WM02 - Texas Princess (42 page)

chapter 34

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Tobin awoke slowly from a deep sleep. His rst

thought was that he hadn’t dreamed. No nightmares distorted the night.

The second thought was that Libby was not by his side. He sat up searching for her, expecting to nd her by the re or making tea. But she was nowhere in the room.

Regret that he’d slept even a few hours of their last night together hit him ful and hard.

He shoved the covers aside and reached for his clothes trying to decide where she would be. Glancing at the window, he noticed it was long past dawn, and stil cloudy.

Maybe she went down for breakfast with her father? No, she wouldn’t leave without waking him. The last thing she’d probably want was for him to go looking for her. He’d planned to leave before dawn to avoid any questions, but that plan was now impossible.

Dread settled into the pit of his stomach by the time he laced his moccasins.

The tray of food she’d had waiting for him last night sat untouched by the window. Her gown lay on the oor. Nothing else of hers remained. Tobin tried to think back, but he’d only had eyes for her last night. He couldn’t remember seeing her trunk in any corner or even a comb on the dresser. Could she have already been packed and ready to leave when she’d married him and spent the night making love?

No, he thought, if she were leaving she would have told him. He thought back to last night when she’d lain in his arms, curled up and safe. They’d both been awake part of the time. He remembered thinking of al the things he could say to her and wondered if she’d been thinking the same thing.

But he hadn’t broken the silence. He’d told himself he’d wait until morning.

Only now, morning may have been too late.

He opened the bedroom door quietly, expecting one of the rangers who always guarded the senator to be sitting at the end of the hal . The chair was empty. Mayeld must already be downstairs.

Tobin moved silently to the landing. No one, not even the desk clerk, was there.

He took the steps slowly, listening for conversations coming from the dining area to the left or the smal parlor to the right. Nothing.

At the bottom of the stairs, Tobin noticed the desk clerk sweeping the front porch.

“Where is everyone?” Tobin said, trying not to sound as if his world were shattering apart.

The clerk looked up in surprise. “You mean the senator and his party? They left about an hour before dawn. He had everything packed up yesterday afternoon but wanted to wait out the rain.”

Tobin couldn’t believe Libby had known last night that she’d be leaving today and hadn’t told him.

“You Tobin McMurray?”

Tobin nodded.

The clerk reached in his back pocket and pul ed out a letter. “The doc told me to give you this.”

Tobin took the note frowning. He thanked the man and

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walked to the end of the porch. When he opened the envelope, he found one page.

Three lines from Libby.

Thank you for the memory I’l cherish.

I’l always think of you on your mountain.

Please remember me. Love, your Libby.

She must have written it in haste and asked the doctor to see that someone get it to him. She hadn’t even said goodbye to him.

He was halfway home before he slowed his horse to a walk. There didn’t seem enough air left in the world. He couldn’t breathe. Al the things he’d thought he was going to say to her over breakfast log-piled in his brain.

If he went home, his brothers and Sage would have a dozen questions. He didn’t want to talk about her. He couldn’t share his pain. They’d probably think he was a mad man for even thinking a princess like her could be interested in someone like him. Hel , she spoke ve languages. He didn’t even speak one most of the time.

Frustrated, Tobin turned his horse toward Whispering Mountain. For the rst time in his life he wouldn’t be afraid to dream his future. Without Libby he wasn’t sure he had a life.

chapter 35

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Tobin turned his horse to the mountain and

not toward the lights of home. He needed time to think. The rain started again, dribbling down in thoughtless tears. Wind whipped around him, slowing him as if not wanting him to go.

Halfway up the mountain he had to leave his horse and continue on foot. Tobin didn’t even bother to take a bedrol . In minutes it would be as wet as the ground anyway.

He trudged through the mud, pul ing at plants to climb in places and sliding backward on rocks in others until nal y he reached the summit.

Thirty years ago his father had dreamed his death here. Andrew McMurray had stil been in his teens when he’d married and brought his wife to Whispering Mountain.

He’d set on this summit and known he was going to die.

Tobin dropped to one knee, understanding how his father must have felt for the rst time in his life. Andrew had loved their mother, loved her enough to go against both his people and hers, loved her enough to stand alone in a land stil wild. He must have been happy when he came to this place. He

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must have been looking forward to seeing into his future. Autumn had been pregnant.

They’d just begun a life.

But on the summit that night, Andrew McMurray dreamed only of death.

Tobin crumbled onto the wet ground and let the rain hit him in the face. If his father loved his mother like he loved Libby, how had he found the strength to stand and return, knowing his days were numbered? Knowing that he’d be leaving her alone.

Knowing he’d never see his sons grown.

The soft rain washed over him relaxing tired muscles and Tobin closed his eyes. But sleep didn’t come, only Libby’s face smiling at him.

Hours passed. The rain nal y stopped and the clouds cleared enough for a few stars to twinkle through the fog. To-bin’s last thought before he dozed off was that it must be near dawn.

When he dreamed, he dreamed of horses running across Whispering Mountain. Glory, Sage’s old mare, led the pack. Only she was young and strong, not old and half broken down like now. Her offspring raced behind her and mixed with the generations of horses they’d bred on the ranch. Horses born of Glory and his father’s horses.

Horses bred from the best of the wild mustang blood.

Tobin could name them al . They’d al been a part of his world for as long as he could remember. He felt his heart racing as if he were with them running ful out against the wind.

When he awoke, the rst pale light of dawn shown on the horizon. Through the watery fog it looked violet, the same color Libby’s dress had been that last night.

Every bone in his body felt stiff. His clothes were caked in mud. Knocking off the earth, he smiled. If Libby saw him now, she real y would think him half wild animal. He probably looked worse than a coyote caught in a muddy creek. He’d slept out off and on al his life, but he usual y had the sense to do it under a tree or cliff edge. This time he’d chal enged the storm ful out.

The dream of generations of horses running across the land drifted through his mind.

He knew what he had to do. It would take some time, some courage, but he was his father’s son.

Tobin smiled, realizing he’d come to the same conclusion his father must have; otherwise, he wouldn’t have left the letter his sons cal ed “the rules.” The number of years a man lives isn’t nearly as important as how he lives them.

chapter 36

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The ballroom owed with the colors of a

winter garden as the dancers whirled in icy blues and hunter greens. Liberty watched, smiling at the friendly faces. She’d been back in Austin for almost three weeks and tomorrow they’d leave for the Gulf of Mexico where they’d travel by ship back to Washington.

Her father had nished his investigation of his attempted murder. He’d found that the men who’d attacked his carriage that night had been paid by a smal group of businessmen who lived along the border and strongly disagreed with his views on trade with Mexico. When the rangers nal y rounded them up, the businessmen swore to the man that they hadn’t planned to kil the senator, only scare him into having second thoughts. Only the outlaws they hired carried the plan a step further thinking there might be a bonus if they kil ed Senator Mayeld.

Liberty smiled to herself, glad her father nal y seemed relaxed. Or as close as a warrior ever gets to relaxing. He’d nd another battle in no time, he always did. It seemed to be what kept his blood pumping though his veins.

She studied the dancers. Here in Austin there were many men in uniform and whenever she noticed one her senses came alive with warning, but none were Captain Samuel Buchanan.

Libby wondered, if she did see him again, would he stil look handsome. She somehow doubted it. On the way back, she’d told Dr. Nevad the details of her ght with Samuel and they’d both agreed to not tel her father. The senator had already decided the captain was incompetent before al the trouble started. That was why he’d turned to Tobin to keep his daughter safe.

Samuel had never wanted her, only her money and a slice of her father’s power. At least Tobin had wanted her, if only for a few days.

Dr. Nevad walked up beside her and offered her a champagne glass.

“Cider,” he said with a smile. “And you should sit as much as possible.”

Liberty laughed. He’d been lecturing her since they’d met.

They both turned to watch her father leave the bal room. He was surrounded by men jockeying for his attention. It seemed as soon as her father knew she was safe, he moved on to more important matters.

Dr. Nevad drew her attention back. “Your father told me this morning that Samuel Buchanan had sent him a letter asking if you were sure you wouldn’t reconsider.

Apparently, he managed to show up at Elmo’s Trading Post about a week after you left.”

Liberty grinned. The doctor always seemed to make her smile. “And what did my father say?” The senator’s favorite rant of late was about how the bungling captain had almost got him kil ed. Any other man would have known there were outlaws on his property.

“He said not only no, but hel no.” Nevad laughed.

“You don’t think Samuel wil show up here?” Tomorrow they’d be traveling and she’d know that she was safe from ever seeing him again.

Nevad shook his head. “One of the rangers said he saw Buchanan traveling to his new assignment on the front line.

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He said he had a redhead with him who never seemed to stop talking.”

Liberty shrugged. “He’l never nd a more loyal companion than Stel a.”

Dr. Nevad accepted her glass and moved aside as one of the Austin ofcers in ful dress uniform asked Liberty to dance, pul ing her back to the party. She didn’t want to dance, but she couldn’t be impolite. In another week, while they sailed, she could tel her father she was married. He’d be aggravated that something happened out of his control, but he’d settle into the idea by the time they reached Washington. She’d let another month pass and then tel him he was going to be a grandfather. She smiled, thinking he’d probably like that idea.

Liberty fol owed the ofcer’s lead and nodded at his comments as if giving him her ful attention, but in the back of her mind she planned al that would need to be done as soon as she was home. Thanks to her friends marrying of late, Liberty knew of a few houses available. One sat in a wooded area a few miles from town and would do perfectly. She’d decorate it while she waited for the baby. If she remembered correctly, it was smal enough to be run by only a few staff and had a rather nice barn and grounds. Liberty had already decided to ask Anna and Dermot to come with her.

Between the three of them and a few hired day staff, she should be able to have the place ready for the baby.

With each passing day, the parties and theater seemed less important. She wanted the baby growing inside more with every heartbeat. Her baby. Tobin’s baby.

Thankful y, most of the people in Austin knew little of her adventure. Her father had told everyone that he’d sent her to stay at a friend’s ranch and invented the kidnapping to to keep her safe while he helped solve the plot against his life. Most were polite enough to believe him. The few who weren’t were not brave enough to ask questions.

The music ended and the ofcer returned her to her place at the edge of the dance

oor. She thanked him and wondered how he’d react if he knew she wore moccasins beneath her gown. Everyone would be shocked, but she just thought how comfortable she’d been al evening.

Liberty glanced at the huge grandfather clock in the foyer just beyond the bal room door. She’d been watching it al night, counting the hours until it would be acceptable to leave. She hadn’t wanted the party in the rst place. If it had been her choice, she would have stayed in the carriage al the way to Galveston and boarded the ship immediately.

Sleep would have been her choice tonight. It seemed she’d been sleeping a great deal of late.

She tried not to think that she was getting farther and farther away from Tobin. She was keeping her word. She’d be building a new life. Inside her grew someone who would need her . . . someone who would love her. She could build her world on that, only that.

The wind brushed a strand of her hair across her cheek and Liberty turned to see the front door open.

Her rst thought was that it was far too late for anyone to be arriving at the bal . Her second thought was that the man coming through the door looked familiar.

The way he moved, leading a little with one broad shoulder, walking softly as if he never left tracks.

A cry caught in her throat as the man turned. Chestnut brown hair cut perfectly, a strong jaw set by a frown, and dark blue eyes as stormy as a hurricane.

“Tobin.” She’d only whispered his name, but he heard her.

He faced her, taking in the look of her like a man starved for the sight of her. Without warning, he walked straight toward her.