Stolen Little Thing (Little Thing Series Book 1) (9 page)

Luke took his shirt off over his head without bother to unbutton it. He pitched it on a pile in the corner and added his undershirt a moment later.

Esme turned away from him as he undressed, suddenly feeling awkward. She pretended to take an interest in undoing her hair, taking her hairpins out one by one.

“Henry asked me if I have any money,” she told Luke as he slipped into the bathtub. “I told him that I don’t have a dime. I would have given him some if I had it to give. He asked me so sweetly that it made me wish I could. It might keep him from stealing from the boys.”

Luke slid deeper into the water and watched her as she worked her fingers through her thick copper tresses. She had money somewhere. Of that he was sure. It was just a matter of finding out which bank her uncle used. With a little luck, one day soon, he would tell her the news about the money she inherited. In the meantime he liked being the one to pay for things she might need, being the one she depended upon for everything.

“Esme,” he said quietly as he lay back in the water.

She stole a glance at him. His eyes were closed as he relaxed in the steaming water. Her heartbeat quickened. Her name on his lips made her feel she would do anything for him, especially when he spoke it so softly.

“Yes, Luke.”

“Would you wash my hair?”

She looked away from her mirror and set the last pin on the dressing table while she considered his request. He rose from the water and leaned over the rim of tub, his suntanned arms hanging down, a bar of soap in his hand. He frowned at her, but the glint of humor in his eyes gave him away. “C’mon. I never had a lady wash my hair. I always thought it sounded nice.” He held the bar of soap out to her.

Esme shook her head and turned her attention to her own hair, brushing it out with long fluid strokes. “You’re naked, Mr. Crosby.”

His jaw dropped, and he gave her a wounded look. “Certainly not. I have my trunks on. I always do when I take a bath. Lands sakes, Esme! Do you mean to tell me you take a bath in the nude?”

Esme stared at him, searched his expression, but he only looked more dismayed by her silence.

“Come wash my hair, Esme. My arms ache from all the work I’ve done.”

Esme ignored him and took off her earrings, muttering in frustration when a pearl fell from its setting.

“I don’t even remember my own mama washing my hair.” Luke sighed. “Her dying so young, leaving me behind. In the orphanage.”

As he expected, Esme became distraught. She rose from her chair, and came to the tub. A smile spread across his face. His girl was as predictable as the sunrise.

Esme knelt behind him, took the soap, and began lathering his hair. She worked to keep the suds from flowing into his eyes and scrubbed his scalp as he moaned with pleasure.

“You wicked beast,” she said a moment later after her gaze drifted downwards. “You most certainly are not wearing trunks.”

Luke chuckled. “Will you wash my hair every night?” He rolled his head to ease the tension in his neck.

Esme ran her fingers down his head to his shoulders kneading his muscles as she went. She kissed his ear even though she was mortified by his state of undress. Of course no one bathed in trunks. Only Luke would attempt such an absurd tale.

“Do you know how much I love you,” she blurted, unable to keep silent about her feelings any longer. She closed her eyes. It wasn’t something she had meant to say. The words tumbled out on their own.

He took her hand and kissed it. He looked over his shoulder to gaze into her eyes. “You’d better love me.”

Esme slipped her arms around his neck. Her sleeves were getting soaked in the bathwater, but she didn’t care. She simply wanted to draw near him. Luke closed his eyes, grasped her forearms in his hands, and anchored her to him.

His smile faltered as he remembered tomorrow he was going to San Antonio to speak to her father. He and Nolan were leaving the next morning near dawn. He decided to tell her now.

“Nolan and I are going to be gone for a few days. Roberto will be here if you need anything. He’ll check on the work at Simon’s house for me. Those boys should be done with it by the time I’m back.”

She panicked. “Where are you going?”

“To look at horses for the boys. I don’t want to leave, sweetheart. I promise to make it as fast a trip as I can.”

Luke’s mind rebelled against not telling her the entire truth. Not only was there more to the story, but he still hadn’t told her he would search for money Simon might have left her. It had to be in a new bank, one the lawyers were unaware of. It was either that or Randolph had gotten his greasy hands on it and spent it already. Either way, it probably hadn’t been much. Simon was better known for his regular church attendance than for his cattle ranching smarts. On that note, the man might have left his niece saddled with a pile of debt.

“Don’t they already have suitable horses?” Esme asked interrupting his thoughts.

Luke shook his head. “They’re old. Some of them were here when I came and I was eight. Besides, if they’re going to take care of all that extra acreage, most days, they’ll need fresh mounts midday,

He sank into the depths of the tub to rinse the soap from his hair. She dried her hands and rose from the tub.

“Roberto will be here if your father or any of his men show their faces,” Luke said.

“Now that I’m married, there isn’t a lot my father can do. But I will have to face him one day.” She settled in a chair a modest distance from him. “If you are looking at livestock, can you bring me back a few head of sheep?”

He grimaced and sat up a little in the tub. “Come again?”

“Sheep. Can you get me a few?”

Luke sighed and sank back, closing his eyes. “Nope. No sheep.”

“About a dozen, I’m thinking. Uncle Simon always wanted sheep, saying the thought it would look quaint. Like Ireland.”

Luke leaned his arms down on the rim of the tub. “There are two things I won’t ever do, follow a plow or herd sheep. I’m a cattle rancher, which is the only respectable thing for a man in Texas to do with ranch land. We’re not in Ireland. Case closed.”

Esme took a jar of cream and scooped out a small amount to rub on her hands. “Nolan told me you would say something like that.”

Luke eyed her suspiciously. He was certain of his influence over her and his ability to be the man of his house, but it surprised him how little resistance she gave, especially since the sheep were one of Simon’s notions.

“You’re dominion is the ranch, and as your wife, mine is the house,” Esme murmured.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Luke replied gruffly, still keeping a wary eye on his demure bride. He got up out of the tub and dried off. He wrapped the towel around his hips and waited for Esme to continue, to bargain, or beg, but she simply braided her hair. She sat on her chair, dressed in a white cotton nightgown bare feet peeking out from the hem. He loved seeing her there. Esme, his wife of twenty-four hours, sat in his room, dressed in an innocent white gown.

The table and chair where she sat was a matched set he’d bought when he’d accompanied Eleanor to a furniture merchant in San Antonio. Made of fine wood, the set had come from England. Eleanor Crosby had taken one look in the show-room and told Luke she could just imagine the Duval girl sitting at that very table. Luke, without bothering to ask the price, bought it immediately, even though he hadn’t seen or spoken with Esme in over a year at the time.

Luke watched Esme as she sat at the table, thinking the sight of her was lovelier than any he could imagine. Any discussion of sheep drifted from his thoughts as he crossed to stand behind her and slipped the braid from her fingers.

“Would you leave your hair down for me?”

She gazed at his reflection in the mirror and shook her hair free. Luke drew a deep breath. The waves of copper flowed down her back to her waist.

“I would do anything you ask,” she said as she turned in her chair to look up at him. His eyes shone with a sweet warmth that made her heart beat harder.

He took her hand and drew her from the chair, locking her in his arms. It was a miracle, he thought, that she was there, and would be for years to come. Each night he would watch her as she readied herself for bed. Each small detail of that simple act seemed so precious to him. He was overcome with emotion, but had no words for his feelings.

He gathered her hair in his hand and tipped her head back to kiss. Esme wrapped her arms around him, her body pliant in his embrace. Her submission banished all thoughts from his mind, except for possessing her once more. His hand moved down her side, casually brushing past her breast. She flinched and drew a sharp breath at his intimate touch.

“Tell me something, Esme.” His voice was rough. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you all day. Tell me you have five minutes to spare for your lonely husband.”

This time Luke didn’t need champagne to coax her into his bed. He slipped his arms around her, carried her across the room and set her down and kissed her. He lifted her lace gown and smiled at her small gasp of surprise. His gaze slid down her slender form and his breath stalled. His sweet little Esme, lovely beyond his wildest imaginings. All day he’d thought about making love to her.

She glanced over her shoulder to the bed and he knew she wanted to slip between the sheets, to hide her naked body from his eyes. He skimmed his hands down her hips and held her.

“Luke,” she whispered. “Let’s go to the bed.”

He shook his head, sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her closer. Her breasts were at eye level. She drew a sharp breath as he kissed the soft swell and traced a line with his tongue to her nipple. He stroked the tip into a hardened, tight bud drawing soft cries of pleasure from her. She held his head against her and arched when he cupped her other breast.

“Take me to bed,” she pleaded.

His response was a low growl, rumbling across his chest. He kissed her other breast, sending sparks of pleasure radiating across her, igniting a firestorm of desire. Her legs trembled and when he trailed his fingertips down her belly to the apex of her legs she was certain she would collapse. He stroked her sex and growled once more when she squeezed her thighs together. Gathering her in his arms he shifted her down to the bed, nudging her legs apart with his knee. She was open to him and he grinned when she tried to still his hand, tried meekly to keep him from touching her most intimate parts.

“Why Mrs. Crosby, I believe you’re wet.”

“Teasing beast.” She squirmed beneath his wicked touch, but he seemed to know how to make her stay right where he wanted her. His finger slid into her and she thought she might scream as he began to stroke her. She closed her eyes, felt his gaze on her face as he began his slow torment.

A delicious warmth bloomed inside her, stretching across her body and making her utter unfamiliar soft sounds of pleasure. Her cries were met with gentle words from Luke, telling her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her.

“One day I’m going to kiss you right here, Esme.”

She shook her head. The sensations he wrought overwhelmed her and left her speechless, but she had enough awareness to know that his words were scandalous.

“I’m going to taste you there, Esme. Give you pleasure with my tongue.”

She writhed beneath him. His words took her higher.

“You’ll come for me like that.”

And then she did just that. She arched beneath him as her climax tore through her.

“Beautiful,” she heard him say. “So damn beautiful.”

He settled himself between her legs and entered her slowly as he looked into her eyes. It was then that she saw the warm glow of his love for her. It burned there and she pulled him down to kiss her, wondered if he would ever tell her the words she yearned to hear. His gentle thrusts made her shudder. Every nerve in her body sparked and the ecstasy she’d known just a moment before burst into flame once again.

What was he doing to her?

“I think I’m going to see that again,” he whispered.

A battle waged inside her, one that she was rapidly losing. He seemed to want to own her, to master her like some tyrant of ancient times. Her desire to resist weakened and then crashed down, drawing a sharp cry from her lips that rent the quiet of the night. Luke’s release came an instant later, a fierce growl of pleasure.

He collapsed beside her, drew her gently into his arms. “Esme, my sweetheart.” Their normal breathing returned and he said, “I hate to leave you tomorrow.”

Trailing fingertips through his hair she caressed him, kissed his shoulder. “I hate that we’ll be apart. I will have to content myself by thinking of your return. With my flock of sheep.”

He could hear the smile in her voice and reached down to swat her bottom. It only served to make her laugh softly.

Luke and Nolan were already five miles from the ranch by the time dawn’s first rays brightened the edge of the sky. The trip to San Antonio would take the better part of the day, through small towns and dusty cattle ranches. In the past, they always took their time, stopping to say hello to a few fellow ranchers, discuss business, compare cattle prices in the surrounding towns, and more often than not be invited in for a meal, but Luke was determined to press through to arrive in San Antonio by dusk.

Only the sounds of the horse shoes ringing when they hit rock broke the silence of the morning. Nolan gave a sidelong glance to Luke. The youth he’d seen grow up to manhood had changed in the last few days. Every rancher in the county would have counted himself lucky if Luke Crosby had taken an interest in one his daughters, but Luke had never shown a moment’s notice to any of the local girls. He might have dallied with a saloon girl or two, but he’d never pursued any in earnest. Then Esme Duval showed her pretty face. Luke went from committed loner, to lovesick groom at the sight of her. When they’d discussed the trip, Luke wouldn’t even consider taking two days to get to San Antonio, preferring to make it as short a trip as possible.

Luke had been surly this morning too, hurrying Nolan along in an attempt to get an early start. They rode in silence as the crimson ribbon on the eastern horizon broadened to a swath of dusky rose. The horses pricked their ears when a coyote yipped from a distant hillside.

Nolan cleared his throat. “Hey there, Luke.”

In the predawn light Nolan could see that Luke, though riding right beside him, was far away, lost in thought. Startled, Luke turned to him.

“What is it?”

Nolan frowned. “You gonna talk the whole way to San Antone?”

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

Nolan snorted. “I’ll bet. How many new horses we getting?”

Luke shrugged. “I want each boy to have an extra one, and I’m thinking of getting Henry a pony too. He’s so dang skittish of the big horses, afraid of falling off.” Mourning doves cooed above them as the men rode through a grove of live oak trees.

“That boy’s afraid of his own shadow,” Nolan said. “He’s taken a strong liking to your missus. He offered to give her his dessert last night, kept telling her how pretty her hair is.”

Luke chuckled. “Esme’s not crazy about kids, and wouldn’t you know she’s the one he latches onto. She feels sorry for him, which is one hundred percent what he counted on. He’s got all the ladies wrapped around his finger.”

Nolan nodded. He reined his horse around some cactus and then gave Luke a mischievous smile. “So just a few horses? What about sheep? Did Little Bo Peep tell you about her sheep ranching plans?”

Luke groaned. “I hate sheep.”

“Really?” If Nolan had heard it once, he’d heard it a hundred times; Luke despised sheep. He didn’t like hearing them. He didn’t like looking at them, and he really didn’t like shearing them.

“Hell, I won’t even wear a wool scarf,” Luke spat.

Nolan, who never liked spending more than a couple of minutes at a stretch without conversation, even at the break of dawn, was pleased to have Luke talking. He took off his Stetson and scratched his head. “So what you’re sayin’ is you don’t care for sheep?”

“Dumbest animal on earth. They’ll walk into a rising river, trample a neighbor to get to grain, lose its train of thought when it’s running from a coyote, but worst of all, the ewes will forget their lambs the minute they’re out of sight. Not like cows. I don’t care what kind of cow you have, she will stomp you into the dirt if you even look funny at her calf, and she will never forget her baby. She’ll spend the day bawling and won’t stop till she finds him. Not like sheep. God, I hate sheep.”

“So how many does that mean we’re getting?” Nolan asked.

Luke heaved a sigh. “I figured that if I get her a dozen, that’ll make her happy. I’ll send over to the Rodriguez ranch for some when we get back.”

Nolan nodded. “A dozen will get good marks for effort. That’s what it’s all about. Make it look like you’re going along with their ideas. To a point.”

Luke relaxed in his saddle, thinking about Esme and how he’d left her sleeping. In a way, the wedding had been rushed and urgent, but in another way, the marriage had been fated, or at least that’s what he felt deep down. He’d known she would be his years ago, and Esme showed him that she belonged to him with every kiss and every caress they had shared beginning with their wedding night. He smiled thinking about her small form nestled in his arms. The truth was if she wanted to raise
giraffes
on Simon’s land, he would have gotten them for her. Luke might dislike sheep, but if Esme wanted them, she would have them.

Nolan and Luke spent the rest of the trip in small talk, passing their usual stops, to Nolan’s regret, but making good time.

That night, after Luke dined with Nolan and a few other cattlemen, he left the Strauss Hotel and walked along the streets of San Antonio. His path was direct, leading him to a private men’s club called The Magnolia, an exclusive establishment that Randolph Duval frequented. It had taken some talking to get away from Nolan, but Luke didn’t want anyone to know the details of his evening.

The Magnolia’s doorman let him in immediately, and for that Luke had Loretta to thank. She’d picked out his finer clothes after he’d asked her privately for some help on the matter. The doorman must have thought he was a high roller. Luke smiled to himself. If only they knew what kind of common street dog they’d let into their fancy club.

He had always expected such a place to be tranquil, but it was louder than his own dining room when filled with his troop of rambunctious boys. Waiters milled about with silver trays laden with glasses of champagne and plates of fussy looking food, tiny sandwiches, and morsels of things Luke didn’t recognize, the type of fare that seemed meant for finicky children. From another room music played. Men gathered in clusters around the periphery of the salon. Some of them were with mistresses, women draped in jewels and furs who shrieked with laughter at the men’s jokes. The air was thick with the smells of cigar smoke, perfume, and privilege.

The women, each and every one had to have at least ten pounds of jewelry on them, Luke noted. Big red jewels, blue ones, strands of green stones, it made him feel a twinge of remorse for the simple strand of pearls he’d bought Esme earlier that afternoon. He’d wanted earrings to replace a broken pair he’d seen on her vanity and in a fit of lonesomeness for her, bought the matching necklace too. The milky white reminded him of her skin, but he wondered now if the gift was good enough. Maybe one day he’d bring her to San Antonio to pick out something shiny.

Past the painted ladies, through flocks of soiled doves, Luke strode along smoky halls, down wood paneled corridors to find the man he was looking for, seated at the head of a black jack table.

Randolph Duval, his father-in-law.

He looked up from his hand of cards and locked eyes with Luke. Luke paused in the doorway. With a subtle flick of his hand, Randolph dispersed the men and women at the table. They filed out, the men eyeing him with disdain, the women with looks of invitation.

Randolph leaned back, the heavily upholstered chair creaking against his bulk, his lids drooping over his eyes. Randolph Duval was a bull of a man, heavier than when Luke last saw him, his chest the width of barrel. He had a full head of white hair and dark eyes, deeply set in a face the color of the oatmeal.

“Luke, my boy. A pleasure.” Randolph’s baritone voice rumbled.

Luke eased into the opposite chair. A waiter came to pour him a glass from the bottle of expensive bourbon sitting on the table. The man topped off Randolph’s glass, and then was shooed away by Randolph’s dismissive wave.

“I heard an interesting rumor just this evening,” Randolph said. “That you have been safeguarding my daughter. I haven’t decided if I want that to be true or not.”

“That could be right,” Luke replied evenly. “I don’t recall.”

Randolph beamed a bright smile. “Clever boy. Eleanor and Charles didn’t raise an idiot. A thousand dollars is the reward for information concerning my daughter’s whereabouts. I would have sent it with some of my men, but one of your boys told my boys that if they came back, he’d fill their backsides with buckshot.”

Luke nodded. Good old Roberto. Maybe he’d pick up a new horse for him too. Randolph’s money would more than cover it. “My memory is coming back to me now. I believe that I might know a little something about your daughter. It would depend on whether or not we have a firm agreement.”

Randolph gave him a wounded look, feigning dismay at Luke’s wariness. “Not everyone I know cares for me, but all would agree I’m a man of my word.” Randolph motioned for a clerk standing in the doorway to approach the table. “Have a draft sent to Mr. Crosby’s bank for a thousand dollars.”

“Have it deposited in the Caldwell Bank and Trust,” Luke directed the clerk.

When he left, Randolph nodded. “We have an agreement. The money will be in your account before you leave the club.”

“She’s in my house,” Luke said.

Randolph grew still. He thought for a moment before sipping his drink. “So it’s true?”

“I can assure you she’s safe with me. Simon’s house was damaged in a storm, and I am having the roof repaired for her. It wouldn’t have been safe for her to stay there.”

Randolph regarded him with a darkening gaze. Shock was giving way to suspicion that was a trifle slow in coming. He’d already enjoyed four bourbons.

“Right,” Randolph said. “I’ll send my men to pick up Esme. I wouldn’t want to impose upon you. And Mrs. Crosby.”

Luke leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head and enjoying the moment right before his opponent received the final blow. It was always the sweetest. It was what he missed most about fighting. “It’s no imposition at all. You see, Esme
is
Mrs. Crosby.”

The smile on the older man’s face faltered, then faded. He blinked several times. “What?”

Luke leaned forward and spoke slowly so that the old man was sure to hear him correctly. “I married her.”

Randolph’s face grew purple with rage. He slammed his fist down on the table. “Esme would never have married so quickly.”

Luke frowned. “Why not?”

“Because everyone would think that she was compromised.” Randolph leaned back in his chair. His distress faded. “More importantly, she would never agree to it because she fears my wrath. You’re lying.”

“Esme doesn’t fear it anymore. She belongs to me now, and so does Simon’s ranch.”

Randolph stared at Luke, waiting for his eyes to waver. His jaw tightened. His grip on the crystal tumbler made Luke wonder if the man might crush it in his meaty hand.

Randolph hissed. “I should have given you a lesson a long time ago. You expect me to believe that Esme still held affection for you?”

“Would you like me to get a copy of the wedding certificate?”

Randolph stared in disbelief. He had been the patriarch of the Duval family for twenty-eight years, and never had a member of his family defied him so brazenly. He might have expected it of one of his sons, but faint-hearted Esme? Impossible.

Luke continued in a business-like tone. “Years ago you told me to stay away from Esme, and now I’m telling you the same. Don’t come around, Randolph. I don’t want my wife upset by you, your sons, or any of your men.”

Randolph smirked but said nothing. Luke took that as evidence the man was planning to do just that, to harass Esme at his first chance.

“The first thing I’ll do is sell her ranch – my ranch now, if I think that’s something you will bother her about.”

Randolph laughed, a short bark that sent a tremor through his jowls. “You won’t part with that land.”

“Won’t I? There is a buyer praying you’ll test me.”

Randolph studied his opponent. There was a time for bluster and a time for observing and judging your foe. The room was silent as a mausoleum. Even the distant music had quieted. Randolph tapped his fingers on the table.

“Why not sell it to me?” Randolph asked in an attempt to sound reasonable.

“Because I don’t like you. I wouldn’t have you as a neighbor. If I sell it, I’ll sell it to my foreman for a dollar.”

Randolph scowled. The man, who just a few moments ago had been puffed up like a pigeon on a winter morning, now recognized his defeat and deflated. He lifted his glass halfway, and then, as if the effort to drink had suddenly become too much for him, set it back on the table.

With a bitter laugh, Randolph shook his head with disbelief. “Well this is a tidy bundle that landed in your hands, a reward for news of my daughter, my brother’s ranch, along with his bank holdings. Not bad for a mongrel like you.”

The man had neglected the best of his accomplishments. Luke had Esme, and he’d had the pleasure of turning the tables on her father. Luke shrugged. “Every dog has his day.”

Randolph ran his finger around the rim of his glass, a distant look in his eyes as he stared. “I married a wealthy woman too. And in twenty-eight years of wedded bliss she’s never for one minute let me forget it.”

The air in the club grew more oppressive by the minute, and Luke became restless. He hadn’t expected to be surprised by anything Randolph might say, but the comment about a sizeable bank account discomfited him, and he wanted nothing more than to escape into the night air to collect his thoughts.