Amelia (23 page)

"I haven't forgotten."

"Senator Forbes will be present with his wife. The good offices of a superior politician are always of value," she reminded him.

King couldn't have cared less about being in the good graces of a politician. But this was something Darcy set great store by.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he replied. He bent to kiss her cheek with cool lips. "Good evening."

She frowned. He was acting totally unlike himself. The old King was more forceful, less reserved. Tonight he was preoccupied and out of humor, and when she had mentioned their upcoming engagement, he'd acted as if the subject had never been approached. She would have to play up to him more. For her family's sake, she couldn't afford to lose the Culhane fortune.

 

King rode back to Latigo slowly, his mind on Amelia and what to do about her. If her memory didn't return, things could become complicated indeed. And he didn't dare think of marrying Darcy when another woman could even now be carrying his child. Honor sometimes demanded much of a man. He could hardly deny that the entire terrible situation was his own fault. He had brought it on Amelia, and on himself. Now he had to cope as best he could. But pray God, let her not be pregnant, he thought. That would lock them both into a prison from which there would be no escape.

 

Across the border, Quinn was escorting his lovely companion into the small town of Malasuerte. It was, like most Mexican pueblos, very poor and without much more than a fountain and a mission. The people glanced at him from their dirt-floored huts with the thatched roofs, some smiling, some not. Gringos were viewed with suspicion here.

"My papa will be happy to see me and grateful to you for bringing me home," she said warmly, smiling at Quinn from her blue, blue eyes.

"Until he learns what I've done to you," he murmured ruefully.

"I will not tell him," Maria said firmly. "And neither will you. It is between us, as you said."

He only nodded. But inside, he was worried. Her papa was Rodriguez. Whatever his personal feelings, he had to bring the man in. It would be difficult to get Rodriguez extradited, too, because he had friends in government here. The best way, the only way, would be to tie him over a saddle and take him out by night over the Rio Grande. That, too, would be difficult. He was a Ranger. But he was also one man, and Rodriguez had many, many friends.

Besides, Maria appealed to him. She had courage, and she was beautiful. Quinn found himself drawn to her more and more. He didn't want to hurt her by arresting her father.

He stopped his horse in front of the small hut where the girl indicated she lived and helped her to the ground. She felt light and warm in his arms, and he smiled at the way she made him feel inside. She was very pretty. She made him feel like a man, in a way no other woman had.

"It will be all right," she whispered, smiling back at him. "You do not need to be afraid of my papa."

"That was the last thought in my mind."

"Then what,
señor
, was the first?"

"That I should like very much to kiss you," he replied. "You are very lovely."

She lowered her eyes shyly. "You must put me down. This is not a good way to meet my papa."

"So there you are," a deep, accented voice came from the doorway. "Praise the saints, you are all right!"

Quinn turned, and there was the man himself, the bandit Rodriguez.

«
^
»

 

K
ing was up before the rest of the family the next morning. He stopped by Amelia's room, opening the door very slowly, so as to not awaken her.

She lay quietly under the covers, her pale cheek against the white pillowcase, her eyes closed. He stood by the bed, scowling down at her. This woman had aroused more violent emotions in him than any woman he'd ever known. He couldn't imagine why he despised her so, when the rest of his family seemed to adore her. It was a bad time indeed to remember how she felt without her clothing, the joy of her body in an intimate embrace, the yielding soft response of her mouth to his rough kisses.

She stirred unexpectedly, and her eyes opened. They were dark and soft as they sought out his face. She frowned as if trying to focus.

"How are you?" he asked stiffly.

She touched her head. She was still disoriented, confused. It disturbed her to be in here with him, to see him, even to hear his deep, slow voice. She pulled the covers closer.

"I am… very well, thank you," she said faintly. She frowned more, as turmoil grew inside her.

King understood, as she did not, the uneasiness that showed in her face.

"What do you remember?" he asked bluntly.

She gnawed unconsciously at her lower lip, trying to focus one of the wild thoughts whirling around in her mind. "I remember… the picnic. Alan took me on a picnic. And then my father… my father hit me."

His face lost all expression. Only his eyes were alive in it. "What else?" he persisted.

She touched her forehead and winced. "I don't know… I can't remember . . anything else. My head hurts!"

He wanted to pick her up and shake her, to make her remember what she had permitted him to do. It was she, not himself, who was to blame. Was that why she fought the memory?

She saw his eyes, and her whole body tensed under the covers. Fear grew in her soft face, in her eyes. "Please go away," she said stiffly.

"Fear," he scoffed. "You are full of it!"

Her nails bit into the cover. "Only when I see you!" Her dark eyes were accusing. "You have… hurt me… in some way! I do not remember how, or when, or even what, but I know that you are my enemy!"

Her eyes were huge, and he was almost overcome by sudden guilt.

"And you are mine," he said heavily. "They all feel sorry for you. My own family has turned against me, because of you!"

"Indeed?" she asked. "It is only because of me that they have found fault with you, Mr. Culhane? What a shocking person I must be, to bring out such sad qualities in you."

His eyebrows lifted in surprise at her tone. It was mocking, and what he'd mistaken for fear in those dark eyes was something much more astonishing. "I hardly think my faults are any of your business."

"That is so, thank goodness," she agreed readily, and with a cool smile. "Your mother has mentioned that you may see fit to marry the daughter of a neighbor, and I will certainly remember her in my prayers. Marrying you, she will have need of divine support!"

He didn't seem to move. When he finally realized what she'd said, his silver eyes went molten. "So will you, Miss Howard, if you continue to toss insults at me. I find it frankly surprising that a mealymouthed opportunist such as yourself… !"

He broke off, because she threw a carafe of water at him in midspate, her eyes flashing. He sidestepped in the nick of time, but the carafe splintered noisily against the wall just past his shoulder and crashed water and glass onto the floor at his feet.

"You get out of here!" she said fiercely, sitting up in bed to glare at him, despite her throbbing headache. "I had to put up with my poor father's tempers, because to provoke them might kill him, but you are not fatally infirm! Not yet, at least!" she added darkly, looking around for something else to throw.

King moved back to the doorway and stood there, astonished, as he registered the sudden change in their houseguest. Perhaps she was still concussed.

"Amelia? Are you all right?" Enid asked, ducking past King into the room as she glared at her son.

"Is she all right?" King exploded. "My God, she threw a pitcher of water at me! She could have knocked me out with the damned thing!"

"Stop cursing, please, and what did you say to her to warrant such a violent response?" his mother wanted to know.

King glowered at her and then at Amelia. "She's riot herself."

"Oh, but I am," Amelia shot back, her dark eyes glittering at him. "You just didn't know me, dear man. Now will you please leave? Why don't you go and serenade your loved one with those invectives?"

"It can wait," he drawled. "In fact, she's coming here this afternoon to see you."

"I can hardly contain my impatience," Amelia said haughtily. "Does she arrive by carriage or broom handle?"

King stepped forward, but Enid put a hand on his chest and pushed. "Out," she said.

"I will not have…" he began hotly.

"Out!" Enid repeated. She pushed him through the door and shut it. Then she collapsed back against it in laughter.

Amelia shifted irritably against the headboard. "The arrogant, unfeeling, contemptuous
beast
!" she raised her voice, hoping King could hear her. "How dare he walk in here without my permission?"

There was a rough curse outside the door, followed by the sound of angry footsteps going back down the hall.

"My dear," Enid said, recovering, "how lovely to see you so… changed!"

"I am changed for the worse I fear." Amelia pushed back her hair and laid against the pillows with a long sigh. "I feel a little wobbly, but I shall improve. Your son said his fiancée was coming to see me. I do not wish to have company." She looked at Enid warily. "Do you mind?"

The older woman beamed. "Not at all," Enid murmured wickedly. "I shall convey your regrets to Miss Valverde."

 

King was on the porch with his father, apparently having given the older man a replay of what had happened, because King was glaring daggers at his father. Brant was doubled up with laughter.

Enid joined them, casting a mischievous glance at her son. "You will have to explain to your fiancée," she stressed the word, "that Miss Howard is indisposed and unable to receive guests."

"She'll be indisposed if she flings anything else at my head," he promised hotly.

"Did she really do that?" Brant asked, recovering. "I can't believe it!"

"Obviously, she knew of her father's condition and acted as she did only to placate and calm him," Enid told the men. "Quinn never mentioned Miss Howard being particularly docile, and I have heard of some of her exploits, especially when her younger brothers were still alive. Their deaths and her mother's, and her father's accident before his violent tendencies appeared—all of it must have been very difficult for her. I don't doubt that it made her docile, for a time." She glanced at King. "Not anymore, of course. If I were you, I should be more careful about how I addressed her in future. I have every intention of providing her with a replacement carafe."

She smiled at her husband and went back into the house.

Brant watched his son, correctly assessing the conflicting emotions on the younger man's dark, lean face.

"I didn't know she had it in her," King murmured reflectively. He lit a cigar and glanced at his father with a rueful smile. "I suppose you think I deserved it."

"Indeed I do," came the instant reply.

King sighed. "Perhaps I did." His silver eyes twinkled. "What a temper!"

"A woman without one would be a poor choice for you." He saw the flicker in his son's eyes and nodded. "As you knew already, I gather?"

King moved away. "I have some chores to finish before Darcy arrives. She won't be happy about making an unnecessary trip."

Which was an understatement. When Darcy alighted from her buggy only to be told that Amelia had suffered a slight relapse and couldn't have company, she exploded.

"What nonsense, letting me come all this way for nothing!" she raged.

Brant and Alan had left the house to escape her tirade, but Enid was trapped with King while the young woman vented her spleen.

"I'm certain that Amelia didn't have a headache to spite you, Darcy," Enid said with faint malice. "And I hardly think your behavior is any credit to your parents. Please give them my regards. I'm sorry that you have to leave so quickly."

Enid got up before Darcy could backtrack over her behavior and left the room, but not before giving King a speaking look that conveyed her opinion of his intended.

"And now she's got her tail feathers in a tangle, hasn't she?" Darcy demanded petulantly as she stomped out to the porch. "Take me home!"

King took her arm and pulled her around, not too gently. "My mother is not a hen. And your behavior leaves much to be desired, indeed!"

He went off to the barn to get her buggy and his horse, leaving her to steam on the porch and remember how badly she wanted to be Mrs. King Culhane. By the time he returned, she was in a better mood and playing up to him all over again.

 

Amelia heard the commotion as Darcy left. She was sorry for causing Enid any trouble, but she was delighted that she'd managed to throw King off balance.

Apparently he hadn't realized that she'd only been deferring to her father, not because she was that afraid of him but because she didn't want to make him any worse. She still didn't understand what had caused his last, fatal outburst, but at least he was at peace now, and she could go on with her life. She had no intention of going on with it as she'd had to for the past four years. No man was going to keep her subdued ever again, least of all
that
man!

Enid visited her several minutes later. "Darcy is gone. She had King go home with her, because the trip was so tiring, and she wasn't sure that she could make it home all by herself."

"How sad."

Enid chuckled. "That was only after she'd shown her true nature to all and sundry. And believe me, King wasn't any too pleased with her. Maybe this will open his eyes. Amelia, you don't even look the same. You are better, aren't you?"

"I would like to get up tomorrow," the girl replied. "I feel a fraud Lying here, when I am almost well."

"Not quite, but you will be. As for getting up, well we'll see about that tomorrow."

Amelia smiled. "If you say so." She smoothed the covers. "I'm sorry about throwing the carafe. It must have been dear…"

"It was old and not my best one. You should have seen the expression on King's face," she added, chuckling. "My dear, it was worth losing the carafe to see my son taken down a peg. Feel free to throw anything you like at him. I think it may do him good."