"That's an empty threat and you know it, Christina. You're not going anywhere but to the altar with me."
That shut her up. Finally. She stood there, her chest rising and falling with the force of her angered breaths, looking more beautiful, more alluring, than any woman had the right to look.
"Maybe that's true," she said, lifting her chin high. "Don't think I'm unaware of the risks we've taken of late, and I suspect you hope to force the issue by giving me a child."
Cole felt his eyes go wide. Damn, the woman had sand. "Now don't get snippy on me. I don't remember hearing the word 'no' come from your mouth. Except as a pout when you've wrung me dry and you're still wanting to play. Really, Christina, you need to be a little more understanding in that area. Seven times in one night is a lot for any man. You're not going to make me feel like all my starch is in my shirt just because I wanted to sleep for an hour or so before giving another go at it."
Her back went stiff as a fence post. "Embarrassing me won't win you any favors, Cole."
He approached her, took her by the shoulders. "I don't want favors, I want your word. Don't play the flirtatious Chili Queen with Bennet."
"Why? Why are you trying to change who I am?"
"This has nothing to do with who you are, honey. It's who Bennet is. There is something fishy about that man. I don't trust him, and I don't want him to focus on you. Do this for me, would you? Please?"
"Please?" She blinked theatrically. "Cole Morgan said please?"
"I know." He sighed as if the weight
of the world was on his shoulders. "Mark it on your calendar."
She looked at him for a long moment, then a smile twitched at her lips. "All right, I have an idea. How about we compromise? I'll act more British cool than peppery Chili Queen while you make a run at convincing Lord Bennet to show us his private collection. Then, depending on your luck, we'll reassess how best to proceed."
"That's as good as I'm going to get from you, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"In that case, I agree to your compromise," he said with a scowl.
She laughed softly, then wrapped her arms around him and buried her head against him. "You can be such a pouty little boy."
Cole held her tight. "Thank you. I do try."
They stood there for a time simply holding one another. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment and almost didn't hear her when she said, "I thought you were criticizing me, wanting to change me."
It was, Cole realized, a clue to the puzzle that was Christina Delaney.
"Change the Queen of the Chili Queens?" he murmured in response, nuzzling her hair. "I'm not about to fiddle with a perfect recipe."
He felt her smile against his chest.
Sometimes, Morgan, you actually get it right.
* * *
Lord Bennet donned knee-high boots with a stitched silver star on the heels to call the first Anglo-Texan Society meeting to order in the drawing room at Harpur Priory. Chrissy watched the proceedings from a seat in the front row within excellent eyelash-batting distance—if such action were needed.
Following a relatively short organizational meeting, the group of fifteen men and three women voted to begin the day's lectures immediately, so anxious were they to get on with the educational aspects of the gathering. It came as no surprise to Chrissy that Lord Bennet stood up to speak first. His topic, the first of a trio of presentations he apparently intended to give today, was "Siege at the Alamo."
Chrissy was shifting in her seat within the first five minutes. Though she wouldn't admit it aloud, Texas history didn't excite her. There simply wasn't enough of it yet to spark her imagination, especially since this trip to England where "old" had an entirely different implication. Still, she did believe in the necessity for a people to preserve their history, hence her dedication to the search for the Declaration.
Which is why I'm sitting through this discourse on death pretending to
listen
when I'd rather be
—She glanced at Cole, who stood toward the back of the room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze fastened upon the speaker with a look of captivated interest, and words she never expected popped into her mind.
—upstairs making babies.
Chrissy Delaney, you are a certified mess.
That, and a woman in love.
Yesterday afternoon, while the steady trickle of arriving guests kept Lord Bennet occupied, she and Cole had explored the manor house, examining as many nooks and crannies of the sizable structure as possible. It came as no real surprise that they found nothing to suggest a "private collection" of any kind. As peculiar as Bennet had acted when mentioning it, he undoubtedly kept it well hidden.
After searching the house, they had ridden the grounds of Harpur Priory. They'd had a fine time exploring every folly, pavilion, grotto, garden house and gatehouse they stumbled across. The excursion had been enjoyable but unproductive, and this morning when Chrissy awoke, she'd felt an urgency to accomplish something today. It had made breakfast excruciatingly difficult. She'd sat directly across from Lord Bennet and the urge to flirt her way past his defenses liked to have choked her. But she'd promised Cole his chance to do it his way, so she'd gritted her teeth and tamped down her natural inclination.
Recalling the missed opportunity, she let loose a sigh that came out louder than she had intended. She had to think fast when Lord Bennet looked at her and asked, "Do you have a comment to make about the drama of March 5, 1836, Miss Delaney?"
March fifth... March fifth... what happened then? The Alamo fell on the sixth, that much she did remember. She glanced at Cole who glared at her, then to his foot as he made an exaggerated drag across the floor with the toe of his boot.
"Moses Rose!" she exclaimed, making the connection. March fifth was when Colonel Travis was said to have drawn in the mission's dirt with his saber and invited all who wanted to stand and fight to the death to cross the line. One man chose to leave—Moses Rose. "I've always felt sorry for Moses Rose. You know in Texas today one of the terms used to call a man a coward is to say he's a first-cousin of Moses Rose."
That set off a heated discussion about what makes a man a true hero. Chrissy did her best not to say anything more, but Cole happily chimed in. When Bennet finally regained control of the conversation, the majority of the audience appeared to view Cole with new respect and Bennet with unabashed approval.
Bennet continued his lecture through the Fall of the Alamo to the Mexican Army. Ardent applause accompanied the finish, followed by twenty minutes of questions. When Bennet frowned over one question and referred it to Cole, Chrissy knew he had fully recovered from his mistake of pushing Bennet too fast yesterday.
Cole rubbed his palm along his jaw line. "Actually, I do know something about that. Somewhere in the early 1840's the Republic of Texas decided the Church of the Alamo and any mission outbuildings belonged to the Catholic Church. Folks have bickered over ownership in years since, and the Church has sold a couple pieces of the property. Local citizens keep working on it and we have hopes that soon the remainder of the Alamo property, the part containing the church, will soon be offered to either the city or the State of Texas."
"So there is interest in preserving that important historical site?" asked a gray-bearded gentleman.
"Very much so. In fact, just a couple years ago a group calling itself the Alamo Monument Association formed to raise money for a monument to the defenders. They have the design developed, and I firmly believe that someday the monument will get built." He snapped his fingers and added, "You know, I just might have one of the books they published with me. It's called
The Alamo: America's Thermopylae."
He paused just long enough to grab everyone's attention, then asked, "Any of you fellows have one of those books? Do you, Lord Bennet?"
"No. No, I do not." He gazed around the room. "Does anyone's library contain this book?"
Chrissy saw a roomful of heads shake and an avaricious light enter Lord Bennet's eyes.
My my my. He's done it.
She could tell by the look on the Englishman's face that Cole had just bought his way into the private collection.
As long as he actually did have the booklet, that is, and why he would have one with him, she didn't know. She didn't believe he could have been far-sighted enough to guess he might need one. She could think of dozens of other things that would have made the list of possibly useful items before a book about the Alamo, especially since you could all but paper your walls with them if you wanted. A fund-raising effort by the Alamo Monument Association, demand for the book had been greatly overestimated.
The Alamo: America's Thermopylae
was on sale at nearly every shop in the city.
That's where she'd seen Cole with a copy. It was a couple of days before she'd been named Chili Queen. He'd tossed a coin onto a counter and grabbed one off a stack, tolling it up to use like a flyswatter against the overly friendly teenage boy buzzing around her as shopped. "That's how you deal with pests, Christina," he'd explained to her after embarrassing the young Romeo with a slight pop to the head. Then he'd stuck the booklet in the inside pocket of his jacket. He must have brought that same piece of clothing with him to England.
Chrissy made sure to stand close enough to eavesdrop when during an intermission a short time later, Lord Bennet offered to show Cole his private Texas collection after luncheon. "If you would bring along the Alamo book, I will be in your debt."
"It will be my pleasure, Bennet." Cole slapped him on the back as though they were long-time pals. When Lord Bennet excused himself moments later in order to take his seat for a lecture entitled "How Texas Got Its Lone Star," Chrissy tugged Cole down the hallway and into the music room.
After glancing around to ensure their privacy, Cole yanked her into his arms and planted a quick, hard kiss upon her mouth. "Am I good?"
"You are very, very good, Mr. Morgan. As long as you are lucky enough to have one of those books with you."
"No luck about it," he returned. "I brought an entire trunk of stuff from home, anything I thought might help if the person in possession of the document wished to make a trade rather than sell the Declaration outright."
"Oh. That was smart."
"I've been known to have a spell of intelligence upon occasion."
"Rare occasions."
"Brat."
Chrissy shot him a grin, then said, "You will take me with you when you meet him, of course."
"As long as you promise not to flirt."
She rolled her eyes, but before she could chastise his lack of faith the Earl of Thornbury wandered into the music room. "Finally. I've been looking for you two. I cannot bear to sit through another one of those lectures. Chrissy, would you care to join your grandfather on a walk in the garden?"
"I'd love to."
"Excellent," the earl said before addressing Cole. "And Morgan, you'd best hurry back. The speaker specifically asked for your presence so you can comment on his talk."
Cole sighed. "I should have kept my mouth shut."
"Too late now, Morgan," Chrissy quipped, linking her arm through her grandfather's. "Go learn something. It won't hurt you. I'll walk with Grandfather, then put my chili on to cook. I'll meet you and Lord Bennet at the stable at one o'clock. Just think, come suppertime we might just have our hands on the Declaration."
"That's a nice thought." He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then whispered in her ear, "But not as nice as this. Come midnight, I intend to have my hands on you."
* * *
Cole paced the length of the stables, then turned around and did it again. Nervous energy fueled his steps. Funny how today's discussions had made him yearn for home. He wanted nothing more than to get the Declaration, scrape the damned British mud off his boots, and head for Texas. With Christina as his wife.
Moments later Bennet arrived and ordered a groom to hitch up a buggy. Chrissy hurried in a few minutes later. "Thank you so much for agreeing to show us your private Texas collection," she enthused, offering Bennet a blinding smile and too many bats of her lashes. "I'm so very excited."
When she reached out and touched the Englishman's arm, Cole shot her a fearsome scowl. You crossed
the line,
he silently accused.
Just making sure I get to come along
, she winked in return.
"You are coming with us?" Bennet said, frowning. "Hmm... very well. Except, I only brought one blindfold."
"Blindfold?" Cole repeated.
Bennet opened one side of his jacket, and reaching into an inner pocket, pulled out a length of black silk. "I realize this may seem rather overdone to you, Mr. Morgan, but once you see my treasures you'll understand why I keep their location secret. I find it simpler to conceal my collection's location than to post round-the-clock guards."
"I'm afraid I cannot allow Miss Delaney to be blindfolded."
Turning toward Christina, he said, "Perhaps we can arrange another time for you to see Lord Bennet's private collection."
"No need for that," she cheerily replied. "We can use Mr. Morgan's handkerchief for an extra blindfold."
"Very well," said Bennet.
Cole opened his mouth to protest, but recognized he'd be wasting his words. Instead, he said, "I insist you stay close to me, then, Miss Delaney." And to Bennet, he added, "See she doesn't fall or injure herself in any way."
Cole was tense as he assisted Christina up into the buggy for the ride to who-knew-where. He didn't trust Bennet as far as he could throw him, but he couldn't put his finger on just why.
The buggy rattled out of the stable yard and down a gravel road, the crunching of rock beneath the wheels an obvious clue as to their path. Luckily, the morning fog had burned away, so Cole used the warmth of the sunshine on his body to help determine the direction they traveled. He managed to draw a mental map of their route until Bennet headed into the forest and began a series of quick turns.