Heartstrings

by Rebecca Paisley

He didn’t want her sleeping with one of the Englishmen any more than she wanted to do it, she thought. And why would he support such a thing? The intimacy they’d shared had resulted in her pleasure, but never his. He’d respected her refusal to allow him to make love to her, had honored her reasons for denying him.

  But the fact remained that he had wanted her, desired her every bit as much as she did him.

  And now, after he’d shown such incredible control and understanding, she was going to freely give herself to another man.

  She’d never felt more selfish in all her life.

  Awash with guilt, she lifted her head and centered her gaze on his chest. “I’m sorry, Roman,” she whispered.

  He stared into her eyes, trying desperately to find something within them that would convince him that she felt the same inner turmoil he did.

  When she looked away, he knew that if indeed her emotions paralleled his, she was not going to allow them to decide her actions.

  He stepped away from her. “Sorry, Theodosia?” he flared. “About what?”

  She frowned softly. “For—for hurting you.”

  “Hurting me?” He feigned an expression of deliberation, then a look of sudden comprehension. “You think you’ll hurt me by going to bed with one of those English guys?” he asked, forcing disbelief into his voice. “Why would that hurt me?”

  “I—”

  “Let me explain something to you,” Roman continued hotly. “I liked the feel of your body, but what I liked more was seeing if I could get you to let me touch you. Your denials and protests were like dares, and I don’t turn down dares, not ever. The only thing I ever cared about was trying to get the innocent little genius into bed with her clothes off. I did it, and as far as lovemaking goes, hell, I don’t care whose thighs I lie between. The ends are always the same.”

  He forced a smug smile and ambled toward the door. “You’re nothing but a job to me. Got that? We’ll stay in Enchanted Hill for as long as you want, and you cam do whatever the hell you feel like doing.”

  He twisted the doorknob forcefully and left the room.

  Theodosia stared at the door.

  You’re nothing but a job to me…

  Part of her knew he’d spat the words only to disguise his hurt. But another part of her recognized the truth of what he’d said. They’d become close friends, yes, and they’d shared some beautiful moments together. But the fact remained that she was a job to him, a means by which he could obtain the rest of the money he needed to start his ranch. And considering the vast differences in their dreams, she would never be anything more to him.

  Sorrow clutched at her heart. She swore she could feel it bleed.

  Before she realized it, she was hurrying to the door with every intention of going after Roman and making him believe that he was the man to whom she wanted to give her innocence, not some Englishman passing through town.

  But she stopped abruptly when the scent of fresh lemons assaulted her senses. Startled, she glanced at the bowl on the table and noticed the ripe lemons.

  Lemons. Lemon verbena.

  Lillian.

  She curled her hands into fists by her sides, swallowed a cry of frustration, and tried to rationalize. “Theodosia,” she whispered to herself vehemently, “if you fail to maintain a firm presence of mind, your heart will surely guide your actions. For Lillian’s sake, you mustn’t let that happen. You mustn’t.”

  Her mind. Her heart. A real battle had begun between her intellect and her emotions.

  She knew which would win.

  The powerful pull of the mind was far more decisive than the simple little tug of the heartstrings.

  With the joyful sound of laughter and lively music surrounding him, Roman leaned against one of the posts of a whitewashed picket fence and watched Theodosia swirl around the town square.

  She outshone every woman present. Moonbeams and lamplight flickered through her golden hair, shimmered over her mint-green satin gown, and glowed within the depths of her dark emeralds. But it was not the light or her jewels that caused her to shine.

  It was her sparkling beauty, and the tall man holding her in his arms was completely captivated by her.

  His name was Llewellyn. Hammond Charles Alexander Llewellyn. The second son of a rich and powerful English duke, he had wavy black hair, clear blue eyes, and wore a diamond the size of a horse’s eye on his right hand. Roman decided the guy was as obnoxious as his name.

  It certainly hadn’t taken Theodosia long to make her choice, he ranted silently. Of course, the group of Englishmen had made things easy for her. She’d stood in the hotel lobby, watching as they entered. After only one look at her, all seven of them had headed straight for her, and each of them had asked for her company at tonight’s welcome dance.

  She’d given her company to all of them, but had spent the most time with Hammond Llewellyn. Yes, Hammond was the one, Roman knew.

  The one who would know Theodosia in the most intimate way possible for a man to know a woman.

  Roman wished she would get herself in some sort of risky situation so he could draw his gun, shoot, and accidentally hit Hammond Llewellyn.

  He straightened when he saw her leave the dancing area and make her way through the crowd. She walked straight toward him.

  So did Hammond. The Englishman walked with quick light steps, as if he were treading barefoot upon sharp rocks. He wore a black suit on his lanky body, and Roman thought he looked like a burned candle wick.

  “Roman,” Theodosia said when she reached him, “I thought you should know that Hammond and I are going for a stroll.”

  She hated informing him of her plans with Hammond, feeling as if she were flaunting her relationship with the nobleman. But Roman had insisted on performing his duties as her protector tonight, and she knew she had to tell him where she was going and what she was going to do.

  While waiting for his reply to her statement, she took her fill of him. Dressed in a beige shirt that stretched tightly across his chest and black breeches that left nothing to her imagination, he caused her to forget to take her next breath. He appeared so casual, she thought, so totally at ease.

  But she knew that behind that relaxed facade existed lethal power that could uncoil with the speed of a striking serpent.

  Her admiration and affection for him filled her so quickly, she became light-headed. Without realizing her actions, she reached for the fence post to steady herself.

  Reacting instantly, Roman shot out his hand and took her arm.

  His touch made her breathing difficult once more. “Roman?” she murmured. “Are you coming with us?”

  He wondered if her breathlessness was caused by dancing or by her attraction to Hammond. Stifling anger, he gave a stiff nod.

  “Do you mean to say that he is joining us on our walk, Theodosia?” Hammond queried.

  Roman pinned the Englishman with a glare. “You got a problem with that?”

  Hammond stared at the tall, extremely well-muscled man whom Theodosia had earlier introduced as her bodyguard. In the long-haired gunslinger’s eyes glittered a look of danger, the like of which Hammond had never previously encountered. The man appeared sufficiently sinister to belong to that horrid Blanco y Negro Gang he’d heard so much about since his arrival in Texas.

  Dear Lord, these Texans were crude, Hammond thought to himself. Indeed, he’d regretted ever having traveled to this uncivilized part of America until he’d set eyes on Theodosia Worth, a woman who possessed all the grace of the noblewomen he knew in England.

  Hungry for the sight of elegance after journeying through so many seedy areas throughout Texas, he’d been struck by Theodosia’s beauty and poise the moment he’d seen her standing in the hotel lobby. Unfortunately, his six companions had likewise been attracted to her, but that no longer seemed to be a problem. Theodosia had obviously decided he was the best of the lot, which proved her intelligence, to his way of thinking.

  Glancing at her, he wondered what proposi
tion it was that she said she’d put to him during their walk. She’d refused to discuss it here at the dance but had insisted they wait until they could speak privately.

  Hammond brushed a speck of lint off his coat sleeve and glanced down his nose at Roman. “Do forgive me, sir, but I cannot seem to remember your name.”

  Roman folded his arms across his chest. Was he so inconsequential to this British womanizer that the man could not even recall his name? “Montana. Roman Montana. How long are you here for, Hamm?”

  Hammond bristled. “My name is not Hamm. It is Hammond.”

  “Roman has been the most marvelous company for me during my travels through Texas, Hammond,” Theodosia quickly commented, feeling an instant desire to defend Roman from Hammond’s obvious dislike. “Since meeting him, I have learned a wealth of information concerning—”

  “Concerning the art of making a campfire?” Hammond taunted. “Concerning skinning squirrels, or hacking down trees for the building of log cabins, perhaps?”

  “Hammond,” Theodosia said, “please.”

  “I haven’t taught Theodosia how to make a campfire, skin a squirrel, or fell trees for a cabin, Hamm,” Roman began, his eyes narrowed. “But I’ve taught her a few other things you didn’t mention. Why don’t you ask her what they are?”

  When Hammond looked at her, Theodosia felt her cheeks begin to burn. “Roman has demonstrated many new skills to me,” she answered lamely.

  “I see.” Hammond deliberated upon her flustered expression and the fact that she had defended the gunslinger. It dawned on him then that there was more to her relationship with Roman than she would have him believe.

  It maddened him that she would exhibit her fondness for an uneducated backwoodsman while in his presence. Why, he was a blueblood!

  He faced Roman again. “Theodosia has no further need of your skills or services tonight, Mr. Montana. I shall see that no harm comes to her. Why don’t you go to the saloon and drink, or whatever it is you Texas gunmen do to entertain yourselves? Off you go, now.”

  Roman smiled. “What we Texas gunmen do to entertain ourselves is kill people, Hamm.” For effect, he slid one of his Colts from his belt and couldn’t resist spinning it in his fingers. He performed the feat so quickly that the shape of the weapon vanished, and it appeared as though he held nothing more than a flashing gleam.

  And then, in less than a second, the gun stilled completely in his hand, its barrel pointed straight at Hammond. “I think I’ll go along with you and Theodosia. Maybe I’ll entertain myself by killing a few people while we stroll along.”

  A moment passed before Hammond recovered from his astonishment and apprehension. “Theodosia,” he said with all the authority he believed was afforded to a man of his aristocratic status, “one need not know cheap gun tricks to shoot straight, my dear. Such sleight-of-hand foolishness can be found in any circus. You do not need your bodyguard tonight. I am wearing a pistol, and I assure you that I am an expert marksman.”

  “I’m certain you are, Hammond,” she replied tightly. “But Roman is—”

  “Oh, very well,” Hammond snipped, loath to hear her praise Roman further. “Shall we stroll now? I am ever so impatient to escape the sound of this homespun Texas music and discuss the proposition you mentioned earlier.” Without so much as a glance at Roman, he led Theodosia away from the revelry.

  Not bothering to keep a discreet distance, Roman followed them to a creek that bubbled beside a cluster of oak trees. A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, moonlight washed over the swaying grass, and the air smelled of the roses that grew in the well-kept garden near the edge of town.

  What a perfect setting for romance, Roman decided, moving to stand directly behind Theodosia.

  “If you do not mind, Mr. Montana,” Hammond said, “Theodosia and I would prefer to speak alone. Your standing behind her like some sort of guardian angel inhibits our privacy.”

  “I am her guardian, Hamm, but I assure you that I’m no angel.”

  Hammond snorted delicately. “All right, but I must ask that you step far enough away so as to be unable to eavesdrop upon our conversation.”

  “I don’t have to eavesdrop,” Roman retorted. “I know exactly what she’s going to say to you.” He laid his hand on Theodosia’s back and urged her closer to Hammond. “Well, Theodosia? This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. Get on with it.”

  She parted her lips to speak but could not find her voice. Roman was right. This was the moment she’d been waiting for. Aside from his physical looks, Hammond Llewellyn possessed degrees in Greek and Latin literature and had graduated with honors from Oxford University. He fit her requirements as smoothly as her glove fit her hand.

  “What’s the matter?” Roman murmured into her ear. “Have you changed your mind?” He spoke the words with a caustic edge to his voice, but every part of him hoped they were true.

  Theodosia trembled when Roman’s long thick hair brushed her cheek and his warmth drifted into her. She caught his scent of fresh air, leather, and earth and remembered the security and tender contentment she gained by his nearness.

  God help her, she yearned to turn and feel him take her into his arms.

  “Theodosia?” Hammond took her hand, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed it. “Do not keep me in such suspense, my dear. If indeed there is something with which I may assist you, you’ve but to ask.”

  “Yes,” she said softly, struggling to tame the wild emotions Roman evoked. “You—there is something with which you may assist me. I…”

  She paused. To find the courage she needed, she concentrated on the memory of Lillian lying in bed the morning she lost her fourth child. She recalled her sister’s tears and the look of utter defeat in her eyes.

  And she remembered her own profound desire to give Upton and Lillian the one thing no one else could give them.

  “Hammond, I have resolved to give my childless sister a baby,” she blurted, then continued quickly. “I shall bear the child for her, but until this afternoon I met with no success in finding the man who met the requirements I set concerning the paternity of the babe. I sought a man who resembled my sister’s husband both physically and intellectually. You, Hammond, exceed my expectations, and I—” She closed her eyes. “I would like you to impregnate me. Should you agree to my proposal, all fatherly obligations toward the child will be waived, and I shall pay you in gold for your services.”

  When she finished, Hammond took off his coat and held it close to his stomach so as to allow it to drape the front of his lower torso.

  But his efforts were for naught. Roman had already seen the distinct bulge between Hammond’s legs. He turned, walked away, and peered into shadows as black as his mood.

  “What an unusual gift for your sister,” Hammond said, his voice quaking with amazement and desire. “She is extremely fortunate to have a sister who is as generous as you are, Theodosia. Does she resemble you?”

  Theodosia opened her eyes but kept her gaze cast to the leaf-strewn ground. “Very much so.”

  “Ah, then I gather you are endeavoring to give her a child who will be most like a child she and her husband might have created together.”

  “Yes.” To keep her hands from shaking, Theodosia clasped them together. “I would have your answer now, Hammond.”

  He smiled at her. “Theodosia, I am honored to have qualified to sire such a special child, and I accept your proposition.”

  It was done, she thought. The father would be Hammond Llewellyn. She would lie with the British aristocrat and conceive his child.

  Her mind spun with so many thoughts that she became suddenly dizzy. Taking a step backward, she sought to encounter Roman’s hard warm body, and lean against him.

  She met with empty air. After a glance over shoulder, she saw Roman standing well away from her, and felt his distance keenly.

  When she turned back around, the disquiet Hammond noted in her eyes reminded him of the affection she harbored for Roman.
What she saw in that vulgar gunslinger, he couldn’t fathom.

  He dismissed his own irritation, however, upon remembering that the beautiful Theodosia Worth had chosen him to take to her bed, not the ignorant Roman Montana. “Did you have a date and time in mind, my dear?” He hoped fervently that she planned to begin trying for the child this very night, for he’d wanted her ever since he first spotted her this afternoon.

  “Not tonight,” Theodosia said, surprised by her own quick answer. “I…I’m afraid I am much too weary, Hammond. Roman and I have been traveling, and I—”

  “I understand.” He kissed her hand once more. “Of course, you must rest. I shall collect you in the morning at eleven, whereupon we can enjoy a late breakfast together and become further acquainted with one another. And now, please allow me to escort you to your hotel room.”

  As she walked back toward town at Hammond’s side, she heard Roman’s footsteps behind her. Before this night, he’d gone ahead of her, leading and protecting her with his skills. Now he trailed in her shadow.

  A deep sense of sorrow gathered in the center of her chest, and she was suddenly glad Roman walked behind her.

  That way he couldn’t see her tears.

  “You didn’t sleep last night.” Roman stood in the middle of the room, watching as Theodosia emerged from behind the dressing screen. “I heard you tossing.”

  She stopped beside one of the two beds in the room and stared blankly at the patchwork quilt. “You did not sleep, either, Roman. I watched you rise from your bed and pace.”

  He didn’t reply but waited to see if she had more to say to him.

  She said nothing until she noticed his belongings beside the door. “What—”

  “I’m moving to another room,” Roman explained upon seeing her look of confusion. “I can’t stay in here with you, and you damned well know it. It wasn’t so long ago that you informed me that I would have to sleep somewhere else once you’d picked the man to father the child. You do remember saying that, don’t you?”

  Her eyes burned, but she allowed not a single tear to fall. Holding Roman’s intense gaze, she nodded.