Maverick Wild (Harlequin Historical Series) (12 page)

“Shh!”

“Don’t you hush me,” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “Someone’s tried to hang you!”

“It’s not the first time, and likely won’t be the last,” he muttered to himself. “Go to bed, Cora.”

She took a timid step toward him, then stopped.

She actually feared him. The reminder stabbed at his pride.

“Not until I know who’s done this to you,” she insisted.

“One of the imbeciles you’d warned me about.” He poured some water into the washbasin and uncapped the whiskey, knowing the sting in his neck was only going to get worse.

Cora Mae continued to hover just inside the doorway.

“Listen, I’ve had a rotten night. As much as I know I deserve it, I’d rather you not watch me flinch as I clean this burn.”

She strode into his room looking ready to slug him. To his amazement, she took the cloth from his hand and pointed at the end of his bed.
“Sit.”

“You don’t have to.”

She looked at his neck and her eyes flinched. “I want to help.” She picked up the basin from the dresser. Chance did as she’d said, settling onto the end of his bed, his pride cracking further as she approached him. Her brow creased as she looked closely at his injury.

“Good Lord, Chance. I should wake Tucker.”

“No.”

She touched his chin and he looked up, giving her better access. The sympathy in her gaze only made him feel worse. He tried not to flinch as she pressed the cool rag against his burning skin.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said.

“I haven’t doused it with alcohol yet. Does your throat hurt?”

Only when he swallowed. “A little.”

“You sound as though you’ve been gargling sand.” She dunked the bloody rag into the basin and continued to rinse his skin. “Chance, I really should go get Tucker.”

“No,” he said, clenching his teeth through the pain. If Tuck knew Wyatt had had him dangling at the end of a noose all hell would break loose. And for what? Because Salina was playing games with both of them? He wasn’t going to risk a ranch war over a woman. Tucker had his family to look after and they both already had all the work they could deal with. He’d bide his time and deal with Wyatt his own way.

“You’re really hurt,” she said.

“This doesn’t involve the ranch.”

“How could it not? One of your neighbors has tried to kill you!”

“Shh!”

“How can you—”

“This wasn’t over a ranch quarrel.”

“What else could it be?”

“Jealousy.” He shook his head.
“My own stupidity.”

The concern in Cora’s eyes ripped at his conscience. “I doubt Wyatt would have tried to kill me if I hadn’t told him I’d paid a call to Salina.”

She blinked. “Wyatt did this?”

“Seems he’s not real receptive to the idea of me courting his mistress.”

Cora felt her jaw drop open and was powerless to pull it shut.
He couldn’t be serious!
“You’re…”
Dear God
. She could barely get the words past her throat. “Courting Salina Jameson?”

His wide, bronze shoulders shifted, drawing her gaze to the firm planes and sculpted muscle of his chest. A wave of heat rushed through her body, sending a flush into her cheeks.

“Figured I’d give it a shot,” he said.

She returned her focus to the task of rinsing the bloody gash in his skin, thinking she must not know Chance at all. If he was interested in a woman like Salina, he had more brawn than brains. How could he be fooled by a woman so blatantly like her mother!

“Ouch!” Chance flinched away, and Cora realized she’d been sponging his neck a little too hard.

“Sorry.” She dabbed the strip of raw, welted skin once more then turned back to the bureau for the whiskey. Drawing a deep steady breath, she tugged at the high collar of her dress, slightly flushed beneath. Despite his injury, the sight of his partially clothed body was having an alarming effect on her. Gathering her senses, she turned back to the shirtless man behind her.

Chance gazed up at her through his tousled hair, watching her with a combination of curiosity and caution. She couldn’t decide what she wanted more, to smooth those golden waves back with her fingers, or gag him with the rancid cloth. Gagging would be the smartest option, she decided.

“You don’t like her,” he said as she moved beside him.

“I don’t know her.”
No more than she wanted to
. “This is going to sting.”

It did. Air hissed through Chance’s teeth, every light touch of the cloth setting fire to his skin. “Try not to have too much fun.”

She stopped, halfway across his throat, anger flashing in her eyes as she pressed the backs of her hands to the curves of her hips. “I would
never
wish for you to be hurt.”

He smiled despite the pain. “I was teasing.”

Her frown deepened. “Oh.”

“Used to do that all the time.”

“Yes, well…we used to be friends,” she said, glancing down at the rag in her hand, hiding her gaze. But he heard the sadness. She turned back to the dresser and poured another round of whiskey onto the cloth.

She didn’t meet his gaze when she returned. “Look down.”

Chance followed the command.

“I think we could be,” he said at length, the pain in his neck becoming nearly tolerable.

“Could be what?”

“Friends.”

She stepped back. The tension in her expression suggested otherwise. He knew it had taken a lot for her to come into this room and help him. Compassion wasn’t trust and was far more than he deserved.

“We came awfully close earlier today,” he said, remembering the short time he’d let go of his anger and mistrust.

Her lips twitched with the start of a smile, and Chance’s heart leaped. He wanted to put her at ease with him.

“Or maybe you just like to play in the mud,” he said, forcing a grin.

“Maybe I do,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

She sure had sass.
She always had,
he reminded himself. Perhaps Tucker was right. When he really thought about it, she hadn’t done anything to cause his distrust. Nothing other than accomplish what he couldn’t—bringing them together without the threat of Winifred hanging over their heads. He couldn’t have hoped to hear better news than of his stepmother’s death, that Cora Mae had found a life she’d enjoyed, away from her mother’s cruelty, a life she had given up to find him and Tuck.

Looking into her pretty face, he knew it was more than memories of Winifred that tainted his feelings toward Cora Mae. It was Cora Mae—the woman he never imagined she would become, a woman who could stoke his desire with an ease that troubled him. Mostly because she didn’t even try. All she had to do was stand there, and he could sense her sweetness and the fire inside her he’d already caught glimpses of. A temptation snared with all the trappings of love and marriage—he certainly had no right to touch Cora Mae unless he was interested in both. Old warnings surfaced in his mind.

Love is a trap.
Nothing else could weaken the mind and shatter the spirit with such efficiency.

“Look up,” she said.

He remained silent as she finished.

“Should I do your wrists?” she asked.

“I can get it.” He took the cloth from her. “Thanks.”

She moved back as he stood and walked to the dresser. He washed his hands then picked up the whiskey bottle and doused the mild rope burns on his wrists.

“Will you tell me what happened?” she asked from behind him.

He released a sigh as he grabbed a towel, not thrilled with the idea of sharing how foolish he’d been. “On my ride back from the Lazy J, I was too busy stargazing to realize I was being ambushed.”

“Why would Wyatt ambush you?”

He turned and was surprised to see Cora Mae sitting on the end of his bed.

Don’t get sidetracked
. He was lucky she was even talking to him.

“Apparently he’s having trouble with cattle rustlers and I triggered his trap. When he found out I’d been to the ranch to see Salina, he decided stealing his woman carried the same penalty as rustling.”

“He could have killed you.”

“He
nearly
did. I’m sure I’d be quite dead if it hadn’t been for Mag.”

Cora’s eyes popped wide. “The trapper’s woman?”

Realizing his slip, Chance could have bit off his tongue. “Yeah,” he said with some hesitation. “I guess she spotted the lynching and felt inclined to help me out.”

“Does she live so close? I’ve heard her mentioned by the other men on a few occasions. They said she passes through the area every now and again, but I assumed she lived high up in the mountains.”

“Her place is closer than anyone thinks. Might even be on Lazy J land, not that it should matter to them. Halfway up the first mountain peak between our ranches is still wild country, and no place to graze stock.”

“You’re friends?”

“I don’t think Mag has use for friends. We met during my first ride into this valley. I was lost, if you want to know the truth of it,” he said with a slight smile. “She knows these hills and mountain passes better than I know my own ranch. I helped her out with something and she showed me around.”

“And the trapper?”

“He’s even less social than Mag,” Chance said, thinking that was an understatement. Danvers had been dead for a few days before Chance had come upon Maggie trying to dig a grave in frozen ground. He’d already told Cora Mae more about Mag than he should have, more than he’d ever told anyone. He wasn’t about to break his vow of silence about Danvers’s death. “Anyhow, she helped me out, and I’m fine.”

“Fine?”

“Close enough.”

Cora could hardly believe his nonchalance. “Chance, this is serious!”

“And I’ll deal with it. In my own time, in my own way.”

Was he trying to protect Salina? Could he really care for her? Her mind rebelled at the thought, but the question still escaped her mouth. “Do you still intend to pursue Salina?”

“If I took over the Lazy J, I’d control the crew.”

“That’s a reason to marry?”

“More reason than some have for getting hitched.”

“But…you don’t love her.”

“Exactly.”

“You don’t want to love the woman you marry?”

“I never wanted to marry at all.” Again he shrugged. “But life’s like that sometimes.”

He deserved better. He deserved the warmth and caring she saw between Tucker and Skylar. “Who says you have to marry?”

“It’s been suggested. It could be ideal when you think about it.”

“Please, enlighten me.”

Chance found himself fighting a grin as he stared at her stern expression. He couldn’t win. Here he was, trying his damnedest to convince her he was averting his romantic intentions away from her—and she was getting mad at him. “I’ve thought about the things you said earlier, and you were right. My actions were disrespectful this afternoon, and I’m sorry. I meant it when I said I wanted us to be friends.”

Her tremulous smile lasted a moment and wasn’t entirely convincing. “I’d like that.”

“Me, too, Cora,” he said, knowing it was a lie even as the words left his lips.

She deserved to be part of this family. His physical frustrations were
his
problem. “You’re safe with me. I swear it. I don’t want to chase you off. Though I haven’t shown it, I
am
glad you came.”

Cora listened to him saying all the words she’d wanted to hear, while talking in the low baritone voice that turned her insides to jelly. She couldn’t take her gaze off his mouth, the mouth that, for a time, had felt so nice against hers. She wasn’t so sure it was Chance that she didn’t trust.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, standing and edging toward the door. “I still think you should tell Tucker about Wyatt.”

“Cora?”

She stopped in the doorway.

“Can you forgive me for my actions, the things I’ve said?”

The concern in his gaze only increased the chaos raging inside her. “I already have,” she said, her voice barely audible.

He smiled and shoved a hand through his tangled hair, relief shining in his green eyes. Yet all Cora could think about was the taste of his wild kisses, the feel of his solid chest pressed against her, his heart beating as erratically as her own.

“Thanks for fixing me up,” he said, but Cora was already closing the door of her own room, and trying to tamp down the surge of sensation that had stolen her breath.

His apology couldn’t take away the memory of his kisses, or the cravings she knew better than to want.

S
ounds of laughter drew him from the stable. Visions of fall rooted him in place. A shimmer of red and copper curls danced on the breeze as Cora Mae chased his nephew across the back lawn. She latched her arms around Josh and lifted him off his booted feet. The delighted giggles carrying across the wind suggested his nephew had clearly wanted to be caught.

Smart kid
.

Something inside Chance warmed at the sight of them.

The past week of
being nice
hadn’t been so bad. He’d discovered sitting in a warm kitchen with Cora Mae to be a real treat. He was even starting to get used to the flushed cheeks and heated gazes she did her best to hide from him whenever their eyes caught and held for a few seconds too long. Somehow, knowing she struggled with the same desire that had been tearing at him for weeks gave him the edge he needed to be able to control his own.

We’re friends
. Who happen to spark like flint to stone.

Skylar’s voice called Joshua back into the house. Cora Mae released the boy, and his nephew scampered up the back steps. Cora Mae picked up a wicker basket and strode toward the clothesline where linens waved like white flags in the wind.

He had to get back out to work. His branding crew needed the coils of rope he had let slide from his shoulder. Tucking his gloves into his back pocket, he headed for the clothesline. He approached, watching the shadow of Cora Mae’s shapely body as she reached for the clothespin.

I’ve got a few minutes to be nice
.

The white drape fell away, and Cora Mae jumped at the sight of him standing on the other side.

“Chance!”

“Can I give you a hand with that?”

She seemed lost for words, so he grabbed the end of the sheet flapping in the breeze.

“Thank you.”

“No sense in you wrestling with this big sheet in the wind.”

Cora didn’t tell him she’d planned to fold them inside. She simply followed his lead, folding the linen in half, then stepping toward him to fold it across the middle.

“Breakfast sure was good,” he said.

And all it had taken was his near death to get him to sit at the breakfast table and come in for a noontime meal. Her gaze slid to the red bandanna secured around his stubborn neck, hiding his rope burns. “I think you’re making a mistake,” she said, voicing her concern as she had in previous days.

He glanced down at the sheet they’d worked into a fat rectangle. “If I’m doing it wrong—”

She laughed, despite her irritation. “I mean by not telling Tucker about Wyatt.”

He grinned and passed the bundle to her. “Don’t worry. Wyatt will be dealt with, in a way that won’t blow our chances for meeting our contracts. We haven’t had a speck of trouble with the Lazy J in the past week. You can bet they’re spooked. And they should be.” He took another sheet off the clothesline while she placed the folded linen in the basket.

“How would telling Tucker affect meeting your contracts for horses?”

He flapped the sheet toward her. “A ranch full of dead cowhands would attract an inquiry.”

Cora gaped at him from across the sheet. She hadn’t thought of Tucker retaliating, but now she remembered his warning the morning he’d told her about Salina’s crew stealing their stock. She supposed either of the twins would seek vengeance against anyone who raised a hand against the other.

“Salina’s not worth the bloodshed, and my brother has seen enough killing to last a lifetime. I’ll deal with Wyatt on my own.”

He stepped forward again. Their fingers brushed as he passed her his end and reached for the bottom. The light caress was like a static shock, the current rippling up her arms to the peaks of her breasts. She was certain Chance felt it, too, his gaze hot on hers.

Silence stretched as they folded the next two sheets.

“You’re a man of many talents,” she said as she placed the last of the linen in the basket.

“Don’t tell Skylar. She’ll add beating rugs and pinning clothes on the line to my list of chores.”

His smile was slow and lethal, making the ache in her breasts spiral throughout her body.
Dear Lord
. She wasn’t sure she didn’t prefer his brooding moods to the smiles and charm he’d been displaying lately. His relaxed presence, the sight of his dark hands on the white linen—
stop
thinking about it!
She only wanted a brother, and he deserved a real wife.

“You and Skylar seem to be getting along real well,” he said.

“Oh, Skylar’s lovely.” She’d never felt a stronger friendship with a woman.

“So are you.”

Chance tensed as his words echoed back on the light breeze.

Where the hell had that come from?

Cora Mae laughed off the compliment and lifted the basket of folded laundry. “Thank you for the help.”

She turned and walked back to the house.

Chance hadn’t complimented a woman since he didn’t know when. And she’d simply shrugged off his words.

“Have you changed your mind?” he called after her.

“About what?”

“Leaving.”

She stopped at the base of the steps, her expression wary. “It was never my intention to stay here, Chance. But I’ll help out as long as Skylar needs me.”

“Hell, Cora, we all need you. You won’t find a soul on this ranch who wouldn’t beg you to stay.”

Her instant smile warmed him from the inside out.

“Thank you for saying so.”

“Nothing but the truth.” The truth felt damn good. “Well, I should get back. You have a nice afternoon.”

“You, too.”

When he reached the stable doors, he turned and glanced back. Cora Mae stood where he’d left her, staring after him. Even at that distance he could see her startle at being caught. She turned and quickly hustled up the steps.

Chance smiled as he turned back to the stable.
Yes, sir. Being nice felt real good
.

“Done with the laundry?”

Garret stood just inside the stable doors, the rope Chance had dropped slung over his shoulder. Anger sparked in his hazel eyes.

“I was just helping out a bit.”

“Uh-huh. Lately, it seems like every time I look sideways the two of you are huddled up together, whispering.”

All that whispering had been Cora Mae’s insistence that he tell Tucker about Wyatt, and Chance’s flat refusal. None of which was any of Garret’s business. “What? Are you jealous?”

“I liked her first!”

Chance couldn’t help but laugh. “Kid, I am not in competition with you.”

“You think I don’t see the way you look at her?”

Damnation
. He’d hoped no one had witnessed the way he’d been looking at her. But then, Garret had been watching Cora Mae with the possessive eyes of a love-struck kid.

“Plenty of men marry at my age.”

“Marry?
Cora Mae?
”

“Sixteen is old enough to marry,” he insisted.

“First you have to find a woman willing to marry a sixteen-year-old
kid
. Let me save you some humiliation. Cora Mae isn’t that woman.”

“I say she is.” Garret squared his broad shoulders and puffed his chest out. “And I think it’s about time you stopped calling me kid.”

“First you’ll have to stop acting like one,” Chance said, true anger clenching his muscles. “Don’t gripe at me because you’re not man enough to win the woman you’ve set your sights on.”

“The hell I’m not! I’m every bit the man you are!”

Chance wasn’t about to deny the fact. Garret shouldered the same workload as every other man on the ranch, and did so without complaint. But a grown man would have picked up on Cora Mae’s disinterest in him by now. It wasn’t any fault of his that
she
didn’t blossom under the kid’s attention. The realization nearly brought a smile to Chance’s lips.

“So what are you worried about? Seems to me you should be focusing on your courtship tactics. Maybe you ought to run out and pick her some more flowers.”

“Maybe I should help her fold sheets,” Garret suggested in a biting tone.

“Or maybe you could take a good look through those grown-up eyes and notice that she’s flat not interested in you.”

Garret’s eyes narrowed to slits. “We’ll see about that,” he said, stomping toward his horse with the rope.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Chance shifted his shoulder and realized his body was a mass of knotted tension. The kid was setting himself up for heartache. Cora Mae wouldn’t succumb to his attention.

Chance wasn’t one for sitting around the house at night when there was work still to be done. On a ranch their size, there was always something that needed doing, and he’d never wanted to crowd his brother’s time with his family. Tonight he found himself curious about everyone’s evening activities. For the first time, he opted to bathe directly after supper.

Tucking in a clean shirt, he headed for the front stairwell. The murmur of conversation filtered up from below. Halfway down the stairs he spotted Cora Mae, one of the girls nestled in her arms as she sat beside Skylar on the sofa. Skylar held a long wooden needle and a handful of yellow yarn. Tucker sat on the floor, reclined against the sofa, a baby lying in the cradle of his folded legs as he stacked a block onto a tower. Josh sat on his knees near the growing castle, his blue eyes dark with concentration.

Another step down and his gaze landed on Skylar’s brother standing before the hearth. Garret’s hazel eyes hardened at the sight of him coming downstairs.

This was
his
house. If he wanted to sit inside for some evening conversation, he damn well would.

“Evening,” Chance said, walking into the room. He dropped into a big chair across the room from Cora Mae.

Tucker eyed him curiously. Skylar’s hands fell idle on the yellow weave as she stared at him.

Damn
. Couldn’t a man sit in the company of his own family?

Josh looked over his shoulder at him. “Hi, Unco ’Ance.”

He grinned at his nephew who instantly turned back to his building.

“Would you tell them I don’t need payment,” Cora Mae said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Judging by the stubborn set of her jaw, they’d all been having a heated debate. His curiosity piqued, he crossed his ankles and eased back in the chair.

“Payment for what?”

“Slaving away in a hot kitchen from sunup to sundown,” said Tucker. “Not to mention all the chores in between.”

“I’m not taking your money.”

“Like hell,” Tuck countered.

Skylar’s knee bumped his back.

“I mean
heck,
” Tucker amended, glancing at his son, who didn’t seem to notice anything beyond his towers.

Chance grabbed a newspaper from the floor beside him and shook it out, figuring his brother had all the experience when it came to handling stubborn women.

“You’ve been working from dawn to dusk for weeks,” Tucker continued.

“It’s true,” Skylar added. “We would have had to hire someone to help out after the babies were born.”

“Not to mention all the pretty needlework you’ve done for the house,” said Garret.

“That’s right,” Tucker agreed. “You’ve been an asset to the household.”

“And
you
have fed and sheltered me these past weeks.”

“We feed and shelter the men in the bunkhouse too,” Tucker informed her. “Yet they don’t complain about taking their pay.”

Chance smiled into the blur of newspaper print. Tucker was right. Cora Mae had worked just as hard as the rest of them. She deserved wages.

“I had rather hoped you thought of me as family,” she said softly. “Not a hired hand.”

“Exactly,” said Tucker. “This
family
runs a business. We all work our tails off and we all take our cut.”

Cora was running out of words,
and patience
. It didn’t feel right to take even a cent from them. She hadn’t come here looking to profit from them. She glanced toward the newspaper and long denim-clad legs crossed at the ankles, which was all she could see of Chance. His accusations on the day she’d arrived hadn’t faded from her mind. She wasn’t looking for a handout.

“It’s really not necessary.”

“Cora Mae?”

The sound of her full name spoken in Chance’s deep drawl could have been a caress for the way it jolted her senses. All it took was the smooth rumble of his voice for her body to react.

Smiling green eyes glanced at her from over the newspaper. “You won’t win this one, darlin’. You’re outnumbered four to one.”

Her breath lodged in her throat. Certain she was red from her chin to her hairline, she glanced at Skylar.

“He’s right,” she said. “You could use a new spring dress and I know for a fact that a shipment of fabric comes in tomorrow. Those women in town are like vultures,” Skylar said bitterly. “They’ll have the general store picked clean by sundown. I had hoped to ride along, but I’m not ready to leave the girls.”

“You could ride along, Cora,” said Tucker. “You’ve got an eye for fabric and could do some shopping of your own.”

“I’d be very appreciative if you’d go,” Skylar added. “My girls will need clothes before the next supply of fabrics comes through.”

She supposed it would be nice to pick up a few things for herself. “All right. I’ll go along. But I’m still not comfortable about taking wages.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Chance said from behind the paper.

“I could ride along, too,” said Garret.

“No can do,” Tucker countered. “We’ve got corrals full of horses and a deadline looming. I can’t spare two men for half a day.”

“I leave at daybreak,” said Chance. “Not sunup.
Daybreak
.”

She was going with
Chance?
She glanced around, half hoping someone would rebuke his remark.

Garret stomped toward his room, clearly mad about not being able to go, though she now wished Tucker had relented. Her gaze was drawn to the newspaper Chance held up across the room.

Her heart constricted at the thought of spending the day alone with the man hidden behind the headlines.