by Nancy Bush
Lexie’s mouth opened in surprise hurt. She sensed that Tremaine was purposely trying to wound her, but his reason escaped her. Turning away from his condemning gaze, she said softly, “I’d make a damn good wife. I could make him happy.”
Silence fell between them. Tremaine was so still that Lexie squinted at him through the gloom. She couldn’t read his expression but she could sense his disapproval, and she sensed the leashed power of him in a purely feminine way. It wouldn’t be smart to make an enemy of him. But, oh, if she could only get him on her side!
“You were with Jace tonight?” Tremaine asked in a strangely harsh voice. “Down at the stream again?”
“No, at the Garrett house.” Lexie tilted her head and studied him perplexingly. “When did you see me at the stream with Jace, Tremaine? That was last night and you didn’t get here until today. I saw Fortune and your buggy parked in front of the house.”
“I arrived last night,” he admitted.
“Last night? You didn’t stay at the house.”
“No, I didn’t.” As if the conversation were working its way into dangerous territory, Tremaine shifted his weight, then reached for the lantern, turning down the flame. “You’d better get to the house. Eliza and Pa are waiting.”
“Where did you stay?” asked Lexie, unwilling to give up.
“In Rock Springs.” His voice was clipped. Lexie raised innocent emerald eyes to his. She regarded him with faint puzzlement. “But why didn’t you…”
Tremaine extinguished the lantern and the stable fell into total darkness. Lexie could hear his breathing. She blinked, trying to adjust to the blackness.
“We’re done here,” came Tremaine’s disembodied voice.
“I can’t see!” Lexie twisted on her heel, her hands in front of her. Annoyed, she said, “I was going to the house. You didn’t have to turn off the lantern.”
“Didn’t I?”
She felt him move past her, a warm shadow stirring the dusty stable air. She heard a click and the door was opened, a cool breeze lifting her hair, moist air dampening her cheeks.
Tremaine stood in the doorway, outlined by the faint moonlight. He waited for her and Lexie walked past him, her heels loud against the plankwood floor, her head held high. She was tired of everyone telling her what to do, plotting against her. Didn’t she have any say in her life at all?
She started off toward the house, then realized Tremaine wasn’t following her. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I’ve got a few things to take care of,” he threw over his shoulder as he headed in the direction of the barn.
“What things?”
“None of your business.”
His words brought an angry flush to her cheeks, more because they were spoken with a patronizing edge than the fact that he wouldn’t reveal what he was doing.
Lexie looked toward the house, where the lantern glowed mistily through the rain-dampened windowpanes. Her heart lurched. She swallowed against a dry throat, her boots squelching through the mud as she resignedly headed toward the front door. There was no more putting off the inevitable.
¤ ¤ ¤
Moonlight fell on her hair, turning it to silver, and Tremaine’s unwilling gaze followed after her. A fire smoldered within him. The same fire that had refused to be quenched the night before, when he’d staggered up the steps of Jenny McBride’s rooming house, still aflame despite the gallon of scotch he’d drunk at the Half Moon Saloon, trying to smother that burning torrent.
But neither Jenny’s soft ministrations, nor the Half Moon’s scotch could help Tremaine where he needed it the most. His was a problem that had begun years before, when he finally learned the truth about himself and Lexie. And the problem had grown.
Tremaine drew in a breath until his lungs ached, then he expelled it slowly, wondering what in the hell was wrong with him. This desire for Lexie repelled him. It was totally outside the realm of his experience. As far as Tremaine was concerned, women were fine creatures with glorious ways to satisfy a man’s pleasure, but they were untrustworthy and fickle and consequently he’d never become attached to anyone of their sex for long.
Lexie had always been there. When they were kids Tremaine remembered her being a nuisance. She’d been the apple of her mother’s eye. And he’d been insanely jealous. Though he’d known Eliza wasn’t his real mother, he’d wanted her to be. Lexie showing up so soon after Eliza and Pa’s marriage had threatened Tremaine’s world. Vaguely, he remembered losing one mother; he hadn’t been willing to lose another. The solution to Tremaine’s eight-year-old mind had been clear: remove the competition.
What began as a small germ soon became a full-blown idea, and as Lexie grew, Tremaine plotted new, imaginative ways to get rid of her. The birth of his brothers didn’t lessen his obsession. To his way of thinking, Lexie had to go.
When she was three he put her on his horse and slapped the bay’s haunches, sending it racing across the pasture. To his intense fury Lexie dug her chubby legs into the horse’s sides, hung on to the reins and laughed, riding around the yard as if she’d been born in the saddle.
He’d gotten a whipping for that one.
Then there had been the castor oil in the jam. He waited for days for just the right opportunity, doctoring one jar which he purposely kept hidden away. The first chance he got when Lexie was alone at the table, he quickly exchanged jars. But then disaster struck. Pa and Harrison walked in at just that moment and decided to help themselves. Everyone had gotten sick. Another whipping had followed and, worse yet, the loss of Eliza’s affection. Though Eliza had never said as much, he felt the change. His father had never wavered in his affection, but Tremaine could almost remember the moment Eliza had drawn away from him. He’d become an outcast — unloved and unwanted.
It had made him hate the squalling Lexie even more.
When he’d grown older he’d ceased to care about Lexie. He had other brothers — babies who didn’t bother him so much. Then he’d overheard a scrap of conversation between his father and Eliza and everything had fallen into place.
They were in the parlor, unaware that he’d come in from outside. Pa was standing by the mantel, looking down at his beautiful wife. “We’re family, Eliza,” he was saying in a soothing tone. “One family.”
“Yes, but Lexie isn’t a Danner.” Her eyes were riveted to the yellow paper in Pa’s hand. “That wire proves it. If anyone finds out the truth—” she choked out.
“No one will find out. No one knows but you and I.”
Tremaine hadn’t understood the significance of the paper; he still didn’t. But he’d been old enough to understand the import of Eliza’s words. Lexie wasn’t a Danner! She wasn’t Pa’s child! Hazily, he remembered that period of his life when they’d drifted from town to town. He could recall Eliza showing up like an answer from heaven with a suitcase full of money. She must have been pregnant then, he realized. She’d been an unwed mother.
This new side of Eliza had made Tremaine regard her with cold tolerance. Not because he cared about her past, but because she’d just proved how complicated and treacherous women could be. It was his first lesson, and it was one well learned. She’d bought respectability. She’d bought Pa.
Unable to deal with these new and awful realizations, Tremaine had shunned the farm, turning unknowingly to the occupation his father had once shared: doctoring. Joseph had been pleased with his choice, able to live vicariously through his son. He applauded Tremaine’s decision and had agreed that he could leave home for better schooling in Portland. At fifteen, Tremaine had purposely distanced himself from the whole family, returning only at vacation times and during the heaviest work season of the summer. The fact that Eliza chose to bestow a chunk of money on him to pay for his education didn’t bother Tremaine in the least. She claimed it was hers and Pa’s money, but he knew the truth. He’d treated the money as a loan and had been paying her back ever since he’s been in practice.
There was an unspoken war
going on between Tremaine and his stepmother. Eliza never told anyone Tremaine wasn’t her son, and Tremaine, for reasons he didn’t understand himself, kept the secret. But when he was around Eliza, Tremaine never felt truly at ease. She valued his opinion; he knew that. But the days when he wanted her to fill his own mother’s shoes were long, long past.
While Tremaine was away, Lexie grew up. One visit she’d been a brat in pigtails, the next she was a young woman. Tremaine had stared at her in wonder the summer he turned twenty-three, watching her help break the wild ponies that Pa had purchased for a song. Lexie had fearlessly, joyfully, forced them to heed her tremendous will.
He’d felt a strange heady sensation then — one he’d quickly denied. But it had worsened over the last few years, and Lexie’s ignorance of their true relationship, her trust in his “brotherly” feelings for her, had been an aggravation he hadn’t known how to deal with.
It wasn’t Tremaine’s first experience with desire for the opposite sex — Mary-Anne Laytham had seen to those needs fully and completely when he’d been still wet behind the ears — but it was his first experience in having to hide them. Here was Lexie — his sister for all practical purposes — and he couldn’t keep his eyes off the curve of her muslin skirt as she bent over and examined a horse’s hoof, the sway of her breasts as she moved, the sight of sweat trickling through the fine dust gathered on her moist skin.
He hated himself for his feelings and deliberately buried them deep inside, blocking them out. He determined that the less he saw of Lexie, the better.
But later that same summer he came home to Rock Springs to see her riding bareback across the fields on Tantrum, that miserable gelding flying toward him, his black tail streaming out behind him like a flag. Lexie’s hair had been a golden banner as she’d ridden to a sliding halt in front of him, grinning hugely. Behind her, the raging fuchsia and orange hues of the setting sun were baking the far distant hills.
“Well?” she asked impudently. “I can ride better than you.”
“You always could, Sundown,” he answered with a smile.
She hadn’t heard the endearment — at least not the way it sounded to his own ears. She slid off Tantrum and walked with Tremaine toward the house, her color high, her eyes deep green emeralds, her lips pink and sensual. Inside, Tremaine was filled with a pounding ache.
“What’s the matter with you?” Lexie asked, seeing his expression change. Amused, she added, “You look like you could eat nails.”
In self-defense, he muttered a total untruth, “You ride that monster like a boy. You don’t even look like a woman.”
Lexie turned to him, wounded. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you look and act like a ten-year-old boy,” he said through his teeth. “Pa lets you handle the horses because he favors you. He knows you hate keeping house. But sooner or later you’re going to have to become a real woman.”
It was with a mixture of sadness and relief that he saw the look of loathing cross her young face. “I am a real woman!” she cried, and she dug the toe of her cowboy boot so hard into his shin that he howled like a wolf.
Then she was on him, scratching his face, huffing and puffing and wriggling like a wildwoman. “Stop it!” he demanded, clasping her wrists.
“You take it back!” she yelled. “Take it back or I’ll kill you!”
“Dammit, Lexie…” he bit out.
“Take it back! Take it back!”
It was Pa who broke up their tussle, bellowing for Tremaine to leave her alone. Even he had a tender spot for the tyrannical woman/child. Tremaine left in disgust.
From that day forward, every encounter with Lexie had been a trial. Tremaine rationalized his feelings. She was a blossoming woman. It was natural for a man to notice. He would get over his interest in her. Still, every time he saw her they clashed. He suspected she hated him. And he was afraid to analyze his feelings for her.
At the railing to Matilda’s stall, Tremaine drew another deep breath, leaning his arm over the top bar. The Jersey rolled a dull eye his way, keeping her weight off her bandaged leg, switching her burned tail.
“You’ll be all right,” Tremaine told her.
But would he be all right? His interest in Lexie hadn’t diminished; he was honest enough with himself to recognize that now. But she thought they were related! And Pa wouldn’t even hear of telling her the truth.
Sighing, Tremaine resigned himself to his role of big brother. He didn’t love her anyway. He didn’t love any woman. But Lexie was a fire in his blood that raged like molten lava any time he even heard about her and Jace Garrett.
Stroking his chin, Tremaine thought about spending the night under the same roof as Lexie. The idea was intolerable. With a shake of his head he walked back toward the house to tell Pa and Eliza that he’d had to change his plans. Jenny McBride’s rooming house was looking better all the time.
Chapter Four
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”
Pa’s voice came easily from the parlor, and Lexie, who had been entertaining ideas of sneaking to the sanctity of her bedroom, walked into the room with her head held high. “I was going to bed,” she said quietly.
“Without any supper?” This was from her mother. Sitting on the brocade couch in her satin dress, Eliza looked so perfect she could have been a cameo.
“I’m not hungry.”
Lexie’s younger brother, Jesse, who was dark like Pa and Tremaine, shot Lexie a mocking look, so much like Tremaine’s that Lexie felt like screaming. Wisely, Jesse kept his own counsel, too smart to interfere with whatever punishment Pa and Mother chose to mete out.
“Your father and I would like a private talk with Lexie,” Eliza said in her quiet, authoritative way to the room in general. “Please leave us alone.”
On his way out, Harrison winked at her in commiseration. “Fight them, Lex,” he said in an undertone.
Surprised by his understanding, Lexie’s lips parted. Then at her mother’s stern glance, she swallowed and folded her hands in her lap. But inside she seethed with rebellion.
Her youngest brother, Samuel, regarded her with thoughtful brown eyes. He, too, was dark but, unlike Jesse, he never stirred up trouble. He seemed to want to say something to her, but he passed by her without a sound.
Jesse came last, moving with that sensual swagger that Lexie so detested. Already a handful, he was too much like Tremaine for his own good, she decided. Why were her parents so worried about her? She fretted in vexation. Jesse had already caused them more gray hairs than she, Tremaine, and Harrison put together!
Then Lexie was alone with Pa and her mother. Pa looked uncomfortable, but it was clear Eliza was waiting for him to speak first.
She knows her woman’s place, Lexie thought bitterly.
“I’m not going to ask you where you’ve been. Tremaine explained you needed time alone.” He cleared his throat, fingering his hat. “Your mother and I only want what’s best for you, Lexie. And Miss Everly’s School for Young Ladies sounds like a good idea.”
“Your idea, Pa?” Lexie questioned.
“Well, I’m no expert on women,” he said by way of an answer. “There’ve never been many girls born to the Danners.”
Eliza made a slight sound of protest and Lexie glanced her way. But her mother could have been carved in marble. Her blond hair was perfect, her slanted blue eyes staring at her husband in such an intense way that Lexie wondered what secrets were behind them.
“Your mother knows what’s best for you, Lexie. I don’t.” With that, Joseph sat back, as if he’d completed a dreadful task and was relieved it was over.
Eliza rose in a sudden shiver of satin. She came to Lexie and clasped both of her hands. “I know you hate this,” she said softly. “But I think once it’s over you’ll thank me.”
Lexie swallowed. She did love her mother, and there were moments like these when she felt she could reach her if she just tried hard enough. “I can’t be like you,” s
he struggled to say. “I’m not a lady.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that!” Eliza squeezed her hands. “Do you hear me, Lexington?”
“But I’m not like you!” Lexie cried. Giving up all pretense, she turned to her father. “Pa, please, don’t let her do it. I can’t go there. I can’t.” Even her assurances to Jace that she would attend the school died a quick death. Lexie’s heart was full of fear. She wasn’t meant to attend that school. She knew it!
“That’s enough.” It was Pa this time. He shook his head, and she knew he was regretting all the indulgences she’d been allowed throughout her childhood. She could practically read his mind. He wished he’d made her spend more time in the house.
Lexie’s heart wanted her to flee, but she couldn’t. She pleaded silently with her eyes, but her mother was implacable. “Tomorrow we’ll go to Rock Springs and pick out some fabrics for your wardrobe. You’ll need new dresses — why, you have hardly anything suitable.”
“I won’t go.” Lexie’s low voice quivered with rebellion. She drew her hands behind her back. “I won’t do it.”
“Yes, you will.” Eliza’s voice was the crack of the whip. High spots of color formed on her cheekbones. “And after one year, if you still want to act like a hellion, so be it.”
Lexie was struck dumb. She’d never heard her mother say such a word. Even Joseph looked dazed.
“Now this conversation is over,” Eliza said, her southern accent deep and authoritative. “That’s all.”
Lexie turned desperately to Pa. There was no help there. She whirled on her heel, a sob in her throat. The front door opened at that precise moment, admitting Tremaine, who took in the scene in the parlor with a glance.
“Pa?” he asked.
Lexie gathered her skirts and ran past him. She tore up the crimson stairway runner in the direction of her bedroom. From far below she heard Tremaine say clearly, “I have to go back to Rock Springs tonight. There something I forgot to do…”