Circle Eight: Vaughn (3 page)

“I can manage the buttons myself.” He almost pushed her hands away, noting they were long fingered and elegant. She hid a very feminine core beneath the plain rancher exterior. A rather alluring core.

Vaughn hurriedly secured the buttons while Elizabeth retreated to the door. The room wasn’t very big and she damn sure wasn’t far enough away for him to forget how she smelled. He got to his feet and was proud that he didn’t fall back onto the bed, or worse, his face.

He stepped toward her and she leaned her head back. “You’re taller than I expected. I only saw you standing for a moment and it was dark, and you’re, um, tall.” She whirled around and yanked the door open. “Let’s get to her room before she comes looking for us.”

Vaughn awkwardly made his way down the hallway wearing clothes that were markedly too short for him, barefoot and with no recollection of stepping foot in the house. It was strange but he never felt out of place there. Most nights he laid his head down in a different place and spent the night at the edge of sleep, ready to react to a threat. While he’d been at the Graham ranch, none of that had happened at all. Not even once. He slept as though he lay in heaven’s embrace, not in the care of a stiff-lipped young woman.

The last door on the left in the hallway stood open, a warm glow emanating from within. “Ellie, you about here yet? Don’t make me shuffle my old behind out there.”

Vaughn stifled a laugh at the old lady’s gumption. “Ellie? I like that better than Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders stiffened in front of him. “That’s Miss Graham to you.”

“Ellie.” He let it roll off his tongue again and she clucked her tongue.

“I know how to use a rifle, shotgun, knife and pistol. You do not want to get on my bad side, Mr. Montgomery.” Her threat was said on a whisper yet he heard the steel behind her words.

Ellie.

He liked that moniker much better. It fit her—strength combined with elegance. Ellie Graham was a conundrum. Vaughn had to remember she was not his mystery to solve. She was dangerous and he needed to get gone as soon as he could.

“He’s right behind me, Martha. Be nice.” Elizabeth walked in and held the door open for him.

Vaughn wasn’t sure what he expected but it wasn’t the tiny bird-like woman on the bed. She had a tuft of white hair on her head, which at one time might have been curly, and now was a mass of white strands. Her skin was paper thin, and her blue veins shone through. She was no bigger than a sack of flour wearing a white dress with blue piping.

The largest thing about her was her smile. She grinned from ear to ear. “Well, howdy, young man. No wonder Ellie kept you hidden for two days. You’re enough to make me want to get up and put some rice powder on my nose.” She cackled and patted the side of the bed.

Vaughn had never been afraid of an old lady before. There was a first time for everything.

“Vaughn Montgomery at your service, Madam.” He bowed as far as he could before his head swam. “I appreciate your family’s hospitality.”

“Pshaw. It’s Ellie who took care of you. Ain’t no one else here.”

“Martha!” Elizabeth shook her head. “You need to temper your words.” She didn’t appear nervous but her brows were drawn together again. The woman was far too serious for someone so young.

“He can hardly stand up, girl. I don’t think he’s gonna be up to no good.” Martha winked at him.

Vaughn managed to sit in the chair beside the bed without revealing just how on edge he was. The older lady was right of course. It spooked him how easily she read him. The wound must have addled his skills.

“I promise I will not hurt you or your family. Nor will I take advantage of your hospitality.” Vaughn didn’t have to put on his honest face. He told them the truth, for the first time since he’d woken up at the Graham ranch.

“You talk so fancy. You must’ve gone to a fancy school, Mr. Montgomery.” Martha looked at him from beneath her lashes. “Can I call you Vaughn?” She was as charming as she was odd.

“Yes, ma’am. You may call me Vaughn.” He looked up at Elizabeth, who was still scowling. “I apologize, Miss Graham. I took your seat.”

She sat down abruptly on the edge of the bed. “I can sit with Martha.”

“Now tell me about yourself, Vaughn. Where are you from?” Martha’s charm slid into a sweet interrogation. The old lady had her own skills.

“Originally I’m from Virginia, ma’am. I came to Texas for a business opportunity I couldn’t find in the United States. The Republic is full of men of action.” He hoped that was sufficiently vague to answer her question.

Granny nodded, her papery jowls swinging with her movement. “What happened?”

“Pardon?” He hadn’t expected her to be direct about his personal business.

“Your business opportunity in Texas. It must not have gone well or you wouldn’t have ended up nekkid on our doorstep.” Granny smacked her lips and cackled again.

Vaughn pasted on his bland smile. “Not exactly what I anticipated, however, I shall find another opportunity to pursue.”

“Hmph. Nekkid man should know when to tuck his tail between his legs. Mebbe you ought to back to Virginia, Mr. Montgomery.” Gone was the sweet old lady, and a cunning dame took her place.

“I could, but I don’t appear to have the funds or the transportation resource.” He watched her expression for a reaction and he wasn’t disappointed.

“And next you’ll have your hand out for some money, right?” Martha narrowed her gaze.

Vaughn was ready for it. “Of course not. You and Miss Graham have been nothing but kind. I will make my way in the world as I always have.”

“Hmph.” The older woman seemed to enjoy making words disguised as noises. “I’ll believe it when your handsome behind walks out the door.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was refreshingly honest and amazingly obnoxious. “I like you, Martha Dolan.”

She snorted and looked at Elizabeth. “This boy is as crooked as a shepherd’s hook.”

Vaughn laughed again. It felt good, if rusty. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done it. “You are as feisty as the day is long.”

Elizabeth got to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Before he could ask her to stay, to rescue him from Martha’s presence, she disappeared from the room. Her footsteps didn’t make a whisper of a sound.

“You’ve got her spooked.” Martha stared after the young woman. “Ain’t much spook that girl, either.”

Vaughn wasn’t sure if he was flattered or disappointed. Elizabeth—Ellie—seemed to be a strong female, unflappable and sure of herself. If he had been the one to rattle her then he didn’t know how to react.

“It wasn’t my intention.”

Martha shrugged. “Everybody has to get off-balance sometime. That girl needed it worse than anyone I ever met.” Another grin.

Vaughn was charmed by this tiny old lady. She spoke her mind and she did so with a pinch of sass he respected. If she was right about Elizabeth, then he had affected her more than he realized. That was unexpected and he wasn’t sure if it was welcome or not.

Elizabeth took several deep breaths but her heart still hammered like it was building a fence inside her rib cage. The experience with Vaughn getting dressed had set her off balance. She hadn’t remembered being so aware of a man before. And she had four brothers, plus various neighbors, brothers-in-law and Lorenzo and Javier.

Yet it took a naked swindler to awaken the sleeping woman inside her. It wasn’t logical, yet it had happened—was still happening. Her palms sweat, her skin was sensitized to the point her clothes were giving her goose bumps, her pulse thundered, and damned if she didn’t feel decidedly warm between her legs.

It was humiliating and frustrating. She had no way to stop it or control it. Being in the same room with him set her teeth on edge. Elizabeth had always relied on facts and numbers, information to guide her. This whole business of physical reactions confused her and she didn’t know what to do.

So she ran.

It galled her to do so. Elizabeth didn’t run from anything. Except, apparently, men who made her remember she was a woman. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had a beau now and then. Many of them thought her too serious. One even accused her being an old woman in disguise. Those accusations stung. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, change who she was to suit a man’s sensibilities.

All that left her in a bit of a sticky situation. It would be another few days before Mr. Montgomery was physically able to leave. Even that might be a stretch. The man had been injured and fevered. He had no other form of transportation besides his own two feet. Although Matt would berate her for weeks, possibly months, if she gave the stranger one of their horses, he could leave sooner. Selfish of her, but she would endure the yelling to save herself discomfiture.

“Ellie?” His voice echoed across the great room.

She stiffened, her nerve endings zinging with awareness. “Mr. Montgomery, I don’t believe I gave you permission to call me that.”

“I believe our experiences, the intimacies shared, preclude not calling each other by our Christian names.” He moved closer with his shuffling step.

She told herself not to move, that he would walk back to the room he stayed in. Yet he moved closer, standing directly behind her. His body heat encircled her, his scent invaded her nose.

“You smell.”

He chuckled. “I have no doubt of that. I haven’t bathed since I’ve been here.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll get the water heating.” As she stepped to the sink, she grabbed an empty bucket from the floor.

“You don’t need to do this now.”

“I won’t be able to sleep knowing you smell like that.”

He chuckled. “You surprise me with that sense of humor.”

She pumped the handle and turned to look at him. The very sight of the man was enough to make her physical situation worse.

“Pardon?”

“You’re funny, Ellie. It’s definitely dry, but you are quite funny.” He smiled and her hand slipped off the pump, plunging into the cold water.

He handed her the towel from the counter. “Are you all right?”

She wiped her hand and continued to pump the water.

“Should we do something with the stove to heat the water?” He gestured to the large stove currently not doing a thing.

She was a complete fool. There was no way to get hot water without actual heat. She should have tended to the stove first.

“Um, yes, I’ll do that. Why don’t you go rest?” The sooner he left, the better she would feel.

“I just need to sit.” He sat down at the large table. It held at least ten people, sometimes fifteen or more. However, it didn’t look odd with a single man sitting alone. He rested his chin in one hand, elbow on the table. Large bags hung below his dark eyes. Exhaustion was in his expression and his posture.

Genuine concern pushed aside her discomfort. She set the full bucket on the stove then stoked the embers. She filled a second bucket and placed it on the stove as well. Satisfied the water would boil, she poured two cups of coffee from the still warm pot.

With a bit of trepidation, she set them down on the table and sat across from him. He picked up the cup and slurped at the brew.

“That’s good. Real good.” He blew out a breath. “Never thought walking five feet would sap my strength.”

“You were injured and had a fever, Mr. Mont—Vaughn.” She tasted his name and found it delicious. “It will take time to heal up. If Eva were here, she’d probably give you better care. I’m a poor substitute.”

“I don’t believe that. I owe you my life. You’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

Not entirely true. She hadn’t been kind in her thoughts and had been short with him. He was the one being polite.

“I’ve done what my mother taught me. I’m not a good nurse, though. I spent all my time in books instead of learning how to be a proper female.” She hadn’t meant to let that slip and brought the coffee to her lips to stop the words from continuing.

“Books, hm? I can’t say I’m surprised. You are very well spoken.”

“Not as good as you speak though. I think you went to college or had tutors or something. I’ve never met anyone who spoke so fancy.” She wasn’t able to stop herself from spilling out all her thoughts.

“Anyone can speak properly. It just takes practice. I never went to school.” His confession startled her.

“I didn’t either. My mother taught us until I was twelve and then my older sister Olivia took over.” It was strange to have something in common with him. But good.

“What happened when you were twelve?” He sipped his coffee, unaware he tread on sensitive territory.

She contemplated whether to tell him. It had been nine years. The pain of losing her parents had become a part of her, or who she was. “My parents were murdered. My oldest brother Matt took over the ranch and parenting the rest of us.”

He looked startled. “Murdered. That’s awful. Did you catch who did it?”

“Yes, my brother-in-law Brody was a Texas Ranger. He found them and saw the culprit duly punished.” There was so much more to the story but that was Brody and Olivia’s story to tell.

“I’m glad to hear it. Texas is a rough place. Many folks are killed for nothing more than scraps.” His voice had dropped to a rough whisper. “Sometimes for less than that.”

Experience vibrated in his words. Someone he knew or loved had been murdered too. Another thing they had in common.

“Who was it?” she asked quietly. Her coffee was only warm but she drank it, eager for something to do besides have such a serious conversation. Yet it was one of the defining moments in her life, and she couldn’t explain why.

“No one of consequence.”

This was the first time she’d heard a lie in his voice. She didn’t push him about it. Murder was a very personal, dark memory for anyone who had lived through it. Whatever secret he held in his heart was his to keep. She would not pry any further.

They sipped the rest of their coffee in silence. The water bubbled on the stove and she rose. “I’ll put the tub in your, er, in the room you’ve sleeping in.” She went to the back porch and pulled the wooden tub in.

It scraped as she pulled it across the floor, its weight heavy but not unmanageable.

“Let me help you.” He tried to rise, then tottered before he dropped back on the bench.

“Don’t be foolish. I can manage it. I’ve done it a thousand times without a man’s help.” Elizabeth had fought against her brothers’ idea of what was appropriate for a girl and what wasn’t. She could do anything she put her mind or heart to.

“I can see that. You make it hard to be a gentleman.”

“There ain’t much call for gentlemen in Texas. We need real men.” She dragged the tub down the hallway and into the room. She straightened and pressed her fists into her lower back to ease the stiffness. Elizabeth turned to find Vaughn at the door, watching her. More specifically, watching her breasts.

For a moment, she was too stunned to speak. Her heart fluttered and darned if her nipples didn’t pop like buttons.

“I, uh, came to see if I could help,” he offered weakly.

“As you can see I’ve already got the tub set.” She needed to get out of the room. He was too big, too tall, too there. It wasn’t very ladylike, but she hurried from the room.

The water bubbled merrily in the buckets. She picked up a rag and lifted the first bucket. Her return trip to his room was at a more sedate pace. The last thing she needed was to burn herself on the boiling water.

Vaughn sat on the edge of the bed, his face drawn. She tipped the water into the tub with care. The steam billowed up around her and she closed her eyes for a moment to let it pass. When she opened them, he was watching her face. His study was unexpected and foreign. It made her uncomfortable. In all her life, no young man had looked at her like this stranger did.

What did he see?

“I’ll go get the other bucket and then some cold water.” She darted out of the room again. By the time she returned with the second bucket of hot water, he had removed his shirt. The sight of his chest, at the whorls of dark hair around his flat male nipples, sent a whoosh of sensation across her body.

She couldn’t make her mouth form the right words, so she didn’t speak. Instead, she poured the water in too fast and it splashed on her arms. She hissed and dropped the bucket, which bounced off the tub and landed on her foot.

“Goddammit!” She hopped around, her fascination with his half-naked form forgotten. If she’d broken her foot, she would have to ride for the doctor on her own. She couldn’t leave Granny alone and Vaughn would be of no help.

His hand on her elbow stopped her mad dance. “Please sit down and let me look.”

Elizabeth almost squeaked at the contact. “I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe, but if you let me look at it, we’ll know for sure.” He led her to the bed and, like a dutiful woman, she allowed him to. Elizabeth didn’t know what possessed her to allow him to pick up her foot, slide her dress up to her ankle and unlace her boot.

It was as though she wasn’t in her own body, she was watching someone else. His long fingers slipped off her rough boot and rolled down her sock. His touch sent zings up her leg, straight to her pussy. Warmth flooded her most private core. What on earth was happening to her?

An angry red mark transected the top of her foot. He traced the injury with the lightest movements, then pressed around it.

“I don’t feel anything broken. Does it hurt?” His dark gaze showed concern, which surprised her.

“Um, not too much.” Her voice had dropped to a husky whisper. She didn’t sound like herself, either. Perhaps this was a dream and not reality. Then his fingers slid around to touch the bottom of her foot.

Elizabeth always had a problem—she was ticklish. Extremely ticklish. She laughed and yanked her foot out his grasp. Vaughn’s grin slid across his face, making him appear boyish.

“You’re ticklish.”

She scowled. “I can’t help it.”

“It’s adorable.”

Her scowl deepened. “It certainly is not.”

“Oh yes, it is, Ellie. Very much so.” His smile was sexy and the sight of that handsome visage made her mushy inside.

Damn.

She jumped to her feet. “I’ll go get the cold water so you can bathe.”

Elizabeth told herself she wasn’t running from him again. It was a lie. A big one. After pumping water into the empty bucket, she cooled herself down. Standing there with one bare foot, she felt foolish. Vaughn probably considered her more foolish after running off like she did.

She sighed and tried to dredge up her self-respect and strength. Vaughn was a handsome man with beautiful hands and bone-melting charm. He was a stranger, a charlatan who would be gone as soon as his feet carried him out the door.

Yet the newly awakened feminine side of Elizabeth wanted more. She wanted to be kissed, to be touched, to be held. The painful truth was she might not ever get another chance. Did that mean she should take a chance? Or wait until his natural instinct to charm her out of her drawers kicked in?

She carried the bucket as her guts warred with her head with each step. Sometimes in life, a woman had to do what she wanted, no matter the consequences. She certainly had role models in Hannah, Olivia and Aurora. They were all strong women who took what they wanted.

The question was, what did Elizabeth want?

When she stepped into the room, she still hadn’t decided what to do. Vaughn sat where she had left him, her boot and sock in his hand. Her cheeks heated yet she didn’t drop her gaze.

“I’ve got the cold water.” It was a ridiculous, obvious thing to say but it popped out of her mouth anyway. As she poured the cold water into the bath, he got to his feet.

She watched him in her peripheral vision, noting his feet appeared larger than normal because the pants he wore were too short. He had dark hairs sprouting from his toes, and manly looking feet. It was a silly thing to notice.

“Thank you for getting the bath ready.” His voice slid over her, smooth and deep.

She suppressed a shiver. He didn’t need to know how he affected her. It would give him a power over her she refused to grant him. Elizabeth would tread with care.