Never Love a Cowboy (9 page)

Her breath whooshed out as though he’d punched her in the gut. He was
still
gambling, betting on her to make a good enough impression that David Rob
ertson would invest in their business if need be. The risk was higher than drawing to an inside straight. How dare the man put the burden on her…. The irritation swelled, bringing her obstinacy to the surface. She’d show him that the risk wasn’t nearly as much as he thought.

Gwen swooped into the room. “Ready to begin?”

Jessye gave her an uncertain smile. “You know you’re working with a sow’s ear here.”

Gwen laughed. “I have a reputation for creatin’ silk purses the likes of which you won’t find anywhere else.”

Harrison paced within his room, the ticking of the clock keeping perfect rhythm with his steps and his doubts. What had he been thinking to suggest that Jessye attend this little party tonight?

That she intrigued him, he could not deny. That he wanted to bed her, he
would
not deny.

But to risk causing her embarrassment…dear God, what had he done? The women she would meet tonight did not drink, swear, or watch men bathe. He released a mirthless laugh. With Jessye’s stubborn streak—which he adored—she’d no doubt wear her trousers regardless of how hard the seamstress worked to finish the gown in time.

The tick of the clock finally struck seven, and he smiled. It was a good thing that he enjoyed creating scandal—because he had little doubt that tonight he and Jessye would create one that this town would never forget.

Straightening his black jacket, he opened the door
to his room and crossed the hall to hers. He knocked lightly.

The door flung open, and his lungs forgot how to draw in air. Jessye stood in the emerald gown, her cheeks a bright red, her hair piled on top of her head with curling strands framing her oval face, her breathing heavy.

“You didn’t purchase enough material!” She stalked to the mirror and tugged on the bodice of the gown. She’d been wearing her breasts bound for so long that he’d nearly forgotten she had them. This gown was a remarkable reminder as the gentle swells rose and fell with each breath she took.

And dear God, her waist. He could have spanned it with his hands. The male clothing she wore, which he thought revealed everything, in truth revealed nothing. It hid the delicateness of her features, the alabaster softness of her bare shoulders.

She spun around. “Harry, I can’t wear this.”

“Jessye, it would be a sin for you not to. I had forgotten exactly how lovely you are,” he said quietly.

“Lovely?” she snapped. She stared in the mirror and tugged once again on the bodice. “This gown doesn’t cover enough of me to be lovely. It’s downright indecent.”

Swallowing hard, he walked slowly across the room, enjoying every angle, every nuance of femininity revealed to him. The temptation to stay within this room and remove the gown was almost more than he could bear.

He came to stand behind her and caught the wisp of her fragrance: wild lilies flourishing in a field.
“You’ve been wearing a man’s shirt for too long. The gown reveals hardly anything.”

She took a deep, shaky breath. “But you can see my…my…”

“Soft feminine curves.” He trailed his fingers along the column of her throat and felt the quickening of her pulse as she met and held his gaze in the mirror. His mouth grew dry and her eyes darkened as he slowly, seductively lowered his hand and outlined the swells where cloth met alluring flesh. Not a freckle in sight. Dear God, but he longed to kiss her where the sun had never seen the hint of her glory. He hadn’t purchased too little material—he’d purchased too damned much.

He slid his gaze past her to the bed reflected in the mirror. Desire such as he’d never known clawed through him.

“Did I mention earlier that I hate parties as well?” he rasped. “We could stay—”

She slid away from him. “So I can lift this pretty skirt for you?”

“Why do you equate desire with insult?”

“Because there’s no love attached to it. You could have what you want, and we could still get to the party on time.”

“To have what I want, Jessye, we would not leave this room until dawn.”

Jessye backed into the dresser. She’d seen lust in the eyes of a thousand men—but desire? For the first time in her life, she thought she was actually looking at desire, and the sight terrified her. “Thought we had a reason to go to this party.”

He bowed slightly. “We do. For a moment your charms made me forget.”

“I bet you say that to all the ladies.”

He smiled wickedly. “I never expected to hear you refer to yourself as a lady.”

“I didn’t mean
I
was a lady.”

“But you are. Look in the mirror.”

“I’ve looked.”

“Look again.”

Defiantly, she did as he bid. He stood slightly behind her in his strikingly white shirt, cravat, red vest, and black jacket. And durn his hide, within his eyes, she saw understanding—his understanding of her fears and insecurities.

“Tonight, Jessye love, no one will mistake you for a saloon owner’s daughter.” He withdrew something from his pocket. With one fluid motion, his sleight of hand laid a necklace against her flesh, a small teardrop emerald resting just below the hollow at the base of her throat.

She met his gaze in the mirror. “What are you doing?”

“Cheating.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Want to explain that?”

“My grandfather taught me that when life deals the cards unfairly, you cheat. A man is more likely to invest in our enterprise if he does not think we are desperate for his money.”

“I thought this man was Kit’s friend.”

His eyes hardened as they captured hers. “Jessye love, you’re the one who drew up the contract on our enterprise. I would think you of all people would understand that within the boundaries of business, friendships do not exist.”

H
arrison took great delight in watching
Jessye’s eyes widen as he drew the carriage to a halt in front of the large brick house. He had rented the vehicle for the evening because he didn’t want Jessye to have to walk the mile or so to the Robertsons’. Their home lay beyond the outer edges of Dallas proper, but he thought someday the town would stretch its boundaries and its influence.

For a fleeting instant, he wished she could visit his father’s estates. Although it was unfair to compare a fledgling community to a country with centuries of history behind it, he could not help but feel a measure of pride in his family’s homes. Next to them, this place was tiny.

He assisted Jessye out of the carriage, led her up the steps, and knocked soundly on the door. A stern-faced butler opened it and bid them to enter. Harrison hadn’t expected Jessye’s eyes to widen further. Her fingers tightened their hold on his arm. “I can’t do this,” she whispered beneath her breath.

“You can and you will.”

“I ain’t never been in a place this fancy. I don’t know how to act.”

He leaned low until his lips were but a whisper’s breath from her ear. “Just be yourself, and you’ll charm them. Besides, if we get the cattle to market as planned, you’ll be able to build a house grander than this one.”

She snapped her gaze to his. “We won’t be that rich.”

“Yes, we will. The risks are high, which means the rewards shall be as well.”

“Harry! I expected Kit to arrive with a beautiful woman on his arm, not you.” Tall, with gleaming black hair, David Robertson strode across the foyer like a man who had no doubts that he owned his place in the world.

Harrison smiled broadly. “Kit has yet to take a fancy to these strong-minded Texas ladies. David, allow me to introduce you to Kit’s business partner”—he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Gerald Milton was strutting across the foyer like a bloody peacock—“and my fiancée.”

Jessye would have protested the introduction if she hadn’t spotted Gerald. She smiled brightly, when she preferred to retreat. David Robertson was younger than she’d expected, but deep furrows creased his brow and his brown eyes told her he’d seen much of life. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jessye murmured.

“The pleasure is all mine,” David said as he took her hand and brought it to his lips. Jessye wished to God that she wasn’t trembling like a leaf caught in a tornado.

“Southern gallantry,” Harrison murmured. “I suppose it’s a good thing you’re married.”

David’s eyes twinkled. “No, it’s a good thing I love my wife as much as I do.” He turned slightly. “Gerald, I’d like you to meet—”

“We’ve met,” Harry cut in.

Gerald smiled, but it wasn’t the smile of his youth, the one that had lured her to him. This smile was cold and calculating. “You gonna join us later for that poker game?”

“No,” Harry said. “I thought to retire early. I’ve been too long without the softness of a bed.”

Jessye felt Gerald’s gaze sweep over her, and it was all she could do not to shudder.

“Yep, I can see that the softness has improved.”

Jessye wanted to slap the sneer off his face, but it disappeared the moment David looked at him as though trying to decipher his words.

“Let’s go into the parlor. Madeline managed to locate a couple of fiddle players. Do you dance, Miss Kane?”

With Harry at her side, she followed David. “No—”

“Yes, she does,” Harry broke in. “But I’m a possessive sort. All her dances are reserved for me.”

“She didn’t dance before the war,” Gerald stated boldly.

Harry stopped abruptly, and Jessye felt the tightness in his arm, which mirrored that in her stomach. “She was a mere slip of a girl when last you knew her. Fortunately for me, since then she has acquired a taste for the finer aspects of life.”

Gerald narrowed his eyes as though he was trying to determine if he’d been insulted.

“Harry!”

Harry’s cold smile turned warm as he released his hold on Jessye and hugged a dark-haired woman. “Madeline.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “You seem to have survived the war looking more beautiful than ever.”

“Only because David survived. You have no idea how many times I regretted that we returned when he heard that war had erupted.”

Jessye watched as David brushed a light kiss near her temple. “It’s over now.”

“Thank God for that. Everyone is in the parlor. Please join us.”

The parlor was the most beautiful room Jessye had ever seen. Standing before the hearth, Kit was dressed similarly to Harry, only his black vest and shirt gave him the appearance of being in mourning. People surrounded him, listening to his tales, but it was the young woman sitting in a chair watching him who caught Jessye’s attention. She could only hope that she never looked at Harry with that much adoration reflected in her eyes, even if she felt it.

David approached the woman, and she rose elegantly. Her blond hair and pale features gave her an ethereal quality.

“I don’t believe you’ve met my sister Ashton,” David said. “She’s the reason we’re having this party tonight.”

Ashton smiled warmly. “I’m so glad you could come.”

Gerald stepped beside her. “Ashton is the reason
I’m here,” he said as though he’d just won a victory over the North.

The bile rose to burn Jessye’s throat. The woman appeared so innocent. She prayed Gerald would not take advantage. “So the two of you are friends?” she asked.

“Ashton wrote me during the war,” Gerald replied. “That’s how we met.”

Ashton blushed. “During the war, I wanted to do something, so I wrote letters and simply addressed them to ‘any Confederate soldier.’”

“And I was fortunate that one fell into my hands,” Gerald said.

Ashton’s blush deepened. “I corresponded with many men, but so few returned. Gerald came by to thank me. I thought that was very kind, and Madeline agreed to have a party. And I’m so glad. Kit has been here most of the afternoon telling us the most outlandish stories about him and Harry picking cotton.”

Harry groaned. “Bless his black-hearted soul.”

Jessye glanced at Gerald and wondered if Harry’s statement didn’t more aptly refer to the man she’d loved in her youth.

Jessye relished the booming laughter reverberating around the dining room. David Robertson obviously appreciated life. Beside him, his wife smiled and constantly touched his hand, arm, or shoulder.

Gerald sat slightly across from Jessye. A shudder ran through her every time his gaze fell upon her.

David took a deep breath to control his laughter. “So your fathers paid this Winslow to bring you to Texas?”

“Yes,” Kit admitted. “It seems the exploits of Gray, Harry, and myself were becoming quite legendary—and embarrassing to our families.”

“Surely, you didn’t truly mean to embarrass them,” Ashton said softly.

Kit shook his head. “Not intentionally, no. But we decided if the only title we were to be given was that of ‘black sheep,’ then we needed to develop reputations worthy of the honor. We were quite successful at our endeavors.”

David chuckled. “Yes, I can imagine you were. Although I know your goals often lacked height, I’ve never known the three of you to fail at anything you set your minds to achieving.”

Jessye couldn’t have been more stunned by the man’s words if he’d suddenly spoken in Latin.

David leaned forward slightly. “But the cattle will be your downfall.”

Madeline clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Surely you men will wait to discuss business.”

“Men and lady,” Harry said. “Jessye is our cattle expert.”

Jessye felt, more than saw, Gerald’s gaze boring into her.

“Just a touch of business, then we’ll move on,” David assured his wife. “As your friend, I must speak honestly. This cattle venture is doomed to failure.”

“At the risk of being rude to our host,” Harry said, “I disagree with your assessment, David. Texas’s future lies in cattle.”

David studied him thoughtfully. “Your confidence intrigues me. The railroad stops at Sedalia, Missouri.”

Kit nodded. “That’s our destination.”

“How are you plannin’ to get through Kansas?” Gerald asked.

Jessye’s heart bounced against her ribs. Why did the smoothness in his voice have to remind her of warm summer nights beneath the stars?

“We’ll guide our three thousand head of cattle through Kansas in the same manner that we guided them through Texas,” Harry said, his voice calm. “With success.”

“Them longhorns carry tick fever. Kansas passed a law forbidding Texas cattle to go through the state. Jayhawkers are working to enforce that law.”

“Jayhawkers?” Kit asked.

“Vigilantes,” David answered, his voice rife with disgust. “I heard of some smaller outfits trying to cut across Kansas. The jayhawkers told them they had to pay a fine or turn the cattle back.”

Jessye was familiar with that particular Kansas law. She hadn’t heard that anyone was serious enough about it to stop the Texas cattle from going through Kansas. “What did the outfits do?” she asked.

“One paid a hefty fine,” Gerald said even though she’d directed her question to David. “The other turned their cattle back after some of the men were beaten.”

Harry met Gerald’s challenging gaze. “We shall neither pay a fine nor turn back our herd.”

“Then you’d better find a trail to follow besides the Shawnee.”

“David, perhaps you can offer us an alternative,” Kit said.

David shook his head. “My interest in your cattle venture is pure curiosity. The people in the north can
starve for all I care. Starve as they starved us. There isn’t a man at this table who would lift a finger to benefit the north.”

“And our taking cattle north benefits them,” Kit said quietly. “That’s why you consider our errand foolhardy, and perhaps a bit of a betrayal to you.”

“Puts food in them Yankee bellies,” Gerald said vehemently.

Jesse had worked in a saloon long enough to recognize the signs of an impending brawl. Dear Lord, she wished they’d never moved on to this topic.

Harry lifted his glass and swirled his wine. “And money in
our
pockets.” He shifted his gaze to David. “Surely you’ve heard of William the Conqueror.”

“Who hasn’t? He conquered England.”

Harry stilled his glass. “He conquered the land, not the people. His Norman forces spoke French, and yet, here Kit and I sit before you today speaking our mother tongue—English. The Union may have defeated the Confederacy. Do not allow them to defeat
you
. The North has money. You do not. Find ways to get their money into your state and build it into the greatness that its forefathers envisioned. The depth of your defeat is determined by your willingness to accept it.”

Jessye swallowed hard to stop the tears from surfacing in her eyes. There were times when she thought Harry had as many layers to him as a deck of cards.

David narrowed his eyes. “If I didn’t know better, Harry, I’d think you had been to war.”

“Wars are not always defined by the size of the opposing forces, nor battles by the amount of blood shed. I doubt a man or woman who sits at this table
has not fought at least one battle. Victory or defeat is of little consequence when the true test is whether the encounter strengthens or weakens us.”

“It seems to me,” Kit said, “that if the northern states truly want Texas beef, the simplest solution would be to bring the railroads into Texas.”

“Railroads would just bring the carpetbaggers into the state that much quicker,” Gerald said.

Kit raised a brow. “Along with their money.”

David smiled. “You’re suggesting we find a way to relieve them of it.”

Kit raised his wineglass in a salute. “I’m suggesting you find a way to make their greed work against them. If our drive north is successful this year, I shall pursue the advantages of railroads.”

Madeline released a delicate sigh and rolled her eyes. “Now, we’re moving the topic of conversation from cattle to railroads. Miss Kane, I admire your ability to endure the stifling conversations these men must put you through.”

“I don’t mind talking cattle or railroads,” Jessye admitted. Railroads were an avenue she hadn’t considered. If they invested—

“Jessye is used to men’s conversations,” Gerald said. “She worked in a saloon.”

Jessye wanted to crawl beneath the table, thought she might have if Harry’s hand hadn’t at that moment come to rest on her thigh. She didn’t know if he was offering comfort or signaling her to keep her mouth shut.

“You worked in a saloon?” Ashton asked with interest. “What in the world did you do exactly?”

Tilting her chin defiantly, she spoke with pride.
“My father owns a saloon in Fortune—”

“Jessye would serve up drinks, smiles, and anything else a man wanted,” Gerald finished.

Within Jessye, the anger swelled to the point that she wanted to toss her wine right into Gerald’s face. She knew what he was leading people to believe. She just didn’t understand why he’d want to shame her.

“She didn’t serve up
everything
,” Harry said, the coldness in his voice causing her to look away from Gerald.

“She did to some,” Gerald contradicted.

Harry’s hand spasmed on her thigh. She watched as he ruthlessly brought his gaze to bear on Gerald. “Milton, Jessye led me to believe that you were a bright fellow so I’m going to share a little story with you. A few years back, a gentleman insulted my mistress. I called him out. A duel at dawn. I shot him high on the inside of his left thigh.” Harry narrowed his gaze. For the first time in her life, she understood the meaning of the expression “If looks could kill.”

“You can no doubt fathom where I would have shot him had he been insulting my fiancée.”

She jerked her gaze to Gerald in time to see him swallow.

“I meant no insult,” he said. “I was just sayin’ how things were is all.”

“I’d suggest you keep Jessye’s past where it belongs: in the past.” Astonished, she felt Harry’s hand close around hers. He brought it from beneath the table and pressed her fingers to his lips, his gaze never wavering from Gerald. “Although Jessye is fully capable of taking care of herself, I protect what’s mine.”