ToLoveaLady (11 page)

She laughed out loud, throwing her head back and feeling her lungs expand with the effort. Charles had cared little enough for the prim and proper Cecily. So now she would give him a different version: a daring, western woman who could work by his side, entertain his associates, bear his children and warm his bed. What more could any man want?

* * *

When Charles reached Gordon and Bainbridge, they were seated under a tree, hats tipped over their faces, dozing. At Charles’s approach, Gordon raised his head, then hurriedly rose to his feet. “Good afternoon, m’lord.”

Nick jolted awake and struggled to stand. “Hello, m’lord,” he mumbled, tugging on his cap.

“Where is Cecily?” Charles demanded. “You two are supposed to be looking after her, not sleeping.”

“The ladies are resting, m’lord.” Gordon pointed toward a nearby grove. “I assure you, Lady Cecily is perfectly all right.”

Charles felt a little foolish, then. “Didn’t mean to be so churlish.” He dismounted and handed Gordon the reins. “I’d expected you back hours ago.”

“The ladies wished to see more of Miss Waters’s ranch, and then we stopped for a picnic luncheon,” Gordon said.

“I’ll just see if they’re awake, then.” Charles strode toward the grove, trodding firmly so as to give the women plenty of warning of his approach. As it was, Madame LeFleur was still snoring away, though Alice was sitting up, picking leaves from her hair. “Lord Silsbee!
 
I never expected to see you here.” She struggled to her feet and executed an awkward curtsy.

“I thought I would ride out to escort you back to the ranch.” His gaze swept the clearing. “Where is Lady Cecily?”

Alice looked all around her. “I don’t know m’lord.” She widened her eyes in alarm. “I give you my word, she was right here beside me when we all lay down after luncheon.”

“What’s happened to her, then?” Charles began to pace around the area, scuffling through leaves as if he expected to find Cecily hiding under them.

“Perhaps. . . well. . . “ Alice blushed the color of a tomato. “Perhaps she excused herself to use the necessary.”

“Well, go after her then!” Charles shooed the maid away. Like a frightened rabbit, she dashed out of the woods. He hesitated only a moment before following her. He should have known better than to let Cecily venture out without an experienced guide. What if she’d stumbled into a ravine, or trod on a rattlesnake, or hooked her skirts on a cactus? Texas wasn’t like her manicured, safe home in England. Out here, danger lurked around every curve.

“What is it, m’lord? Is something wrong?” Gordon hurried to him. Nick waited some distance away, holding the horse.

“Yes, something is wrong. Lady Cecily has vanished.” He scowled at the valet. “While you were sleeping, she apparently wandered away.”

Alice ran to them, her face twisted in agitation. “I can’t find her, m’lord. She’s not anywhere close by.”

“Cecily!” Charles bellowed the name, but it only empty air answered him. A shiver raced up his spine as an image of Cecily, hurt and alone, flashed through his mind. “We’ll split up to search for her,” he ordered. “I’ll look west, toward the Rocking W. If I don’t find her by the time I get to Miss Waters’s house, she can ride into town for help.” He ran to his horse and mounted once more, then set off at a quick trot. Behind him, the others spread out, calling for Cecily.

He couldn’t say whether the pounding he heard was the horse’s hooves striking the hard ground, or his own galloping heart. The sensation made him irritable. Of course, it was only normal that he feel concern for his lost guest, but the feeling that gripped him went beyond concern, toward panic. When had Cecily – sweet, naive Cecily – come to mean so much to him?

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of blue velvet. Jerking his head around, he saw her, walking away from him through the tall grass. Head up, hair falling down around her shoulders, she carried a sheath of dried grass in her arms. He blinked, thinking he must be dreaming. This woman wasn’t the terrified waif he’d imagined; she more resembled a fairy princess, at home in her natural kingdom.

“Cecily!”

At his cry, she turned, and a smile wreathed her face. “Charles!” She gathered her skirts and hurried toward him.

He swung down off his horse and met her with open arms, crushing her to him. “Charles, it’s so good to see you,” she said, and rose up on her toes to kiss him.

At the touch of her lips, his last semblance of control deserted him. Relief flooded him as he felt, not ethereal princess, but flesh and blood woman in his arms. He could not keep from returning her kiss, all his pent emotions channeled through the meeting of their lips.

She smelled like meadow grass and tasted sweet as strawberries. Her mouth was warm and pliant, a touching eagerness compensating for her inexperience. She molded her body to his, compelling him to touch her, to claim her with his hands as well as his lips. All thoughts of the others, the ranch, his father or his freedom melted away as he filled his senses with the feel, the smell, the taste of Cecily.

“Oh Charles.” She gave a deep sigh of contentment and snuggled against him.

Like a drowning man on the verge of losing consciousness, the sound of his name pulled him from the brink. He raised his head and looked at her. For all her beauty and sweetness, Cecily was a danger to him. Accept her and he accepted all the plans his father had made for him, the end of all the dreams he’d just begun to fashion for himself.

Bracing himself against her charms, he set her away from him. “What are you doing wandering around out here by yourself?” he demanded.

He cringed inwardly at the hurt that flickered through her eyes.
 
“I set out to gather some grasses, to make an arrangement for your hall, but I suppose I became a little lost.” She looked down at the hat full of grass which she cradled on her hip.

“You must promise me never to go off by yourself like that again.” He forced himself to look stern. “This isn’t like England. There are dangers here you can’t even imagine.”

“This place is more peaceful than any London street. What could possibly harm me here?” She smiled, a look as bright as the sun. A light breeze ruffled her hair. She looked impossibly innocent.
 

“There are rattlesnakes here as big around as your arm and as long as you are tall,” he said in forbidding tones. “Should one strike, you wouldn’t have time to get to the doctor before you died. There are cattle rustlers and other outlaws and even renegade Indians who wouldn’t hesitate to shoot you — or worse.”

He was intentionally trying to frighten her, but she didn’t even appear concerned. In fact, she laughed. “I’m perfectly fine. None of those things happened.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “But you
are
lost.”

She nodded. “Yes. But I knew Abbie’s place was west of yours, so I started walking toward the sun and knew I’d come to something familiar eventually.”

He could scarcely hide his amazement. He’d expected to find her out of her head. Instead, she was calm, radiant even, and dangerously appealing, with her hair falling in loose waves about her shoulders, her cheeks sun-drenched, her lips still swollen from his kisses.

She reached out and took his hand. “It was sweet of you to be so concerned. I hope we’ll be married soon.” She looked at him from beneath veiled lashes. “I don’t like having to wait.”

Her words sent a coil of heat directly to his loins. He pulled away from her grasp.
I can’t marry you, Cecily. I can’t afford to love you that way. I can’t let myself be trapped like that.

But he couldn’t say that. Instead, he said, “I received a telegram from your father this afternoon.”

Her expression grew wary. “What did he say?”

“He said he was happy you had arrived safely, and you were to stay as long as you like.” ‘Necessary’ was the actual word used. Necessary for what? He watched her closely, trying to gauge her reaction.

She nodded. “I suspected he might be relieved to be rid of me. A twenty-four year old unmarried daughter is a burden, not a pleasure.”

“How could you fail to be anything but a pleasure?” The words slipped out before he could hold them back, but at her look of delight, he did not regret saying them. “We should get back to the others, let them know you’re all right.”

She nodded, and followed him to his horse. He lifted her on behind the saddle, then swung up in front of her. Safely mounted, he drew his pistol and fired three times, a signal to the others that Cecily had been found.

He let the horse take its time heading back to the campsite under the trees, to rest the animal and to keep from jarring his passenger too much. Still, with every step, Cecily’s body brushed against his. Her hands tightened around his abdomen, and the tips of her breasts pressed into his back. It was the sweetest of tortures, and one he knew he could not endure long.

No, he had to convince her to leave him, before it was too late.

Chapter Seven

Though Fifi and Estelle seemed suspicious at first, after a little persuasion, they accepted Cecily’s offer to teach them to read. “Might as well do something to occupy ourselves until we can get back to work,” Estelle said. Madame LeFleur had wasted no time hiring contractors to build her new house, but it would still be some weeks before the ladies were able to move in.

Cecily claimed the front parlor as her classroom, and gathered tablets, chalk, and what books she could locate about the house for her teaching materials. With hot tea for refreshment, she invited Fifi and Estelle to join her. Alice insisted on tagging along. “I can’t very well leave you alone with the likes of them,” she sniffed, and retired to a corner chair with her mending.

“I thought we would begin by discussing some of the reasons you might want to learn to read and write,” Cecily began when her pupils were seated on the sofa across from her. “For instance, you might want to write a letter.”

“Who would we write to?” Fifi asked.
 

As one who wrote dozens of letters each week, Cecily couldn’t imagine. “Why, you could write to family or friends.”

“I don’t have any family,” Estelle said.

Fifi nodded in agreement. “Nor many friends,” she added. “Not ones that read, in any case.”

Cecily thought this was the saddest thing she’d ever heard, but the two women didn’t seem to find it strange. “Well, then, perhaps you would like to write out a shopping list.”

“I don’t need to write down things to go shopping,” Estelle said.

“At the store, we simply ask for what we want, or point to it,” Fifi said. “When the mail order catalog arrives, we order from the pictures.”

“What about recipes?”

The two women shook their heads. “We don’t cook,” Estelle said.

Cecily could scarcely contain her exasperation. Were these women purposely being contrary, or did they truly see no use for literacy?

“Have the two of you heard the story about the poor governess who ended up marrying the wealthiest man in Europe after he found her crying in the street and helped her out in her moment of distress?” Alice had been quiet until now, but her question attracted their attention.

“I haven’t heard that story,” Fifi said. “Tell us more.”

“You could read it for yourselves in this paper.” She bent and retrieved a rolled tabloid from her sewing basket and tossed it to Fifi. “
Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper
has a story like that every week. Exciting tales of romance and adventure.”

Fifi unrolled the paper and ran her hands over the etching of a lovely young woman and a handsome young man on the cover. “I do like stories,” she said with a look of longing.

Cecily flashed Alice a grateful look. “You’ll never run out of stories to entertain you once you learn to read.” She sat forward in her chair. “It’s hard work, but I’m sure you can do it.”

Estelle and Fifi looked at each other. Estelle shrugged. “All right. I guess I’m willing to give it a try.”

From there, Cecily launched into a discussion of the alphabet, the sounds of the different letters, and how they came together to form words. She wrote each women’s name on a slate and had them copy the letters over and over until they could write their names perfectly. This delighted them, but when she moved on to writing simple words such as ‘cat’ and ‘hat’, they lost patience.

“This is baby stuff!” Estelle complained, throwing down her chalk.

“You must start small and work up,” Cecily said. “Don’t worry. Soon you’ll have the knack of it and you’ll be reading almost anything.”

Estelle leaned back in her chair and rubbed her forehead. “I’m tired. This reading business is hard work.”

“As if you know anything about that,” Alice mumbled.

“You are one to talk, Miss High-and-Mighty Maidservant!” Estelle threw down her slate and glared at Alice. “You may know book-learning, but you are a stupid child when it comes to things that really matter, like what it takes to please a man.”

“Who are you calling stupid?” Alice returned Estelle’s glare.

“I am calling
you
stupid.” Estelle stabbed her finger at Alice. “I’ve seen you with that handsome Nick Bainbridge.” She smiled slyly. “Now there’s a man I wouldn’t say no to.”