Texas Brides: The Rancher and the Runaway Bride & The Bluest Eyes in Texas

by Joan Johnston

  “I’ll keep the girl as insurance,” Burr said. “You’ll get her when you show up with the money.”

  “You’re a dead man, Burr,” Hector said.

  “If you don’t get the girl back, you can’t negotiate with the governor for the Turk’s life,” Burr reminded him.

  Burr hung up the phone on Hector’s threat to kill him slowly when he caught up to him. After a stop to buy supplies, he was careful not to be seen leaving town and watched to make sure he wasn’t being followed when he turned onto the dirt road that led to the cabin.

  It was time he had a talk with the governor’s daughter. He went directly to the bedroom where he had left her.

  She was gone.

  Chapter 3

  IF SHE HAD POSSESSED a decent pair of shoes, Lindsey thought, she could have made it to the main road. But the men’s cowboy boots she had found in the closet of the cabin weren’t doing the job, even with two extra pairs of socks.

  She hid behind a tree when she saw the Jaguar returning along the dusty road. Burr would know in a moment or two that she was gone, and he would come looking for her. There was no sense running. Not in these damned boots. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to give up, either. Being in Burr’s custody hadn’t exactly been a picnic so far.

  She rubbed her shoulder where she had bruised herself falling out of the high, four-poster bed, and ran a gentle finger over the cuts at her wrists where she had used a knife from the kitchen to free herself. It had been stupid to try to escape. In all probability, her father had demanded her return, and Burr had come back to set her free.

  She hadn’t decided yet whether she was going to complain about what Burr had done to her. He was responsible for more than a few of the bruises she now bore. She moved her jaw cautiously. It was swollen and sore, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t hit her as hard as he could have.

  “Have a nice walk?”

  Lindsey stiffened at the sarcasm in Burr’s voice. She turned slowly to face him, gritting her teeth when she saw the amusement in his eyes at the outfit she was wearing.

  “You look like a little girl dressed up in her father’s clothes.”

  Lindsey looked down at the oversize orange University of Texas sweatshirt, men’s jeans, and boots she was wearing. The jeans were held up with some of the rope that had been used to tie her hands. “This was all I could find.”

  “If you’d just been a little patient, I would have solved the problem for you. I bought some things for you in town.”

  “I won’t need them, because you’re going to be taking me home,” Lindsey said in a firm voice.

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

  “My father—”

  “I spoke to the governor personally. He agreed you’d be safer with me until Hector’s been picked up.”

  Lindsey felt her chin begin to tremble. “How long is that going to take?”

  “Until tomorrow, if we’re lucky.”

  “And if we’re not?”

  “We’ll worry about that when the time comes.” Burr reached out a hand and traced the bruise on her jaw. “I’m sorry about that.”

  Lindsey jerked her head away. “You’ve got a lot more than that to be sorry for!”

  His eyes grew cold. “I was doing my job the best way I knew how. If you had paid attention to the warnings you were given—”

  “I had no warning about anything like this!”

  “You were told Hector was making plans.”

  Lindsey bit her lip. “I didn’t think—”

  “Your kind never does,” Burr interrupted.

  Lindsey’s face flamed with anger “This isn’t my fault!”

  “It sure as hell isn’t mine!” Burr retorted. “I spent eighteen long, lousy months undercover with the Texas Mafia, trying to get enough information to prove Hector Martinez ordered the death of a friend of mine. Thanks to you, prosecuting Hector for that crime isn’t going to happen now.”

  There was a pause while Lindsey absorbed what he had said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t cut it, Blue Eyes.”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  “I have it on good authority—the news media—that you’re the lady with the bluest eyes in Texas.”

  “My eyes have nothing whatsoever to do with who I am.”

  “What you are is arrogant and uncooperative.”

  “How dare you—”

  “You ready to walk back now?”

  Lindsey stuck her chin in the air and began walking back toward the cabin. Her stride was hampered by a broken blister on her left heel.

  “Something wrong with your leg?”

  Lindsey heard the concern in Burr’s voice, but answered haughtily, “Nothing that concerns you.”

  She continued her determined limp toward the cabin.

  Lindsey gave a cry of surprise as Burr swung her up into his arms, shifting her until he was holding her close, with her breasts crushed against his chest. Her arms involuntarily circled his neck. She sought out his face and was surprised to find his eyes hooded, his nostrils flared. She was unnerved by the male energy vibrating from the man whose arms had closed securely around her shoulders and under her knees. Her eyes came to rest on his mouth, which was partly open, the lips full, the mouth wide.

  “What do you think…” Her voice was raspy, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “What do you think you’re doing, Mr.—? What is your last name, anyway?”

  “Covington,” Burr replied. “I thought I’d give you a lift back to the cabin.” He had already started walking, in fact. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead.

  “Did it ever occur to you that I would rather walk than be put in the position of accepting your help?”

  “There are a lot of things that occur to me when I think about you.” Like how good you feel in my arms. Like how those blue eyes of yours would look if I was inside you making sweet, sweet love to you.

  Lindsey didn’t bother asking Burr to explain himself. She didn’t want to exacerbate the situation. She held on to his neck because that eased the weight he had to carry in his arms, not because the silky hair at his nape felt good. She snuggled closer so he wouldn’t drop her, not because she liked the feel of hard muscle pressing against her breasts. And she laid her face against his throat so she wouldn’t have to look at him, not because she wanted to smell the essence of him on his skin and clothes.

  When they arrived at the cabin, Burr set her down on the porch and offered her an olive branch. “Look, if we’re going to be stuck together for the next twenty-four hours, we may as well call a truce.”

  “I wasn’t aware there was a war going on.”

  Burr snickered. “Fine, Blue Eyes. I don’t mind the sniping if you don’t.”

  “Wait!” Lindsey laid a hand on Burr’s arm. She recoiled when she realized she had touched the snake tattoo.

  His lips curled in a cynical smile. “Not the kind of thing you’re used to, is it?”

  Lindsey’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand why you’re so determined to insult me. And I should mention, it isn’t doing your career any good.”

  “Is that a threat, Blue Eyes?” Burr said in a low voice.

  “That would be rather foolish under the circumstances,” Lindsey conceded. “I am, after all, at your mercy for the next twenty-four hours. It would seem discretion is the better part of valor. Truce?” She held out her hand for Burr to shake.

  Burr’s hand enveloped hers, and she realized for the first time how big he was, and how strong, and that his palm and fingertips were callused as though he worked with his hands. Perhaps he did in his spare time. She knew little or nothing about him.

  “You can change in the bedroom while I cook us something to eat.”

  Lindsey disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door behind her. She was surprised at how well the jeans fit, not to mention the tennis shoes. However, she decided she would rather walk barefoot until she could find a Band-Aid for the b
lister on her heel. She pulled on a T-shirt that pictured a dead armadillo on the front with the words Road Kill blazoned across it and headed back to the kitchen.

  Burr was dismayed at how the jeans fit her. They outlined her legs and fanny too well. And the T-shirt was downright dangerous. She had obviously abandoned the merry widow, and he could see the soft curve of her breasts beneath the cotton. He frowned when he realized she was barefoot. The sight of her toes curling on the hardwood floor made her look as vulnerable as a child. Only she was a full-grown, red-blooded woman. And his body responded to her like a full-grown, red-blooded man.

  “The shoes didn’t fit?” He was amazed at how rough his voice sounded. He turned back to the stove to hide the bulge that was making his jeans uncomfortably snug.

  “I was wondering if you have a Band-Aid.”

  At his look of confusion, she set her bare foot up on the counter beside him and showed him the blister on her heel.

  “See?”

  Whoever would have thought an ankle could be such a source of erotic stimulation? Burr stared at her foot until his eyes glazed, then forced his attention back to the potatoes he was frying on the stove. “Don’t have a Band-Aid. I’ll get one tomorrow when I go into town.”

  “Guess I’ll have to go barefoot until then.” She put her foot back on the floor and wiggled her toes. “It feels kind of nice,” she admitted. “I can’t remember the last time I walked around barefoot. Oh, yes, I do,” she said.

  To Burr’s relief, she wandered to the kitchen table and sat down. He bent over and checked the steaks in the oven broiler to hide his state of arousal.

  “I was six, and my mother and father took me to Padre Island, to the beach. My mother was pregnant with Carl—he’s my younger brother—and I got to race up and down the beach barefoot. I loved it.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Burr said.

  “Yes, it was. Those were some of the last carefree days my family had. Father entered politics that year. I didn’t see as much of him after that. He was always on the road campaigning, first for state representative, then for congressman, and finally for governor.”

  Talk about Lindsey’s father reminded Burr of who she was, and why he had to keep his distance. If he was lucky, he would get out of this situation with no more than a reprimand. If he let his libido get out of hand, there was no telling what the consequences would be. Only, it was damned hard to remember who she was when she was slouched back comfortably in the kitchen chair with her fingers meshed behind her head, raising the tips of her breasts against the T-shirt. Her right ankle was crossed over the opposite knee, in a naturally sexy pose.

  He checked the steaks again. “These are about ready. How do you like yours?”

  “Pink.”

  The word brought to mind all kinds of things Lieutenant Burr Covington would rather not think about. Lips. Blushing cheeks. Nipples. Damn it, Covington, get your mind off the woman! She’s out of bounds. Got it?

  “Do you have any wine?” she asked.

  Burr stared at her in confusion.

  “To go with the steak,” she explained. “I love a dry red wine with steak.”

  Burr snorted. “I’ve got some beer.”

  “Lite?”

  He snorted again, only this time it turned into a rumbly sort of laugh. “Hell, Blue Eyes, how about a diet cola?”

  Her eyes reflected her disappointment, but she said, “I’ll take it.” And then, to explain herself, added, “I never learned to like beer, but the lite beers don’t seem to taste as bad.”

  “You wouldn’t have lasted long in my neighborhood,” Burr muttered.

  “What neighborhood is that?” Lindsey inquired.

  “The wrong side of the tracks in Houston.”

  “Is that where you got the tattoo?”

  Burr held his arm up and looked at it as though the tattoo had suddenly appeared there. “Yeah.”

  “May I look at it?”

  He held his arm toward her. To his chagrin, she got up from the table and came over to him. He held his breath as she traced the shape of the coiled, hooded cobra with her fingertips.

  Then she looked up at him, catching him like a deer in a set of headlights with those blue eyes of hers. “Does the snake mean something special?”

  “It was an initiation rite of the gang I was in as a kid.” He rubbed his skin, which was suddenly covered with goose bumps, brushing her hand away in the process.

  “You were in a street gang in Houston?” Her eyes went wide with astonishment.

  “Yeah.”

  “What? I mean…how…”

  “The steaks are done,” Burr said. “Sit down and I’ll serve up supper.”

  Burr knew she was curious about his past, but she could just stay that way. He had decided talking to her wasn’t such a good idea after all. He managed to think of grisly things all through supper, which kept his mind off the woman across the table from him. Or mostly kept his mind off her. She ate like she was starving, not at all like a dainty debutante. She cleaned her plate with a gusto that made him wonder if she did everything—and his mind was picturing all sorts of indiscreet activities—with that sort of relish.

  “That was delicious,” Lindsey said when she finished.

  She made no offer to wash the dishes, not that Burr had thought she would. He didn’t suppose a governor’s daughter got KP duty too often. He thought about just taking care of them himself, but damn it, he was tired. And he had done the cooking.

  “You’ll find the dish soap under the sink.”

  Lindsey stared at him blankly for a moment, until she realized what he was implying. “Oh.”

  In case she wasn’t perfectly clear on what he meant, Burr said, “I cooked, you clean.”

  “I suppose that’s fair.” She rose and began clearing the table.

  Burr was impressed by her willingness to do her share. Unfortunately, he was unable to sit and be waited on. His mother hadn’t allowed it when he was growing up, and he couldn’t make himself do it now just to spite a woman who couldn’t help the fact she had been raised with a silver spoon in her mouth.

  “I’ll scrape the dishes,” he said. “You wash and I’ll dry.”

  “All right.”

  She was so careful with the dishes, he knew the job wasn’t one she was familiar with. “I don’t expect you have to wash dishes in the mansion too often.”

  “No,” she said with a quick grin. “I hadn’t realized how much fun it is.”

  “Fun?” He felt his body draw up tight as he watched the way she caressed a plate with a cloth hidden by a mound of white soapy bubbles. Then she rubbed the cloth around and around inside a coffee cup. Burr felt his cheeks heat. He had never realized washing dishes could be such a sensuous experience. He threw his towel on the counter and headed for the living room. “We can let the rest dry in the drainer. I’ll light a fire. It’s getting cool outside.”

  He knelt down in front of the stone fireplace and dropped his forehead to his knee. In twenty hours he would be free of her. He just had to hold on until then. He busied himself building a fire and soon had it crackling. When he turned around, he found Lindsey sitting cross-legged on the couch behind him.

  “This is nice,” she said.

  Too nice, Burr thought. The fire lit up her eyes and made her skin glow with warmth. He had liked it better when she was fighting him. At least then he was being constantly reminded why getting personally involved with the governor’s daughter—an ice princess and a spoiled brat, not to mention the girl with “the bluest eyes in Texas”—was a bad idea.

  He sat down where he was and crossed his legs, keeping the distance of the room between them. It wasn’t enough, of course. But it would have to do.

  “What’s it like to live in the spotlight?” he asked.

  “You wouldn’t like it,” she replied.

  He raised a brow. “Why not?”

  “People who don’t know a thing about you are always making judgments about you
.”

  “No, I wouldn’t like that. I suppose you believe you’ve been judged unfairly.”

  “I’m not what the newspapers say I am,” she said.

  “And what is that?”

  “I’m not arrogant, for one thing. Or coldhearted.”

  Burr cocked a disbelieving brow but didn’t say anything.

  “It’s just that I don’t suffer fools gladly.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do,” she said in a voice that dripped ice. “There is another side of me, a private side, that no one ever sees.”

  His lips curled in a mocking smile, which suggested that if she believed what she was saying—about not being arrogant or coldhearted—she didn’t see herself very clearly. “I guess I haven’t met that other woman yet.”

  “Nor will you,” she said in her haughtiest voice. She rose imperiously. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed now.” Then she turned her back on him and stalked to the bedroom, her fanny gloriously displayed in the skintight jeans.

  Burr gritted his teeth. Eighteen hours. She would be gone then, and he would never have to lay eyes on her again. He stayed where he was until he was sure she had the bedroom door closed. Then he rose and settled himself on the couch, using a pillow and the afghan to make himself a bed. He lay staring at the fire for a long time before he finally fell asleep.

  Meanwhile, Lindsey was finding it impossible to relax. She didn’t want to turn off the lamp, but it had a high-wattage bulb that flooded the room with light. When she tried the dark, it was too frightening. Memories of her kidnapping returned, of waking up in the hotel room, and the deaths of the two villains Burr had been forced to kill. She wanted to go home, to return to the somewhat normal life she had led before all this had happened.

  She kept remembering Burr’s accusations about her character. If she had been disdainful of the men she met, it was because they treated her like some stone goddess, not a flesh-and-blood woman. Or they were so puffed up with their own consequence they expected her to fall gratefully at their feet. Or they were more interested in her father’s political power than in her.

  Burr fit none of those neat categories. He wasn’t intimidated by her position, and in his arms she was anything but a woman of stone. Her father’s power had failed to influence him. She found it amazing and utterly frustrating that a man she found so intriguing seemed to be doing his level best to ignore her!