Ain't No Angel (6 page)

Chapter 6

Tyler stopped the team in front of his house, and applied the brake. He wrapped the reins around the handle, and jumped to the ground. He had to get off the buckboard, and put some distance between himself and Miss Goodman . . . hell, she was now legally Mrs. Tyler Monroe. He swallowed, and walked to the front of the horses, patting Chuck on the neck. His teammate, Buck, nickered, and tossed his head. Tyler stroked the horse’s nose. 

“Easy boys, I’ll get you back to the barn in a little while.”

Tyler welcomed the strong smell of horse sweat and leather, but it did little to erase the memory of the subtle fragrance of Laney’s rose water. Only it didn’t smell like roses. It was a scent he’d never smelled before, but it reminded him of fresh mountain flowers that bloomed in early summer. Somehow it didn’t match her character. Even though she’d sat quietly next to him for most of the ride out to the ranch, she wasn’t the quiet and demure type. Of that he was certain.

What the hell are you going to do with her, Ty?

This morning, he’d been bound and determined to ride into town and take care of this whole mess that Gabe had gotten him into. There was never any other option in his mind. He wasn’t going to be strong-armed into marriage by anyone. How was it then, that just one look at the woman had sent his head into a tailspin to where he couldn’t make a rational decision?

He felt sorry for her, that was all. Gabe’s crazy scheme had affected her life as much, if not more, than it did him. She wasn’t to blame for being here. Anger welled up in his chest. The urge to take Gabe behind the barn and lay his fist into him again came on like a stampede. Montana Territory was no place for a single female, and especially not one that looked like Miss Laney. He’d done the only thing he could think of at the moment to protect her. It was the only way to make right what Gabe had done to her by sending for her.

There are other men who would have eagerly married her.

Tyler scoffed. Men like Abe Standish or Mitch Hollister? Abe’s first wife had died in childbirth with their fifth child, and his second wife drowned. He was always complaining how much work it was to raise his brood, and that he’d marry the first white woman who came along. A Cheyenne woman lived with him at present.

Mitch had a bad reputation with the whores in town. Gabe had told him on several occasions how the women complained about his rough handling. Some of the other ranchers or men in town who would gladly take a wife were no good either, for various reasons Tyler couldn’t name at the moment.

A dull thump followed by a loud curse reached his ear. He looked up over his horses’ backs to where he expected Laney to sit on the seat of the buckboard, but she was no longer there.

“Damn this stupid dress,” she muttered.

Tyler stepped around the side of the team. She was sprawled out on the ground next to the buckboard, her dress and petticoats hiked up past her ankles. The corners of his lips twitched in a slight smile at the sight of her. She didn’t act as if she was hurt, and the annoyance on her face only proved she had a spirited nature. Where had she learned to curse like men at the saloon?

Despite being sassy, the woman sure was clumsy. How the hell did she fall off the wagon? He’d seen her trip at the church, too, and fumble with her dress earlier, as if she wasn’t used to wearing one. Tyler rushed to her side. She heaved herself forward to get her legs underneath her, and reached for the spokes of the wagon wheel.

“Are you all right?”

Tyler yanked off his right glove, and held his hand out to her. Her head shot up to stare at him with wide eyes. He suppressed a grin when her cheeks turned a bright red like a ripe apple. Damn, she was a beautiful woman, and the rosy shine to her face made her even more appealing. Laney’s eyes darted to his hand, then back to his face before she reached for him.

Her satiny fingers against his work-roughened palm sent a burst of warmth up his arm, much like it had when Reverend Johnson told him to take her hand during the wedding ceremony. Tyler ground his teeth in frustration. Why did she have to be so damn attractive and tempting with her peculiar words and odd behavior?

He easily pulled her to her feet. She brushed her free hand against her skirts in an agitated manner to sweep off the dust, but Tyler suspected it was more to cover up her embarrassment.

“Are you hurt?” he asked again. Soft wisps of her hair that had come loose from their pins swayed around her cheeks. Tyler searched her eyes when she finally looked at him, and the sensation of drowning in her blue depths overtook him for a moment. He blinked, but couldn’t look away. 

“No,” she uttered softly, and shook her head. Her gaze held his as if an invisible string connected their eyes, refusing to relinquish its hold. 

“I apologize. I should have come straight around to help you down, or at least warn you not to sit so close to the edge.” Tyler tried hard to keep his tone serious. He wanted to be annoyed with her, simply because she was here, and for messing with his mind, but she was quickly weaving a web around him without even knowing it.

Laney’s forehead wrinkled, and she tilted her head to the side.

“I didn’t fall until my foot slipped off the wheel. I’m not usually such a klutz, but these shoes and the dress are really hard to move around in. I hope there’s something else in those trunks that’s more comfortable to wear.”

Tyler shook off her peculiar reasoning concerning her clothes. She’d tried to get off the buckboard on her own? She had done the same thing in town, and hadn’t waited for him to help her up into the rig, either. At the church, she’d pushed the door open after the wedding before he even had a chance to hold it open for her. He blinked again, and forced his eyes from her.

“Next time, wait for me to help you down,” he suggested. “You don’t want to risk breaking your neck, do you?” If she continued to be accident prone, a broken limb might be a very real possibility.

Laney stared up at him. “I didn’t know you were planning to help me down. And besides, there’s so much padding in this dress, I doubt it’s even possible to break anything underneath it.”

Tyler frowned. Did she think they were so backwoods here in Montana that a man didn’t know how to be polite with a lady? His fingers loosened around her hand, but before he could let go, she gripped him tighter.

“I’ll try and remember next time,” she said, and stepped closer to him. She brought her other hand up to his chest, and pressed her palm over his heart. “Thanks for the help.”

Her sultry voice teased his senses, and Tyler’s pulse throbbed at his temple. The muscles along his jaw tightened almost painfully. Her hand was like a branding iron, scorching heat right through his shirt. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman as badly as he wanted to kiss Laney . . . his wife, at this moment. Dammit! What was she doing to him? He’d been under her woman’s spell the first moment he caught sight of her.

She slid her hand up toward his shoulder, and leaned closer. Tyler swallowed repeatedly, and held his breath. The urge to wrap his arm around her dissolved when a horse whinnied behind him, and hooves pounded the earth. He pulled his hand from hers and straightened. Gabe and several of his wranglers galloped toward the ranch from the top of the low rise that led from town. Tyler stepped away from Laney, and cursed silently. He glanced swiftly at her, then turned to reach into the back of the buckboard for her carpetbag.

Dammit, he’d almost kissed her. He didn’t even know this woman. He didn’t want to know her. She’d barely been here on his property for five minutes, and he forgot everything around him. 

Nothing is more important than the horses.
His father’s words echoed in his mind. Tyler gnashed his teeth. Least of all a woman he barely knew, a woman he was saddled with not by his choosing.

He shook his head. Ultimately, he was the one who made the choice to marry her. No one held a gun to his head. He refused to ponder his reasons for his impulsive decision to get roped into a marriage he didn’t want. 

“Let me show you to the house.” He reached for her elbow, a little more forcefully than he intended. She stumbled along next to him, darting bewildered glances at him.

“Slow down, cowboy. I told you these shoes are uncomfortable,” Laney said, and pulled away from his grip.

Tyler shortened his steps, and mumbled a quick apology. He opened the hand-carved wooden door to the house that his father had built, and moved aside to allow her to enter first. He stepped inside behind her without closing the door, and led the way through the large family room and down a narrow hall to the bedrooms.

He clenched his fist at his side in renewed agitation. Widow Hansen came by once a month to clean and do the washing, and she’d tan his hide for tracking mud through the place. He’d planned to clean up the mess before she returned, and he sure as hell hadn’t counted on bringing a wife home today.

Tyler moved swiftly past the room that he slept in, and stopped in front of the door leading to his parents’ old room. It was a place he rarely entered, and one that hadn’t been occupied since before his father died. During the last few years of Jonas’ life, the older man had refused to set foot in the room, and given strict orders for everyone else to stay out as well.

Tyler opened the door. Warm, stale air greeted him. Laney hesitated, and shot him a questioning look.

“It needs a little airing out, and the blankets and sheets on the bed’ll need changing, I’d guess. I’ll bring you some fresh ones. Otherwise, this should be quite comfortable and to your liking.”

Tyler waited for her to step into the room. He followed her line of vision, looking at the large four-poster bed that had belonged to his parents. The simple wardrobe leaned up against the wall to the right, and a dresser to the left. An oval mirror with an ornate wooden frame hung over the dresser, and a bowl and pitcher for washing still stood where Tyler last remembered it. A simple wooden chair rounded out the furniture.

He walked into the room, and set Laney’s bag on top of the chair, then opened the window. The cool afternoon breeze lifted the lace curtains in a light flutter, reminding him of Laney’s hair as it caressed her cheek.

Tyler turned abruptly. Why the hell did everything he looked at remind him of something about her? He had to get his head on straight, or he’d be in worse shape than his father ever was.

“Doesn’t look like you sleep in here much.” Laney’s words broke the silence. She wrinkled her nose, and ran her hand along the dresser counter, leaving a shiny trail behind where her fingers picked up the dust.

“No, ma’am,” he answered. “This’ll be your room. Please fix it up as you see fit.” He held his hat in front of him, gripping the brim tightly, and moved around her to leave.  He stopped under the doorframe, and turned. Laney glanced at him, her confused eyes full of questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. The sooner he was out of this room, and away from her, the better.

“I’ll bring in your trunks. Supper’ll be ready in a few hours. I usually eat with the men at the bunkhouse, but I can bring you a plate. I don’t expect you to eat with them.” He stepped further into the hall, and added, “Once you’re settled and would like to take over the chore of cooking, you let me know.”

Laney stared at him blankly, as if she hadn’t understood a word he said. A look of bewilderment, something he would even define as shock, passed through her eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a microwave, would you?” Laney laughed. She shook her head. “I don’t think you want me to cook anything unless it comes in a box with instructions.”

Tyler scrunched his eyebrows. A woman who didn’t cook? He almost laughed. His mother hadn’t been very good in the kitchen, either. In her line of work before she’d married his father, she didn’t need to know how. He stared at Laney. The skin on his chest tingled where she’d touched him minutes ago. Her forward behavior had ignited his body and senses, but now, a cold wave of dread washed over him.

No. He dismissed the awful thought that entered his mind. Laney’s behavior was unusual, but he refused to compare her to his mother.