WM02 - Texas Princess (7 page)

When he unbuttoned his shirt, she saw his scar crisscrossing over his heart. She’d laughed nervously and asked about it as she toyed with touching the twisted esh as if she’d been asked to stroke a snake. He told her of his family and how he’d been hurt defending his ranch. He even told her of lying behind his horse with both of them bleeding. The outlaws kept yel ing at him, trying to gure out if he was dead so they could move on to kil ing the rest of the Mc-Murrays.

Tobin couldn’t remember why he’d talked so much, it wasn’t his nature, but that night he wanted to be understood.

Before he nished his story, he noticed that the saloon girl wasn’t listening. She pul ed her hand away from his chest and averted her eyes, and he knew she was trying to shove the ugliness from her mind.

He’d been embarrassed, but he asked her to look at him, al of him. The scar was a part of him. He wanted her to see him, not just another customer, not just a damaged body, but him.

He hadn’t come here to talk, he thought, so what did it matter? But suddenly the girl wasn’t nearly as pretty as he thought. He dressed and left money on the bed, deciding he didn’t want his rst or any time to be like that. He needed more.

Looking at Stel a, her cheeks red from the stove and her eyes wide with possibilities, he found himself asking her if she liked horses. She answered with a giggle and he looked for his hat. As he stood, he pocketed two apples and thanked her for the breakfast.

“Come back any time. The senator takes his breakfast in his study and Miss Liberty usual y doesn’t get up until after nine, so the kitchen is always quiet in the mornings.”

Stel a waved good-bye from the doorway.

Walking back to the barn, he cal ed himself a fool. Most men his age had slept with every wil ing woman they ran across. Most had stories to exaggerate. And as near as he could tel , none had regrets. Just because he never planned to marry didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a woman. He suspected both his big brothers had tumbled into bed a few times, though they never bragged like some men. Maybe something was wrong with him. Maybe he couldn’t be al that attracted to a woman.

As he stepped into the dawn shadows of the barn, Tobin col ided with Liberty. His hand went out to steady her, accidental y brushing the side of one of her breasts with his open palm as he put his arm around her waist.

On second thought, there was nothing wrong with him at al . He was denitely attracted to one woman. Unfortunately, she couldn’t have been more out of reach if she had lived on the moon. She was a senator’s daughter and he was just a man who delivered horses as far as she was concerned.

“Remove your hand, sir,” Liberty snapped.

“Sorry,” he managed to say. “Next time I’l let you fal .”

“Next time don’t run into me.” She looked as jumpy as a l y around re.

Her beautiful eyes were more gray than green this morning and he thought she looked like she’d been crying.

As he stared, her gaze l ed with anger.

Confused, he asked, “Did you need something, Miss Mayeld, or did you come out before daylight just to stand

in the way?”

“You said you’d teach me to ride.”

“It’s not even seven o’clock in the morning.”

“I want to try before I change my mind.”

He saw it again. The fear in her gaze, and he knew the anger was not directed at him.

She was ghting fear with any tool she could nd. “I thought you said you wouldn’t learn?” He lowered his tone.

“I’ve changed my mind. A woman has the right to change her mind, at least in some matters.”

He guessed the truth even if she didn’t know him wel enough to be honest. She feared something, or someone, more than she did horses.

He moved to the stal where Sunny waited.

Liberty backed into the corner by the door while Tobin saddled two horses. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as light danced across her china smooth face.

She wore a plain white blouse and a split skirt for riding a regular saddle. The jacket she carried over one arm didn’t look thick enough to offer any warmth. Her midnight hair, which had been curled and tucked back last night, now owed straight down her back. Her boots looked new.

He grinned. Even in simple clothes, she stil looked every ounce a princess. She was a woman who got everything she wanted when she wanted it, he guessed.

“What do I do?” she asked when she seemed to be able to stand the silence no longer.

“Tie back that hair. It might get in the way,” Tobin ordered.

She looked around. “With what?”

He looped the reins over a railing and walked over to her. “Turn around.”

She raised one eyebrow, then did as he asked.

Tobin tugged off his gloves and gently moved his ngers into her hair. It was even thicker than he would have guessed. “When I was a kid, I always had to braid my little sister’s hair.” His ngers twisted the strands of silk into a long braid.

“Don’t you do this?” He’d assumed al women braided their hair at night. Sage always did when she changed into her nightclothes.

Liberty turned her head. “No. Joy, my maid, combs it around damp rags so it wil be curly in the morning. I’ve never worn a braid. My father doesn’t think they’re ladylike.”

Tobin twisted off the end with a strip of leather. Her hair was beautiful even in the braid down her back, but bore not one turn of curl. “What happened last night?”

She gave him a sharp look, then said simply, “I didn’t bother with the damp rags. Not that it’s any of your concern, but I was tired.” She brushed her hand over his handiwork. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He wondered when he’d ever talked to a stranger so much.

He shoved on his gloves and motioned her toward the horses.

She didn’t move. She simply stared at the animals. “I can’t,” she whispered. “They’re so big.”

He thought of grabbing her and lifting her up on the horse’s back just to show her there was nothing to fear, but he wouldn’t know how to handle the hysterical female she might turn into. She would frighten Sunny if she yel ed and, if the animal bolted, he’d never get her near a horse again.

“Al right.” He tried to assure her that he knew what he was doing. “We’l take this one step at a time.” Maybe now would be a good time to tel her he’d never taught anyone to ride. They’d carried Sage with them from the time she could walk, and as soon as she could reach stirrups his little sister outrode them al .

He put the horses back into their stal s and closed the gates so only their heads hung over. “How about we say hel o rst?”

To his surprise, she took a step forward. Knowing that the horse could not get any closer seemed to calm her.

“Hold the reins rm with one hand. That way he won’t shake his head and frighten you.”

She took the reins.

“Now, stroke his head, nice and gentle.” Tobin moved behind her, circling his arms around her, showing her. “Talk to him, Miss Mayeld. I’l be right here if you need me.

And if he nudges you, that’s just his way of saying hel o, so don’t be frightened.”

“Hel o, boy,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “I’m not going to be afraid of you.”

Sunny snorted, making her jump. Tobin steadied her and whispered, “Easy now. It’s al right. You’re doing ne.”

She looked at him. “Are you talking to me or the horse?”

Tobin shrugged. “Does it matter?”

She huffed. “I guess not.”

Twenty minutes later she’d fed the horse an apple and relaxed a fraction. Sunny’s head movements and snorts no longer made her jump.

Tobin opened the gate and taught her how to walk the horse out. He explained where to stand and how to circle close behind the animal. She touched Sunny the way he did, listening to every word he said. “Now walk him outside,” he nal y said as he handed her the reins.

After a few steps, she turned back to him and said, “Stay close.”

“I’m your shadow,” he answered.

Her step steadied and he guessed she believed him. He stayed within easy reach of her as they walked the beautiful horse into the cool morning light.

her as they walked the beautiful horse into the cool morning light.

Sunny liked the attention and was on his best behavior.

Absently, as he’d done hundreds of times for his sister, Tobin lifted Liberty’s hat and put it on her head. “I’l tel you a secret about horses, Miss Mayeld. Most like to please. Problem is, sometimes they don’t know what you want from them. You let Sunny know you’l take care of him and he’l run his heart out for you.”

She patted the horse’s neck.

“Why don’t you give him a drink while I get my mount?”

Liberty nodded, but she didn’t look too happy about him leaving if only for a minute.

Tobin col ected his horse and a lead rope to tie onto Sunny. He wanted Liberty to ride, but if she got into trouble, he’d control her horse for her.

As he stepped behind her, he asked, “You ready to get up now?”

She shook her head. Her hat hid her face, but he stood so close he could sense her fear.

His hands circled her waist. “I’m going to sit you up in the saddle nice and easy, miss.

There’s nothing to worry about. I’m right here.”

She shook her head again. “I can’t.” She twisted in his hold. “You don’t understand. I saw my mother fal from a horse when I was four. Her head hit a rock and she just closed her eyes as if she went to sleep.”

Tobin felt her entire body shake beneath his grip.

“I was only ten feet away, but by the time I reached her blood circled around her.”

Liberty’s intense gaze met his. “I had to kneel in her blood to touch her.”

Tobin pul ed her to him, holding Liberty tightly against him while she shook. He might have been two years older when he’d been ambushed, but he remembered how it felt to be surrounded by blood. The smel of it. The taste of it deep in his throat. The thick feel of it on his skin.

“It’s al right, Liberty,” he whispered against her ear. “It’s al right.”

After a moment, she calmed and pul ed away. “I’m sorry. I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

“You can do this,” he answered.

“No.”

“Liberty, the horse didn’t kil your mother. The fal might have, or the rock she hit, but not the horse. I’ve seen a few horses that people have mistreated who turned mean, but your father would never have let your mother ride a horse like that. What happened was an accident. A terrible accident.”

She faced him. Tears swam in her stormy eyes. “I have to learn to ride. I have to.”

He saw it then, the strong determination. And, once more, he knew without doubt that this lady feared something far more than riding. She had to rule one fear to survive another.

“We’l do this together.” Before she could argue, he gently lifted her onto the saddle and swung up behind without letting go of her.

She gripped the saddle horn as if it were a lifeline. He leaned his body against her back and circled his arms around her. With a tug, he dropped the lead rope to his horse, and with a low clicking sound he’d known how to do al his life he nudged the horse into a walk.

They moved away from the barn and headed down a lane shaded with trees on both sides. Once out of the early morning sun, the air chil ed and he enjoyed the warmth of her so close. After a few minutes, she relaxed against him and he let his arms rest next to hers.

“Put your hand on top of mine,” he said. “Get a feel of the reins before you take them.”

She waited so long he wasn’t sure she planned to fol ow his direction, but nal y she put one hand on his.

As they rode, slow and easy, he told her how to handle the horse. Tobin did his best to ignore the fact that several parts of their bodies were touching. He wasn’t here to come cal ing. He was here to teach her to ride and then be on his way back home. For what her father was paying for the horse, Tobin could afford to spend an extra day.

“You ready to take the reins now?”

She shook her head, but he turned his hand over and passed the two leather straps to her. His ngers laced between hers as he covered her hold, and he found himself wishing there were no gloves between them.

“Tel him where to go,” Tobin whispered in her ear. “You’re the boss.”

She nodded stify and he moved his hand away.

For a while, she let the horse have his head. Sunny seemed content to continue down the road. When he tried to stop or wander to the side for grass, Liberty tugged him back, each time her movements more uid, more sure.

“That’s the way, Libby,” he coached. “You’re doing ne.”

“Don’t cal me Libby. It’s not my name.”

“Al right, what should I cal you?”

“Miss Mayeld wil be ne.” He could feel her back stiffening.

“At least for three more days and then I guess you’l be Mrs. Buchanan.” Tobin wished he hadn’t said the words the moment they were out of his mouth.

Her back went rigid. She didn’t speak.

He waited her out. Final y, she said, “How do I turn around? I’m ready to go back.”

He talked her through the rest of the ride. When they arrived at the barn, he stepped down and helped her as politely as if they were total strangers, and for al he knew that was exactly what they were. Two people who’d shared a riding lesson, nothing more.

“I’l be back at one for another lesson.”

He tipped his hat. “We’l be ready, Miss Mayeld.”

Watching her walk away, Tobin couldn’t help but wonder why, for a lady who hated horses, she sure was in one hel of a hurry to learn to ride.

“McMurray!” A sharp northern accent snapped through the air.

Tobin faced Captain Samuel Buchanan. The man looked like a painting of the perfect young ofcer. His uniform pressed and brushed, his buttons and boots polished.

Tobin, on the other hand, looked like he had slept in his clothes, which he had.

“Morning, Captain.”

Buchanan didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I saw you had my ancée riding this morning. I commend you. She’s a beauty, but a coward of a woman. You’re the last of a long line of people who’ve tried to teach her to ride. Most, she simply ordered off the property. As far as I know you are the rst to actual y get her in the saddle.”