Wild Is the Night (47 page)

“Excuse me.” Luke handed his glass to Sally Lacey without explanation. The pretty blonde pouted as he made his way through the crowd, his expression murderous. The townspeople parted like the Red Sea as Luke strode quickly across the room.

He could hear her laughter long before he got to her, and saw her bat her eyes in a blatant imitation of every whore she’d ever seen. Growing more furious with each step, Luke blushed for her as she slapped a cowboy lightly with her handkerchief, then giggled once more He could hear her talking as she approached, and if he didn’t know it was Amanda, he’d never have believed it.

“Goodness, you all flatter me. Why, this little old dress is just something I picked up!” Black-rimmed eyes fluttered. “But you can explain it all to me, I’m sure you’re so much smarter!”

Luke could have died at that. He heard the cowboys’ laughter, and he burned furiously. One by one he plucked the
vaqueros
away from her, then strode to the center of the men. When he did, his anger increased two hundred percent.

The dress was worse than he thought. Close, he could see every part of her body clearly outlined by the accomodating red material. Her breasts jutted forth and he longed to cup them. Her waist was so small that his hands could easily fit around it. Her belly, a bit rounder than he remembered, was still slender and led enticingly down to a wash of softly draped satin. The smile died on her red-rouged cheeks when she saw his expression, and she gasped as his hand closed tightly over hers.

“You’ll have to excuse my wife. She hasn’t been herself lately and is suddenly quite ill.”

The men protested, and Amanda struggled. Something was wrong. She’d done all this for him, dressed this way to seduce him, and now he was looking at her as if he hated her. Desperately, she tried to stop him.

“But I don’t feel ill at all! Why, I’m having the best time! These sweet cowboys are telling me all about roping a steer, and I don’t know the first thing about that!”

“Yeah, let her alone,” one of the cowboys interrupted. “If the lady wants to stay, she stays.”

“Amanda,” Luke said through gritted teeth, and she knew she was in deep trouble. “Come with me.”

“I don’t think she wants to,” another cowboy stated. “So why don’t you just mosey on back to that dame you’re with?”

Without hesitation, Luke’s fist came up and cracked the man hard across his face. The cowboy slumped to the floor, clutching his nose, blood trickling from the punch. His companion started for Luke, but the sight of his gunbelt stopped him, especially when Luke shoved back his jacket as if to draw.

No one else openly challenged him. Amanda struggled, but Luke dragged her effortlessly across the ballroom to the lobby. He produced a folded bill and handed it to the bellboy.

“Get her carriage. Now.”

“Luke, please. Let me explain.” Amanda tried to penetrate his wall of anger, but when he turned to her, his eyes blazing, she withered beneath that condemning stare.

“Why? Haven’t you had enough, making a fool of both yourself and me? Why do you keep doing this?” Luke blazed.

Amanda’s eyes filled, and she suddenly knew he was right. Those men weren’t laughing with her, they had been laughing
at
her. She had thought she was being seductive and exotic, and all she had been was ridiculous. Her pride burned, but worse, it hadn’t even accomplished what she’d intended.

Tears streamed down her face, making little rivers of black kohl. The bellboy would return any minute. She had to make Luke understand, and yet, as he stood beside her, as implacable as granite, she had no idea of how to start.

“Luke, please,” she whispered brokenly. “You once said you loved me. Don’t you understand why I did this?”

“All I know is that for some reason, you are trying to drive me insane.” But he softened at the stricken look on her face, some of the anger leaving him. “All right, Amanda. You have about five minutes before he gets here with the coach. Make it good.”

Five minutes. Amanda sighed. She could do it in one. Suddenly sure of herself, she lifted her make-up streaked face to his. “I love you.”

Luke looked as if she’d struck him. A sneer played over his lips as he scanned her up and down, noting the dress, mocking her with his eyes. But doubt followed, then the briefest flash of longing. It was that Amanda appealed to, and she struggled to find the right words.

“Why else would I have done this? I only thought I could…seduce you into wanting me.”

He stared at her, seeing the puzzle pieces fall into place. With another woman, he would never have bought it, but this was Amanda. And to Amanda’s logical mind, to dress like a harlot, flirt, and act like a simpering fool, was obviously the fastest way to a man’s groin.

He couldn’t help it. Though he wanted desperately to be angry, the fury faded, only to be replaced by a swelling, unstoppable laughter. Amanda stamped her foot indignantly as he threw back his head and roared, his chuckle deep and masculine.

“What is so funny?” she demanded, mortified.

“Nothing.” He forced himself to stop, but every time he looked at the dress, at the ostrich feather bobbing on her head, at the make-up that was now like a smeared water-color, he resumed laughing, until finally he regained control. She started to walk away, hurt more than ever, but he stopped her, bringing her back into his embrace. Luke cupped her chin, making her look up at him. His blue eyes were filled with laughter, and something tender, akin to understanding.

“Amanda, all I can say is, if you’re going to put half the effort into winning me back as you did trying to get rid of me, I’m surrendering now.” He turned to the bellboy.

“Take her to the carriage and wait for me. I have some explaining to do to another young lady.” Wrapping his jacket around Amanda, he ignored her indignant expression, then continued more seriously. “Amanda Edison, you are definitely an original.”

His mouth sought hers, and she returned his kiss, stepping up on the tips of her gold slippers to wrap her arms around him. Embarrassment, outrage, and fear all dissipated, followed by a warm, wonderful glow.

She’d won, although her methods might be questionable. And no one could have been happier.

The sun rose up high above Waco, lending a soft rosy blush to the grasslands and bathing the ranch in a shimmery gold. Amanda awoke in Luke’s bedroom, her own blush matching the dawn as she found him seated across from her in a chair with a cup of coffee at his arm, watching her with a suppressed amusement.

“You going to sleep all day? You saloon girls don’t have much stamina, do you?”

Amanda covered her head with the sheets, then peeped out a moment later when she heard him chuckling. “I was awful, wasn’t I?” she asked.

“Yes.” Luke couldn’t deny that. “But I have to admit, that’s part of your charm.”

“Luke, I promise I’ll make you happy. I won’t write again, if that’s what you want, and I won’t quote dead philopsophers—”

“Amanda.” He sat next to her, bringing her an offering of fresh hot coffee, and put one finger to her lips. “Don’t you realize that I love everything about you? I knew you were different from the first. And I wouldn’t dream of asking you not to work. Just give me fair warning next time, when you decide to publicize my failures as a lover.”

“That wasn’t your failure!” Amanda sat up, astonished. “It was mine! I just didn’t know—”

“Let’s not argue the point.” Luke grinned. “And don’t concern yourself. I have more guts than I’ve displayed lately. If you want to write about me, Amanda, frankly, I’m flattered.”

Her smile grew brilliant and she hugged him, oblivious to the sheet that fell from her, exposing her breasts tipped with dusky pink and her smooth white shoulders. Luke’s eyes warmed and he tipped her face up to his, taking her with a kiss.

Amanda sighed, drawing him down into her embrace. God, it had all been worth it. She’d humiliated herself, but none of that meant a damn. She had him, and that was all that mattered.

“You know, Amanda?” Luke pushed the rest of the sheet out of the way and began to caress her, loving the way she responded unashamedly, unlike any other woman he’d ever known. “There’s one thing I can’t figure out. Why didn’t you just tell me you were pregnant? I would have come right back.” He traced the round fullness of her belly, then looked up at her, his blue eyes warm and tender.

Amanda stared at him in surprise. “I don’t know. I figured that I drove you away, and that it was up to me to get you back. I wouldn’t think of using a child like that.”

Luke started to laugh, unable to help himself. To any other woman, using her pregnancy would have been her first thought. To Amanda, that was amoral—but sleazing around in a saloon dress was not.

“Why are you laughing at me?” Amanda asked softly, though a smile curved around her lips.

Luke grinned. “I was just thinking of how much I love you. I love the way you think, the way you feel, your honesty. When I realize that I had almost lost you, it scared the living hell out of me.”

“You never will again.” Amanda sighed, bringing his mouth to hers. “I love you, Luke Parker. And you can quote me on that.”

  
Epilogue
  

He’d left her for two weeks—two weeks that seemed like years. Angel sat at her father’s table and tried to smile at the cowhands, the trail bosses, the townspeople who had once again welcomed her back into their midst. But none of it mattered now. Chase was gone and she was finally a woman— a woman alone.

“Try some of the cold wine, pet. It’s very good.”

Her father tried to cheer her, but Angel could only shake her head. She felt empty inside. She saw the worried look on his face and forced a smile, unwilling to cause him any more pain, but she couldn’t bring herself to be festive.

Why had she spoken so carelessly and shut Chase out of her life? She thought she’d been doing what was right, protecting herself from him and him from her father’s wrath, but suddenly it just wasn’t worth it. She wanted him back, wanted Chase in her arms once more, and wanted to know that it had been real.

“Dance, senorita?”

Angel nodded and got to her feet. The last thing she wanted to do was dance, but this way she wouldn’t have to see her father’s anxious eyes and the townspeople’s knowing smirks. The
vaquero
swept her onto the floor, smiling at her graceful movements. Chase had taught her how to dance, on that night so long ago beneath the diamond stars.

The music played louder and Angel remembered it all. The campfire. The hot endless trail. The waterhole. Then, the Indian attack. She squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered Chase fighting for their lives, giving her a gun and telling her to shoot carefully. It was a nightmare—one she was sure would never end—but end it did, and they both lived to see dawn. She had known that night that if death was to come, she wanted to die with Chase, for without him life had no meaning.

A tear glimmered in her eye and she determinedly brushed it away. She was done with crying. Chase had to find his own way and she had to go on. Everyone assumed that he’d used her sexually, then deserted her as secondhand baggage, but Angel knew better. She’d done this to him, when she’d hidden from her own emotions. And now, he was gone.

Another man asked her to dance, and then another. She stepped to the music, letting the primitive beat take her to forgetfulness. Her eyes closed and her blonde hair rippled down her back. When her eyes re-opened, she was amazed to see a
vaquero
gesture quickly from the far wall where the French doors led out onto a balcony.