Lucas knew something was wrong the minute he saw her. She stood on the opposite side of the garden, staring at him, and her expression was one he'd never seen before. She looked defeated.
She waited until he was about twenty feet away from her and then put up her hand in a signal for him to stop.
“I quit.” She bellowed her announcement. His eyes widened in response. She nodded. “Did you hear me, Lucas. I quit.”
He gave her a quick nod. “It's about time.”
His reaction fueled her fury. “You expected me to fail, didn't you? You aren't at all surprised.”
“No, I'm not surprised,” he answered. “I've watched you work yourself to the bone these past weeks and seen what it's done to you.” His concern about her made his voice harsh. “You've lost weight and you've got deep circles under your eyes. Thank God you came to your senses before you killed yourself.”
She wanted to scream at him. She didn't suppress the urge. To hell with control. She'd come to the frontier to be free and by God she was going to be.
“Are you telling me my hard work convinced you I shouldn't stay here?”
“Taylor, you're shouting at me.” He seemed astonished by the fact.
She didn't waste time agreeing with him. “Don't you dare tell me I'm fragile, Lucas, or I swear to God I'll scream you to death.”
“You don't belong here,” he argued. He was fast becoming as angry as she was. The longer he stared at his exhausted wife, the more furious he became. Didn't she realize she had become his whole world? If anything happened to her, he didn't know what he would do. She had responsibilities, damn it. The children depended on her. And so did he. Taylor needed to start taking care of herself, and he was going to make certain she did.
“I've stood by long enough,” he told her. “I took you out of a ballroom and by all that's holy, I'm taking you back. You should be wearing diamonds and . . .”
She broke his concentration. She pulled the gun out of her apron, turned, and fired. A fat rabbit caught the bullet and was thrown backward against the fence.
Taylor put the gun away and then folded her arms together. She glared at her husband. “I quit,” she shouted again. “Did you know your son has chosen his name? He wants to be called Lucas Michael Ross. We're supposed to call him Michael. What do you think about that, Montana?”
He took a step toward her. She backed away. “They're all exaggerations,” he said. “I don't like to talk about it. I don't deserve the recognition. I'm a good tracker, that's all.”
He was deliberately misunderstanding what she was trying to tell him. His expression became guarded. He obviously wanted her to drop the subject. She wasn't going to cooperate. “Everyone in America knows who you are. Everyone but your wife.”
He didn't have anything to say about that. Taylor felt betrayed. She knew she needed some time alone to figure out what she was going to do.
“I'm not going to be a burden to you any longer,” she announced. She picked up her skirts and started walking toward the path that led into town. “Now if you'll excuse me, I'm leaving.”
“Go right ahead,” he muttered. “But I'm warning you, Taylor. I'll only track you down and drag you back to me. What's mine stays mine.”
She came to an abrupt stop. The panic she heard in his voice confused her. She turned around to look at him. She saw fear in his gaze. She didn't understand his reaction, yet she instinctively tried to calm him. “I'm going into town. I shall be back within the hour.”
He couldn't hide his relief from her. Taylor thought about Lucas's behavior all the way into town. She ran part of the distance, and when she realized what she was doing, she slowed down. She was still so angry with the obstinate man she couldn't think straight. Her plan to prove to him that she had the gumption and the stamina to live in the wilderness had backfired.
He was a full-fledged, bigger-than-life mountain man. If that wasn't galling, she didn't know what was. He knew she was fascinated with Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett. He heard some of the stories she told their son. Damn it, he knew how she felt about her heroes, and yet he never thought to tell her she was married to one.
Her temper flared again. Of course he didn't tell her. He would have to talk to her about his past and, God forbid, even share a few experiences with her.
Taylor threw her hands up in vexation. “I give up,” she muttered. Then she burst into tears. Because she was in the habit of cutting through the general store, she took the pass through now. She cried her way down the main aisle, and because it was also customary for her to wave to Frank, she did that as well, and it wasn't until she'd gotten outside again that she realized how ridiculous she must have looked.
Taylor had promised to be back in an hour, but time got away from her. She went up the hill beyond Redemption, and when she reached the top, she looked down at the town below her, put her hands on her hips, and let out a loud, thoroughly liberating scream. It felt so wonderful, she screamed again. Only when her throat started aching did she finally stop.
She knew she was acting like a crazy woman. She didn't care. No one was around to hear or see her. It wouldn't have mattered if there were other people watching, she realized. She was a free woman. If she wanted to lose her control, then by God she was going to.
She let out a loud sigh of satisfaction and sat down. She spent a long while thinking about her husband. His reaction to her announcement that she was leaving kept nagging at her. He'd apparently thought she was telling him she was leaving their marriage, and while she thought that was a ridiculous conclusion for an intelligent man to jump to, what confused and fascinated her was the fact that she'd seen fear in his eyes. She hadn't been mistaken. There was fear and panic.
His reaction didn't make any sense to her. Did he truly believe she would walk away from him and the children? Or did he think she would leave the children with him and that was why he looked so panic stricken. She shook her head, denying the possibility. Lucas would know she'd never leave their children. How could he think she could leave him? She had told him she loved him. Did he think it was only a temporary affliction?
He hadn't been thinking clearly, she realized, and that wasn't at all like Lucas. He was always reasonable. He'd raised his voice to her as well. Yet Lucas never, ever shouted. He never allowed his emotions to get in the way of his control.
Until today.
There was only one conclusion possible, and suddenly what hadn't made any sense at all was perfectly clear.
He loved her.
She was overcome with joy. She wept for ten minutes before she felt like stopping. Then she started worrying. If he loved her, why hadn't he told her so?
Taylor mopped her face dry with the hem of her skirt and stood up. Love wasn't supposed to be confusing, was it? Perhaps Lucas hadn't realized he loved her yet. The possibility made sense to her, and since she couldn't come up with any other logical reason, she decided that was it.
Lord, she was going to have to be patient. She honestly didn't think she had it in her. Lucas would eventually figure it all out, she knew, and she only hoped she wasn't dead and buried before the truth dawned on the obtuse man. Loving him could very well be the death of her. The thought made her smile.
It was time to go home. She brushed the leaves from the back of her skirt and started back down the hill. She suddenly found herself wondering what she had been doing a year ago and decided she was probably poring over Miss Livingston's journal. How naive she'd been back then. Miss Livingston didn't know poppycock about family life in the wilderness. Monday didn't have to be wash day and women didn't have to work until they dropped just to prove they were capable.
Life was too short for rigid schedules. Taylor knew she would eventually settle into a comfortable routine, but it wouldn't be demanding. She didn't need to prove anything to anyone. She wanted to live a long life with her husband at her side and watch her children grow up and follow their dreams.
She loved Lucas passionately, but she wasn't going to let him take her dreams away. She was staying right where she was, and that was that.
The sun was setting. Taylor paused to admire God's handiwork, then picked up her pace and hurried back into town. The time had gotten away from her. She told Victoria she'd be back in an hour and more than two had already passed.
She took her shortcut through the general store, called out a greeting to Frank, and then hurried on out the front door.
She came face-to-face with her uncle Malcolm.
They almost collided with one another. She was so startled by the sight of him, she came to a dead stop. He didn't seem to be at all surprised to see her. He grabbed hold of her arm just above her elbow, squeezed hard, and dragged her away from the entrance.
She was already trying to pull his hand away from her when he slammed her up against the wall. The back of her head struck wood. Pain shot through her, but she didn't cry out. She wasn't about to give him such satisfaction.
Malcolm was as ugly as she remembered, though he'd put on a considerable amount of weight around his middle since the last time she'd seen him. His hair was thinning on top, and there were thicker strands of gray along the sides. He was dressed in a black suit and white shirt. There were stains around the collar and down the front. He reeked of whiskey. Yes, Malcolm was every bit as repulsive as she remembered.
“Get your hands off me,” she demanded, her disgust evident in her voice.
“Is that any way to greet your uncle?” he crooned.
His face was just inches away from hers. She deliberately stared at the scar that crisscrossed his eyelid and brow. He finally noticed where she was looking and raised his right hand. He slapped her hard across the face just as Frank walked outside to see what was going on. He shouted and ran to help her.
Malcolm shoved him out of his way and pulled Taylor back into the store. He slammed the door shut, locked it, and then shoved her up against the counter.
“Did you think you could hide from me in this godforsaken place?”
She didn't answer him. “You were surprised to see me, weren't you?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I knew you would send more men to try to take the girls, but I didn't believe you would come here.”
“I'm taking them home with me,” he announced. He patted the pocket of his jacket. “I've got papers proving I own them.”
“No one owns them,” she cried out. “Your papers don't mean anything here. We aren't in England.”
He glared at her, then hurried to the back door. He pulled it closed and bolted it against intruders.
“We'll just wait here,” he told her.
Taylor was looking out the front window. Frank was nowhere in sight. She assumed he had gone to get Lucas.
“I could kill you for the trouble you've caused me. It was your idea, wasn't it?”
She folded her arms in front of her and watched him pace back and forth down the aisle, frowning at her all the while.
“What was my idea?” she asked.
“To change the will.”
She shook her head. “Your mother didn't tell me what she'd done. I found out when you did, after she died.”
He snorted with disbelief. “I'm not leaving without the twins. I wouldn't have bothered if you hadn't cleverly talked the bitch into leaving a bloody fortune to Marian's brats. Thanks to your interference, I've got every creditor in London pounding at my door.”
“Your loans were all paid off by Madam,” she reminded him. “Have you already buried yourself in debt again?”
He didn't like her question. He took a threatening step toward her. She slipped her hand down into her apron. She wanted to be prepared for any eventuality.
“If I have to kill you, I will,” he threatened.
“Do so and the money will go to my husband,” she was happy to point out.
Malcolm smiled. “He should be dying right about now. I didn't hire cowards this time. I came prepared. I've got four gunslingers with me.”
With an effort she was able to hide her alarm from him. “Only four?” she taunted.
He raised his hand to slap her again. A noise coming from the front turned his attention. He rushed over to the side of the window and peeked outside. He apparently didn't see anyone there, for he shrugged and turned back to her.
He strutted like a peacock as he came down the aisle again.
“Every bit of this is your fault,” he snapped. “If there's killing done, you're responsible. I want every pound due me. I can't go after the money the old fool left to her charities, but I can take back what she set aside for you and the twins.”
“How do you plan to accomplish that?” she asked. She didn't give him time to answer. “Let me guess. It won't be your fault or your responsibility, but I'm still going to have to die. Is that it?”
“I'm only doing what you forced me to do.”
“Where did you get the money to hire gunfighters?”
“My daughter,” he answered. “She sold her jewels. I'm giving her half of the inheritance. Jane sends her regards,” he added with a chuckle.
“They hang men for murder around here,” she told him.
Malcolm unbuttoned his jacket and reached into his pocket. Her hand was on her gun, but she didn't pull the weapon out of her apron. She didn't want to kill him unless she was forced to.
He had a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. It was squeezed between his belt and his roll of fat. He didn't reach for his weapon, however. He pulled out a handkerchief instead and began to wipe the sweat from his forehead.