Wild Texas Rose (8 page)

“This time, you bastard” — she cocked the lever — “I really am going to kill you.”

CHAPTER TEN

Jumping Jehoshaphat, Rose was nude! Not a stitch on! Bare-beamed and buck-naked
!
In the open, in full daylight, without a shred of self-consciousness or guilt
.

Thorn gulped. What a woman. What … a … woman.

Was that a rifle she was holding?

Oh God, it was.

She had her Winchester, and her hands were mighty steady. And she’d called him a bastard — the first curse word he’d ever heard her use. Deep in his gut, he had the ugly suspicion she would, without remorse, shoot him through the heart.

He’d better think fast.

But she was naked
!
Nothing on but skin and hair
!

And she was magnificent. The sun shone full on her flesh, lighting every curve, every muscle, every part that had never seen the sun before. It shone on the hair of her head, creating a glossy halo.

God, how he loved her.

Unfortunately, that same sunshine shone on the carbine — on the black, well-greased barrel, on the warm brown stock, on the cold, empty mouth that would spit death at him.

Too bad he didn’t have the brains to be scared, but all his sense seemed lodged in his pants.

She spoke, and he almost couldn’t hear her for the pounding of his heart.

“Get away from the horse,” she commanded. “I wouldn’t want him hurt if the bullet goes all the way through your nonexistent heart.”

“Now, Rose.” Thorn tried to free his boot from the stirrup, and found his coordination had disappeared with his eloquence. Maybe it was the fact he couldn’t take his gaze off of her. “Now, honey…”

She gestured with the barrel. “Get away from the horse.”

“Yes, ma’am.” With a series of hops, Thorn managed to extricate himself, although he behaved so oddly even his stallion turned his head and watched him in amazement. “But before you kill me, I think there’s something you should know.”

The blank eye of the barrel followed him as he moved carefully away from the horse and toward a boulder. He thought he might be able to leap behind it — if she shot before he explained. The location placed the sun up and behind him, so it might mess up her aim — if she shot before he explained. Most important, it kept the light full on her, so his last sight on this earth would be Rose — if she shot before he explained.

Might as well die happy.

“There’s a reasonable explanation for what I’ve done,” he said.

“Yeah, and I bet you’re trying to think of it right now.”

Tilting her head, closing one eye, she sighted down the barrel. She looked as ruthless as any killer he’d ever faced, and twice as mad. Her anger inspired him to say the right thing … just as the sweetest couple of teacups he’d ever seen on a woman inspired him to stay alive. “You know, your daddy always warned you your temper would get you in trouble.”

Her knuckles tightened on the rifle.

He thought he was dead for sure.

Then she lifted her head. “So?”

“You’re not thinking straight. You’re thinking I’m abandoning you when that’s the farthest thing from my mind.”

Her gaze cut to his saddled, travel-ready horse, then back.

He waved his hands in what he hoped would appear to be innocence. “Now, now — there’s a reason. A really good reason, and if you’ll let me—”

He reached for his jeans pocket.

Every one of the muscles in her body tensed. She looked like a woman facing death.

He froze.

She suspected he would pull a gun on her. She thought he could kill her.

My God, what kind of a man did she think he was? He’d been trying to do what was best for her for years, and she thought he’d murder her?

He didn’t understand women. He didn’t understand them at all.

Easing his hand away, he said, “My wallet’s in my pocket. You know that’s where I keep it, and you know I didn’t have any little guns hidden on me last night.” He tried out his patented, charm-their-bloomers-off grin. “Only keep my big gun in my pants.”

Neither the grin nor the joke worked.

In fact, her cold gaze got colder.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. In his most soothing tone, he said, “I want to show you what’s in my wallet. If you’ll let me get it out, I’ll toss it to you and you’ll understand everything. I swear I won’t move while you examine it. I know you’re not feeling too kindly toward me right now, but try and remember that you said you trusted me not to hurt you. Not even when you thought I was a horse thief. Not that you don’t probably think I’m a horse thief now, but—”

“Get the wallet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He’d been babbling, he realized, but how could he do anything less when faced with her totally unclothed figure — and that gun? “Right here, ma’am.” He managed to dig his wallet out of the tight pocket and toss it toward her. It landed close and skidded right to her foot, just the way he planned it.

Thank God his aim hadn’t deserted him, too.

Tucking the carbine under her arm, keeping a careful eye on him, she scooped up the wallet. She opened it.

He knew what she saw. Nestled in the worn brown leather was a five-star silver badge, stamped with the imprint of a five-peso Mexican coin — the badge of the Texas Rangers.

The Texas Rangers. A band of law enforcers unique to Texas and the wild frontier.

That badge told Rose everything she needed to know about him … although he half expected her to accuse him of stealing it.

In fact, he saw suspicion swoop over her features, but her mind grasped the facts before she could voice them. “You’re the Ranger I sent for.”

He almost collapsed with relief. Everything would be all right now. She’d welcome him with open arms now. She’d understand the sacrifices he’d made for her sake now. “Yes, ma’am, and I was going to get on that horse and go do my job. I wasn’t abandoning you. I couldn’t do that.” He lowered his voice into a sexy growl. “Not after last night.”

But she didn’t even notice. She was still staring at the star. “You’ve been a Ranger for a long time.”

“Since I got out of prison in ‘74.”

The carbine drooped. “Are there a lot of shady characters in the Rangers?”

He didn’t much like the tone of her voice. “A few. If a man is good at rustling, it stands to reason he’d be good at catching rustlers.”

“Is that why you joined?”

He didn’t like the way she was staring at the badge, either, or the way she wouldn’t look at him. “Major John B. Jones was my captain. He met me while I was serving my time, and he offered me an early out if I’d throw in with his troop to fight the Indians.”

Carefully, she shut the wallet. “So you did, of course.”

Had she been waiting for him? Had she expected him to return after his prison term was over? He’d come back seven years ago — she hadn’t known it, but he had.

He remembered the way she had looked. Even from a distance, he had seen too much for his battered heart. Her hair had been flying, her face had been lit by a smile. She had looked content, happy.

He remembered the way he had felt then. Cold, alone, almost … betrayed.

God knew she hadn’t sent him a message through his mother. According to his mother, Rose could barely look her in the eye when she saw her, and she had made a point of avoiding everyone in the Maxwell family. She’d wanted nothing more than to forget him, and she’d probably tried. Just as he’d tried to forget her.

Obviously, that had proved impossible for both of them.

“It was my patriotic duty to join. We fought Kiowas and Comanches and Apaches until we herded them to Oklahoma in ‘77. Then we chased thieves and killers on the frontier.” He couldn’t keep the pride from his tone. “Caught ‘em, too.”

“Yes.” Turning away, she presented him with a view of her long, strong legs, rounded buttocks, and straight, too-straight, spine as she returned to the campsite. “The Texas Rangers are famous for taming the frontier.”

He followed, but kept a wary distance. “I’m a captain.” That would impress her.

But all she asked was, “What brought you back here?” She laid the carbine down on the ground by the bed.

He chose to take that as a tacit surrender. He’d been keeping the frontier safe for her, so she could raise horses or whatever she wished. By God, he’d been one of the heroes of Texas, and she should be honored that he’d taken the time from his life to do that.

Of course, she didn’t look honored. She looked mean enough to go bear hunting with a switch.

Feeling much like the bear, he said, “Major Jones died last year, and I was going to resign, anyway. The law is in place, for the most part, and it’s getting damn dull policing a territory that doesn’t need policing. When your letter came in, asking for a Ranger, they called me in because they knew I … knew you. I’d, uh, talked about you some.”

She looked over her shoulder. Just a look, but it spoke volumes, and he hastened to explain, “Not in an ugly way. Merely mentioned that I had a girl back home who … “ He trailed off. What should he say? A girl who was his life? A girl who had turned him in to the law? A girl he’d given up because he thirsted for adventure and she hungered for stability?

Profiled against the stone, she opened the wallet and gazed again at the badge. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The clean outline of her body chased the last lingering bit of reason from his mind. “When?”

Her slashing glance told him what she thought of him.

“You mean last night at the party?” Bringing his attention back to the conversation, he shrugged, trying to project suave indifference. “I’m here on a mission — to discover who stole your horses. It’s easier to nose around if no one knows I’m interested.”

“You’ve been in the county for weeks. Isn’t that right? Why couldn’t you have come to the ranch and told me before?”

Funny. He hadn’t thought he might have trouble explaining why he’d pulled the wool over her eyes. The men of the Rangers were known for their honesty and for their contempt of deviousness. Yet he had been devious with her, and for no good reason.

At least — it had seemed a good reason at the time, but faced with a naked, outraged woman, it was obvious that any reason that kept him from her bed, even temporarily, was stupid.

Impatient with his silence, she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me last night in my bedroom? Or later, when I pulled the gun on you? Or after we— ?” She gestured furiously at the boulder.

He could have sworn he discerned burn marks on that rock. It had been the night he’d dreamed of for years. She had given herself to him wholly, without reservations, and it had been, for him, their wedding night. For her, too, he supposed. He hoped. And if last night was their wedding night, today was the first day of their marriage, and he owed her honesty for now and forever.

Mustering his courage — more courage than it took to face her carbine — he said, “I didn’t tell you because I wanted a little bit of revenge.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rose repeated the word with a clipped enunciation. “Revenge?”

“For sending me to prison.”

“I thought you were stealing my horses for revenge.”

“No.” Thorn was shocked and righteous. “That would be dishonest.”

She muttered … something. Had she called him a bastard again?

Defensively, he said, “You did send me to prison for stealing your daddy’s saddle. I know I deserved it, and I know that saddle would cost a month’s wages, but it seemed like fooling you — for a little while — wouldn’t be … ah … too terrible a thing.”

“Fooling me,” she repeated. She clutched the wallet tight in one hand, and balled the other hand into a fist.

She had mentioned that before, he remembered. That he’d made a fool of her. Trying to placate her, he stammered, “Now, sugar. Now, listen. It’s all over. No harm’s been done.”

It didn’t matter how much he sweet-talked her, rage still emanated from her every pore. And even enraged, every one of her pores looked fine to him. In fact, her whole body looked fabulous to his whole body, and his button-front fly felt as though it had been struck by lightning.

He wanted her. He wanted her bad — or good, or any way he could get her. And he couldn’t imagine that she didn’t want him. She’d always wanted him. Their mutual desire had been the thread that drew them together, even as their different ambitions had pushed them apart.

But now they wanted the same thing, for he had changed. He wasn’t the green boy who had stolen a saddle, or the youth who, after he was released from jail, had come back to see his love.

Nor was he the youth who had ridden away from that love, wiping his nose on his shirt. He’d grown up, he was ready to settle down — and, truth to tell, he didn’t feel that noble anymore. He had done as he promised. He had made Rose his own, and he couldn’t let her go again.

He spread his arms wide and flung his head back in a mighty gesture of conciliation. “It doesn’t matter about the past. All that matters is that I’m here now. Come and take me. Love me until I can’t bear to leave you.” He dropped to his knees, proposing to her as he’d dreamed of doing a hundred times. “Marry me and stay with me for the rest of my life. I won’t be a happy man if you don’t.” “You conceited jackass!”

A projectile hit Thorn square on the breastbone. “What the—?” He grabbed at it as it glanced off and flew past his nose.

His wallet.

“Are you crazy?” he shouted, although more from amazement than pain. “My badge is in there!”

“Marry it and stay with it for the rest of your life.” Savage in her disdain, Rose mimicked, “You won’t be a happy man if you don’t.”

“I … you … “ He hefted the wallet in his hand. This wasn’t going the way he had imagined. “That silver star is heavy. You might hurt someone!”

She rotated her throwing arm and massaged it with her hand. “I am not so lucky.”

She appeared to be serious. But she couldn’t be. “Damn it—”

“Don’t swear.”

Standing, he dusted off his knees. “Is that any way to respond to a proposal of marriage?”