could just die right there as. Jeeves gasped and the others blinked in shock. Keso looked around, then seemed to realize he’d made another social error. His dark face flushed. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong. At home, we wash up out on the back porch.”

  He was her brother and she loved him. Wannie gave him her warmest smile, even though she was humiliated before these society folk. “It’s all right,” she said. “You didn’t know.”

  Cleve merely looked pained and embarrassed, but Alexa smiled. “Keso, you have turned our usually dull supper into an entertaining delight.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled and got up from the table. “Mrs. Brewster, I’m sorry.”

  No one knew quite what to say.

  Mrs. Brewster looked flustered and turned toward the butler. “Jeeves, I think we’ll retire to the drawing room for coffee.”

  Wannie loved Keso and she suffered for him. She only prayed that he could get through the evening without any more social mishaps.

  Keso took one look at the dainty china cups and declined coffee. Wannie guessed the reason was that he was afraid of dropping a cup.

  Finally, the older couple retired to their rooms while the younger four went out on the veranda in the summer night.

  “What a wonderful evening,” Wannie said as Cleve took her hand. “With the slight breeze, I can smell roses.”

  “The garden’s just a few steps away,” Cleve said. “Would you like to walk in it?”

  “All right.”

  They left Keso and Alexa standing looking out across the vast expanses of the estate’s rolling lands and walked through the roses.

  “I’m really looking forward to tomorrow’s hunt,” Wannie said.

  Cleve laughed softly, the light gleaming on his yellow hair. “I am, too. You’ve made me a very happy man, dear. To be honest with you, I’ve been a bit of a wastrel, drinking and gambling. Father has been about ready to cut off my inheritance if I didn’t mend my ways.”

  She didn’t quite know what he expected her to say. “I’m not concerned about money, Cleve, dear.”

  “Well, I am. I’m used to living well, but I do weary of having to answer to my father constantly like an errant school boy.”

  “But if you’re planning to change your ways—”

  “It’s not just that,” he admitted, “it’s not being my own man, don’t you see?”

  She nodded, touched and flattered that he was sharing his thoughts with her.

  “Perhaps I might even consider going West; everyone says there’s a fortune to be made there these days.”

  She brightened at the thought. “You mean, we might have a second home someplace like Denver?”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “Do you think there are investment opportunities in Colorado?”

  “Oh, I’m sure of it! Cherokee would certainly give you advice and introduce you to some people.”

  He brushed a curl away from her face with gentle fingers. “Tell me about the Evans’ mines.”

  She thought it an odd question. “Cherokee says they could produce enough gold to make us all very rich, but that would only add to the pollution and confusion in the area, and the Indians wouldn’t like it.”

  “Indians?” Cleve sneered. “Why would anyone care about what they think?”

  “My family always has,” Wannie said with quiet dignity.

  “I’m sorry, my dear, I didn’t mean to offend you.” He bent his head and kissed her. This time, she didn’t expect skyrockets. Mrs. Brewster was right; she should be more realistic.

  “We really should be getting back,” she murmured against his lips and pulled away from him.

 
; On the veranda, Keso shifted his feet and looked toward the rose garden. “They haven’t returned.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. My brother is probably kissing her—that’s why he took her off down there.”

  “Of course.” Keso had to force himself to stand and look about casually when everything in him demanded that he stride out to that garden, pull Wannie from the young blade’s embrace, swing her up in his own arms, and carry her back to the veranda. Don’t be a fool, he reminded himself. She’s engaged to be married to the man. Yet even as the ring seemed to burn a hole in his pocket, he flinched at images of Wannie in another man’s arms when he wanted her so badly.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Alexa cooed.

  “What? oh, I’m sorry, I had allowed my mind to wander.” He turned toward her, thinking she was a beauty, but light hair and blue eyes would never speak to his heart as dark eyes and hair did.

  “My! I must not be very charming tonight then,” she said and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

  “Miss Alexa, you are very charming.” He felt awkward, not knowing for sure what was expected of him. “I—I was thinking I made a fool of myself tonight; the Evanses don’t serve formal dinners like that.”

  “You know what I like about you, Keso?” She put her hand on his arm. “You’re honest and straightforward. I could teach you all that, if you really want to learn.”

  “Could you?” He looked down at her, thinking how different she was from his beloved Wannie. “I know I’m embarrassing Wannie, and I don’t want to do that.”

  “So thoughtful.” She ran her hand up and down his arm. “I know you think I’m bold; I’ve even toyed with the idea of being a suffragette.”

  “How—how nice.” He didn’t know what that was.

  Abruptly, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He was caught completely off guard and for a long moment, he stood stiffly Miss Alexa must have had plenty of practice, he thought, because she molded her supple body into his so he could feel the soft curve of her breasts and thighs, and the tip of her tongue pushed between his lips in a lustful kiss. Without even thinking, his arms went around her. He pulled her into his embrace, his eyes closed, pretending she was Wannie, yet angry with Wannie for being so blind to his devotion, and unable to control his own need.

  But it wasn’t the same. He loved Wannie. Reluctantly, he reached up to pull Alexa’s arms from around his neck even as he heard a step on the gravel path and turned. Wannie and Cleve stood there and in the moonlight, Wannie looked thunderstruck.

  Alexa recovered first. “Oh, hello, you two. Well, I’ll see all of you at the hunt early tomorrow.” She whirled and hurried inside.

  Keso looked at Wannie. He couldn’t be quite sure what she was thinking, but he knew no man was supposed to be so familiar with a well-bred girl on such short acquaintance. “Good night, Wannie.”

  Keso went inside, striding to his room, but once there, he lay on the coverlet, fully dressed, and did not sleep. Was Wannie still out there in the moonlight with Cleve? He gritted his teeth and told himself she had chosen her husband and Keso had better mind his own business. Cleve was probably a fine fellow if Wannie loved him, yet Keso was struggling even to like the man.

  Wannie stared after the pair who had just gone into the house. She felt a sense of shock at seeing Keso kissing the spoiled beauty. Don’t be silly, she scolded herself, you should be happy for them both.

  “Hmm,” Cleve said, “it appears we have another romance going on here—Alexa’s a terrible flirt.”

  “She’s not Keso’s type at all,” Wannie finally managed.

  “I’d say the way he was holding her, she’s got something he wants badly.” Cleve chuckled.

  Wannie had a sudden vision of Keso making love to the bold blonde, the two of them naked together in a way she had never been able to picture herself with Cleve. The thought upset her. “I—I’m getting a headache, Cleve. I’m going to bed.”

  “All right, my love.” He walked her to the foot of the stairs only a few feet from the French doors that led out onto the veranda and the nearby garden. He kissed her and caught her hand as she started up the stairs. “I’ll think of you all night,” he whispered.

  She nodded, her mind still full of the images of Alexa in Keso’s arms. “See you in the morning.” She pulled away and hurried up the stairs.

  Cleve watched her go with a sigh, then turned and sauntered down the dark hallway toward his room. Maureen stepped out of the shadows. “You!” she hissed, “I heard from the other servants about the toast at tonight’s dinner party! You led me on, all the time getting yourself engaged to some prissy friend of your snotty cousin’s.”

  “Shh!” He put his finger to his lips in warning. “Be quiet—someone will hear you. Keso’s room is close by.”

  “And what if they do hear?” she raged. “I can fix you good with your fiancée.”

  Damn all jealous women to hell. “Now, Maureen, dearest,” he wheedled in a soft voice, “if you do that, you’ll cause me a lot of trouble. And my mother will promptly fire you—you know how she is about preserving the Brewster family image.”

  “And I’m supposed to continue in the role of the dutiful slut?”

  He knew what women liked to hear—he’d had plenty of practice. “I forget how beautiful you are until you get angry.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her. At first, her mouth was a grim, hard line, but he ran his tongue along her lips, kissing and holding her close, and she melted against him.

  Keso had been lying on his bed, and when he thought he heard Wannie go upstairs, he breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. Cleve’s footsteps came down the hall and then stopped.

  Keso tensed. Be had lived in the wilderness a long time—he had keen hearing that picked up a slight murmur of angry voices. Had Wannie come back downstairs and she and Cleve were having an argument? Quiet as any Indian tracker, he stepped to his door and opened it a crack. Enough light shone through the shadowy hallway to see Cleve exchanging hot words with a woman. Why, wasn’t that the pretty red-haired maid from this afternoon? And at that precise moment, Cleve took the girl in his arms, kissing her, running his hands all over her.

  Keso blinked, not believing what he was seeing. Cleve was engaged to Wannie and any man lucky enough to be her future husband shouldn’t even be tempted by another woman. Now the girl pulled away from Cleve.

  “You bastard,” she snarled, “I thought you were going to marry me!”

  “Shh, Maureen! Keep your voice down,” Cleve pleaded. “Neither of us needs a scandal; my old man is finally loosening up the purse strings a little now that he thinks I’ve straightened up.”

  “But what about us?”

  “Be practical, baby.” He tried to take her in his arms again, but she pushed him away. “You know my background; do you think my parents would let me marry a servant, no matter how much I cared about her? And I do, Maureen, believe me, I do!”

  Keso gripped the doorknob to keep from striding out in the hall and slamming his fist in Cleve’s face. What a rotten cheat and liar!

  The Irish servant made a noise that sounded like she might be mollified. “I—I suppose I can see that. So what am I supposed to do now?”

  Cleve put his arms around her again, kissing her and running his hands over her ripe body. “Prominent men have always kept mistresses—”

  “You expect me to settle for that?”

  “It’s just the way things have to be, baby. My father has a thing about blood lines. He’d cut me off without a cent and I’d have to go to work.”

  She pulled out of his arms. “Suppose I tell your fiancée?”

  Cleve laughed. “She won’t believe you. Wannie’s terribly naive; she trusts me completely. Now, just hold your temper, Maureen, and do things my way. A mistress is a very comfortable position—you’ll have plenty of fine dresses and your own maid. Think about it.”

  There was more talk, the clever maid badgering and arguing, but Ke
so couldn’t hear most of it. It didn’t take long before she seemed grudgingly mollified.

  Cleve said, “Now you understand how it must be, baby We’ll talk more later.”

  They parted and Keso quickly closed his door as Cleve passed, then leaned against it, his big fists clenched. He had a terrible urge to follow Cleve to his room and beat the stuffing out of him. No, he thought as he shook his head, struggling to control his temper. If he did that, the noise would bring everyone running.

  Should he tell Wannie what he had seen? It would hurt her terribly. Would she even believe him? It was going to be a long night, Keso thought with a sigh as he forced himself to return to his bed where he lay sleepless, torn by indecision. Tomorrow morning was the big fox hunt. Tomorrow, maybe he would know what to do.

  FIVE

  It was not yet dawn when the baying of hounds awakened Wannie. She hurried from her bed to look out the window in breathless anticipation. The rolling acres of the estate were already alive with horses and red-coated riders, while dozens of hounds scurried about, sniffing the grass and barking in excitement.

  Wannie had purchased a proper outfit, but she was afraid that her beloved Keso would make a fool of himself today. Was it because she was worried about Keso or concerned she’d be humiliated? What kind of a person had she become?

  She heard a rap at the door. “Miss Evans? It’s Maureen.”

  “Oh, yes, come in please.” She’d forgotten that wealthy women had maids to help them dress.

  The pretty girl came into her room, a bit tight-lipped and grim, Wannie thought. “ ’Tis a nice day for the hunt, miss.”

  “Yes, isn’t it?” Wannie watched the redhead lay out things for her. Maureen seemed hostile and tense, and Wannie could only wonder why. Perhaps Mrs. Brewster had scolded her—the Brewsters didn’t seem too popular with their own servants.

  The maid took the pins from Wannie’s hair and began to brush it. “Are ye really related to a duchess?”