Читать книгу Texas Ranger, Runaway Heiress - Carol Finch, Carol Finch - Страница 8

After a surprisingly appetizing meal at Garland Café, Bri scurried back to her room. She considered searching out a guide and arranging to rent a horse from the livery this evening. But first things first, she decided. She wanted to confront Eaton Powell II immediately. Although Bri could practically hear her mother pitching a fit—all the way from her palatial drawing room in Austin—she was giving Eaton notice that she had cancelled their engagement. Permanently. He could make his way home without her and he could campaign his heart out while he was at it.

All she wanted was to be rid of him for good.

Determined of purpose, Bri hiked down the hall. Two scraggly-looking characters came to attention as she approached. She kept her head down, her face concealed by the floppy-brimmed gray bonnet. She could feel the weight of the derringer she kept tucked in one garter on her thigh and the cool steel blade of the dagger she stashed on the other.

Anna Roland Price would throw a conniption if she knew what a vast education and unconventional training her daughter had received when she’d been shipped off to that snobbish finishing school in Houston. Bri had befriended a rascally, fun-loving street urchin—who had initially tried to rob her—and then he became her dearest companion.

The thought of Benji Dunlop’s life cut short by his senseless death galvanized her determination. She was not going to be the extension of her mother’s unreasonable expectations and she could handle herself in adversity, thanks to Benji’s thorough training. Bri had become a fair shot with a pistol. She could wield a knife accurately and she had learned to be a scrappy fighter in hand-to-hand combat.

“Don’t let nobody get the drop on you,” Benji had lectured her countless times. “Gotta guard yer own back ’cause you can’t count on nobody else to do it for you.”

Regret and sorrow whipped through Bri, remembering the loss of that treasured friendship. Benji had come to a bad end in a dark alley one night before he was to meet Bri for an evening adventure to Galveston. She had waited two hours but he never showed up. It was the next day before she learned that Benji had died at the hands of three knife-wielding bullies because he refused to give up the shiny gold pocket watch she had given him as a gift.

Bri slid her hand into her pocket to clasp the watch she had recovered at a pawnbroker’s shop. It was a constant reminder of the loyalty of her best friend and the uncertainty of life. Even after three years she still hadn’t recovered from the guilt. If she hadn’t given him the expensive gift that he treasured and carried proudly—visibly—he wouldn’t have lost his life.

“My, my, ain’t you easy on the eye, honey. Care for a little company?”

Bri ignored the tall, greasy-haired hombre whose smile displayed a mouthful of rotten teeth. He looked to be at least a decade older than her twenty-three years and he smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in months. When he grabbed her elbow, she jabbed him in the soft underbelly to ensure that he turned her loose so she could continue on her way.

“I bet I could teach you a thing or two about a woman’s place,” the man growled as he started after her.

“Try it and I’ll scream this place down around you. You can spend your evening in jail,” she muttered as she glared over her shoulder at him.

His slate-gray eyes narrowed menacingly. When he stepped toward her, his friend clamped hold of him to hold him at bay.

“Leave me alone, Pete,” the man said, and scowled.

“Easy, Joe, we got places we gotta be tonight. No need to call unnecessary attention to ourselves,” Pete, the heavyset, auburn-haired man insisted. “The boss wouldn’t like it.”

Bri ignored Joe Whoever-He-Was. She remained on high alert, in case the scoundrel wormed loose from his companion’s grasp and came after her.

She was proud to be the daughter of a veteran of the Confederate Army and Rangers’ upper echelon, as well as the best friend of a scrappy street fighter. Men didn’t expect her to be capable of defending herself. It was that element of surprise that had saved her several times when she chose to venture off alone to escape the restrictions of high society.

Bri silently rehearsed what she intended to say to Eaton before she wished him a final fare-thee-well. All the while, she cautiously monitored the whereabouts of the two men. She breathed a sigh of relief when they ducked into the room three doors down from her own. She halted in front of Eaton’s room and drew herself up to full stature, trying to make the most of her five-foot-three inch height.

She smirked at the thought of Eaton demanding the two-room dignitary suite. Nothing but the best for Eaton. He had convinced himself that he was entitled and he constantly put on airs to assure the public that he was something special.

Her thoughts flittered off when she heard a burst of feminine laughter on the other side of the door. Bri frowned then looked up at the room number. Yes, this was Eaton’s suite. She had come to the right place.

A man’s rumbling laugher caught Bri’s attention. It dawned on her that her soon-to-be ex-fiancé was entertaining a woman. She turned the doorknob and found it unlocked. When she poked her head around the edge of the door, she saw a string of garments—male and female—that formed a path across the small sitting room to the bedroom. The mirror hanging above the dresser in the adjoining room provided her with a view of the bed that sat against the back wall.

Bri gasped in shock when she saw a woman’s red head and bare breasts. She recognized the actress from the theater troupe. She was tumbling around in bed with Eaton, who was bare to the—

With a muffled squawk, she squeezed her eyes shut after she got a clear view of Eaton’s buttocks. She cursed under her breath when she realized belatedly that she had emitted a sound that interrupted the two lovers.

“What was that?” Eaton said as he yanked the sheet over his bare hips.

The redhead jerked the corner of the bedspread over her breasts. “Did you remember to lock the door?”

“Hell, no, you were pulling clothes off me left and right,” he muttered as he rolled off the bed to grab his breeches.

Heart pounding, Bri eased the door shut while Eaton stabbed a leg into his breeches. She really should confront him with his infidelity, here and now, she supposed. However, seeing him naked with the actress rattled her more than she expected. Her face felt as if it had gone up in flames and she couldn’t get the image out of her mind.

She became frantic when she heard the wooden floor creak as Eaton hurried to investigate. She glanced down the hall, trying to calculate how long it would take to reach her room and duck out of sight. Too blasted long, she decided.

She had to make a choice. She could face Eaton now while she was struggling to gather her composure or try to slip into the room next door until the coast was clear. She chose the latter.

To her relief the knob turned easily and silently. She darted inside the dark room and eased the door shut with a quiet click.

“What the hell—?”

Bri found herself staring at yet another bare chest. However, the man who owned it put Eaton to shame. Washboarded muscles rippled down his belly. His shoulders were much broader than Eaton’s and he stood six foot three inches in his stocking feet. His whiskered face was in deep shadows because his back was to the dim lantern light that was blocked by the dressing screen in the corner.

When Bri heard Eaton whip open his door to check for unwanted visitors in the hall, she glanced wildly at the brawny frontiersman who was staring warily at her. When he opened his mouth—in what she anticipated to be a terse demand to know why she had burst into his room unannounced—she did the only thing she could think to do to silence him quickly.

She pushed up on tiptoe and flung her arms around his neck. She kissed him soundly—sucking the breath from his lungs and the question off his tongue. When he tried to rear back to get a look at her, she held his head to hers and leaned sensuously against his solid chest. She put all she had into the embrace so she could keep him distracted until Eaton returned to his paramour.

A moment later, she heard the stranger’s rumbling purr. Then he said, “Well, if you insist, sweetheart…”

His arm glided around her waist to hold her intimately against him. To her surprise, he lifted her off the floor and kissed her back in a way she had never allowed a man to kiss her before. And now she knew why. It was entirely too intimate and personal and demanded more than she preferred to give.

Yet, for a dazed moment, she forgot her objective of keeping the half-dressed stranger quiet until Eaton reentered his suite. She told herself that she should be thinking about scuttling to her room once the coast was clear. But first she had to recover from the titillating sensation of being swallowed up in the powerful arms of the raven-haired stranger, whose sensuous lips were making a feast of her mouth. Despite the abrasive brush of his whiskers, Bri enjoyed the reckless embrace—in an utterly wicked and devilishly delightful kind of way.

Which was completely out of character for her. She didn’t go around grabbing men and kissing them until they gave in and kissed her back enthusiastically. She had become intrigued by kissing this brawny stranger. Then she had been swamped by a flood tide of physical pleasure that surely must be lust in its purest form.

The erotic misadventure left her experiencing the most incredible sensations imaginable. The man tasted good and he felt even better while he pressed her familiarly to his muscled planes and contours. If she was going to behave recklessly and irrationally, who better to experiment with than a perfect stranger who didn’t know who she was and had no expectations except sharing a mind-boggling kiss in the dark?

Bri gave herself up completely to the exquisite pleasure that consumed her and promptly forgot Eaton Powell II existed.

Hud’s mind went blank and his body hummed with unbridled desire while the mysterious woman, who had darted into his room unexpectedly, kissed him deaf, blind and stupid. His initial reaction upon seeing the woman in gray, whose face was concealed by the droopy brim of her bonnet, had been to lunge for the pistol that he’d tossed on the bed. But she’d caught him off guard when she latched onto him as if he were the missing half of her soul reunited after an eternity.

When she delivered that first lip-sizzling wallop of a kiss, Hud forgot everything he ever knew. It was the most bizarre moment of his life. He couldn’t see the color of her hair or the color of her eyes. He couldn’t tell much of anything about her appearance because she was no more than a gray shadow within the inky shadows of his dimly lit room. Yet, he kissed her for all he was worth and she clung to him with the same reckless abandonment.

Damn, in all his thirty-three years he’d never been so bewildered or out of control. Even his years of soldiering and rangering hadn’t prepared him for a surprise attack that assaulted all his senses at once. The unidentified female left him aching with lust and shaking with need in nothing flat. He responded instinctively to the taste of her kiss and the enticing feel of her shapely body molded to his.

After a long, hungry moment of pressing her hips against his hard arousal and kissing her as if there were no tomorrow—or the day after—he heard the door to the next room snap shut and the lock click into place. Then suddenly the kissing bandit lurched backward. Hud impulsively tried to pull her back into his arms but she bent his wrist at a painful angle and darted from his reach.

“Ouch,” he said to the back of her bonnet-covered head. “Mind telling me what the hell’s going on here—?”

“Shh-shh-shh!” she said without glancing back at him.

Then poof! She slipped out the door and scampered down the hall.

Hud craned his neck around the partially open door, noting the mysterious female in the dowdy gray gown and shawl was careful to cling to the shadows of the hall. When she reached the staircase, she turned her head away from him to conceal her facial features. Then she flew down the steps and disappeared from sight. He hadn’t had a clear view of her from her dramatic arrival to her abrupt departure.

He couldn’t describe the elusive night visitor or identify her voice. Yet, he knew the appealing taste of her, knew her alluring scent and he knew how amazingly good her curvaceous body felt in his arms.

Frowning, Hud shook his head to clear the erotic sensations that fogged his senses. He glanced toward the waiting tub of bathwater behind the dressing screen and smiled wryly. If the kissing bandit had arrived two minutes later, Hud would have been stark naked. That would have been an interesting way to make her acquaintance. Of course, her way of introducing herself with a steamy, mind-blowing kiss and “shh-shh-shh” was peculiar enough.

“Ah, well, I guess you have to expect such things in a boisterous town like The Flat,” he said to himself as he unfastened the placket of his breeches on his way to the tub.

Hud smirked at the steam drifting from the water. Now he was going to need a cool bath instead of a warm one, because the kissing bandit had left him hot and bothered.

Bri halted at the bottom of the steps to inhale several bolstering breaths. Lord have mercy! That unexpected encounter, coming so quickly on the heels of viewing Eaton’s tryst, left her head spinning like a windmill. At least she’d had the presence of mind to rush downstairs rather than scamper to her room. Otherwise, the raven-haired stranger would have known where to find her. He might have dropped by to ask the kind of embarrassing questions she didn’t want to answer, even to herself.

After striding across the boardwalk in front of the hotel, Bri paused to grab hold of the supporting beam to steady herself. She glanced toward the opera house, watching the actors give one last pitch to attend their final performance. Bri was still staring in that direction, lost in thought, when the redhead exited the Brazos Hotel hastily and scuttled down the street to rejoin her troupe. Bri wondered if other thespians spent their spare time giving command performances behind closed doors. One did, apparently.

After five minutes passed, Eaton swaggered from the lobby, dressed fit to kill—as usual. Unless he was tripping the light fantastic with a paramour. In which case he stripped naked.

Discarding the unpleasant image of Eaton’s soft, pale flesh, Bri drew herself up, squared her shoulders and walked over to plant herself squarely in Eaton’s path.

“Ah, there you are, sweetheart. I’ve missed you,” he had the nerve to say.

Missed me? My eye, she thought sourly.

“I’d like a word with you, Eaton,” she demanded.

He glanced over the top of her drooping gray bonnet to stare at the opera house. “Can’t it wait? I’d like to catch the last theater performance before the troupe packs up and heads west.”

“You already did,” she said, smirking. “Private showing, I believe you call it.”

He tried to look blithely innocent and befuddled, but his demeanor became noticeably cautious. “Pardon? I don’t have the faintest notion what you mean.”

“Of course you do. Remember that unexplained noise you heard while you and the redhead were naked together in bed?” she prompted. “That was me gasping in shock.”

Bri took grand satisfaction in watching the arrogant dandy’s brown eyes pop from their sockets. His freshly shaved jaw sagged on its hinges. Then he recovered enough to shake his head vigorously in denial.

“I have no idea what you’re babbling about.” He struck a haughty pose and looked down his nose at her drab garments. “Furthermore, you look hideous in that shapeless gray outfit. Really, Gabrielle, go change into something suitable and we’ll attend the theater performance.” He flicked his wrist to shoo her on her way. “I’ll wait for you here.”

“In the first place, you know exactly what I’m referring to,” she said in a stern tone. “Secondly, you can stop lying to me. I know who and what I saw. Having said that, you shouldn’t be surprised that I am officially canceling our engagement. You can see yourself home on the next stagecoach.”

“You are not canceling out on me,” he snapped, his polite facade fizzling out. “Your family and mine have made an arrangement and we are sticking with it.”

“No, we aren’t. Your tryst made it null and void.”

“Your mother and my aunt already made the announcement and set the plans in motion,” he all but growled at her.

“My mother doesn’t speak for me when it pertains to important decisions that affect my future,” she replied. “I’m going west to visit my father and I don’t want to see you when I return here. You can campaign all the way home if you like, but this is where we part company permanently.”

He took a step closer, trying to intimidate her, but Bri didn’t scare easily. “You are making a gigantic mistake,” he snarled, all his practiced charm gone with the wind.

“My mistake was keeping silent so long about this disastrous mismatch.” Bri thrust back her shoulders and elevated her chin when he clutched her arm painfully. “Back away, Eaton. There are witnesses here about and don’t think I won’t land a strategic blow that will drop you to your knees and ruin your next tryst with the redhead.”

Eaton’s dark eyes glistened with fury. He gnashed his teeth as he released her arm to spin on his well-shod heels. “We will continue this conversation later.”

“No, it’s over,” she said in no uncertain terms.

He paused momentarily to look back at her. His gaze narrowed in a menacing frown. “You are going to regret your decision, Gabrielle. I promise you that.”

She silently wished him good riddance and a quick one-way trip to hell as he struck a confident pose, then swaggered down the street. Bri glanced at the pocket watch she held near and dear. She knew it was ill-advised to go gadding about after dark in this rowdy town, but she felt the need to walk off her frustration. Plus, she wanted to make arrangements at the livery to buy a reliable horse and tack for her journey. She decided to save the interviews for a prospective guide and the gathering of necessary supplies until the next morning.

Battling a tired yawn, Bri strode toward the livery stable, following behind a cluster of citizens that were moving down the boardwalk toward the theater. She didn’t want to isolate herself and risk being whisked off by the rougher element of society—like the two cretins she had encountered in the hotel hallway—while she was mentally distracted.

Bri glanced around, wondering if there was anyone else besides the rougher elements gallivanting at night in a town known as one of the toughest places this side of hell. Probably not. Except for the brawny stranger who kissed like nobody’s business and left her burning with forbidden desire.

After a refreshing bath and a short nap, Hud exited the hotel. He scowled sourly when he found himself glancing up and down the dark streets, trying to locate the mysterious woman in drab gray who had kissed him senseless then pulled her vanishing act without a word of explanation.

Whoever and wherever she was didn’t matter, he told himself sensibly. He had ventured out this evening to enjoy a drink and scratch the itch the mysterious kissing bandit provoked. Afterward, he’d swing by the stagecoach depot and inquire about the arrival of Commander Price’s spoiled daughter.

Too bad she didn’t have the good sense to stay in Austin where she belonged. She could have saved him this frustration. The thought of the prissy socialite and her politician of a fiancé spoiled Hud’s mood. He quickened his pace, planning to veer into the nearest saloon. To his dismay, guttural snarls caught his attention. He stopped short when two burly bodies, locked in a bear hug, slammed into the clapboard wall of a saloon. The men—one was a buffalo hunter and the other a cowboy, judging by their style of clothing—crashed across the boardwalk and rolled into the street. Their drunken oaths and vicious growls captured the attention of passersby. Patrons also spilled from the saloon to egg on the brawlers.

Hud glanced toward the marshal’s office that sat twenty yards from the fort’s guardhouse at the bottom of Government Hill. He sighed in exasperation when Marshal Long didn’t rush from the office to break up the fight. Well, hell, he thought. He’d had to separate drunken brawlers in hellholes like The Flat plenty of times. Apparently, tonight was no different.

When the two snarling men threw punches at each other, drew blood and turned the night air blue with foul curses, Hud grabbed the reins to the nearest horse. Then he walked the horse between the two downed men, forcing them to roll away or be stepped on. Their choice.

Disappointed that Hud had spoiled their entertainment, the saloon crowd wandered back to the bar.

“Who the hell do ya think you are?” the scraggly-haired hide hunter muttered as he straightened his buffalo vest and glowered at Hud.

“Yeah, mind yer own b’ness,” the cowboy slurred out as he blotted his bloody lip with his shirtsleeve.

“What’s going on here?”

Hud glanced over to see the marshal striding toward him. If Hud wasn’t mistaken, Calvin Long, the bandy-legged law officer whose birdlike facial features had earned him the nickname of Sparrow, had dressed hurriedly. His shirt was fastened unevenly and the top buttons on the placket of his breeches were gaping. Hud speculated the marshal had stopped in the red-light district while making his evening rounds.

Hud had been on his way to seek out the same diversion, especially after the mysterious female had started a fire in him with her scorching kisses.

Calvin Long cocked his head in a birdlike manner and studied Hud for a long moment. “Stone, isn’t it?”

Hud nodded.

“Wish you’d stop in more often. Since this town has grown to a population of two thousand, not counting the influx of hide hunters and cowboys who pass through here like blustery winds, I could use an extra hand keeping the lid on this place.”

“I’ll help you haul your rowdy friends to the calaboose,” Hud volunteered.

He grabbed the cowboy by the nape of the shirt and marched him toward the jail while the marshal ushered the greasy-haired buffalo hunter down the boardwalk.

“Damn cowpuncher,” the hide hunter scowled as he wobbled unsteadily on his feet. “I saw her first. He had no cause to interfere with me.”

“You were fighting over a woman?” Hud asked as they approached the jail. “I haven’t met a woman who’s worth a gut punching or a split lip.”

“This goon was trying to drag the poor woman into the alley,” the cowboy muttered out the uninjured side of his mouth. “I was rescuing her from this ugly brute. I don’t belong in jail. He does!”

“Ha! You wanted her for yerself. But she was workin’ me over too good without yer interference.” The buffalo hunter readjusted his wooly cap then leaned heavily on Marshal Long for support. “She kicked me right square in the crotch when I latched on to her. Then she hit me with somethin’. Don’t know what but it set me off.” He hitched his thumb—which sported a dirty, jagged fingernail—toward the cowboy. “Then this cow-faced wrangler showed up to take her away from me.”

“I was defending her honor, you smelly bastard,” the cowboy sneered insultingly.

“She didn’t need no help. She took off down the alley like a gray blur and left me on my knees, tryin’ to catch my breath.”

Gray blur? Hud shot a quick glance over his shoulder to the alley. The kissing bandit? he wondered. Where was she now? Had she returned safely from wherever she’d come from?

A shadowy movement in the alley caught Hud’s attention. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” he said, striding off.

Hud muttered an oath when the elusive female backed into the deepest reaches of the alley, making it impossible to see her face again. “I want to know who you are,” he demanded as he approached. When she pivoted on her heels, he said, “Don’t make me chase you down, because I can and I will do it.”

She turned to face him and he cursed that droopy bonnet that hid her features as he approached. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and her bonnet flopped over her face.

“You weren’t hurt by the hide hunter?” When she shook her head no, he said, “Tell me your name.”

She didn’t speak, just curled her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him senseless again. Instant pleasure assailed him and he wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her hard and hungrily for a long, breathless moment. Then she traced his lips with her forefinger and backed away.

“Hey! Are you coming to help or not?” the marshal shouted impatiently.

“I’m on my way,” Hud called over his shoulder.

To his dismay he glanced back to see that his fantasy woman had vanished like a specter evaporating into nothingness. Grumbling at the kissing bandit’s amazing ability to melt down his brain then disappear at will, he strode toward the marshal. He told himself to forget about the mysterious woman and focus on locking the brawlers in jail. Then he could quench his thirst, scratch an itch and wait for Commander Price’s daughter to arrive in The Flat.