скачать книгу бесплатно
“Ben! Pack your things and get out of town now!”
Haydon’s gaze jumped up to a tall man with a shiny badge splayed against a black leather vest.
“I warned you if you caused any more trouble, I’d run you out of town. I mean to keep my promise. Now get out of here and don’t ever show your face around here again.”
Haydon stood and hauled the man the sheriff called Ben to his feet. When he released him, the only way to describe what he saw in his beady eyes was evil intent. It tried to curl its way around Haydon, but he shook it off like he would a snake crawling on his hand.
“This won’t be the last you’ll hear from me,” Ben hissed. He scooped up his sweat-stained hat and slammed it on his greasy head. “You an’ yore lady friend’ll be sorry you ever messed with me!”
“That’s enough!” The sheriff aimed his pistol at Ben’s heart and cocked it. “Whether you go peacefully or draped over a saddle makes no difference to me. The choice is yours.” Wrinkles gathered around the lawman’s narrowed eyes, and his burly mustache buried his lips.
Haydon swung his gaze between the sheriff and Ben, not at all sure that he and the lady weren’t about to witness a deadly showdown at point-blank range.
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” Ben spat as he lifted his hands in the air.
The lawman gave a quick jerk of his head and gun, motioning Ben forward. The two of them headed down the boardwalk. Their boots clunked against the wooden planks, and neither of them looked back.
Haydon relaxed his shoulders for a full two seconds, until he remembered the lady. He let out a quick breath and turned toward her. Seeing her stooped over, he snatched up his hat and hurried over to her. “Are you all right, Miss?”
Like a well-trained woman of society, she rose gracefully and faced him. Having grown up with the socially elite, he recognized one when he saw one. And she was definitely one.
“Yes, sir, I am.” Her lavender plumed hat tilted back, and she looked up at him. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
Haydon’s pulse throbbed in his ears and his breath hitched. Staring up at him were the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen, soft as a doe’s hide. The color reminded Haydon of a whitetail fawn, complete with white specks. Thick but not overly long lashes spread across her eyelids. And that Southern accent. It skipped across his heart before drilling right down into him.
“Merciful heavens. Your nose is bleeding.” She opened the little beaded bag hanging from her wrist, pulled out a lace hanky and raised it toward his nose.
He yanked his head back. “Don’t soil your hanky.” He reached into his inside vest pocket and removed his handkerchief, then pressed it against his nostrils, ignoring the pain the gesture produced. Confident he’d gotten all the blood, he folded his handkerchief and shoved it back into his vest.
“I am so sorry, sir, you were injured on account of me.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”
She studied him for a moment, and he squirmed under her scrutiny. “Would you happen to be Mr. Bowen?” Her drawn out words, mixed with a tremor, snapped Haydon back to reality. No matter how beautiful she was, she was still a woman. The last time he had fallen for a beautiful woman, not only had he ruined her life, but also his.
He slammed his hat onto his head and stepped back. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Haydon Bowen.”
She daintily clasped her skirt and curtsied. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. I am Rainelle Victoria Devonwood. But please call me Rainee.”
He knew his eyes had to be popping out of their sockets, but he couldn’t help himself. This little beauty placed an advertisement for a husband? Someone who looked like her and bled confidence? His eyes narrowed. What was wrong with her that no one had claimed her for his own? She’s a woman, Haydon. That’s reason enough.
Slanting her pretty little head, she blinked several times before her eyes snapped onto his. Innocence clothed her face, making her even more of a threat.
This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. Why did she have to have eyes that penetrated the very depths of his soul, connecting with that spot he had purposely kept shut off for years?
He broke eye contact with her. He didn’t want her or anyone else invading that private place. Nor did he want her coming home with him. Think, Haydon, think fast. Maybe he could buy her a one-way ticket home and set her up in a hotel here in Prosperity Mountain until the next stagecoach came around.
He scanned the mining town. Several men stood in front of the saloon with their arms crossed and their legs spread, gawking at Miss Devonwood as if they hadn’t eaten in days and she was a fresh piece of meat. Prosperity Mountain was definitely no place to leave a lady without an escort. Women were scarce around these parts, and too many men were less than honorable. From what he had experienced, the place overflowed with raucous silver miners and thieves who wouldn’t hesitate to steal a person’s silver or something even more valuable—a woman’s virtue.
With a sideways glance, he battled with what to do. Frustration toward Jesse for putting him in this mess seeped through his mind again like a deadly poison. His brother should be dealing with this. Not him. But that wasn’t going to happen. The sight of Jess unconscious on the floor of the barn slashed through Haydon, and he detested Jess all the more for making him so angry he had lost his composure, and flanked his horse. Haydon knew better than to touch a horse’s flank; spurring that tender spot between a horse’s ribs and hips was bad enough, and yet he had not only kicked it without meaning to, he had also hit it hard enough that it caused Rebel to rear and knock Jesse unconscious. Haydon still felt badly about that.
With Jess injured, it was now up to Haydon to do what he had to do to keep this woman safe. No gentleman would do anything less. And if Haydon was anything, he prided himself on being a gentleman. Most of the time anyway.
His chest heaved at the idea of being in such close proximity to the flaxen-haired beauty on the long ride back to the ranch. It was the last place he wanted to be. But he would not leave her here, not even to save himself the trouble.
Rainee locked her knees to keep them from giving out. What kind of ruffians filled this desolate land anyway? Why, if Mr. Bowen had not come along when he had, she did not know what might have happened to her. Just thinking about it made her shudder.
As he stared forward, Rainee took the opportunity to study him. Her gaze landed on his arms.
Arms that had easily plucked away her attacker.
Mountainous arms that drew her attention and admiration.
Rainee knew she should look away, knowing if her mother were here, she would reprimand her for her blatant impropriety. But she found she could not help herself. Nor did she want to. The bulges beneath his pale blue shirtsleeves captivated her attention as did the width of his broad shoulders and chest.
Her eyes moved to his firm jaw, and she watched in fascination as the muscle in his jaw worked back and forth. Something about the strength of it set her heart all aflutter.
“Do you need anything before we go, Miss Devonwood?”
She whipped her gaze up to his eyes. Warmth rushed to her cheeks. From the icy tone of his voice, he must have seen her gawking at him.
Perhaps he was agitated because of her blunder in telling him to call her by her Christian name. That was far too forward of her, even if this man was to be her husband. Would she ever learn?
How she despised all those ridiculous rules of etiquette and propriety. Aristocratic rules her British father insisted they follow and her Southern mother had taken pride in enforcing. But, she refused to distress herself further about her social blunder because there was nothing she could do about it now anyway.
“It’s a good hour and a half before we get to Paradise Haven. Would you like to get something to eat before we head out?”
Rainee loved the deep sound of his voice. Even though his mannerisms at present were somewhat aloof, some of her doubts about coming here eased. After all, Mr. Bowen had rescued her from that vile man with the overpowering stench and yellow teeth. Not to mention his looks were far superior to those of any man she had ever encountered. Granted, she knew from experience looks could be deceiving, but still, his sapphire eyes and blond hair were quite pleasing to her eyes. In fact, the color reminded her of her father’s eyes. Immediately Rainee regretted the comparison. Her heart yearned for her father—to be held in his arms again and to feel the security his protection and love provided.
The back of her eyes stung, but she plucked up her courage, knowing crying would solve nothing.
She forced herself to focus on the gentleman in front of her. “Thank you, but no. I am fine, sir.” Even if she had need of anything, it would be far too humiliating to inform him she was penniless because some scoundrel at the last stagecoach stop had stolen her money. Good thing she had already purchased her ticket for the last trek of her journey. Otherwise she shuddered to think what might have become of her.
For the millionth time, Rainee wished she had secured her funds underneath her skirt. Her personal maid and dear friend Jenetta had advised her to do so, but once again Rainee’s stubbornness had overruled any such logic.
Many times her father had warned her that her stubbornness would get her into trouble one day. He feared he would not be able to secure a husband for her because of her flawed temperament. Inwardly Rainee sighed. So far, Father was right. Well, that was not entirely accurate. Many a man had pursued her. Not because of any burst of feeling toward her but because of her father’s money. Except one man. And she would rather go live with savage Indians than marry him.
Mr. Bowen cleared his throat. She looked up at him.
“That your trunk?”
“Yes.” Rainee glanced at the medium-size chest containing everything she owned. With a weighty sigh, she decided to not think about what and whom she had been forced to leave behind. It was all too vexing. And so was this man’s aloofness toward her. Gone was the warmness his letters contained. Perhaps his journey had tired him. That she understood. Tiredness had seeped into her bones until every part of her ached with fatigue.
She watched him lift the trunk as if it weighed no more than one of the plumes on her hat. He stepped off the platform and headed around the corner of the stagecoach stop. Rainee followed him, careful to keep her eyes anywhere but on his retreating form. One glimpse of his leg muscles had been enough to make her chastise herself for acting like a wanton woman instead of the lady she had been brought up to be.
Once her belongings were secured on the wagon, he headed to the front of the buckboard where she stood, and he extended his hand.
Rainee glanced at his large palm, admiring the strength of it, then looked up at him. Impatience covered his face. She quickly placed her satchel and parasol on the wagon seat, then settled her hand in his, allowing him to help her onto the wagon. She arranged the bustle of her dress and sat, then snatched her satchel and parasol off of the seat and placed them in her lap. “Thank you, sir.”
He responded with a curt nod.
Turning her head away from him, she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and whistle away the awkwardness. She knew their meeting would be uncomfortable, but she had not anticipated it being quite this bad. Then again, what did she expect? That the moment he laid eyes on her, he would declare his undying love and sweep her off her feet, and they would live happily ever after?
Hah. In a pig’s eye. She shuttered at the expression. It must be the length of the trip or the hot sun or the man readying the horses and the wagon—something—because every thought she had was taking her places she did not want to go.
Besides, those kinds of things only happened in the dime novels she and her best friend used to sneak into her room and read. Until the day her mother had discovered them. After a long lecture, she forced Rainee to toss them into the fire. It broke her heart watching the edges curl into black ashes. They were her only reprieve from the stuffy social world she lived in, a world overrun with rules of proper etiquette, rules she had a hard time obeying because they all seemed so meaningless and empty.
The wagon seat dipped, jolting Rainee’s mind from past shadows. She looped the handle of her satchel over her wrist and opened her parasol, careful to keep it out of Mr. Bowen’s way. Careful to keep herself out of his way as well.
His arm brushed against hers, and his broad shoulders took up a goodly portion of the now cramped seat.
Leather, trail dust, and a scent that reminded her of her father after he had shaved drifted up her nostrils. More reminders of home. A home that no longer existed.
Once again, she could not believe she was about to marry a complete stranger. One she had placed an advertisement for. That act alone was scandalous. Claws of dread pierced her insides as she realized once again what she had done. The need for air threatened to swallow her up, but she sat up straighter and fought for every breath. No fainting spell would overtake her. Not this time. Though they had been a problem in the past, she vowed as of this moment she would fight them with all her might.
Mr. Bowen snapped the reins. The wagon lurched forward and Rainee clutched the side of the seat to keep from jostling into him, but her shoulder collided with his anyway, and their eyes connected and held for the briefest of moments.
Long after he turned away, however, the memory of his eyes the color of sparkling sapphires stayed with her. Eyes that were handsome but held no warmth. Only a sort of detachment and something else she could not identify. This was going to be a very long ride indeed.
Haydon couldn’t wait to deliver the woman to his brother. This well-bred, beautiful woman sitting next to him was the kind he now avoided like poison ivy because they were shallow and cared about nothing but fancy balls and frippery. Appearance and financial status were everything to them. And he’d had his fill of that type of woman.
“Mr. Bowen.”
He wanted to ignore her but his conscience and upbringing wouldn’t allow him to be rude. “Yes?” Haydon gave her a quick glance.
“You said in one of your letters you lived in Paradise Haven with your family.”
His body tensed. He didn’t write those letters, so he had no idea of their contents. No knowledge about what her response had been. What her advertisement was about. Haydon shifted his weight and ran his thumbs over the leather reins.
He looked toward the mountain dotted with several clapboard buildings and mining shafts as he struggled with what to say or do, wishing he could flee into one of those mines and hide out until this whole mess was over and done with.
“Would you mind telling me about them?” Her soft voice was a tad shaky, but her asking spoke of a confidence he couldn’t deny.
He let out a breath of relief. At least that he could answer. “My brother Jesse is twenty.” He glanced at her, then back at the dirt road. “His wife’s name is Hannah. They’re expecting their first child in a few months. They have their own place on the ranch. My brother Michael is sixteen. My sister Leah is thirteen and Abby is five. They live in the big house with my mother.”
“What about you? Where do you live?” Words poured from her mouth like thick honey. Sweetness and innocence surrounded this woman. This woman he wanted to get away from as quickly as possible, he reminded himself. Even though she seemed harmless enough, he knew just how deceiving appearances could be. His former wife Melanie had taught him that. The dread of going through something like that again twisted his gut tighter than a three-stranded rope.
“I have my own place on the ranch.” Concerned she would start asking him more questions, he decided to ask her about her home life instead. He only prayed it wasn’t something she had already shared in the letters or her advertisement because then he would have to inform her that he wasn’t the one who had sent for her. And he wasn’t going to do that. That was Jesse’s job. “What part of the South are you from?” he asked, keeping his eyes forward.
Talons of fear scraped up and down Rainee’s body. How did he know she was from the South? She had not told him that in her letters or her advertisement. She had even gone so far as to have one of her friends post her letters and advertisement in Chicago.
What should she tell him? Not one to tell falsehoods, she would have to choose her words carefully. She gathered her courage and forced herself to look at him.
“I’m sorry. Perhaps you aren’t from the South. I just assumed with your accent that you were. But then again—” he rubbed his chin “—your mannerisms remind me of some of our neighbors back East. They were British.”
Rainee’s muscles relaxed.
“My Father was raised in England, and my mother was raised in the South.” Before he could ask her any further questions, she plucked up her courage to say what she had wanted to say back at Prosperity Mountain. “Mr. Bowen, I know you must think it quite strange for a woman to post an advertisement in search of a husband. But please believe me when I say I had no other choice.”
Her brother had seen to that.
Chapter Two
“Mr. Bowen? I am sorry to disturb you, but could I trouble you to stop? I am in need of a break.”
He looked at her flushed face and the damp tendrils of hair clinging to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I should have let you rest a while before we left Prosperity.” Remorse for his ungentleman-like manner and his inconsideration doused him with shame.
With her head tilted off to the side, questioning eyes peered out from under the brim of her hat. Sensing it took a lot for her to ask, he wanted to put her at ease. “I could use a break myself. Whoa, Lulu. Whoa, Sally.” He pulled on the horses’ reins. The tack jingled and the wagon creaked as it came to a stop.
He hopped down and set the brake, then wrapped the reins around it.
The woman beside him rose and closed her parasol, leaving it and her handbag on the seat before moving toward him.
He reached up toward her. When she placed her hands on his shoulders and he sprawled his hands around her small waist, feelings long buried deep inside him poked through the protective wall he’d built around his heart.
He hurried to set her down and once he knew she was stable on her feet, he extradited himself from her as fast as possible.
“Thank you.” Her gaze trailed toward a small creek. “Please excuse me.”
As much as his gut wanted him to, he couldn’t leave her to traverse the rocky ground by herself. Thin rock and rough terrain wouldn’t bode well with her fancy dress. Haydon retrieved two canteens from the back of the wagon. “Allow me to help you.” Even though he didn’t want to touch her again, he slung aside the turbulent feelings raging inside him and clutched her elbow to steady her.
When they reached level ground, ground devoid of rock, he released her elbow. The cluster of pine trees brought a welcoming reprieve from the hot sun.
He filled their canteens with river water and handed her one. She twisted the lid and tilted it up, taking a long drink. His gaze landed on her sleek, graceful neck. She leaned over and refilled her canteen, then dipped her hanky into the tepid water and daintily blotted her face and neck.
What a vision she was. A lady of poise and grace. The epitome of femininity.
Quicker than a flash, an image of Melanie invaded his mind, bringing with it all the bad memories. Memories he’d rather forget.
That Jess, he groaned inwardly. It’s all his fault I’m even thinking about Melanie again. Well, buddy boy, nothing will induce me to get involved with a woman again. Nothing.
The sooner he got this task over with the better. When he got back to the ranch, he’d hand her over to Jesse to deal with.
To distract himself, he unscrewed the lid on his canteen and pulled in a long drink.
Minutes later, after they’d finished taking their break, he steadied her again until they reached the wagon.
She pointed toward the hillside and asked, “Would you mind if I pick some of those red and yellow flowers to take to your mother?”
Did she have to be so sweet on top of being beautiful? That combination was the worst kind to lure a man in. But he couldn’t turn her down. His mother loved flowers and thoughtful gestures like that.
“Sure.” He took her canteen and put both of them back into the wagon.
Making sure she didn’t slip on the small pile of thin rocks, he held her hand until she stepped over them.
She leaned over and broke the long stem off at the bottom and studied the bloom before she placed the flower under her nose and smiled. “These are quite lovely. What are they?”
“Red columbines. My mother’s favorite.”
