The Lone Rancher (10 page)

The women giggled, but Adrianna wasn't kidding. In her opinion, women had been held back, held down and pigeonholed entirely too long. She wanted to be remembered as one of the new breed of females who did not need a man to resolve her problems or to cut a wide swath to protect her from whatever adversity she countered. Women needed a change in attitude, she decided, and she would promote independent thinking every chance she got.

“Come along, ladies. If you admire Rosa's talents with fabrics and her independent spirit, then you should meet her.”

Despite several puzzled glances to her left and right, Adrianna led the procession of women to the receiving
line that had dwindled to a few dozen. Rosa greeted the women graciously, as anticipated, and then watched them amble toward the refreshment tables.

“Are you trying to prove a point?” Lucas asked, his obsidian eyes bearing down on her.

Adrianna elevated her chin. “Of course I am. Do you think I'm an empty-headed moth fluttering from one flame to the next? Those women might not have the advantages I've had in life, but they greatly admire Rosa's sense of style and her willingness to set up a business. Moreover, I do not intend to draw lines that indicate different social classes. The West is supposed to be the place where hard work and ingenuity are more important than pedigrees. Am I right?”

“Oh, good, this is a rally for women's rights,” came an amused voice from behind her. “I was afraid it might be just a dull wedding reception to honor my friends.”

Quin's wry amusement transformed into stunned amazement when Boston spun around to greet him. Her stylish emerald-green silk gown swirled around her. The décolleté of the formfitting dress dragged his attention to her full cleavage. Then he yanked up his gaze to notice the sophisticated coiffure that accentuated the sleek column of her neck—where he wanted to place about a half-dozen kisses. For starters.

Gracious! He'd never seen Adrianna in anything except breeches—which was tantalizing enough. Well, there was that faded old gown she'd worn while giving her new home a good scrubbing, he amended. But this! She looked like a regal princess, not the sassy, spirited hellion who had clashed with him repeatedly and heatedly in the past.

Quin wanted to grab her hand, drag her off to a dark corner and devour her with hungry kisses. He suspected he wasn't the only one, either, for he noticed several men staring admiringly at her. They were all but licking their lips in anticipation of having her to themselves for a few steamy moments.

“Cahill, so glad you could finally make it,” she greeted.

When she smiled, it set off an explosion of lust that he'd been battling for days. His silent pep talks to discard erotic thoughts of Boston hadn't worked worth a damn. Nothing smothered his tantalizing memories of her.

She glanced this way and that. “Where's Elda? You're late and she is likely upset because it's her mission in life to oversee events involving food.”

Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed in the approaching cloud bank. Boston frowned at the sky, as if daring the storm to disrupt her party. Quin bit back a grin and thought Mother Nature had best not tangle with the strong-willed firebrand in emerald green. Mother Nature might lose.

“I don't know where Elda is now but I can tell you where she's been.” Rosa gestured toward the table where several cakes and pastries had appeared.

It had taken Quin an extra half hour to load the desserts Elda had been cooking for the past two days. And believe it, the red-haired cook was fussy about transporting her desserts properly so they wouldn't be damaged!

Adrianna's laughter filled the empty spaces in the region of Quin's heart as she turned dancing green eyes
back to him. “Let me guess, Elda turned your kitchen into a bakery and you were not allowed within five feet of the door for fear you might cause her cakes and pastries to collapse.”

He nodded, smiled stupidly—and didn't care that he had. “I've lived on hardtack and johnnycakes for two days,” he reported. “I'm thinking of sending her back to you.”

When the band struck up a tune, Rosa grabbed Lucas's hand and towed him away. Dog, decked out in his sparkling bow tie, trailed after them.

“Burnett has been dreading this dance since you scheduled your party,” Quin confided. “He doesn't like limelight.”

“He will just have to get over it because the first dance is always reserved for newlyweds,” Adrianna remarked, then grinned impishly. “Small consolation for the grand prize of Rosa's everlasting affection, if you ask me. She and I lost faith in men until Lucas came along. Which goes to prove, I suppose, there is no logical explanation for affairs of the heart. Now, I'm forced to share her companionship with that brawny ex–Ranger and his wolf dog.”

There it was again, Quin mused, that staunch declaration that Boston needed no man to make her life complete. He certainly hadn't needed a woman, not with his rigorous schedule and endless duties to keep 4C running efficiently.

But still…sometimes at night, when the silence consumed the house and seeped into his soul, he wondered if he should select a wife and fill the family home with a child to carry on the Cahill ranching tradition that his
brothers and sister discounted as insignificant. What if Quin's future children did what Bowie, Chance and Leanna had done? The next generation might scatter in the wind to seek their fortunes and stumble into disaster.

Thunder rumbled in the night and Boston glared at the sky in defiance. “Don't you dare ruin the party.”

“Miss McKnight? Quin?”

Quin gave himself a mental slap, then glanced sideways. The sixty-year-old banker sported a neatly clipped mustache and beard. He was in charge of collecting town rent and monthly installments for the loans Quin carried for residents who purchased Cahill land in town. The older man approached, then bowed politely.

“We haven't met yet,” the banker said, clearly dazzled by the enchanting beauty in green silk. “I'm Willem Van Slyck. My son, Preston, is around here somewhere. He'll want an introduction, too.”

Boston curtsied gracefully. “A pleasure to meet you, sir. Thank you for coming this evening.”

“It is nice to have an Eastern heiress among us,” Willem remarked. “Western society must seem lacking in sophistication, compared to what you are accustomed to.”

Quin could feel Boston tense beside him. Of course, Van Slyck had no idea that the heiress had no use whatsoever for exclusive social circles and name-dropping.

“On the contrary, sir,” she replied through a smile that Quin noticed did not reach her eyes. “I'm fascinated with life in Texas and I'm relieved to have left that other world behind. In fact, I'm considering the idea of joining the trail drive to Dodge City when I sell my cattle next month. It should be a memorable adventure.”

Quin choked on his breath and the banker's blue eyes nearly bugged from their sockets. Boston slid Quin a challenging glance, daring him to object to her plans.

“Well, um, if I can be of financial service to you in the future, Miss McKnight, do not hesitate to stop by the bank,” he said before he went on his way.

“You dashed Willem's hopes of forming an elite social circle in Ca-Cross,” Quin commented.

“He can form one without me. I left that pretentious lifestyle behind for a dozen good reasons.”

“Do your
good reasons
have a name?” Quin questioned, staring interestedly at her. “Someone specific who destroyed your faith in high society men?”

She turned away, disregarded his question, then frowned thoughtfully at Willem's departing back. “Is there a Mrs. Van Slyck?”

“No. I don't know what became of Willem's wife,” Quin said. “As for Preston, he works at the bank with his father…when it suits his whim. I think Willem is disappointed that his son doesn't live up to expectations.”

Boston hooked her arm in his and urged him forward. “I need to check the refreshments. Are you hungry?”

“Of course. I told you, I've been on a steady diet of hardtack for two days,” he reminded her.

She arched an amused brow when Quin drew the attention of a flock of women beside the dance area. “It seems several females would eagerly line up on your doorstep to dance. Or better yet, become part of the Cahill family. Maybe they are interested in helping Willem form an elite social circle.”

“They should look elsewhere. I'm not good marriage material,” Quin assured her.

“Nor I.”

“Too independent-minded and contrary?” he said helpfully.

She smiled good-naturedly and returned his taunt. “What sensible woman would want to play second fiddle to the 4C? Even if it meant marrying a high-and-mighty Cahill?”

“There might be a few interested takers,” Quin contended, then nodded a greeting to Oscar and Minnie Jenkins. “Here's a perfect example. The owners of the Château Royale Hotel have a daughter named Ellen. They have shoved her at me on several occasions and don't appreciate my lack of interest.”

“Are they disgruntled enough to grind you up in the gossip mill and besmirch your reputation every chance they get?” she asked as she studied the older couple astutely.

Quin frowned in thought. “I don't know, but that's a possibility, I suppose. I doubt Ellen would be a party to it. She seems timid around me and not particularly disappointed I didn't pursue her.”

“Maybe she doesn't prefer domineering ranchers like you,” Boston teased, then glared skyward when lightning flickered ominously. “You might crush Ellen's spirit in nothing flat.”

“Unlike you, who'd bite my ankle before I could stomp on your spirit.” He chuckled, delighting in their playful banter.

“A matched set,” she declared. “We will save the poor souls of Ca-Cross from misery if we remain unattached.”

“It's settled, then,” Quin proclaimed. “We'll do the world a favor. No marriages for the likes of us.”

“Agreed…”

Her voice trailed off when Preston Van Slyck swaggered toward them with a full glass of spiked punch in each hand.

“Who is that dandy?” Boston asked distastefully.

“Preston Van Slyck. He's a few years older than you,” Quin murmured. “I don't care for the banker's son. He lacks ambition and takes advantage of his father's position in the community. He is a ladies' man of the worst sort, which is why Bowie, Chance and I escorted him off the ranch when he tried to pay Leanna a visit. He disliked being rejected.”

Boston nodded in understanding. “He reminds me of the dime-a-dozen dandies in Boston who live on the laurels of their parents and hope to seduce heiresses who can afford to pay their gambling debts and provide residences for their mistresses. Handsome to look at but brimming with false charm as insincere as the day is long.”

“You've just described Preston to a
T.
”

“Ah, so here you are, my dear,” Preston purred as he halted in front of Boston. His devouring gaze swept over her alluring figure not once but twice. “I'm here to say that you are as bewitching and lovely as I've heard tell.”

Boston inclined her head in a regal manner that was as standoffish as it could get. Quin could envision her in a ballroom, surrounded by panting fortune hunters like Preston. No doubt, she could spot pretentious scoundrels at a glance.

“Adrianna McKnight, this is Preston Van Slyck,” Quin introduced reluctantly.

“I hope you are enjoying our party,” she said with stiff politeness.

Preston struck a haughty pose. “I'd enjoy it more if there was more
spike
in the punch, but I can overlook that if you dance with me.”

Possessive jealousy stabbed at Quin—at least, that's what he thought it was. He'd never experienced the feeling before and he told himself he shouldn't be feeling it now because he had no hold on Boston. She made it clear she was her own woman and would do as she pleased in this new life she had created for herself and for her family of devoted employees. She didn't need a keeper and didn't want a man's protection.

“No, thank you, Preston,” she declined. “Mr. Cahill and I have business to discuss.”

Preston smirked as he turned his attention from Boston to Quin. “What business is that? Charming you out of your ranch and anything else he can get away with? Perhaps you should know the Cahills aren't the pillars of society they want everyone to think they are. In fact, I recently returned from Deadwood, South Dakota, where I renewed a former acquaintance. Someone you know well, I believe, Cahill.”

Quin frowned warily when Preston smiled like a hungry shark, then swirled his drinks in his glasses.

“In case you didn't know, your sister works at a saloon in Deadwood. I'm sure, as one man to another, we can guess how she makes extra money. She
claims
she pays room and board dealing cards, but with her
lovely face and enticing body, we both know how she moonlights, don't we?”

Fury consumed Quin so quickly that he didn't realize he'd doubled his fist, anxious to cram Preston's teeth down his throat. If Adrianna hadn't jerked on his arm, he would have clocked that annoying bastard.

“Are you unusually drunk, Van Slyck?” Boston asked, keeping a stranglehold on Quin's arm. “Or are you always such an ass?”

The clean-shaven, dark-haired rake shrugged off the insult. His blue eyes gleamed with wicked delight. “Oh, did I forget to mention Leanna's illegitimate child? Thought you'd want to know you have a nephew, Cahill.”

When Quin tried to go for Preston's throat, Boston clamped him in a bear hug. “Don't spoil Rosa's party because of this pathetic excuse of a man,” she gritted out while she glared at Preston with contempt. “He isn't worth the trouble, no matter what lies spew out of him.”

Preston took another sip of punch, then looked down his nose at Boston. “I was hoping we could be friends, but if you prefer to consort with the brother of a card-dealing prostitute, then so be it, my dear Adrianna.”