Lady Sundown (#1 of the Danner Quartet)

by Nancy Bush

  Jace suddenly wrapped his arms around her in the protective way she loved so much — and so seldom received. It was Jace’s understanding during this unsettled time that Lexie relied on. She needed him, loved him totally. He was the only person who understood her.

  “What are you going to do about Miss Everly’s School?” he asked.

  “What can I do?” she responded bitterly, turning her cheek into his shoulder. “My mother insists I go and since you won’t marry me, I have no other choice.”

  “It’ll be worth it, Lexie. I promise.” He lifted her chin and kissed her lightly, in the way that always made her ache for more.

  Cautiously, she wound her arms around his neck. She didn’t really understand what made Jace pull back all the time. When she’d caught Tremaine with Mary-Anne she’d gained the impression that they were both eager for each other. Of course that had been a long time ago, and her memory might be playing tricks on her, but shouldn’t Jace be a little more demanding?

  As if hearing her unspoken plea, the tempo of his breathing altered. His dark eyes burned with an unholy light. Lexie caught her breath, her lips parting. “Jace?” she asked uneasily. He suddenly dragged her close, so close in fact that she was wedged against him in an embarrassingly intimate way. “What are you doing?!”

  “Kissing you like you want to be kissed.” Before she could offer up a response, he bent down and covered her mouth with his. It was a kiss like no other he’d given her — a hard kiss, full of burgeoning passion and suppressed desire. Lexie was so stunned she did nothing for a moment, then a deep panic overtook her and she jerked her mouth away, gasping. Automatically, she slapped him hard with her open palm.

  The sound of flesh hitting flesh was a cold dash of sanity. Jace tossed her aside as if she were a ragdoll and, horrified, Lexie covered her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered miserably. “Oh, Jace, I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” He lifted his own hand, his fingertips gingerly examining the damage done to his face. He sounded more resigned than angry, as if she’d been given a test and somehow failed.

  Sensing something important slipping away, Lexie stumbled over her words, hastening to apologize. “You just took me by surprise and I — I wasn’t ready. I really am sorry.”

  He glanced past her, staring distantly in the direction from which he’d arrived. She knew she’d made him angry.

  “Jace, I—”

  “Mr. Garrett?”

  Lexie and Jace both turned at the sound of the newcomer’s voice. Old MacDougal, the stooped Scotsman who had been sent to chase after Kelsey, was standing by the gate, worrying his hat between his gnarled hands. “I dinna mean to bother you, but Mrs. Garrett, she was worried about young Kelsey. ‘Tis at the barn, she is, attending a pair of wee motherless lambs.”

  “Bring her to the house,” Jace told him flatly. “Those lambs won’t make it.”

  Lexie placed a hand on his arm, appalled. “You can feed them round the clock! There’s a chance they might live.”

  If she’d angered him before, she’d now compounded the problem. With an effort, he said, “Take care of the lambs yourself, Mac. But bring Kelsey back.”

  When the man had gone, Jace turned to Lexie. “It’s almost dark. You’d better be getting home.”

  “I’ll go to Miss Everly’s School for Young Ladies if that’s what you want,” Lexie burst out anxiously, clutching his arm. “Please, don’t be angry with me.”

  “I’m not angry.”

  Lexie felt like crying. He was lying. She’d alienated the one person who cared about her. “Do you want me to go away to school? Would you — come visit me sometime — if I asked?”

  His expression lightened a bit. “Of course I’ll visit you. I love you.”

  His words were music to her ears, yet she still felt vulnerable and frightened. “Do you?” she asked, desperate to be reassured.

  “You’re going to be my wife.”

  She could sense his smile behind his words. Eager to restore peace, she said softly, “I love you, too. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

  Jace’s dark eyes narrowed. “Never mind,” he said brusquely. When he reached for her again, she came willingly into his arms. This time his kiss was soft and tender. Lexie clung to him, but before she’d really gotten her fill, he gently pushed her away. “Now, you’d best get back before your father sends the sheriff after you.”

  Nodding, Lexie said, “Can we meet tomorrow?”

  “Hmmm. Maybe.” He touched her cheek. “But I’ve got a lot of business in Rock Springs. I might even stay the night in town.” Seeing her expression, he smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

  “Oh, please, Jace. Try to come. I need you.”

  He smiled. Her intensity did his male ego a world of good, especially after the beating it had taken beneath the force of her slap. But Lexie would come to heel. It was just a matter of time.

  The door opened and Lucinda appeared like a dark shadow on the porch. Jace could feel her disapproval, knew she wished him to marry a rich Portland debutante. But he wanted Lexie. He burned for her and the Danner land. And once some of this unwomanly rebellion was pounded out of her, she would make a perfect wife.

  “Let me give you a leg up,” Jace said softly to Lexie, earning him a delighted smile from the innocent, golden-haired vixen.

  Encouraged by his loving attention, Lexie wheeled Tantrum around and said respectfully, “Good evening, Mrs. Garrett.”

  “A lady would be riding sidesaddle,” was the woman’s repressive reply.

  “Goodbye, Jace,” Lexie added, wanting to scream out that she would rather die than become a so-called lady, but managing to hold her tongue as she lightly touched her heels to Tantrum’s flanks.

  Jason stared after her, satisfied.

  “Are you going to marry her, son?” Lucinda asked.

  “Yes.”

  “She’s trouble. She’s wild and willful. Likes animals better than people.”

  “Mmmm.” Jace knew only too well Lexie’s less appealing characteristics. He was coldly infuriated at being slapped, and he was still steamed at the way she questioned his decision about the lambs in front of old MacDougal. Jaw taut, he said, “Kelsey’s at the barn with those bummer lambs. I’m going to have Mac put them down. They’re too much trouble to take care of.”

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  Even with Lucinda’s disparaging remark still ringing in her ears, a warm feeling enveloped Lexie as Tantrum softly galloped across the waving, moonlit fields. Jace had made it clear how he felt about her. Now there would be no more secret meetings, no more guilt! Soon Jace would ask Pa for her hand in marriage and for that she could even suffer through a year of Miss Everly’s School.

  The barn and outbuildings were dark when Lexie finally arrived back at the Danner farm. Leaning over Tantrum’s side, she unlatched the gate, smiling. It probably wouldn’t be wise to let the horse jump the fence again; she really shouldn’t have done it the first time.

  The gelding’s ears were pricked forward and he trotted eagerly toward the stables. But at the door he suddenly shied sideways, nearly unseating Lexie who was attempting to lean down and twist open the latch.

  “Hey there, boy. Shhh.” Lexie held the reins tight, managing to finally stop his mincing steps. She slid off his back, pulling him after her toward the door.

  The stables were gloomy inside. Groping, Lexie found the catch to Tantrum’s box and led the sweating horse inside. She was going to have to rub him down before she went to the house, which was fine with her. The longer she could put off facing her mother and father again, and the prospect of Miss Everly’s School, the better.

  She reached for the lantern and encountered warm flesh, the flesh of a human hand. A scream formed in her throat, but was stifling after one terrified gasp as the hand grasped the lantern, striking a match to the flame.

  Tremaine’s harsh countenance appeared out of the darkness, as if conjured by a genie. He stared at Lexi
e in a way that made her heart pound and her blood run cold.

  Before she could move he reached for her, his grip an iron manacle around her wrists. She backed up instinctively, drawing a fearful breath. She’d never seen him so angry or so intense, yet she knew instantly what he was thinking. There was no excuse for the way she’d ridden Tantrum over the fence. It had been irresponsible and foolish. And the blue flame of anger lighting Tremaine’s eyes assured her that retribution was at hand.

  Chapter Three

  Tremaine glared down at the willful young woman caught between his hands. He wanted to shake some sense into her, by God. She was reckless and wild and asking — no, begging! — for trouble. She’d been a source of irritation to him as long as he could remember and now, staring into her wide, shadowed eyes, that irritation was magnified a thousand-fold.

  He hadn’t seen her for nearly a year; he couldn’t remember how long it had been before that. From the moment he learned she wasn’t his sister, he’d mentally cut her from his life. He thought it would be so easy.

  What a fool he’d been! Lexie, for only God knew what reason, had invaded his very soul. Since graduating from medical school, he’d purposely stayed in Portland, working at Willamette Infirmary, living in a cramped apartment, anything just to be away from her! But he occasionally came back, his rare visits short and frustrating. And then seeing Lexie last night with Jace had struck fear in his heart, crystallizing his warring emotions. He couldn’t let her marry that low-bellied rounder.

  His hands tightened on her shoulders. He heard Lexie sweep in a soft, frightened breath, and the smoldering dull ache of forbidden longing surged through him. He swore viciously beneath his breath, damning the fates. Lexie might not be a sister, but he had to treat her like one! Why she must be kept in the dark was a mystery, but Eliza and Pa were adamant Lexie not find out the truth.

  And it was killing him.

  “You and I are going to have a little talk,” he said tautly. “Now.”

  Lexie twisted her arm but his grip was too tight to break. “You’re hurting me.”

  “I’d like to knock some sense into your thick skull,” he declared furiously. “That’s circus stunt you pulled tonight was dangerous. You’re lucky Tantrum wasn’t hurt.”

  “I know, I—”

  “Shut up,” he said softly. “And listen.”

  For once in her life Lexie did as she was told. She closed her mouth and stared up at him, a mutinous flame lighting her green eyes. Her hair lay wet and dark against her bare head, her skirt was mud-spattered, her boots soaked. The cotton waist she wore was wet and stuck to her skin, offering Tremaine a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, moist flesh beneath.

  He paused to take a breath. There was something so elemental about Lexie that it made him feel raw, vulnerable. “You’re in serious trouble with Pa and your mother,” he said brusquely. “They’ve been asking where you are. I told them you took a ride on Tantrum because you needed time to think.”

  She regarded him warily. “You lied for me?”

  When she put it like that, he instantly recoiled, dropping his arms in disgust. “You’d better get to the house. I’ll take care of Tantrum.”

  He turned away, picking up a brush and eyeing the prancing gelding. Tantrum rolled an eye at him and snorted loudly, shifting his hindquarters.

  Behind him, he heard Lexie’s soft laughter. “He’ll never let you near him. He’ll kick and thrash.”

  She followed him into Tantrum’s box, her breasts accidentally touching his back when he stopped short to argue with her. Tremaine gritted his teeth and muttered, “I can handle him.”

  “No, you can’t. You’ll get hurt.”

  “Your concern for my welfare is touching, but believe me, Lexie, I won’t get hurt.”

  She tried to shift around him, to take the lead rope attached to Tantrum’s bridle from his hands. There was a peculiar moment when her arms and Tremaine’s got tangled and he touched the firm skin at her waist. Lexie glanced at him as Tantrum’s hindquarters shifted warningly. The gelding slashed backward with his powerful legs, his hooves clanging into the rail, the sound ringing to the rooftops.

  “Get out of here, Lexie!” Tremaine bellowed.

  “If you’d just let me help,” she argued, grabbing the lead rope. “Let go! You’re scaring him!”

  For an answer Tremaine pushed her up against the side of the box, breathing almost as heavily as she was.

  “What are you doing?” she cried, pushing on his chest.

  “Don’t move. Don’t do anything. That horse is a menace and you’re only aggravating—”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake.”

  They were so close he could see the dark gold strands of hair at her crown, could count the lashes framing her eyes. Tantrum shimmied around restlessly. Lexie smiled up at Tremaine. “Honestly, Tremaine. Just get out of the box. Now, let me go.”

  He pulled back slowly and she slid under his arm, touching a flat palm on Tantrum’s sweating neck. “There, boy. Relax,” she cooed to the nervous horse. “It’s only Tremaine. You’re all right. Yes, that’s right. You’re okay.” Her eyes on Tantrum, she held out her hand to Tremaine. “Hand me the brush,” she said in the same soothing tones. “Then back out of the stall.”

  Tremaine was reluctant to leave her with the gelding, even though he knew better than anyone how much the animal trusted her. Wordlessly, he handed her the brush, watching her hands as she stroked Tantrum’s quivering flesh. The gelding switched his tail and minced back and forth, trying to twist and see Tremaine, who was just out of range.

  “You can go to the house,” Lexie said. “I’ll be there as soon as I’m done.”

  “Thanks,” Tremaine answered dryly. “I’ll stick around all the same.”

  Lexie brushed with smooth, hard strokes. Tantrums muscles were like liquid velvet beneath his slick, shimmering coat. Tremaine stood perfectly still, mesmerized by the soft fluidity of her motions. Time seemed suspended, and for a moment he forgot his anger and reveled in the sensuality of her movements.

  When Lexie was finished she regarded him silently, her brows raised questioningly. “Something wrong?”

  “No.” He drew a breath. “You have an amazing effect on that horse.”

  “Tantrum and I understand one another,” she said, slipping out of the box stall. There were oats stored in one of the tin-lined bins, and Lexie, knowing she should save the oats for winter, broke one more rule, dumping a scoopful into Tantrum’s feedbin.

  “You really know how to push things to the limit,” Tremaine observed.

  She glanced at him. He stood in the center of the room, his arms folded across his chest. The lantern’s uncertain light cast shadows over his already lean countenance, magnifying his forbidding air. If she hadn’t known he was capable of humor, she would have been frightened by this stern, uncompromising man. But Tremaine had a softer side when he cared to show it.

  “Mother wants me to go to Miss Everly’s School for Young Ladies,” she said, the thought just popping into her head. “What do you think about that?”

  Tremaine’s lips twitched. “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish I were,” Lexie said feelingly.

  She could see the grin on his face, and she knew he felt she was getting what she deserved — which only stoked her anger.

  “Miss Everly’s School, huh?” He rubbed his jaw. “I hear that’s quite a place.”

  Lexie had a few choice words stored up for what she thought about the school, but she bit them back. After all, Tremaine was growing more approachable and a plan was shaping in her mind. There might be a way out of her predicament yet.

  She walked across the wooden floor, stopping in front of Fortune’s box, holding out her hand to Tremaine’s snuffling stallion. Fortune’s affections were easily swayed. He greedily searched her hand for a treat. Stroking his blazed nose, Lexie said over her shoulder with forced casualness, “You know, you could help me.”

  “Oh?”

&n
bsp; Lexie went back to the oat bin, scooping up a handful, then bringing it back to Fortune, who eagerly inhaled the grain. “You could talk to Mother. She listens to you.”

  Tremaine had the audacity to laugh.

  Lexie sighed. “I can’t go to that school, Tremaine. I’ll die there. I will,” she added stubbornly when he refused to take her seriously.

  “You sure you don’t want a career in the theater, Lexie? Drama suits you.”

  She reached out and shoved him before she thought. He barely moved, grinning down at her like the tormenting big brother he was. “I’m not fit to attend that school,” she muttered.

  “You mean you don’t want to attend that school. You’re fit enough.”

  “That school is for rich young women. I’m not rich.” Lexie quelled her anger with an effort and turned to him. She was desperate. And it was true what she’d said about Tremaine’s relationship to Mother. He could wrap her around his finger like nobody else. All he had to do was ask.

  “Lexie, you may need that school more than you know. No woman in their right mind would jump that fence on a horse. Especially a horse like Tantrum.” He flung a disparaging glanced at the gelding who, apart from the flicking of his ears, now unabashedly ignored Tremaine. Tremaine shook his head, glancing again down at Lexie. “And trying to perform surgery on Matilda? You’re not thinking straight.”

  “Well then, you and Jace have something in common!” she said, glaring at him. “He thinks I should go, too.”

  Her words had the desired effect. Tremaine stiffened as if she’d slapped him. The thought reminded her of that awful moment when her hand had connected with Jace’s face — the memory so intense it had the power to make her forget her own immediate problems. She fervently hoped Jace had forgiven her. How could she have slapped him? How?

  “You saw Jace, then,” Tremaine bit out.

  “We’re getting married,” said Lexie, tossing her head. Miss Everly’s School be damned. She would find a way to get Jace to propose before September yet.

  “You’re not ready to marry anyone,” he said angrily. “You’re too pig-headed. What kind of wife would you make?”