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The Texas Ranger's Heiress Wife
Kate Welsh
Pampered society princess Helena Conwell has built a successful ranch from a ruined wreck, but now hostile raiders are hungry for her land. Only one man can protect her—Brendan Kane, the wild Texas Ranger she married at gunpoint.After three years away, Brendan vows to defend the ranch and claim back his wife. Irish-born and darkly irresistible, he still has the power to quicken Helena’s heart with his emerald-green gaze.But, each as fiercely proud as the other, can they admit to still being in love?
‘Brendan, either you learn to respect my position here and do it quickly or you can sleep in that rocky no-man’s-land canyon and not my comfortable bunkhouse. Is that clear?’
Brendan grinned.
‘I asked you a question. I’m waiting for an answer. And what are you grinning about, you fool?’
He took a step towards her, then another. She saw the intent in his hot gaze. He meant to kiss her. He’d always crossed from anger to arousal so easily, ending quarrels before their conclusion—one of them winning by default.
Now, before she could decide what she wanted, lightning-quick his mouth was on hers. She tried to resist the leather and lime smell of him.
But the battle was lost before it began.
AUTHOR NOTE
I hope you enjoy reading about Brendan and Helena’s reconciliation and glimpsing their past as well as the rich history of the Old West. After all, they’ve been with us from the beginning in QUESTIONS OF HONOUR— already fighting like cat and dog and secretly heartbroken over the loss of the other. The danger to them and to their hearts sparked all the full-length books. What great catalysts they were! I couldn’t wait any longer to write their story, although it took a while to create the perfect setting.
The kind of land-grabbing scheme depicted in THE TEXAS RANGER’S HEIRESS WIFE is typical of stories told and retold from America’s westward growth—as is the work of the Texas Rangers. Whether truth or myth, these stories have become part of the lore of the West.
Hopefully I’ve lived up to our exciting history.
As a child, KATE WELSH often lost herself in creating make-believe worlds and happily-ever-after tales. Many years later she turned back to creating happy endings when her husband challenged her to write down the stories in her head. A lover of all things romantic, Kate has been writing romance for over twenty years now. Kate loves hearing from readers, who can reach her on the internet at kate_welsh@verizon.net
Previous novels by the same author:
QUESTIONS OF HONOUR
HIS CALIFORNIAN COUNTESS* (#ulink_a6a1fa53-9c34-54af-8bb5-f038e2fadb2a)
A TEXAN’S HONOUR* (#ulink_a6a1fa53-9c34-54af-8bb5-f038e2fadb2a)
THE BRIDE WORE BRITCHES
(part of Weddings Under a Western Sky anthology)
* (#ulink_e9922907-2568-5684-af40-f7ffc6ae2454)Linked by character
Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
The
Texas Ranger’s
Heiress Wife
Kate Welsh
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To all my readers.
Thanks so much for all your support.
Contents
Prologue (#uc99c7a22-991b-53f5-aa44-e372c599fd50)
Chapter One (#u9b78a7f9-c3a3-5a10-84b4-1c737db7a653)
Chapter Two (#ua3dd41bf-866c-5ee0-9d8e-a56cce9461f7)
Chapter Three (#u5da2d7c1-1f80-5a7a-9107-8d05a964b0a3)
Chapter Four (#uc79772b9-3cba-53ae-8959-cd15ed8e2b26)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
Cautiously, Brendan Kane approached the church, keeping his sister, Abby, behind him. It was soon apparent no one hid in the dark shadows around the building. Once this meeting was over, he’d be on the night train, headed west toward his dream and away from a hangman’s noose. Had he known Helena’s damned guardian was trying and succeeding in framing him for murder, he’d have left long ago. Then he’d have been away from the torture of watching Helena from afar, knowing she was to marry Joshua Wheaton.
Brendan and Abby crept to the church doors and slipped inside. Odd, he thought. More candles glowed than the little church used for benediction.
In the candlelight, he saw her. His Helena. He loved her so much he’d rejected her, for her own good and his own peace of mind. Brendan hissed a word that shouldn’t be spoken in a church. Helena Conwell was an American princess. In the eyes of her world he was nothing but Irish-born scum, a dirt-poor coal miner and now an outlaw to boot.
Dear God. How many nights had he closed his eyes and pictured her in this church exactly as she was—wearing a beautiful white gown? Now, though, she was really there, standing near the altar talking to Father Rafferty. She turned and put her hand on the old priest’s arm, then walked up the aisle toward him and Abby.
“What are you doing here?” Brendan growled.
Hurt entered those bluer-than-blue eyes he so loved. “I’m sorry you aren’t glad to see me. I suppose that makes this all the more necessary,” she said, as she pulled a pistol from the folds of her elegant dress and leveled it at him.
“Is this all an elaborate trick to snare Brendan in your guardian’s trap?” Abby demanded. “I trusted both you and Joshua with my brother’s life.”
Helena smiled up at Brendan, not sparing Abby a glance. “Oh, no. It’s my snare to catch myself a husband. Father Rafferty agreed to marry us, darling, and time is wasting. I’m sorry it has to be this way. I know it’s because of me they’ve gone after you, and I’m sorry. Franklin Gowery was never meant to know about us, but he does and so here we are.”
“Your guardian is a bit of a poor loser, isn’t he?” Brendan grinned. It was a grin he used often to infuriate adversaries and throw them off their stride. It worked a bit too well this time, for Helena looked as if she wanted to slap it off his face. “Ya won’t shoot me, lovey,” he told her, living dangerously as always when backed against a wall. Tonight seemed to be ripe for that.
Helena didn’t rise to his bait, though. “No, I probably wouldn’t.” She swung the gun left. Toward Abby. “But I might—just might—shoot your sister,” she said in the most scarily calm tone he’d ever heard.
He drew in a sharp breath. Had it all been too much for her? Had his rejection, compounded by her guardian’s insistence she marry Joshua, Brendan’s childhood friend, caused her mind to surrender to the strain? “Have ya lost your mind?” Brendan asked. He’d meant to sound demanding, hoping to snap her out of her reckless behavior, but even he heard concern leak into his tone. Question was, had Helena heard it?
He glanced at Ab. She stared at him, her eyes sparkling with delight and not worry as Helena held the gun steadily on her. She’d clearly seen his worry and his love for Helena. “I do believe she means it, Bren,” Abby said.
“Father Rafferty won’t marry us this way,” Brendan stated, trying to interject some sense into the conversation.
“Actually, after I explained how you’d trifled with me, then rejected me, he was happy to agree. It’s his gun.”
Abby coughed, but only to cover a laugh. Then her eyes flashed with temper when she realized Helena spoke the truth. “After what happened to me, you did the same thing to Miss Conwell?”
“This was different. I only broke it off because she’s an heiress.”
Abby glared.
“I lost my head?” Brendan added.
“I’d say Miss Conwell lost something a bit less metaphoric. Her virginity,” his sister declared. “We’d best get on with this ceremony. You’ll be losing one form of freedom this night, brother mine, or so help me I’ll geld you myself. And I’ll be holding that pistol. Now that you’ll be my sister, I’ll be looking after your interests, Miss Conwell. A bride shouldn’t have to hold a gun on her groom. And don’t worry, if he refuses, I’ll shoot him where he sits. I suspect that’s near to where his brains have been of late.” She glared. “I wouldn’t kill my own brother, but just now, I wouldn’t mind a bit of maiming and knowing his ride out West will be mighty uncomfortable.”
Brendan sighed. He had to try one more time, for Helena’s sake. He had nothing to offer her. Not even his good name. “Sweetlin’, if we marry, you’ll be married to and travelin’ with an accused criminal. You could go to prison for aidin’ and abettin’. Gowery lied and put my name on the list of conspirators. Ab says the Pinkertons manufactured proof I blew Destiny to hell and gone. I wouldn’t do that to Joshua. I saved his life, didn’t I?”
“I know. Joshua and I have been spying on them to keep you safe. Joshua will see your name is cleared, but if you don’t want to get caught and see me swept up with you, we’d better get to it.” Helena looked toward the altar and raised her voice. “We’re ready, Father.”
“Enough stalling, brother mine,” Abby said. “Take her hand, walk down that aisle and say the words.”
Helena looked up at him, her eyes so full of love it made his heart ache. “It’ll be fine. We’ll go West and buy that ranch you want so badly. We’ll call it Shamrock and raise our children there.”
Brendan stared at Helena. All night he’d been in agony, thinking her and Joshua’s engagement was to be announced at her birthday party. Would leaving her behind to marry Joshua or any other man be easier for the distance? Out of options, and running out of time to think about that or catch the westward train, he did as Abby ordered and walked toward the altar.
“You can buy the ranch,” he told Helena as he walked at her side toward her doom. “You can call it whatever ya please. I’ll never lower myself to take your charity.”
“What’s mine will be yours in moments, so it won’t be charity,” Helena said. She didn’t wait for a rebuttal, but turned toward the priest and nodded.
“Dearly beloved,” Father Rafferty began.
It looked as if Brendan’s goose was well and truly cooked. But so was Helena’s. He wouldn’t touch her and they’d have this farce annulled.
All he had to do was keep his hands to himself. He glanced at his bride. God had better help him or he was a goner.
Chapter One
Heavy hoofbeats resounded through the house, sending spirals of fear shooting through Helena. Her heart started to race. Had the Ghost Warriors finally decided to move on Shamrock? She stood and dropped her needlework as her housekeeper rushed in, her eyes wide with fear.
The horses thundered by along the ranch road, but one rider advanced rapidly on the house. Helena grabbed the loaded shotgun she kept leaning against the fireplace, then moved to the front window. Cautiously, she nudged the curtain aside with the double barrel and peered out.
Anger flooded through her. Or was it really desperate, foolish hope? In the blink of an eye her emotions flipped back to anger.
“Brendan?” she whispered. He’d said he would never set foot on Shamrock. Typical. His word meant everything to him except with her.
He seemed to hesitate, one foot on the step up to the porch.
So, he remembers his vow. “Never is a very long time, isn’t it, Brendan?” she whispered, then cursed his contrary soul. She liked to relax on the porch in the evenings, and didn’t want to picture him there. Before he decided to go ahead and invade that special space, Helena threw open the door and marched toward her estranged husband.
He slowly eased his booted foot back to the ground. His emerald eyes were unreadable in the shadow cast by the wide brim of his black Stetson. He glanced down at the shotgun as he pushed the hat back on his head. His left eyebrow arched annoyingly as he looked up, snaring her gaze with the power he still held over her.
He stared for a long, uncomfortable moment, opened his mouth, then closed it, as if unsure what to say.
She managed to look away from his eyes. Oh, how he could make her want him—make her care. Even after he’d left her alone during the darkest days of her life.
When she forced herself to look back, those eyes that had captured her heart and made it his, sparkled with mischief and flicked for a split second back to her shotgun. “And here I was thinkin’ you might be glad to see me,” he quipped in his slight, musical Irish accent.
She might be glad. She was glad, damn him. But she’d had three years of pain and practice at hiding her feelings. She had her pride, too. She stiffened her spine. He’d never know what she still felt for him. Never.
“W-why? Why would you think I’d be glad to see you?” she asked, and looked down at the gun in her hands. No matter how many times she’d threatened it, she would never want to shoot him. Accidentally or otherwise. She took a moment to break the gun open and gather her composure.
Steadier now, she said, “I seem to recall you telling me you’d never set foot on Shamrock. I believe it was outside the title office, after we signed the papers for the ranch.”
Helena turned to her housekeeper, who’d followed her to the porch. “It’s all right, Maria. You can go back inside.”
Maria shot a black look Brendan’s way, “You are sure?”
Helena nodded, then glanced back at her husband. “Is there something other than rejection and scorn I’m to read from what you said that day, and what you’ve done the last three years?”
“Things change.” He looked suspiciously as if he was choosing his words as carefully as she was. Then his whole countenance changed. He looked...serious suddenly. Weighed down, even. “I’ve bad news. The raiders struck again. Belleza this time. Don Alejandro, the shepherds and their wives were all killed. Se?ora Varga and her daughter brought the don’s body to town for burial.”
Helena swayed and grabbed a porch column. “How on earth did Farrah and Elizabeth survive? The renegades don’t leave survivors, do they?”
“They’d been in town,” he explained. “They heard the commotion in time for Miss Varga to get off their ranch road. She hid her mother and the carriage, but Miss Varga, bein’ who she is, snuck to the hilltop overlookin’ the homestead. Thinkin’ she could help, apparently.”
