Читать книгу Burke's Rules - Pat Tracy - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Jayne went to her bedchamber’s open window and pushed aside white curtains to look at the street below. From her second-story vantage point, she saw that dusk was settling over the shops, taverns and passersby. Burke Youngblood had not returned and made good on his outrageous threat to collect her as if she were a shipment of cabbages.

Despite the coming night’s warmth, Jayne shivered. The banker’s decisive manner appeared intrinsic to his nature. It seemed foolish to hope his bold declaration had been vainly uttered. Yet hope she did, clinging to the possibility that good sense had prevailed over his rash statements, and he intended to leave her in peace.

She let the curtains slip through her fingers and turned. The sturdy dresser blocking her locked bedchamber door had required relentless pushing and prodding to budge.

Burke Youngblood had scarcely entered her life, and he’d already caused her a great deal of trouble. It was as Aunt Euphemia said. A man might appear in the guise of offering help, but he usually ended up becoming a burden.

Jayne surveyed her barricaded domain and, pronouncing it impregnable against any invasion, went to the bed and picked up an unwieldy drawer. Because she’d gone to all this work to keep him out, he probably wouldn’t come. That was one of life’s ironies. Expected calamities rarely occurred, while ones that couldn’t be foreseen arrived with bass drums.

Burke stood on the boardwalk across the street from Jayne Stoneworthy’s ill-fated school. He’d seen the curtains flutter moments ago and recognized her profile at the bedchamber window. The vagueness of her outline frustrated him. He wanted to prove that she wasn’t the elusive creature who’d been teasing the edges of his thoughts. She was real. And damned if he didn’t want to unravel the mystery of her effect upon him.

He took a slow drag on his cheroot and contemplated the second-story window. What on earth had possessed him to carry her upstairs and throw her on that bed? When he’d stepped inside the building, his purpose had been clear, to teach her that she couldn’t take up residence in a former brothel and open her door to any man who knocked.

Somewhere along the line, he’d crossed the edge of reason and pushed things beyond the bounds of decency. He wanted to blame her for the fiasco. His decision to treat her like a saloon girl had been sound. By all rights, she should have been terrified for her safety. When he’d backed off, she should have been grateful for the time and effort he’d taken to demonstrate her precarious situation and humbly thanked him. Then she should have cheerfully agreed to vacate the premises.

He hadn’t backed off....

Burke scowled. He would have, if she’d played her part correctly. As twilight deepened, so did the grimness of his mood. For better or for worse, he’d issued an ultimatum. Unless a demand was enforced, it was worthless. The question of the hour was, did he intend to back up his words?

A primitive quickening surged. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted to barge into her bedchamber and insist she follow the wise course he’d charted for her. It wasn’t his nature to act impetuously. That this woman made him want to abandon caution did more than surprise him. He was shocked by his desire to stretch out his arm and use the considerable resources at his command to bend her to his will.

No, not bend. He wanted her to admit her folly and yield to his superior wisdom, so he could rescue her and her fledgling school from ruin.

And then?

He chose not to think that far ahead. The memory of sharing a bed with her soft body twisting beneath him was too raw to permit long-range planning. He would proceed one step at a time. First, she had to be dislodged from the Wet Beaver.

Burke studied the second-story window. Beneath it, a narrow ledge spanned the building. He guessed the plank’s width to be twelve inches. The conversation he’d had with Gideon several months ago returned. At the time, Burke had thought his friend had lost his mind to engage in such hotheaded theatrics as scaling a wall during a rainstorm.

Even in his youth, Burke hadn’t been hotheaded. His thirtieth birthday was behind him. It was a little late to entertain rash thoughts about climbing buildings and traipsing across narrow ledges.

His gaze lowered to the smoldering tip of his cheroot. He definitely wasn’t hotheaded. The same couldn’t be said about the blood flowing through his veins. Imagining Jayne Stoneworthy in an old-fashioned nightgown with her incredibly kissable lips tilted toward him made him hot all over.

He flicked the thin cigar to the boardwalk and ground out the flame. Evidently the certainty that he was about to make an even more colossal fool of himself wasn’t sufficient reason to prevent him from proceeding.

He strode determinedly across the street. Some things couldn’t be stopped. He was going to find out what it was about Miss Stoneworthy that agitated his restlessness and prodded a streak of protectiveness he hadn’t known he’d possessed. He didn’t delude himself that the answer would come easily.

He did delude himself that he could navigate the skinny ledge without breaking his neck. No way was his cemetery headstone going to read “Here lies Burke Youngblood, cut down in his prime as a cathouse he did climb.”

Jayne had a passionate aversion to people who failed to keep their word. She balefully regarded the dresser wedged against the door. It had taken a lot of hard work to put it there. The least Burke could do was show up, pound futilely to gain admittance and then crawl away with his tail between his legs—fitting retribution for terrorizing her this afternoon.

A blur of movement drew her glance to the open window where a man’s booted foot suddenly appeared. Before she could react, the rest of him emerged through the opening. He uncurled to full prominence. Burke Youngblood!

As if her thoughts had delivered him to her bedchamber, he loomed tall and foreboding—scowling, dust-covered and holding a long-haired gray cat in the crook of his arm. The hardness of his expression was so at odds with the soft feline he cradled that she was struck momentarily speechless.

His gaze went to the dresser blocking the entry to her room. “That’s the first predictable thing you’ve done since I met you.”

“How dare you invade my bedchamber!”

“Save the maidenly outrage for later.”

That sounded ominous. “I don’t foresee there being a later between us.”

“Then you’re shortsighted.” He shoved the bundle of gray fur toward her. “Is this yours?”

She automatically accepted the bedraggled feline. “I don’t have any pets.” The cat, a big one, was surprisingly relaxed and limp-boned at being held by a stranger. “Did you climb all the way up here, carrying him? He must weigh ten pounds.”

Burke’s lips turned downward in obvious disgust. “I didn’t start out with him. He joined me on the way up and used my back for a ladder.”

“Uh, well, that’s interesting.” She tried to hand the animal back to him. “Since he isn’t mine, you can take him and go.”

“I’m not taking him anywhere, and when I leave it’s going to be through that door with you beside me.”

Claws dug warningly into Jayne’s’ arm. She realized she was squeezing the cat and eased her grip. “I thought that by now you would have come to your senses where I’m concerned.”

He arched a dark eyebrow. “Did you?”

Needing the freedom of her hands to express herself, she sat her furry burden on the rumpled bed. “If you’ll look at the situation logically, you’ll see that my problems are none of your concern. This afternoon, in heat of our debate, things got out of control. We both made some imprudent statements.”

“Did we?”

His enigmatic expression revealed nothing about what he was thinking.

“As a practical, coolheaded businessman, you must agree I’m right.”

“Which would make me...wrong?”

“Umm...” It had been her observation that men didn’t like admitting when they were wrong. “Let’s just say that you were overzealous this afternoon in seeing to my welfare.”

“All right.”

She blinked. Never in a million years would she have expected him to be so reasonable. “You agree with me?”

He shrugged. “I can see where I came on a little strong.”

A little strong? A cavalry troop charging into battle would have exhibited more restraint. “I suppose that’s all that needs to be said.”

“Since I have no intention of climbing back out the window, you won’t mind if I move that dresser?”

The sudden change of subject caught her off guard. Her gaze swung to the massive piece of furniture. “Of course not. But let me assist you. It’s extremely difficult to maneuver.”

“That’s all right. I can handle it.”

And he did. She scarcely had time to appreciate his display of muscular strength before the deed was accomplished.

He opened the door. The cat bounded down the stairs. Instead of imitating the feline’s speedy departure, Burke propped his shoulder negligently against the door frame and studied her with disturbing intensity.

“So what have you decided?” he asked.

“About this place?”

“For starters.”

She looked around regretfully. “I suppose I’ll have to sell the building and find another.”

“That could take a while.”

“July is almost gone,” she’d said unhappily. “I’d hoped to open my school for a fall session.”

“It’s going to be tough to make that deadline.”

“I know. The only bright spot on the horizon is the bank draft I’m expecting from Uncle Clarence.”

It seemed odd to share her feelings with a virtual stranger. And yet something about Burke’s implacable strength encouraged a confidence or two. Despite his shocking lack of manners, she sensed in him an astute mind capable of untangling complex problems. What would it be like to call such a man friend and benefit from his store of knowledge?

The direction of her thoughts astonished Jayne. The last thing she wanted or needed was an ally as domineering as Burke Youngblood. At the first opportunity, he would become a tyrant.

Loud male voices poured through the window. Jayne winced. She was getting used to being awakened during the night by rowdy revelers.

Burke rubbed his jaw. “After I left today, I did some checking.”

“Checking?”

“About possible sites for the kind of school you want to open.”

He had her undivided attention. “And?”

“I might have found something that will work for you.”

When he failed to elaborate, Jayne assumed he’d devised a new way to torture her. He was going to force her to pry the information from him. Pride tempted her to send him on his way without making any inquiries.

Strange, she hadn’t realized before that an overabundance of pride was a flaw with which she had to contend.

She thought she detected a hint of amusement in his dark eyes. He knew, blast his black heart, that he’d baited his hook with an irresistible lure. Her desire to maintain control over her life warred violently against the untenable situation in which she’d inadvertently placed herself. No one was going to send their daughter to a school that had formerly been a brothel.

From the street below, another spate of rude laughter filled her chamber. Postponing the moment of surrender, which was how she viewed soliciting any information from him, she walked to the window. It appeared that, even after she rid herself of Burke Youngblood’s presence, another raucous night would prevent her from getting a decent night’s sleep.

She stared down at the street. Wild and woolly men seemed to come alive after dark. While under the influence of intoxicating spirits, they weren’t reticent at whooping their nighttime jubilation at the top of their lungs.

Her gaze dropped to the narrow ledge. It was a miracle that Youngblood had reached her in one piece. She frowned. Technically speaking, she supposed the safe arrival of Burke Youngblood in her bedchamber ought not to be termed a miracle. It should be called a catastrophe.

She turned. It was time to forget pride. She would pump him for all the information she could drain, get him to vacate the premises and maintain control of her destiny.

“I’m very interested in hearing about the building you’ve found.”

She was shocked at the physical and emotional distress the moderately expressed words caused. Her skin burned, her throat tightened and her hands shook. Her discomfort sprang from more than the simple act of swallowing her pride. Something about making herself vulnerable to this man sent out a war cry that she don a full coat of armor.

Somehow, on a battlefield utterly alien to her, she and Burke Youngblood had become engaged in a compelling conflict, the scope of which was shrouded in mystery. For a panicky moment, she wanted to run. Reason intruded. Surely it was only her imagination fostering these fanciful images of swordplay, of victors and losers, of...absolute surrender.

“I’ll show you the building in the morning.”

She rubbed her forehead. It made sense to see the location by light of day, but she was uneasy about spending more time in his disturbing company. “All right.”

“Have you packed the things you’ll need to stay at a hotel?”

The blandly asked question made her head snap up. She’d assumed he’d forgotten his demand that she sleep elsewhere. This was it, the one issue upon which she wouldn’t compromise. It was one thing to accept business advice from him. She had to draw the line, however, at letting him dominate her personal life.

She drew a deep breath. “Mr. Youngblood—”

“Burke,” he corrected quietly, straightening from his casual stance at the doorway. “Since we’re going to be working together to get this school of yours established, we. might as well be on a first-name basis.”

Again she experienced the sensation that he was taking over, but calling him by his first name was no grave hardship. “Burke, I’m not staying at a hotel.”

He stepped toward her. “I know you’d rather remain here, but it’s Friday night. The saloons are brimming with miners, cowpunchers, gamblers and fancy women. Tomorrow will be even worse. This building happens to be sitting in the middle of all the excitement. You aren’t safe here, Jayne.”

“I haven’t had any trouble.” She tried to ignore the music, laughter and quarrelsome voices that kept intruding upon their conversation.

“It’s blind luck that trouble hasn’t already found you. Be sensible. Cut your losses and spend the night where you know you’ll be safe.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you explain why you’re determined to involve yourself in my life.” She hadn’t planned on demanding an explanation for his forced entry into her world, but she needed to know what was motivating his sudden concern for her and her school.

A half smile slanted his narrow lips. Her heart performed a most peculiar maneuver—something between a flip and a twist.

“I guess I have been a little high-handed,” he drawled.

High-handed? Again she was put in mind of a military confrontation. Forget the cavalry. He’d thundered into her sphere with the jarring force of barbarian hordes sweeping across ancient Europe.

Doubting he would appreciate the comparison, she searched for words that wouldn’t further inflame his domineering tendencies. “You’ve been acting as if you were the most tyrannical of fathers.”

He flinched, but the smile remained. “Believe me, I have no intention of acting like your father.”

Jayne decided he was. deliberately trying to charm her. She hardly knew how to react. No man had ever focused this form of attention upon her. It was disheartening to discover that recognizing his ploy didn’t free her from his magnetism.

“I can’t believe you take this kind of interest in all Denver’s fledgling businesses,” she pressed determinedly.

“I’d be lying if I said so,” he admitted. “Do you always know the reasons behind everything you do?”

“Of course. One can’t blunder through life.”

“Ah, so I’m dealing with a woman of logic.”

“You’re dealing with a woman who wants to know why you’re willing to invest time, effort and money on her behalf.”

“I assume the suspiciousness I’m detecting is based upon your late aunt’s dire warnings about accepting favors from men.”

“Aunt Euphemia’s philosophy about the male gender has nothing to do with this. Credit me with enough intelligence to recognize you could very well have an ulterior motive for assisting me. I have no intention of placing myself under your influence without knowing what you expect in return.”

Jayne knew she was pink-cheeked, but she needed to know what lay behind his sudden desire to help.

“I approve of your cautious attitude. A number of men might expect certain favors in exchange for their help. A wise woman pays attention to such things. I assure you, though, I have no ulterior motives.”

His eyes held an almost whimsical expression that weakened her resolve to challenge him. She was amazed by the degree of energy it took to withstand his charm. “Trust has to be earned.”

“Life’s taught me the same lesson,” he said quietly. “The reason I’m willing to put my resources at your disposal are twofold. First, I have this character quirk of rooting for underdogs.”

Even though she fit the description, she didn’t appreciate being compared to a four-legged animal. “There has to be more to it than that.”

“There are dozens of businesses I’ve supported through their uncertain beginnings. My basis for consideration is that the owner be absolutely committed to his course and willing to pour all his time and energy into his enterprise. You possess that determination, correct?”

She stared at him, trying to gauge whether his offer carried hidden strings. She was uneasy at accepting his help and just as uneasy about losing it. “There’s nothing I want more than to establish my school.”

He nodded. “I thought as much.”

“I want to make it clear, though, that ours is to be a strictly business relationship. I’ll repay all monies advanced, with interest.”

His eyes held an alarming gleam. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“About my spending the night in a hotel.” She would resist any unreasonable authority he chose to exert. “I have no intention of—”

Two gunshots fired in quick succession startled a shriek from her: Only when Burke’s arms closed around her did she realize she’d hurled herself at him. His scent, at once familiar and mysterious, teased her senses. The security of his embrace, unwelcome as it was, had her heart hammering against her ribs. No, it was the sound of gunfire that had her palpitating.

“You were saying?”

His deep voice rumbled in her ears. It became imperative to return some distance between them. She pulled free. He made no effort to restrain her.

“I was saying that I have no intention of staying more than a couple of nights at a hotel. Since I’m repaying all the money you’re advancing me against my uncle’s bank draft, I refuse to squander my limited resources.”

“Again, I applaud your wisdom.”

She looked for a sign of amusement in his gaze, but found it unreadable. “I would appreciate your waiting downstairs while I gather my things.”

“I’ve seen ladies’ unmentionables before.”

“Such comments will end our association before it begins.”

He shrugged. The casual gesture was at odds with the subtle tension he radiated. She looked into his eyes and wished she could be blessed with the ability to read his mind. Was he as he portrayed himself, a banker and businessman, interested only in helping her establish her school? Or did he hope to extract a hidden payment from her in the future?

A shiver stole down her spine. She couldn’t pretend that feeling his strong arms close around her moments before had been a loathsome experience. His rugged masculinity touched something inescapably feminine within her.

“Only time will prove whether you can trust me.” He moved to the doorway, then paused, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll wait downstairs.”

Left to her confused thoughts and the mayhem floating up from the street, Jayne resisted the impulse to call out that she’d changed her mind. Only a fool would reject Burke Youngblood’s help.

She fetched the valise she’d stored beneath her bed, deciding she felt like the sovereign of a small kingdom forced to accept aid from a more powerful principality. If she wasn’t careful, her borders would be breached and her authority to act usurped. It was a history lesson she’d taught countless times.

It didn’t take long to pack her personal things. Descending the stairs, she was struck by the unpalatable realization that Burke had gotten his way without resorting to force. He’d used logic to sway her. Logic and the sound of blasting guns.

I think I could be in a bit of trouble, Aunt Euphemia.

How did one deal with a man of power and remarkable persuasiveness who’d mastered the skills of applied charm and reason?

Very carefully, a distant voice seemed to caution.