Rocky Mountain Rose (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 3) (8 page)

She swallowed hard, trying to focus while his touch burned pleasantly. “When Sam and I left the show, we thought it best to keep to towns they would not go. I didn’t forget Doyle; I just hoped he would let us be.” She grimaced.

“He’s not going to touch you,” Lyle said. His fist closed around a hank of her hair then released it. Looking into his blue eyes, she almost believed him. His hand at her hip squeezed, then slid it down over her bottom. She fought against flinching as he smoothed her still tender skin.

“Sore?” he asked, a smug look on his face.

“Yes,” she replied shortly, wondering what he was about, when he leaned closer, his lips close enough to hers that she could feel his hot breath.

A knock on the door broke the spell, along with a man’s gruff voice. “Sheriff, open up.”

Rose jerked back, and Lyle motioned her to stay seated. He opened the door but blocked it with his tall body, and Rose could hear his cordial tone. “Sheriff, I’m Lyle Wilder. How can I help you this fine evening?”

“Is this the residence of Rosie May?”

“There is a lady here by that name, sir. What business do you have with her?”

“Investigation of the murder of Joseph Boone, brother of Otis Boone.”

“And cousin to James Doyle?” Lyle muttered, but swung the door open.

Rose had taken the seconds to prepare for her audience and arranged herself on the chaise so she leaned on the arm with her hair flowing down her back: the picture of a queen in repose. “Sheriff,” she purred, extending a hand. “Welcome.”

The man’s eyes darted back and forth between the handsome Lyle, casually leaning along the door, and Rose’s seductive, supine position. “I’m here to ask you some questions about the suspicious death of Joseph Brooks.”

Rose raised a delicate brow. “Is that the man who fired a shot during my act a few nights ago? Brought a gun to a fist fight?”

The sheriff nodded, looking unhappy.

“Why, then, my dear sir, there’s nothing suspicious about his death. I shot him.” She patted her long thigh, cocked up on the chaise. “I have the weapon right here.”

“You committed the murder?”

“Wasn’t murder. Self-defense. Besides,” she swung up to her feet, her temper flaring, her good humor gone, “he killed my friend, Samuel Wright. Who’s investigating that death? I’d like to know.”

Faced with a redhead mad as a spitting cat, the sheriff took a step back.

“I concur, good sheriff.” Lyle drawled from his place at the door. “As a citizen of Colorado Territory, I’m concerned that this town isn’t providing proper justice to those who aren’t bosom buddies of Doyle. The dead man is Doyle’s cousin, correct?”

Boxed between a tall man and angry woman, the sheriff chose to face the man.

“You know as well as I, Doyle owns this town, and the one just over,” he told Wilder.

“Then you’ll be happy to know we came from a meeting with him just last night,” Rose said, drawing both men’s eyes. Lyle shook his head but she ignored him. “Everything’s been settled.”

“That true?” the sheriff asked Wilder, and Rose made a sound of frustration.

“It is,” Lyle confirmed. “Though the terms weren’t agreed on exactly amicably. Doyle agreed to let Rose leave with me.”

“And who are you to her?”

“I’m her husband,” Lyle replied smoothly. “Or at least I will be, whenever the minister gets here.”

Rose’s mouth fell open, but the sheriff didn’t notice.

“You taking her away from all this?”

“That’s my intention,” Lyle said. “We don’t want to cause any more trouble.”

The sheriff frowned then pointed a finger at Rose. “Rein her in,” he said, eyes still on Lyle.

Lyle let a smile spread across his handsome face and gave a little bow. “Do my best, sir. May take a few more trips to the woodshed, but I’ll learn her.”

The sheriff laughed and anger coursed through Rose like brushfire. She waited until Lyle had shut the door and pivoted slowly to face her.

“So that’s your plan to rescue me,” Rose said, deceptively quiet. “Marriage.”

“Yep.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and cocked his head as if waiting for her outburst.

That only made her rage boil over. Her fists knotted at her sides to keep from flying at him again. “What the devil are you thinking?”

“There’s my Red.” He grinned. “You know, as much as I like you sweet, I love seeing the spitfire. You have enough vinegar to send a man packing. Good thing I know the real you.”

“You don’t know me,” she sputtered. “You waltz in, snatch me out of a saloon, and—”

“Save your life,” he supplied patiently.

“Interfere,” she hissed. “Then drag me off over and over again...”

“Rescue from a very dangerous man. Bury your friend, at the risk to my life, my brother’s and yours.” Lyle advanced, holding up a finger for each point. “Provide a horse for you to escape Doyle’s town. Stand up for you in front of the sheriff and plan to ride out with you tomorrow, to help you shake off the last of Doyle’s influence.”

She clammed up because these were very good points.

Lyle saw his opening and took it, stalking forward and squeezing her shoulders “I’m not going anywhere, Rose. And I want to prove it. Not only that, but it’ll send a message to every man who looks at you the wrong way, including Doyle.”

“I can handle Doyle.” She wrenched out of his grasp.

Lyle let her go, blue eyes dark, following. “Last time, he sold you back to your drunken father and I lost you for five years. Forgive me if I’d rather not go through that again.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was so hard for you.” She rolled her eyes and waved a hand, propping the other on her hip.

Lyle’s eyes snapped to hers. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“What a hardship, to lose the younger sister on the eve of marrying the elder. What, Mary wasn’t enough, you wanted to dip your stick in the sister’s well?”

Storm clouds passed over his face. “Careful, Rose. No one disrespects my Mary. Not even you.”

“You’re worse than Doyle,” she whispered. “At least he doesn’t tell pretty lies about how he’ll take care of me.”

“You will speak to me with respect.” Lyle’s voice cracked like a whip. “I know you hate it when I have you cornered, but I have you, Rose, and I’m not going anywhere. Throwing insults will get you nowhere. I’m not backing down from this.” His powerful body pushed forward, herding her back until the back of her knees hit the chaise. Unwilling to face his determined glare, she shut her eyes. The weight of the afternoon, her punishment, the kiss, and his insistence, hit her all at once. Her reserves were dry and she had no more fight.

Her shoulders slumped and she sank back on the chaise. “Forget all I’ve said. Do what you want with me. It won’t be the first time a man has come to take over my life. And when you’re done with me, and I’m discarded again, I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

“Rose.” All anger bled out of Lyle’s beautiful face, leaving something she could not bear. Pity.

“I’m tired.” She started to turn from him. “May I go to bed now, or do you need me to be present and awake during the ceremony?” Her voice was quiet but laden with sarcasm.

She felt his heat at her back, and when he put his hands on her hips, she stilled but didn’t turn.

“Mary’s death nearly broke me,” he said.

She froze.

“It’s been five years, and I searched for you that whole time. Let my farm languish, left the claim. My cabin burned to the ground, and I rode the Pony Express for a few months and used any time I had to look for you.” Pulling her to face him, he put his hands on her shoulders, his blue eyes deep on hers. “I just knew I had to find you.” His hand cupped the back of her neck with supreme tenderness. “You were my guiding star. I knew I would find you and give you whatever aid you needed.”

She couldn’t move, could barely breathe. Something huge was happening, and she was helpless in the face of it.

“You need my help,” Lyle said. “Doyle won’t stop harassing you. Your only friend was shot, and you have no allies. I’m your only hope.” His voice dropped, along with his forehead, leaning against hers in a gesture she knew and loved too well. “I know it’s sudden. It’s not how I would’ve chosen things to go. But you can’t keep on alone. Better to come back with me, hide through the winter, then come spring decide what you want to do.”

“But why marriage? You can’t marry me.” She shook her head. “It’s crazy.”

“It’s the only way to send a message to these men, that you’re mine and not to be trifled with.”

“I don’t need a man.”

“You need protection. I’m offering. Do this for me, please? Let me care for you.”

Her heart twisted, softening. The blue eyes and handsome face seemed sincere. What if she let down her shields, just for a while? The marriage would be in name only.

“Let me fulfill this last promise to Mary.”

The hardness crept over her again. “For Mary,” she agreed, coldly, as another knock sounded on the door. Lyle left her side and she shut her eyes. He didn’t want her; he wanted to fulfill his promise to her sister. She was a pale copy for her beautiful and sweet sibling, but he would see to her just the same. Bitterness puckered her mouth as she turned to see Jesse’s head poking in.

“Minister’s here. Is the bride willing?”

Both brothers looked back at Rose, and she waved a hand in a derisive gesture.

“As willing as any,” Lyle said, a dimple popped in his cheek. Jesse had one to mirror his brother.

The sight was so charming, Rose rolled her eyes.

*

A few minutes later, the ceremony started. Rose stood shoulder to shoulder with her brand new fiancé and felt no need to slump to hide her height. Lyle was almost a head taller, a rare but welcome occurrence. She was used to manipulating her height to seem petite against smaller men.

She wore her green dress and left her hair unbound, a red wave washing down her back.

The minister didn’t seem surprised by her simple toilet. “Ready?” He eyed Rose frankly, until Lyle half stepped in front of her.

“Is this Rosie May?” the chaplain asked of him.

Rose let a smile curve her lips, more derision than joy.

“It is, isn’t it,” the man exclaimed. “You’re to marry her? Is she with child?”

“We’ll double your fee if you keep to the ceremony,” Jesse broke in, noting his brother’s rising temper.

After those magic words, the man took out his bible and began without hesitation.

Rose stood rigid, waiting for the next slight. She almost jumped when Lyle’s hand touched hers, clasping it.

It felt nice, too nice. Rose resisted dragging it away.
For Mary,
she reminded herself. Lyle had no interest in touching her otherwise, no matter how much her body seemed to enjoy his.

By the end of the ceremony, her mouth was dry, and she was almost swaying with fatigue and the strain of the day. She whispered the words, hoping the men would take her quiet for timidity, but Lyle put his arm around her, supporting her weight. It seemed she couldn’t fool the groom.

When the minister spoke the last words, Lyle gave her a squeeze and touched her face lightly, turning her lips to his for a brief kiss.

Jesse whooped, and stepped in, clapping Lyle on the back, and then leaning in to give Rose a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Welcome to the family,” he winked at her, “Mrs. Wilder.”

As the younger Wilder went on to finish the dealings with the minister, Rose turned to Lyle with a dazed expression.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’ve never had a last name. Mary gave up our father’s as soon as we left him, and I haven’t had one since.”

Lyle gave her another one of his tender looks. “I’m honored to share mine with you.” He raised her hand and kissed it. For a moment her heart fluttered, and she pretended the kiss was for her, the kiss of a lover, and not a man with an obligation.

*

The newlyweds rode out the next morning, meeting Jesse at his camp outside of town and heading southwest towards Lyle’s homestead and away from Doyle’s reach. Lyle kept his stallion close to Rose while his brother scouted ahead, circling back for meals and water.

She didn’t feel married. Sometimes she enjoyed Lyle playing the doting husband, keeping a close escort, giving her the best of the meat and first pull on the water bottle, making light conversation during the journey when a rock or an eagle or a stream of note came into view. But sometimes she found his attention annoying.

The night before, after the ceremony, food had come and the three Wilders all dined together, Rose practically falling asleep in her stew. In the end, Lyle carried her to bed and tucked her in.

“Good luck, brother,” she heard Jesse say, before Lyle pushed him out the door. Half-asleep, she waited for Lyle to come and initiate his marriage rights, but he only tucked the blanket around her more firmly, crawled beside her and fell asleep.

All day riding beside him, peering at his tall and muscled form out of the corner of her eye (even covered in dirt with half a day’s stubble he looked very fine), she wondered if he’d take advantage of her body during their “marriage.” Part of her rather hoped he would, while the other half of her wanted to beat his head in with a rock and ride hard the other way. Her indecision on the matter made her cranky.

At sunset, they stopped at the foot of a large butte to make camp. Once Lyle started the fire, his brother stood, shouldered his pack and stalked off into the brush.

Rose watched him leave with trepidation. “Where’s Jesse off to?”

“He’s giving us some privacy.” Lyle sounded nonchalant, but Rose stood and paced around the campfire, rubbing her arms. It was a cool night for late July, and she looked with misery at the mountains, wondering if she could flee.

“He wants a stake in my claim.” Lyle ignored her wanderings and kept tending to the fire. “Says he wants to settle down and help us strike rich. Of course, he told me that years ago and then left almost right after I put in for the land.”

This neutral topic set her at ease, and she stopped her nervous movement, sitting back down on her rock. “What does he do now?”

“Damned if I know. He always seems to have work. Courier, guard, his biggest skills are riding and shooting.”