He felt the warmth of her approving smile like a thousand suns glowing within him.
He’d known his heart was in danger, but now, under the influence of her smile, he knew it was irretrievably lost. He loved her, now and forever.
Tarnation. Now what was he going to do?
“Well, I had better be going, or there won’t be any writing time before supper,” she said, getting to her feet. “Thanks again, Raleigh.”
Still stunned by the realization of his feelings for this woman, he barely managed to mumble his thanks for the scones and goodbye.
* * *
“So, how did Caroline like the scones?” Milly asked Violet as she diced peppers for ranch stew.
Violet shrugged. “I hope she got to try at least one,” she said. “She was away for the day, and I met Raleigh and Jack outside and they probably devoured the lot between them after I left.”
Milly chuckled. “Like as not,” she agreed.
Violet savored the memory of how blissful Raleigh had looked when he’d bitten into the scone she’d baked. It had given her a sense of accomplishment that nothing in the elite social world she’d come from had ever provided. It was such an elemental pleasure, feeding a man. And how amazed Cook would have been, she reflected with amusement, that the sister of the viscount could bake. When she returned to Greyshaw, she and Cook were going to have to have a new understanding about Violet’s visiting the kitchen.
“Oh, there’s Nick,” Milly said, looking out the window.
“Is this what you had in mind, Violet?” Nick asked a minute later when he came into the kitchen.
Violet, who had been adding her peppers to the stew, looked up to see that her brother held a battered old English saddle over his arm.
“You found one! Oh, Nick, how did you manage that?” she said, dashing over to him and planting a big kiss on his beard-shadowed cheek.
He grinned like a man who was very pleased with himself. “I followed up on a hunch that old Emilio Ramirez might have one in the big shed out back of his saddlery in town. Sure enough, he’d taken this one in on trade from a greenhorn who’d bought one of his beautiful hand-tooled stock saddles. He gave it to me for free since it wasn’t in very good shape.”
Touched that her brother had gone to so much trouble for her, she took it from his grasp and looked it over. “The stirrup straps and girth are sound, and it looks like it would fit Lady. It’ll be almost as good as new, once it’s been worked over with some saddle soap,” she said. “I’ll start on it this very evening. Thank you, Nick!”
Breathing in the scent of the leather, Violet could almost feel the joy of flying through the air on the back of a leaping steed again. She hoped the weather would be fine tomorrow morning, for she intended to try out the saddle. Yesterday, when she’d ridden over to Colliers’ Roost, she’d spotted a fallen cottonwood near the creek that would be perfect to use to see if Lady had the makings of a jumper.
Then she had a further thought. What if she could persuade Raleigh to use the saddle when he raced? The proposed race wouldn’t have obstacles to jump, but this saddle was so much lighter than a Western one. It was a difference that might give him a distinct advantage in a close-run race.
It had given her real pleasure to be the first to tell him about the proposed race, to see the hope that had lit those dark eyes with an intense fire. She’d been right about him, she realized. He did aspire to have something, to be something more. She could picture him as the proud owner of his own ranch with cowhands working for him. Did he, she wondered, want to marry someday, and be able to provide his wife with a roof over her head? Was that the real reason why he’d leaped at the news of the race with such fervor?
Was it Ella Justiss whom he pictured at his side, the mother of his children? The thought gave her a sick feeling inside.
But what business did she have thinking that way?
“It’ll be a while before the stew is ready, won’t it, Milly?” she asked. “I think I’ll sit on the porch and start working on the saddle till supper is ready.”
Chapter Ten
Raleigh whistled as he cantered his horse down the road. Somehow, he was going to make it work. He was going to win that race, and talk the beautiful Englishwoman into leaving her life of wealth and privilege behind her, marry him and stay with him in Texas on the ranch that he’d won. He’d be the equal of Jack Collier and Violet’s brother Nick and would send his cattle on trail drives with theirs. The horses he and Violet would breed from Blue and Lady would be in great demand and win races all over Texas. She’d never regret leaving her English beau behind.
He’d suggest to Jack Collier that he promote Quint to be foreman in his place. Quint would be good at that job, and might even make trail boss someday. Maybe Shep would make a reliable ramrod....
The other cowboys in the bunkhouse had been interested when he’d told them about the race, but to his surprise, the news didn’t result in them scrambling for a way to pay their entry fees. Like others of their breed, as soon as they were paid they mostly gambled or drank their monthly wages away, or spent it on necessities or fancy spurs. They seemed content to promise Raleigh they’d cheer him on when the race took place, and maybe come work for him if they ever got tired of working for Collier—which didn’t seem likely.
Maybe it was because they didn’t have the hand of a fair lady to win, Raleigh thought cheerfully. Being in love with a paragon like Lady Violet was a powerful motivator.
But he was getting ahead of himself, he thought with a grin. First he had to win the race, and then Lady Violet. Someday, he’d tell her that had always been his secret name for her, and they would laugh together as they embraced.
But he had to have that conversation about faith with her, and get her to see that she needed the Lord in her life, just as he did. Raleigh could tell she liked him already. But once she saw how much he cared for her, and the life they could have together, she’d love him so much she’d be willing to listen, he told himself. It was only a matter of finding the right time and place to talk to her.
Not content to wait on the details of the race to be announced, Raleigh was on the way to the bank to talk to Mr. Avery about it. Maybe he’d even encounter this entrepreneur fellow there. He wouldn’t leave the bank before he knew when the race was to be run and what the course would be—and if that hadn’t been decided yet, he would suggest one. There was a very good stretch of road east of Simpson Creek—with plenty of flat stretches as well as gentle, rolling country, curves and that climb and descent at Five Mile Hill. That would separate the nags from the quality horses, sure enough.
He planned to stop at the Brookfield ranch and see if Violet would like to ride into town with him. While he was at the bank talking to Avery, he thought, Violet could have a nice visit with Faith Chadwick and her husband and find out all she wanted to know about the Comanches. The young preacher and his wife didn’t often mention the time Faith had been taken by a Comanche warrior and Gil had courageously rescued her, but once they knew why Violet wanted to know about the Indians, they’d be glad to tell her about their experience. Raleigh was right pleased with himself that he had thought of it.
Once his business was done at the bank, he would pick up Violet at the parsonage. They’d buy sandwiches at the hotel restaurant and ride out to that ranch property the bank was donating as the prize. They’d explore it, then have a picnic while they discussed what they would change when it was theirs.
Whoa, boy, he cautioned himself. You haven’t even told her you love her yet, or found out if she was interested in your dream. You haven’t even kissed her. Well, maybe he wouldn’t lay all his cards on the table just yet; maybe he’d just mention his ambition for the future and see how she reacted. He might have to be content to go slow. But if all went well and he saw any confirming hint in her eyes that she liked his plan, he just
might have to kiss her....
A flash of white and black in the field to his right caught his eye just then. What in thunder?
He squinted, and as the moving thing came into focus, he realized it was Violet on Lady, riding straight at the fallen cottonwood he’d noticed before. As he watched, the pinto mare gathered herself and sailed over it, then headed straight for a narrow portion of the creek and cleared that, too, without so much as getting a hoof wet.
He’d had no idea his mare could jump at all, let alone so gracefully.
As he continued to stare, they cleared the tree trunk again, but this time Lady landed ever so slightly off, stumbling slightly. She soon regained her stride and headed for the creek again.
“Hey!” he called, heading for the gap in the fence at the creek, wanting merely to point out that the ground was uneven and rock-strewn, and that if she wanted to jump Lady, it might be better if he constructed some jumps that she could try in the safety of the corral.
She didn’t hear him, and poised herself for the jump as the mare neared the creek. But Lady must have heard him, for the mare skidded to a stop just shy of the water. The momentum sent Violet hurtling over her withers and landing in the creek with a great splash.
“Violet!” Raleigh cried, and spurred Blue forward as visions of the Englishwoman breaking her neck, or being knocked insensible and breathing in water, flooded his brain. But by the time he reached the creek, she had clambered to her feet, water streaming from her hair and the hem of her skirt. And she was laughing as she waded through the knee-deep water to the bank.
Anger took the place of fear as he ran to her. “What do you think you’re doing, Violet?” He wasn’t even aware he was shouting till he saw her blink and pass a hand over her face, pushing sopping hair away from her forehead and eyes.
“R-right now, I’m dripping creek water, Raleigh,” she sputtered, struggling to stop laughing, not even objecting to his using her first name. “If you’re referring to a moment ago, I came a cropper, as we say in England, and fell off into a water hazard. Any horseman gets used to the occasional fall. I’m not hurt,” she added, as if that should reassure him.
Her very reasonableness fueled his fear-turned-to-anger. “No, I meant why were you endangering my horse, as well as yourself?”
He saw the moment she realized he was angry, and saw that spark her own ire. Despite the fact that her clothes and hair continued to drip, she drew herself up like a queen and stared him down. “Thanks for your touching concern, Mr. Masterson, but as I’ve told you, I’m fine. Nothing hurt but my pride, which you are now trying to rub into the dirt. How on earth was I endangering your horse, jumping this shallow little creek? I’m used to fences and ditches twice as high or wide, and if you’d troubled yourself to notice, your mare is a natural jumper.”
Her scorn, far from calming his temper, whipped it into a gallop. “Maybe the creek isn’t a dangerous jump—you only got wet—but did you bother to check the ground on both sides of that fallen tree for gopher holes, for example? What if Lady’d put her hoof in one and snapped her leg? Did I say you could jump her?” he roared. “And what is that ridiculous thing on top of my mare’s back?” He had belatedly noticed the much-smaller saddle Lady bore.
Her lips had tightened into a thin line, and her blue eyes blazed at him. “That thing is an English saddle, which my brother was kind enough to find for me, so that ridiculous great horn on the other one wouldn’t punch me as we jumped,” she spat out, obviously taking grim pleasure in echoing his denunciation. She strode over and grabbed Lady’s reins from the ground, her wet boots making sucking sounds as she walked. “But since you take exception to my jumping your horse, please allow me to give her back to you with my humblest apologies.”
She slapped the reins into his hand, then whirled and stalked away in the direction of the Brookfield ranch house, despite the fact it was at least a mile away, and she was wearing soaked boots and clothes.
Leaving Lady ground-tied, he caught up with her and put a hand on her shoulder to turn her around. “Miss Violet, stop. I’m sorry. It spooked the living daylights out of me, seeing you flying off Lady’s back. I pictured you with a broken neck. You don’t have to give Lady ba—”
“It frightened you so much that you had to yell at me like I’m an idiot?” she snapped, yanking out of his grasp. “I’ll have you know there’s an earl in England who loves me, who wouldn’t dream of speaking to me that way, who knows I’m a competent horsewoman—”
He hadn’t realized he had pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers until he had done it and was savoring the sweetness of her lips while he ignored the drumming of her fists on his collarbones.
And then she had wrenched herself away from him again. “How dare you!” she gasped.
He was breathing so hard he could hardly get the words out. “Because I care for you, Lady Violet, a powerful lot more than it’s wise to, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“I told you, it’s not ‘Lady’ Violet—”
He went right on, “I’m sorry if my kiss or my shouting offended you, but it’s the truth. Keep the horse while you’re here, and then you can go back to your fancy lord and forget you ever set eyes on me or had your lips sullied by mine.” Then he turned on his heel and stomped back to Blue, mounted and rode away without looking back.
* * *
Violet stared after him until he disappeared in a cloud of dust, the fingers of one hand splayed over her lips, as if she was trying to feel the imprint of his kiss. He’d yelled at her, and then he’d kissed her and told her he cared for her. What kind of man does that?
As much as she loved Gerald, his kiss had never affected her that way, so that she stood shaking and full of tender feelings.
I care for you a powerful lot more than it’s wise to, he’d said. As if he really didn’t like the fact. Well, neither did she, she thought, knowing that kiss would haunt her until she could banish it with one from Gerald, and maybe even after that. Maybe forever.
She hadn’t realized Lady had plodded over to stand behind her until the mare nudged her between her shoulder blades.
She turned to face the horse. She’d been so busy being embarrassed that Raleigh had seen her take a fall, which had resulted in her looking like a drowned rat, and then becoming furious with him, that she hadn’t given a thought for her mount.
Stupid. Selfish.
Raleigh would have noticed if there was something visibly wrong with his mare, but that was no excuse.
“All right, aren’t you, Lady?” she asked, praying it was so. “Let’s see.” She bent over and felt each of the mare’s legs, checking for swelling and watching for wincing. Then she led Lady around in a circle, seeing if there was any trace of a limp, any bobbing of the head when one hoof or another bore weight. There was none. Thank God. She couldn’t have borne it if anything she’d done caused injury to Raleigh’s mare.
Only then could she think again about the fact that he had kissed her, or what he said—I care for you. But then, she’d taunted him with Gerald, as if this fine, upright man who earned his wages by the sweat of his brow couldn’t compete with a titled gentleman of ancient lineage.
Tears stung her eyes. Though she’d thought, before he kissed her, there could never be anything more than friendship between her and Raleigh, the kiss had given her a glimpse of something that hovered beyond that. Something she could have. Something she wanted more than anything she’d ever wanted. And she’d not only irreparably damaged that, but any chance that they could even be friends. From here on he would hold her in contempt.
If she could have somehow wished herself instantly transported back to Greyshaw, she would have done it. She never wanted to face Raleigh again, to take the chance that she would look into those deep brown eyes and see only coldness reflected there.
* * *
&n
bsp; Raleigh reached up to take a twenty-pound sack of flour from Shep standing in the bed of the buckboard. Shep had gone into town for supplies when Raleigh had declined the privilege. Normally, he enjoyed the ride to town, the chance to get away from the endless round of ranch chores and see some new faces besides the ones in the bunkhouse. But he hadn’t wanted to go this time, to take a chance on seeing Violet when he drove the buckboard past the Brookfield ranch or in town.
“Ran into that dark-haired gal that’s sweet on you in Simpson Creek, Raleigh. What’s her name...Ella something?”
“Ella Justiss? She’s not sweet on me,” Raleigh snapped, wanting to nip that notion in the bud, before Shep started blabbing it in the bunkhouse. “She just appreciates a kind word now and then. You ought to try it.”
Shep snorted. “You coulda fooled me. Anyhow, she said to invite you to a barbecue the Spinsters’ Club’s havin’ tomorrow afternoon at Gilmore House. Noon, she said.”
“I haven’t heard anything about a barbecue,” said Quint, who was also helping unload the wagon. “Don’t those ladies usually post notices all over the county and send out written invitations to the ranches?”
Shep grinned. “Yep, but Miss Ella let it slip that they were tryin’ to attract a more, uh, select bunch a’ gents this time, not the usual lot a’ cowhands who’ll eat the refreshments and flirt with the ladies, then ride off with just a thank-you.”
Raleigh let the talk wash over him without adding to it. He wasn’t interested in anything the Spinsters’ Club was doing. He’d never taken a shine to any of its members, not that they weren’t nice and all, and some of them rather pretty, in fact. But now that he and Miss Violet weren’t friends anymore, there just wasn’t any incentive to get cleaned up for one of those shindigs.
He’d forgotten his caution and kissed Violet, and then she’d thrown that lord into his face as if he wasn’t even dirt compared to that Englishman.
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