by Janet Dailey
Sebastian paused, sending him a curious look. “I beg your pardon.”
“We’re going to have company tonight,” Trey told him. “Crockett’s flying in. I have the feeling a little blackbird called Tara might have told him you were here.”
“In that case, it might be better for all concerned if I leave.”
“It might.” Trey stepped into the room and leaned his tall shape against the doorframe, loosely folding his arms in front of him. “Personally, though, I’m hoping he’ll screw up. That isn’t likely to happen if you’re gone.”
“Are you hoping we’ll get into a physical fight over your sister’s hand?” Sebastian mocked lightly.
“Knowing Laura, she’d like that. No, it’ll be enough if you just get under his skin.” Trey pushed away from the door and walked to the bed. “If he’s the bastard I think he is, he’ll take care of the rest himself. It’s for sure you won’t be needing this.” He closed the suitcase, checked to make sure it was securely latched, and carried it to the closet. After a scan of the clothes hanging up, he turned. “If you’re going with me, you’d better put on those jeans you wore yesterday. If you wear any of those,” he jerked a thumb in the direction of the closet, “you’re likely to scare the cattle.”
“You are making the assumption that I’m staying,” Sebastian observed dryly.
Trey paused with one hand on the doorknob. There was something about the calm steadiness of his gaze that reminded Sebastian of the elder Calder. “Aren’t you?”
The lazy challenge made Sebastian smile. “It would seem so.” He pushed the drawer shut and walked over to retrieve the Levis.
“We’ll pull out as soon as you come down,” Trey informed him. “I’ve got a thermos of coffee in the truck, and I’ll have Allie throw a breakfast sandwich together for you.”
Sebastian spared a glance at the dawn blush outside his window. “Tell me, is it tradition that a cowboy must be in the saddle before the sun is up.”
“You could call it that, I suppose,” Trey again. “But for something to become a tradition out here, there’s always a good reason for it. In this case, when you’re moving a herd of cows from one pasture to another, it’s easier to make the gather early, before the calves nurse and cows scatter to graze. This way you have a better chance of arriving with your herd intact. See you downstairs.” With that he exited the room, leaving Sebastian to dress.
Laura didn’t get out of bed until nearly eleven o’clock. It was closer to eleven-thirty when she came downstairs. After a cup of coffee and a slice of toast, she placed a call to Boone, only to be informed by the Mexican housekeeper that neither Senor Max nor Senor Boone was in.
With Sebastian off somewhere with Trey, Laura opted to visit her Aunt Cat Echohawk rather than while away the afternoon at The Homestead by herself. Between catching up on the latest news about Quint and discussing possible wedding plans, it was four o’clock before she set off to make the hour-long drive back to the Triple C.
When she pulled into the ranch yard, Laura spotted Sebastian and Trey walking up the incline to The Homestead. She honked the horn as she drove by them, then parked near the base of the veranda steps and climbed out to wait for them. A smile curved her mouth when she noticed both the telltale red of a sunburn and the stiff way Sebastian was walking.
“You seem to be moving a little gingerly, Sebastian. Have a few sore muscles, do you?” Laura teased.
“More than a few, I suspect,” he admitted with an airy honesty. “This is the first time I have spent an entire day astride a horse.”
“Poor man. Too bad Grizwold isn’t here to draw you a hot bath so you can soak away some of that soreness.”
“There is much to recommend the comforts of Crawford Hall,” Sebastian declared on an exaggeratedly wistful note.
The front door opened behind Laura, but she was too accustomed to the comings and goings of people at The Homestead to pay any attention to it. “I guess you’ll have to settle for a hot shower,” she told Sebastian. “But you’re going to need some lotion for that sunburn.”
As she turned to climb the steps, her gaze lifted. Surprise brought her to a complete stop when she saw Boone standing at the top, a dark impatience glittering in his eyes and a hint of grimness around his mouth.
Recovering from that initial shock, she glided up the steps and into his arms, all smiles. “Boone, darling. When you did you get here?”
“About an hour ago.” His hands gripped her upper arms, his look softening when he met her upturned gaze. Then it hardened once more when his glance flicked past her to Sebastian.
“Why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming?” The protest was nothing more than a ploy to reclaim his attention. “Not that it matters. I’m just glad you’re here.”
“It’s my fault, Sis,” Trey spoke. “Boone called last night to say he was flying in this afternoon. I took off this morning and forgot to leave the message for you.”
“There was no harm done. Was there?” When Laura looked to Boone for confirmation of her claim, he was staring at Sebastian.
“I didn’t think you’d have the guts to show up here, Dunshill,” Boone said tightly, then allowed a cold smile to twist his mouth. “You’re a little late, though. Laura’s marrying me.”
She laughed softly. “How very macho you sound, Boone. After you see what he brought, you’re going to be glad he came. Come on.” She linked an arm with his. “Let’s go inside so I can show you.”
She ushered Boone into the house, trailed by Sebastian and Trey, the sound of their footsteps accompanied by the jingle of Trey’s spurs. In the living room she stopped and placed a detaining hand on Boone’s broad chest.
“You wait here and I’ll bring it down.” As she crossed to the staircase, Laura threw a glance at her brother. “Give me a hand, will you, Trey?”
“Sure,” he agreed and lengthened his stride to catch up with her.
Sebastian paused in the living room and slipped off the straw Resistol. Reaching up, he combed his fingers through the sides of his hair, flattened by the hatband. All the while he visually tracked Laura’s ascent of the stairs, he was conscious of Boone’s gaze boring into him, but he chose not to acknowledge it. With each passing second the silence in the room thickened.
The instant Laura disappeared from sight, it was broken. “I don’t give a damn what you brought, Dunshill.” Boone’s low voice vibrated with anger. “You’re not wanted here. Unfortunately, Laura is too polite to tell you to hit the road.”
Sebastian smiled without humor and sent him a sideways glance. “But you are bound by no such constraints, are you?”
“Your fancy talking doesn’t impress me. Neither does your title,” Boone retorted. “We both know you’re after one thing—to con Laura out of her money. Haven’t you figured it out yet that Laura is wise to you?”
“Oh yes.” Sebastian nodded. “She’s made that abundantly clear.”
“Then get yourself on the next plane out of here,” Boone growled as footsteps and jangling spurs came from the upper hall.
Sebastian merely smiled. “All in good time, old boy.”
Laura’s reappearance at the top of the steps, accompanied by Trey carrying the framed painting, forced Boone to bite back any sharp retort he might have been inclined to make. She ran lightly down and across the room to Boone, slipping an arm around his waist and fitting herself to his side.
“Look.” With an outstretched hand, she indicated the painting that Trey held up to view. “The portrait of Lady Elaine. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“It certainly is.” A little tightness remained in the smile Boone gave her. It went with the resentment in the glance he sent Sebastian. “That was very generous of you, Dunshill.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Laura agreed and turned a curious look on Sebastian. “Considering how desperate you are for cash, I don’t understand why you didn’t call Max. As interested as he was in acquiring the portrait, you could have sold it to him fo
r considerably more than its worth. Why didn’t you?”
“If I’d wanted him to own it, I would have,” Sebastian replied smoothly. “But I preferred that you have it.”
“I’m glad you did. I absolutely love it,” Laura declared, her attention once again on the portrait that bore such a striking resemblance to her.
“I think we should hang it above the fireplace at the Slash R, don’t you?” Boone’s remark was far from an idle one. It was a pointed reminder of his pending marriage to Laura.
“That might seem a little vain,” Laura suggested. “But we’ll find the perfect place for it.”
“While you two thrash out where the portrait is to be hung, I think I’ll make good use of the shower facilities.” Excusing himself, Sebastian crossed to the stairs.
“That goes for me, too,” Trey said and lifted a hand to Boone. “See you later at dinner.”
Laura covered their departure by giving Boone an embracing squeeze. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Why didn’t you tell me Dunshill was here?” His sharp gaze searched her face.
“When did I have a chance?” she countered in wide-eyed innocence. “I was out when you called me, and you were gone when I called you back.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t show him the door, considering what you know about him.”
“But, darling,” Laura turned into his arms and ran her fingers along the open front of his shirt collar, “I couldn’t be that rude, not when he gave me the painting of Lady Elaine.”
“Just how long has he been here?”
“A couple of days,” Laura answered with a shrug. “Hardly long enough to get over his jet lag. More important,” she said, linking her fingers behind his neck and arching against him, “how long will you be staying?”
“I’m not leaving until he does.” It was a flat, hard statement.
Laura’s smile widened. “In that case, I’ll make sure he stays a long time.”
“Dammit, Laura.” The words came from him in an explosive burst.
She tipped her head back and laughed low in her throat. “Really, darling, you can’t possibly be jealous of him. Not now.” Rising on her tiptoes, she rubbed her moist lips over the tight line of his mouth until his arms circled her and crushed her in a hard, claim-staking embrace.
Laura couldn’t say why she was reluctant to send Sebastian on his way. It would have been an easy thing to do. She suspected it was a natural resistance on her part to having someone else impose his will on her.
She suggested as much to Tara the following day when she and Boone spent the afternoon poolside at Tara’s summer home in Wolf Meadow. When someone from the ranch in Texas called Boone on his cell phone, Tara had used the private moment with Laura to remark, “I imagine Boone was upset when he discovered Sebastian was at the ranch.”
“He definitely wasn’t happy.” Laura rubbed a generous amount of sunscreen lotion on her leg.
“I’m surprised he didn’t insist that you ask Sebastian to leave.”
“He tried,” Laura replied. “But he needs to learn that I won’t be pressured into doing things.”
“Don’t be foolish, Laura,” Tara stated with unexpected sharpness. “The pressure is coming from Max. You can never butt heads with Max Rutledge and win.”
With a little shock, Laura realized that Tara was right, both in her identification of the source and her assessment of the outcome. “I’ll figure out a way to handle him.” Laura didn’t kid herself that it would be easy.
“Laura,” Tara said in warning, but she was prevented from saying more by Boone’s return, his phone call finished.
“Everything all right at the ranch?” Laura recapped the lotion bottle and set it on the pool deck next to her chair.
“No major problems.”
“Good.” Her smile was quick and warm. “I have a suggestion to make. Why don’t we go out to dinner tonight? Just the two of us.”
“That would be a change,” he replied dryly.
“That’s what I thought.”
Tara allowed a little frown to mar her smooth forehead. “But where will you go?”
“Harry’s, of course.”
“Harry’s!” Tara repeated in distaste.
“I know it’s a far cry from the Mansion on Turtle Creek, but they do serve a good steak,” Laura replied and swung her long legs off the lounge chair. “I’m going to cool off in the pool. Join me?” she said, issuing the invitation to Boone.
“I’m right behind you.”
In the purpling twilight of evening, the huge neon sign mounted atop the porch roof glowed a gaudy green, proclaiming in gigantic capital letters that it was the site of Harry’s Hideaway. The hiss and sizzle from the neon tubing dominated the stillness when Sebastian stepped from the ranch pickup. His glance strayed to a second vehicle parked in the lot, its doors emblazoned with the distinctive Triple C brand.
“I suspect Laura will not be very pleased to see us,” he said to Trey when he climbed out of the driver’s side and gave the door a closing push.
Trey shook his head in mild disagreement. “Crockett will be the one with his nose out of joint. Laura will be amused, wondering if fists will fly.” Trey headed for the entrance, mounting the porch steps two at time. “Don’t get suckered into one if you can avoid it. That would be playing into Crockett’s hands.”
“Why do you call him Crockett?” Sebastian wondered.
“It’s a family joke.” Trey opened the door and held it for Sebastian, letting him enter first, then followed him inside. “Welcome to Harry’s.” Amusement gleamed in his brown eyes. “I was told it wouldn’t be anything like one of your English pubs.”
To the left was the dining area, the source of the food smells and the muted clatter of dishes. Most of its tables were empty, but Sebastian’s searching glance easily located Laura and Boone seated at a secluded table, separate from the half dozen other diners. Despite the low lights, Sebastian knew the instant she noticed him. It was almost a tangible thing. Any chance that it was wishful thinking on his part was eliminated when Boone’s dark head swung around to face the door.
Trey raised an acknowledging hand in Laura’s direction and struck out for the bar area on the right. It was dimly lit except for the brightly colored jukebox along the front wall and the hanging lights over the twin pool tables.
“Grab a table,” Trey said as he branched off toward the silent jukebox.
None were occupied, giving Sebastian an ample choice. He picked the nearest one and pulled out a chair. Taking a seat, he glanced briefly at the two men hunched over their drinks at the end of the long bar. Behind him, the jukebox came to life, filling the half-dead bar with a lively country music tune.
Seconds later Trey joined him, swinging a leg over the chair back and lowering himself onto the seat. “That oughta wake up everybody.”
The swinging doors to the kitchen swept open, and a short, heavyset man in an apron bustled over to their table, took their order for two beers, and bustled behind the bar to fill them.
With an effort, Sebastian kept his glance from straying to Laura’s table. “Is it usually this quiet?” he asked to make conversation.
“It livens up a little on Saturday night,” Trey told him. “Back in Gramps’ day, this used to be a roadhouse, complete with poker games in the backroom and a pair of soiled doves upstairs.”
The man hustled back with two frosty mugs of beer, set them down, and scooped up the money Trey shoved onto the table. “I’ll be back in the kitchen for a little bit. If you need anything else, just holler. That’s what everybody else does.”
“Will do.” Trey nodded, took a swig of beer, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, blotting away the traces of foam. He slid a questioning look at Sebastian. “Do you dance?”
Sebastian smiled. “Are you asking? If you are, you should know that I prefer to lead.”
Trey laughed, strong and hearty. “Wouldn’t we look cute?” he declared and shook his he
ad, the laughter still there, under the surface. “Actually, I had something else in mind. There’s a slow song coming up next. I thought you could ask Laura to dance. It’s a passion of hers.”
“I know,” Sebastian said.
The remark drew an assessing look from Trey, but no direct comment. “If Crockett knows anything other than the two-step or the box step, I’ll be surprised. What about you?”
“Laura is fully aware that I can dance, if that was your thought.”
“It was only half of it,” Trey replied. “Me, I know a couple variations on the box step and that’s about it. It really grates to watch some other guy make it look effortless, especially if he’s dancing with my girl.”
The hard-driving song on the jukebox ended in a crescendo of drums and guitars. The noiseless void lasted only seconds before the lilting strains of a waltz came over the speakers.
“That’s your cue,” Trey said and shot a look at his sister’s table, then swore under his breath. “Too late. I think they’re leaving.”
Turning his head, Sebastian saw Laura moving toward them with a model’s grace, the pale gold of her hair catching the shine of the interior lights. There was something almost regal about her carriage that came across as a kind of innate elegance, transcending the simplicity of her dress. He felt a pride in her that could have been stronger only if he were the man walking with her instead of Boone Rutledge.
Instead of veering off toward the front door, the couple continued toward them. “Well, what do you know,” Trey murmured. “I think he asked her to dance.”
Arriving at the small dance floor, Laura made a swinging turn into Boone’s hold, her left hand gliding onto his shoulder. It was Sebastian who watched with envy as Boone held her close, shuffling his feet and making no attempt at waltz steps. And Laura didn’t seem to care.