The Most Eligible Bachelor Romance Collection: Nine Historical Romances Celebrate Marrying for All the Right Reasons (78 page)

“I don’t want to lie to anyone.” She turned to face Rit. “And yes, I am completely aware of the fact that by pretending that we are”—she allowed a wry smile—“smitten, I am not being truthful.”

Rit’s fingers gripped the iron rail, then slowly he moved his hand close to hers. “What if I am smitten?”

Tavia’s breath caught. “Oh.”

“That’s not a response, Tavia.” He leaned close enough for their shoulders to touch. “Or is it?”

Had she the words, Tavia might have said something brilliant. Words that would say that despite her best intentions of keeping Rit Baker from the bride brigade, she had actually entertained thoughts of joining their ranks.

Only briefly, of course. But entertained them all the same.

“You’re right,” Rit said as he took a step back and moved toward the door. “It is too soon. Look, forget I said anything. I—”

She stepped in front of him. “No.”

“No?” His dazzling smile rose. “Darlin’, you’re going to have to explain yourself.”

“Well, despite the fact your taste in politics is atrocious, I have developed a liking to you.” She leaned in, and Rit did the same. “So perhaps I am—”

Just before their lips met, the doors flew open. “Here they are!” someone called.

Light spilled out from the ballroom, blinding Tavia. She lifted her hand to her eyes and blinked as Rit guided her by the elbow back inside.

“Congratulations!” someone called.

“Well done, Baker!” another shouted.

Tavia held tight to Rit’s arm. “What is happening?” she asked him.

Their hostess slipped in front of them and held out her bejeweled hands to Rit. “Why didn’t you warn me that you would be proposing marriage to this woman at my event?”

Rit stepped forward. “Well, the truth is—”

“The truth is I am smitten with him,” Tavia said. “But contrary to whoever told you there was an engagement afoot—”

“But I heard him ask!” The crowd parted and Violet appeared. In a lovely gown of deep sapphire blue. “I was down by the fountain. He asked you to marry him.”

Rit looked down at Tavia. “I did mention engagement to this lovely lady. However, I have not yet had a response.”

“What’s the response?” someone called.

“Marry him,” a fellow in the back of the room said.

An idea occurred. “Not until we’ve spoken to our parents,” she said. “We will be traveling to Texas to speak with Mrs. Baker tomorrow, won’t we, dear?”

His grin was dazzling. “Yes, we will. Now if you’ll all excuse us, we have an early morning train to catch.” He offered Violet a wink and then turned to bid good-bye to their hostess.

Tavia walked out a step ahead of Rit with her head held high. She hadn’t wanted to lie, and to her mind, she hadn’t. They would talk to their parents. About marriage? Probably not.

She paused at the door to accept her wrap from the butler as the chatter behind her continued. “I knew she didn’t type,” she heard some woman say.

And all Tavia could do was smile.

Chapter 6

T
exas was almost as beautiful as Colorado. Tavia allowed the dappled gray mare to decide the pace and the course as she set out toward the east under a gathering of cotton fluff clouds.

Traveling from New Orleans to Houston in a private railcar was much more to her taste and experience. In keeping to propriety, Rit had taken a berth elsewhere on the train. Thus when they arrived at the gates of Baker Ranch, she was refreshed and ready to meet the original Mrs. Baker. Rit, however, needed a nap.

She’d only been on Baker property the better part of an hour before she was summoned to meet Rit’s mother. Mrs. Baker held court on the back veranda, her chair situated so as to take advantage of the view of the vast vistas that comprised the ranch.

“Do sit,” The gray-haired matriarch said as she indicated a chair opposite her. When Tavia had complied, Mrs. Baker continued. “Miss O’Shea tells me you’ve been quite an asset at Baker Shipping.”

“Miss O’Shea is too kind. I don’t know that I’ve done much to help, but I have tried.”

Rit’s mother gave her a level look. “Miss O’Shea is brutally truthful, Octavia. That quality is what I like best about her. And she tells me you are good for Baker Shipping.” She paused only a heartbeat. “And for my son.”

Tavia offered a nod and allowed “I have tried” To suffice for an answer.

“Yes, well,” Mrs. Baker said. “Your father is a good man. Why is he allowing his daughter to gad about unescorted?”

Tavia allowed a deep breath as she contemplated her response. When she met the older woman’s gaze, she found an unexpectedly soft expression. “You know my father?”

“Quite well. And your mother, too. Was there a disagreement?”

She managed a nod.

“And you’ve apologized?”

Tavia hesitated. “I plan to, yes.”

Rit’s mother reached for the teacup strewn with roses and took a sip then set it back down gently. “I see. When are you returning home to remedy the situation, then?”

“My plans are under consideration,” Tavia said in the most assured tone she could manage.

“Your plans to apologize or your plans to return home?” Rit’s mother asked coolly.

Again Tavia hesitated. “I have a letter started to my parents that I will mail as soon as it is finished.”

“I have a man going to post letters for me this afternoon. He will be leaving at four.” There was no missing the woman’s direct look.

“Then I shall finish the letter and have it ready for your man to deliver it along with yours.”

Mrs. Baker nodded ever so slightly. “And your plan to return home?”

“Those plans would still be under consideration.”

“Because you are now engaged to my son?”

“You’ve been misinformed,” Tavia said. “I did not agree to an engagement.”

“And he did not intend to ask.” The older woman paused and lifted one dark brow. “It is part of the ruse you and he have perpetrated on all of us.”

“Yes,” Tavia said softly, her guilt suddenly stinging. “That’s true.”

“Oh, Miss Derby,” Rit’s mother said with an unexpectedly light tone. “You are everything my son said you would be and more.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you do,” she said as she stood and motioned for a maid. “You’ll do just fine, and you know very well that you’re a good match for my Merritt. Or do you?” She shook her head and waved away any further response. “Dinner at six, Tavia. I can call you Tavia, can’t I?”

“Yes, please do,” Tavia called to the retreating woman.

“Very well, and you may call me Mother. Now why don’t you go and finish that letter and then find a horse to ride? I understand you’re an accomplished horsewoman.”

“What else does she know about me?” Tavia said under her breath.

“That you do not type,” Mrs. Baker said as she disappeared inside. “Neither did I, dear,” drifted toward her on the breeze.

Tavia returned to her room and the stack of writing papers containing her unfinished letter to her parents. Each version of the heartfelt letter had gotten a little closer to the truth. None, however, were without the words that showed her stubborn pride, pride that kept her from admitting that she was wrong to leave the way she had. Surely she could have proven her independence to her father without defying him. She still could.

Crumpling the paper, she set it aside and began again, this time limiting her words to those of heartfelt apology without qualification. She was wrong to leave. Her father was right to be concerned. The words flowed easily, and Tavia did not pause until she was done.

As she folded the letter and rang for a maid to fetch it, she felt a weight being lifted. Of course she wouldn’t be completely happy until she could have her parents’ response face-to-face, but for now knowing they would soon be reading her heartfelt apology made her smile.

Tavia easily found the stables, though choosing a horse to ride was more difficult. She finally settled on a dappled mare with a spirited step. “She’ll run if you let her,” The stable boy said.

“Then I fully intend to let her,” Tavia responded as she settled onto the saddle and headed away from the stables.

“Watch out for those clouds to the west,” he called. “Those look like just the kind that’d turn on you.”

“I grew up on a ranch,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

Though the rolling hills were no match for the majestic Rocky Mountains, the wide-open terrain was a welcome change from the city where she’d spent the past two weeks.

Her conversation with Mrs. Baker chased her as she allowed the horse to dictate the pace. How had pretending an affection for Rit become the real thing? Or perhaps it wasn’t the real thing at all, but just pretending done overboard.

Yes, that had to be it. She hadn’t even kissed the man, and goodness knows they would never agree on politics. Tavia urged her mount forward, and the mare readily complied. Hoofbeats thundered over hard-packed prairie and beat a staccato rhythm that drowned out her thoughts.

The horse crested a hill, and they headed down the other side toward a babbling brook some distance away. When they reached the stream, Tavia dismounted and enjoyed the view while allowing the mare to drink.

A lone rider coming over the hill caught her attention. As he neared, she saw it was Rit.

“Thought I’d join you,” he called. “How are you liking Texas so far?”

“I like it just fine,” she said as he dismounted and let his horse wander toward the stream. “A fact that has no bearing on whether Texas and Colorado compare.”

“They don’t,” he said as he closed the distance between them and then nodded to her mare. “Good choice of horses. That one’s fast but surefooted. She’ll take you where you want to go and get you there quickly.”

“I have enjoyed the ride so far,” she said. “Oh, and I have now met your mother.”

Rit grimaced. “How did that go?”

She laughed. “Well, I learned your mother did not type either.”

He joined her in her laughter. “No, she most certainly did not. However, my father did not find that a hindrance to their relationship.”

“Well, see there. There are some men who can look past that kind of flaw in a woman.”

“I’ve been looking past that flaw for two weeks,” he said. “Now, I’ve got an hour before I have to be back at the ranch. I say we let these horses show us what they can do.”

“You’re on.”

A few minutes later, they were riding side by side over the hills and through the deep green valleys that made up the Baker Ranch. Finally they reached another flat plain where cattle grazed off in the distance. Rit pulled up short, and Tavia joined him.

“See those cattle over there?” When she nodded, he continued. “They are descendants of the first animals my grandfather raised right here. He was a rancher, and he thought my mother was a raging fool for marrying a man of commerce.”

Tavia smiled. “I had a grandfather very much like yours. Thanks to him, I spent my younger years living just like this.”

“On horseback in open lands?” Rit shrugged. “Don’t see a problem with that.”

“Well, you wouldn’t,” she said. “So I’ll repeat a question I asked you last week in New Orleans. Why does a man who loves all of this so much live in the city and spend his days in an office?”

“I don’t recall that you phrased it exactly that way,” he said as he looked out over the horizon. “But I can answer with one word: loyalty.”

She waited for him to explain. Instead, he surprised her by digging in his heels and setting the horse in motion. It took her a minute, but eventually she caught up with him.

“Good job of eluding the topic of discussion. I’ve seen you do that with politics, so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’d try the technique elsewhere.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Exactly my point,” she said. “So either ride or explain your cryptic statement.”

Rit laughed. “I choose ride. Come on. I’ll show you another of my favorite places on the ranch.”

Off he went. Tavia easily kept up with him, and after a while she forgot anything but the feel of the horse beneath her and the wind in her hair. He led her across the plain and over a stream shallow enough to walk the horses through. Over the next rise, she spied some rock outcroppings.

“What is that?” she called.

“That’s where we’re going.” They rode to the base of the rocks and then tethered the horses. Rit gave her riding outfit a sweeping glance. “Can you climb in that?”

“Watch me.”

She followed him up the rocks until they reached a point some ten feet off the ground. “It seemed much higher when I was a boy.” He gestured toward the entrance to a cave that was undetectable from the ground. “Welcome to my favorite place on Baker Ranch.”

Tavia gave the open hole a wary look. “You go first.”

He pressed past her, chuckling. “Wait just a minute and I’ll see if the matches are dry.”

Apparently they were, for Rit struck one and a golden glow filled the cave. Tavia ventured inside and found the little cave was actually only a few feet deep. Primitive drawings decorated the walls.

“Indians?” she asked as she traced the figure of a buffalo hunter.

“Bakers,” Rit responded. “My brothers and I used to love to pretend.” He nodded toward the wall. “That was part of our games. One of us would draw on the wall, and the others would try and guess what it said.”

“I see.” She pointed. “What does that one say?”

Rit moved closer and held up the match. In the process, he brushed her shoulder and then offered a smile. “That says someday I’ll marry a woman who cannot type.”

“It does not.” She gave him a playful swat. “What does it really say?”

“It’s us,” Rit said. “The Baker brothers. See, that’s me. The tall one. And the little guy, that’s Asa. And Charles, he’s the one over there.”

“Interesting. Why was Charles over there?”

Rit laughed. “Oh, he was probably mad about something that day. He always did accuse Asa and me of conspiring against him.”

“And you still are.”

He failed to hide his surprise. “How do you know that?”

She shrugged. “Because I couldn’t help but notice that the man you’re meeting with here is a railroad man. Bud Smith, right?”