Rogues in Texas 03 - Never Marry a Cowboy

by Lorraine Heath

  When she voiced no objection, he slipped his hands onto her waist and lifted her from the horse, setting her on the ground with only a hair’s breadth separating them. “You may announce my sin to the world and it will make no difference. I won’t be held accountable here for a murder I committed in England .”

  “Your reputation would be ruined.”

  “My reputation has never been anything I valued, and I can walk away from Fortune without a backward glance.”

  She stepped out of his embrace and wrapped her arms around herself. She watched as he saw to his horse’s needs. “Will you build a fire?” she asked.

  “A small one, if you’re cold.”

  She shrugged. “It’s the middle of summer. I doubt I’ll get cold.”

  “But now you fear things in the dark that you’ve never feared before,” he said in a low voice.

  “Are you deliberately trying to frighten me?”

  “No need to try. I seem to have succeeded.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she said firmly.

  He stepped toward her, and she stepped back.

  “Aren’t you?” he asked quietly.

  “Right now, I don’t know what I feel or what I think,” she snapped.

  “At least you’re honest. Do you want a fire?”

  “Do you think it’ll attract attention?”

  “Probably.”

  She took a shuddering breath. “I can go without one, then.”

  “I have nothing for you to lie on but my shirt.” He began unfastening the buttons.

  “You don’t have to give me your shirt.”

  “You are still my wife, and therefore your comfort is my responsibility.” He pulled the shirt over his head and extended it toward her. “You can at least use it as a pillow.”

  They had stopped to eat late in the afternoon when a fire wouldn’t be visible. For the first time in her life, she hated the night. She took his offering, dropped to the ground, rolled Kit’s shirt into a tight ball, and tucked it beneath her head. His masculine scent surrounded her.

  He sat nearby, the rifle across his lap.

  “Aren’t you going to sleep?” she asked.

  “I’ll stand watch for a while.”

  She studied the silhouette of the man she thought she’d loved. She remembered writing in her journal long ago that she would gladly allow him to break her heart. How was she to have known then the pain that action would cause?

  “Did she know?” she asked quietly.

  “Did who know what?” he asked.

  “Did Clarisse know you were killing her?”

  Silence, thick and heavy, filled the distance between them.

  “No,” he finally shot out. “She knew only that she was weary and drifting off to sleep.”

  “So you gave her no opportunity to say goodbye to everyone.”

  “Christopher said goodbye to her each time he left her room. She said goodbye to me thinking I was he so she had her final farewell.”

  “But she didn’t give it to the man upon whom she wanted to bestow it.”

  “I am certain that Christopher and Clarisse had ample opportunity to share their feelings. I denied her nothing.”

  “Except life.”

  Suddenly, she was cold and wished she had asked for a fire. “What about your mother?”

  “What of her?”

  She heard the impatience in his voice. “Did you kill her as well?”

  He barked out his laughter. “Dear God, Ashton, are you to suspect me now as the murderer of everyone who dies of an illness?”

  She sat up, trying to sort out her feelings. “You told me that you held Clarisse as she died. You were reading to your mother when she passed away. It’s a logical assumption that you might have taken her life as well.”

  He sighed heavily. “My mother was not in agony. I did not hasten her death.”

  She felt relief and a bit of the warmth returned.

  “You should sleep. We’ll leave before dawn. Tomorrow will be a long day,” he said.

  She settled back into place. “Kit?”

  “For God’s sakes, Ashton, I may as well have built a fire. Your incessant babbling will notify anyone within hearing distance that we’re here.”

  “I just wanted to say that I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Perhaps ‘disgusted’ is a better word,” he said caustically. “Or how about ‘disappointed,’ ‘disillusioned,’ ‘repulsed?’”

  She buried her face in his shirt, allowing the silent tears to fall, wishing she could understand not only him, but her own feelings as well.

  *

  “Marshal! Land’s sakes alive, we thought you were dead,” Mrs. Gurney said as Kit escorted Ashton into the boardinghouse.

  Kit had never in his life felt so exhausted. Avoiding towns and traveling straight to Fortune had made for some uncomfortable nights, but he didn’t want Jasper and his comrades to get word that he was still alive until he’d reached Fortune.

  They’d arrived in Fortune just after nightfall. He’d taken his horse to the hostler so the man could see after the beast and stable him properly. Now all he wanted was to get Ashton settled. “Only weary, Mrs. Gurney. We’ll need a room for the night.”

  “‘Course, you need a room. Can’t have you and your bride sleeping on that old cot in the jail. Mrs. Montgomery, the room you had before is still available if you want it.”

  “That would be lovely, Mrs. Gurney. Thank you.”

  “You both look like you need a hot meal and a hot bath. I’ll get both started as soon as I let your brother know you’re here. He’s been worried sick.”

  “David’s here?” Ashton asked, and Kit heard the profound relief in her voice.

  “No, ma’am, not your brother. The marshal’s.”

  Kit felt as though a punch had been delivered to his midsection. “My brother? You mean Christopher?”

  “Yep. He had half the state searching for you.”

  Kit watched her tromp across the front room.

  “You weren’t expecting a visit from your brother?” Ashton asked quietly.

  Still stunned, he answered as though from far away. “No.” Then a horrible thought struck him. He spun around and captured Ashton’s gaze. “He knows nothing of what I did regarding Clarisse. I beg you, please, don’t tell him.”

  “I didn’t think you cared about your reputation,” she said.

  “I don’t, but I do have a regard for his feelings. He allowed me to see her. I don’t want guilt sitting on his shoulder because of my actions.”

  Ashton hesitated before nodding mutely. Relief swamped him at the same moment that the door to a corner room opened, and Christopher strode through it. Mrs. Gurney skittered out of his way and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Good God, man, you look like you’ve been to hell and back,” Christopher said as he took Kit’s hand and pulled him into his embrace. “I feared the worst.”

  Kit heard the strangled emotions in his brother’s voice. “Only the good die young, Christopher. I shall long outlive you.”

  Laughing, Christopher stepped back. “Typical of you to make everything seem as though it were nothing. I received reports that you’d been attacked by outlaws.”

  “Yes, but fortunately for me, they did not count on my wife being incredibly resourceful or courageous.” Kit turned slightly. “I’d like you to meet Ashton.”

  “Bainbridge told me you had married,” Christopher said quietly. His gaze never leaving hers, Christopher took Ashton’s hand, bowed slightly, and brought her fingers to his lips. “So you are the woman who captured my brother’s heart?”

  Grateful for her silence, Kit watched Ashton lower her lashes, her cheeks flaming red. Although he no longer held her heart, she still held his. She would until the day he died.

  “We have much that we need to discuss,” Kit said.

  “Indeed, we do,” Christopher said. “Why don’t you take time to enjoy some of Mrs. Gurney’s fine cooking and fresh
en up a bit before you see Father?”

  Kit could not have been more shocked if Christopher had pounded a sledgehammer into him. “Father’s here?”

  “Yes, but unfortunately his health is poor, and I’d rather he not see you looking quite so unkempt. I’ve told him nothing beyond the fact that you had married and taken your bride on a wedding trip.”

  Kit’s thoughts were as scattered as they’d been when the bullet had grazed his temple. He’d not planned for this turn of events, had never expected his father to venture to Fortune. “I’ll have to see if I can get the mercantile owner to open the store. We have nothing but the clothes upon our backs.”

  “You can wear my clothes, of course, but I fear I have nothing suitable for your wife,” Christopher remarked dryly.

  “In case you haven’t notice, Christopher, I’ve filled out a bit more than you have since I left England . I seriously doubt your clothes would fit or that anyone would confuse us with each other.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Christopher said, smiling.

  *

  In an effort to save time, Kit had bathed at the jail while Ashton had readied herself at the boardinghouse. Now he stood outside her room, not certain what to expect from her, knowing that whatever it was, it was well deserved.

  He tapped lightly on her door. She opened it and peered out.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  She opened the door farther. “I like Christopher, but I don’t see the point in meeting your father.”

  “I feared as much. May I come in for a moment?”

  She stepped back, and he walked into the room. The scent of oleander permeated the air. It pleased him to know she had used the soap he’d bought her. It was one of the few things she’d managed to salvage before their escape, before she knew her husband’s sin.

  He heard the door click closed and was grateful this conversation would be held in private. As much as he cared for Mrs. Gurney, she heard too much and repeated too loudly.

  He turned to face his wife. “My father and brother have traveled a great distance to be here.”

  She crossed the room and sat in the rocker. “But they didn’t come to see me. They didn’t even know you were married when they began the journey. Christopher said he needed to speak with you. I don’t see why I need to be present, especially since I plan to get on a stagecoach in the morning and go back to Dallas .”

  He clenched his fists at his sides and damned his English pride. “Ashton, I realize that you find me abhorrent—”

  She stood and presented her back to him. “I’m not sure how I feel about you right now.”

  He fought against taking a step toward her. “I’ve never asked anything of you, but I’m asking now. Please, allow me to introduce you to my father. Pretend for a few days that all is well with our marriage so he may return to England free of any guilt he’s harboring for having sent me here.”

  She spun around. “You think that’s the reason he’s here? To ease his guilt?”

  “It’s the only logical explanation I can envision.”

  “Guilt seems to run rampant in your family.”

  The truth of her words cut deeply. “As soon as my family leaves, I will make arrangements for someone to escort you to Dallas . After that, you’ll not hear from me again.” He gave her a sad smile. “Although I will keep my promise to place a white rose upon your grave.”

  “I no longer want the white rose.”

  Another slash to his heart. He tilted his head slightly. “As you wish. Whatever you wish I will grant, if you will but pretend for whatever time they are here that we are happily wedded.”

  She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I’m not much good at pretending.”

  “You don’t have to be. Smile occasionally and stand by my side. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “How long are they going to be here?”

  “I haven’t a clue, but I can’t imagine that it will be long. They have responsibilities at Ravenleigh that require their presence.”

  He watched the doubts and wariness flicker over her face. She gave a brusque nod. “I’ll give you tonight and tomorrow. After that I leave for Dallas . You can tell them that I have to help Madeline with the new baby.”

  Her answer was not all that he’d hoped for, but it was more than he’d expected. “Thank you. I shall see that you don’t regret this kindness.”

  He opened the door. She took a deep breath before walking across the room and stopping beside him. “I’d rather you not touch me.”

  “Sweetling, I figured that much out a few days ago.”

  Her gaze swept over his face, and she furrowed her brow. “Is that the reason you walked while I rode the horse?”

  “Yes. Believe it or not, Ashton, I only wished to give you your dream.”

  “Instead you gave me a nightmare.”

  “Apparently, I’ve managed to give us both one.”

  *

  CHAPTER 21

  « ^ »

  K it knocked briskly on the door to the room where Christopher and his father were staying.

  Christopher opened it, gave them a tenuous smile, and stepped back, allowing him to enter. Kit’s gaze immediately went to his father, sitting in a chair by the window. He looked incredibly old. Even after Christopher had warned him that his health was not good, Kit had not expected his father to look so old.

  It was obvious that his father could not rise and that his physical limitations infuriated him. His father had always expected as much of himself as he did of others. Kit walked across the room, knelt before his father, and smiled warmly. “Hello, Father. Missed me, did you?”

  His father scoffed, but Kit was aware that his gaze never faltered as he searched his face. “Didn’t expect it … to be … so boring … with no scandals brewing.” He lifted a shaking hand. Kit took it and brought it to his face. A ghost of a smile played at his father’s mouth. “You’ve done well … for yourself … here.”

  “I like to think so,” Kit admitted.

  “Your mother … would be proud.”

  Kit had no doubts that his mother would be. The hell of it was that for the first time in his life, he realized that he wanted his father to be proud as well.

  “Content?” his father asked.

  “Yes.” Or at least he had been until a few days ago, and he saw no need to raise doubts in his father’s mind.

  With a look of satisfaction, his father shifted his gaze momentarily to Christopher. “Told you.”

  Christopher sighed. “So you did. Repeatedly.”

  Kit placed his father’s hand back on his lap and unfolded his body. “I’d like you to meet my wife.” He glanced over his shoulder and held out his hand, too late realizing his error. He shoved his hand into his trousers pocket. “Ashton?”

  She hesitated before taking a few steps nearer. She offered his father a tremulous smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  His father nodded, his eyes narrowing. “Mmmm.” He looked at Kit. “Interesting.”

  Kit wasn’t certain what to make of that comment. His father had always been too discerning, and he feared the old man might not be as sharp as he once was, but neither was he easily fooled. Kit cleared his throat. “Ashton, why don’t you sit in that chair there?”

  She sat in the plush chair across from his father. Kit sat on the arm of the chair while Christopher took a seat near their father. Ashton clutched her hands in her lap. Kit desperately wanted to take her hand, to find some comfort in her touch, but he refrained because to give in to his needs would only draw attention to the fact that Mrs. Montgomery had no desire whatsoever to have any portion of her husband’s body touch hers.

  He had no inclination for either his father or Christopher to see Ashton rebuff him. Perhaps insisting that she come had been a mistake.

  Along with a thickening silence, an air of foreboding permeated the room. He hated seeing the deterioration of his father’s health, but he was beginning to sense that his fa
ther’s illness was not the reason his brother had made this journey.

  Christopher cleared his throat. “Kit, we need to discuss some matters, but preferably in private.”

  “I have no secrets from Ashton.” Although he desperately wished that he had managed to keep his sins from her.

  “You may feel otherwise, once you hear what I have to say.”

  Kit glared at his brother. “By God, you’d better not tell me that you’ve lost Ravenleigh.”

  “No, at least not in the manner you think. Your letters, your advice, and the money you’ve sent have all served Ravenleigh well.”

  Kit felt Ashton’s gaze come to rest on him. He supposed he should have mentioned that he kept close tabs on all that happened at Ravenleigh, had even at times provided funds if Christopher indicated a need or wanted to expand the family holdings in a way their father might not readily approve.

  “Then for God’s sake, will you reveal this deep, dark secret so we can get on with the evening?” he demanded.

  Christopher cast a quick glance at their father before turning his attention back to Kit, clasped his hands together, and leaned forward in his chair. “When Father had his first stroke, I assumed complete responsibility for Ravenleigh, which meant I was privy to all the ledgers, drawers, nooks, and crannies in his office. There, I discovered his private journal.”

  Kit watched his brother retrieve a black book from the table beside his chair and extend it toward him. Kit shook his head. “I have no desire to impose on Father’s privacy.”

  “A pity I did not share your respect for his most intimate thoughts.” Christopher turned the book over and carefully stroked the tooled leather. “Father wrote about the night we were born.”

  Kit shrugged. “I see nothing uncommon in that. As a matter of fact, I should hope the event was monumental enough to deserve mention within his journal.”

  “You are right, brother. The birth of the heir was cause for jubilation.” Christopher smiled sadly. “The first born son was to bear all the burdens that came with the rank and privilege. All the burdens. Including being marked as the first born, once it was discovered that another child was making his entry into the world.”