Hannah Howell (23 page)

That admonition clearly exasperated Charlotte and she lapsed into a sullen silence. Even though the others chatted idly despite her withdrawal, Royal felt it was a long, somewhat tedious ride to the Dumfrey house. When they did arrive, Royal politely, if reluctantly, accepted an offer of coffee. Idly looking around, Royal decided that the Dumfreys had done well by getting in on the start of this new stage in the cattle business. They might well never come back to Texas and to all the hard work at the other end of the business.

It was impossible for Royal to relax. His mind kept drifting to Antonie out carousing with his brothers, who seemed to think she was free. Worse, Antonie seemed to think she was free as well. That sense of being unattached would communicate itself with predictable results.

The mere possibility of another man tasting Antonie's passion put Royal into a rage, twisting his insides. Seeing her in Cole's arms had made him realize that he had never really believed his own accusations concerning Oro. He had sensed that something was being hidden from him.

Suddenly he frowned into the dregs of his coffee. He had resented the loss of her full attention. It was plain that he felt possessive about far more than her lovely body. Royal was not sure he wanted to understand the implications of that.

“Give me a minute to change and I'll go looking for them with you."

Royal frowned at Baird. “What makes you think I'm going to look for them?” He frowned even more when Baird just laughed softly.

While he struggled to entertain the sisters, Royal studied Charlotte. Lovely and much like Marilyn, she had been another strong possibility as a wife. Both ladies were the sort he had envisioned as the mistress of his ranch. Suddenly the idea was so unattractive as to be almost distasteful. They would decorate his house, but not be a true partner. Both women were from ranches but he suddenly saw that, while they had an idea of a ranch's workings, they were interested in little more than the profits and the frills ranch life provided.

When Baird returned, Royal was more than ready to leave. He would have preferred to look for Antonie alone but, even though he knew Baird was fully aware of that, he would never admit it aloud. The man had already been given enough amusement. Unfortunately Royal could never deter him and they left to go back to the hotel.

“Is Patricia really marrying Oro Degas?” Baird ventured as he sat on Royal's hotel bed while Royal changed his clothes.

“Yes,” Royal answered. “Soon as we get home."

“Sure that's wise? There might be some difficulties. My sister's reaction was not unusual."

“No. I realize that. To be blunt, Pattie was throwing herself at the man and he was doing his damnedest to stay out of the way, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. It finally hit me that they were both hurting."

“And you asked yourself why."

“Exactly. There wasn't one damn good reason. I'm sure there will be disapproval, but she has her family behind her.” He put on his hat. “Shall we go?” He did not wait for a reply but headed out the door.

“Are you sure it was wise to let Antonie go off in the beginning?” Baird asked as they walked toward the end of town the drovers frequented.

“As if I could've stopped her,” Royal grumbled. “Antonie can take care of herself. Also, Oro and Tomás grew up keeping an eye on her. They've got a second sense about when trouble's brewing. She's had a rough life. She understands places like these."

“So why are you looking for her?"

“Damned if I know.” Royal scowled at his chuckling friend and then he smiled crookedly. “Hell, I'll be honest. The girl belongs to me."

“Does she know that?"

“It appears not."

“Then maybe you're wrong. Maybe she doesn't belong to you."

“Oh, yes, she does.” He peered into a saloon but did not spot his prey amongst the rowdy crowd. “If she doesn't know it now,” he said with a hint of anger as he headed toward another saloon, “she'll know it by the time this night's over."

“There was little air to breathe in there,” Antonie gasped as she and her three companions rapidly exited a noisy, crowded saloon.

“Like a damn cattle pen,” Cole grumbled as he took her arm and led her down a side street.

It was a little quieter down the side street. At the bottom stood a small, two-story building that proved to be another saloon. One glance inside told them that it was what they wanted. It was only interestingly crowded and the noise was lively, not deafening. The hails that greeted them told them that other men from their crew had also preferred an atmosphere a little less insane.

Antonie recognized Royal's married hands as well as the older men. Looking around and paying close attention to Cole's and Justin's replies to the greetings, she realized there were men from the neighboring ranches as well. The three saloon girls would undoubtedly have as much business as they could handle but only their companionship was what was really wanted by most of the men there.

“Hey, Toni, I thought you were going to have yourself a real fancy night at the hotel,” called one of Royal's men from a corner table.

Smiling at Luke Cousins, Royal's foreman, she replied, “Fancy nights end early, Luke."

“Well, darlin', sit yourself down and we'll do our best to keep you entertained until as late as you like."

She laughed softly when he grinned and pointedly shuffled the cards he held. “I intend to keep what little is left of my pay, or most of it."

“I'm not greedy, darlin'. Where's the boss?"

“He stayed with the Dumfrey family,” Cole replied as he set a beer in front of Antonie and sat next to her.

No more mention was made of the boss and that suited Antonie just fine. She hoped to forget Royal for just a little while at least.

The level of betting was kept low and Antonie eagerly joined in the card game. She drank the beer which flowed freely but did not seem to mix badly with the wine she had indulged in earlier. It did, however, begin to make her a very gay companion.

Royal finally located the saloon where Antonie was, recognizing the voices of his men before he even stepped inside. He was not overly surprised to see Antonie had challenged Luke about who could produce the fancier footwork in accompaniment to Charlie Foster's fiddle playing. With a shake of his head, he got himself and Baird a glass of beer and joined the others at the table, ignoring their knowing grins.

“I call it a draw, Toni,” Luke gasped as they collapsed into their chairs. “I'll work on a new step and win next time."

“Ha!” Antonie looked at Royal, not daring to think that he might have come looking specifically for her. “Where are your ladies?"

“Tucked up safely in their beds,” Royal drawled, “as all proper young ladies should be."

"Carramba!
It is glad that I am not ‘a proper young lady,'.” she said the last four words in a falsetto tone. “So boring to go to bed so early."

“Depends on where you go to bed.” Seeing the light of mischief that brightened her lovely eyes, Royal purred, “Don't say it."

“Pity.” She pouted and had a drink of beer. “It was good.” She laughed with the others and indulged in several minutes of nonsense before turning back to Royal. “Well, what did you think of Antonie's lady, eh? My dress was pretty."

Royal found it hard to stay angry with her, especially when she was in so ebullient a mood. “Very pretty. The color suited you."

She flipped off her hat to display her still done-up hair. “I could not take down the hair. Pattie worked so hard."

Tomás chuckled. “You cannot leave it up forever,
chica."

Putting her hat back on, she grinned at Tomás.
"Sí,
or it might walk away on its own, eh?” She frowned. “What is the time? Maybe these ladies do not go to bed as early as I think, eh?” She pulled out Juan's watch, one of his few possessions he had left to her.

“Look at that. There's a catch there,” pointed out Baird. “That usually means there's a little compartment."

With a little work and Baird's assistance, Antonie got it open. There was a small piece of paper inside and enfolded in that was a lock of her hair. On the paper, in a scrawl that she immediately recognized as Juan's nearly illiterate attempt at writing, was written: “From my child's beloved head when she was ten."

A grief she had never given full vent to welled up inside of her, choking her. Very carefully, she replaced the items, shut the watch and put it away. Somehow, the sentimental gesture by a hard man touched off the pain of loss even his burial had failed to. She regretfully admitted that the drink which had cheered her was now making her more despondent than she might have been.

“I will leave now.” She stood up.
"Buenas noches."
She strode out of the saloon without a backward glance.

“I better go to her,” Tomás said, surging to his feet.

Grasping the young man's arm, Royal also stood. “I will."

“She needs comfort now, not angry words,
señor."

“I know.” He tossed off the rest of his beer. “It was Juan's watch."

"Sí."
Tomás sat back down. “She has never really grieved for him."

“Mmm. And she is not as tough as she'd like us to think."

Tomás looked directly into Royal's eyes and, clearly referring to more than Antonie's grief, said quietly, “No,
señor,
she is not."

Refusing to acknowledge that he understood, Royal muttered his good nights and strode off after Antonie. He would mull over Tomás's words later, for he knew it would entail a fair amount of soul-searching. Right now, however, his main concern was Antonie.

He found her halfway along the main street. With her head bent, she was striding toward the hotel. It was hard to tell if she was crying until he reached her side. Then, when he glanced beneath the brim of her hat, he saw the tears on her cheeks. He fell into step beside her, silently accompanying her all the way back to her room.

“I never cry,” she said in a voice thick with tears as she sat on her bed and buried her face in her hands.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of.” He took off her hat and then knelt to pull off her boots. “You loved the man."

“He was very good to me."

“Yes, he was and, despite what he was and how he lived, he loved you. I saw that years ago."

She watched as he undid her holster. “He taught me all I know. He tried to make me a lady."

“Honey,” he cupped her tearstained face in his hands, “you're very much a lady. You haven't failed Juan in that way."

“No? I became your
puta,"
she said quietly, looking into the jade green eyes that could so easily melt all her resistance.

“My lover,” he corrected sternly as he sat beside her and took off his boots.

“There is a difference?” She made no attempt to stop his preparations to spend the night in her bed.

“Oh, yes.” He tossed his hat onto a chair and pulled her into his arms.

“You say that to make me happy so that I will not refuse you, eh?” She slipped her arms around his waist.

“Not at all. I would not insult your intelligence by mouthing nonsense. If nothing else, I am honest with you."

That he was, she mused, not stopping him as he undid her shirt. She even arched her neck to allow his warm lips better access to her throat. He wanted her. He never hid that fact. Neither did he fill her ears with empty promises and words of love that he did not mean. That hurt, even though she preferred a lack of love to deception and false hope and all the pain that could bring her.

In all honesty, she had to admit that she wanted him—desperately. She could not blame him for the fact that her heart was involved as much as her body was. He had not asked for that. She had not really asked for that either. Passion had been what she had been looking for, not the pain of a love unwanted and unreturned.

Glancing up at him as he removed her shirt, she saw the half-smile that touched his face. “What is funny?"

His appreciative but amused gaze moved over the frilly camisole she wore. “All this lace beneath the men's clothes."

“I thought it was very pretty. I have never worn such lacy things before.” She slowly began to undo his shirt.

“Incongruous but lovely.” He removed her pants, smiling again when he revealed her frilly drawers.

She tumbled back onto the bed and he leaned over her, resting on his forearms. The look in his eyes told her exactly what he wanted. A shiver of desire tore through her lithe frame. There was no fighting that warmth.

Brushing his lips over hers, he murmured, “It's been a long time. Too long. I've missed you."

“I did not send you away.” She finished removing his shirt then moved her hands lovingly over his muscular torso.

“No, I kept myself away,” he murmured as he began to unpin her hair. “I resented the loss of your full attention."

“That was the cause of your anger?” she asked curiously as she undid his trousers, sliding her hands down the back of them and smoothing them over his taut buttocks.

“Yes.” He ran his hands through her thick silken hair. “You're mine. I didn't like sharing any part of you."

“I belong to no one,” she said quietly, edging his trousers down over his slim hips.

Slowly, he stood up and removed the rest of his clothing, seeing her statement as a challenge. “I put my brand on you that first night, sweet thing."

“A brand on me?” she gasped, scrambling to her knees on the bed. “I am not one of your cattles."

“Cows or cattle, not cattles. No, you aren't, but the principle's the same. You're mine, honey.” He pushed her down onto the bed and gently but firmly pinned her there with his body. “I was noticing tonight that my brand was fading a bit. It needs remarking."

Glaring at him but not indulging in any useless struggling when he held her wrists over her head with one hand and began to untie her camisole with the other, she snapped, “I am not a possession, I am a woman."

“Very much so,” he said quietly as he removed her camisole and let his gaze feast on her full breasts.

It was a struggle to recall that she was annoyed over his attitude when he began to flick his tongue over the peak of each breast. “You do not listen to me,
gringo."
She winced at the way the word emerged sounding suspiciously like an endearment.