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Authors: Marie-Nicole Ryan

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BOOK: Taming Talia
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Presume indeed? His very tone mocked her, even as his words were faultlessly respectful.

“Where are you from, Mr. Fields?”

“St. Louis, as I said earlier.”

“No, I don’t hear the Midwestern twang. Your manner of speaking sounds more like that of one from the northeast.”

He sipped from his cup, then nodded. “You’ve caught me out. I was born and reared in New York City, but I left home as a young man. Tried my hand at various enterprises before I settled and found success in St. Louis.”

“As a young man. Surely not so long ago?”

“I was twenty when I left New York. That was three and ten years ago, Mrs. Montrose.”

Thirty-three years to her thirty. True, marriage to Reginald had saved her from the stigma of being an unmarried woman and a burden to her family. Not that she cared, but the lure of Reginald’s gold had proved too much for her father to resist. Perhaps it was his plan all along that she would outlive Reginald and the land would return to their family, along with all of her late husband’s wealth.

Small price to pay if his only daughter were trapped in a loveless marriage.

Small price indeed. Two could play that game.

Snapping from her reverie, she smiled. “So you are an adventurer?” Fixing her gaze on his expressive mouth and thick mustache, she continued, “Or perhaps you were disinherited?”

He blinked, as if startled, then laughed, a hearty rumble that warmed her. “I assure you, I wasn’t disowned for any sins of youth, if that’s what you’re thinking, Mrs. Montrose. I discovered quite young I craved adventure beyond the confines of my family’s banking business.”

“And yet in St. Louis, you ended up advising others on financial matters. Not so far from the confines of your youth, was it?” Her forefinger circled the rim of her coffee cup as she watched his sensual mouth. Was his mustache stiff and bristly or soft? Would it tickle? Her breathing grew rapid, her cheeks warming as she imagined him crushing her lips with his. Desire gathered in her lower belly and heat pooled between her legs.

“No, indeed. When the financial world of St. Louis began to pall, my thirst for new horizons reasserted itself.”

Her gaze flitted from his mouth to his warm gray gaze. She worried her bottom lip before responding with a teasing smile. “But yet once again, you are here offering to advise me in such matters.”

This time he chuckled. Such a good-humored man, whether he was an opportunist or no. “Seems like I cannot get away from what I am,” he said, gazing over his coffee cup in the most speculative manner.

“Indeed.” Natalia sipped from her cup, then set it down. “Would you care to stay for dinner? It will be but a simple repast, but I hope you’ll find it satisfactory.”

“You’re too gracious. I accept.” A single brow arched. “And after dinner?”

“I would be inclined to hear what you propose…in regards to my finances.” The last she added quickly, lest he intuit her purpose.

His steely gaze raked from her face to her breasts and then back to her face. “I would be delighted to clarify my proposition…to our mutual benefit, of course.”

“Of course.”

Suddenly the mesquite wood fire popped, causing Natalia to gasp with surprise. Her visitor smiled, his gaze warm. “Mesquite burns hot.”



, mesquite is a hard wood,” she said with a flutter of her lashes. “Indeed, it burns long and hot.”

Her visitor shot her a questioning glance and cleared his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed once with his quick swallow. “And fragrant. During part of my journey westward, I traveled with a wagon train. Any meat cooked over the mesquite was left with a rich and unaccustomed smoky flavor. I enjoyed it greatly. I assure you there’s nothing like it in New York or St. Louis.”

“I’m sure you will find there are many flavors here in New Mexico to which you are probably unaccustomed.”

“Indeed, I look forward to discovering
many
of them while I’m here.”

His pale gaze bore into her, as if reading her every intention. Her breath caught, and her mouth grew dry. She tried to swallow.

The housekeeper cleared her throat. “Dinner is ready,
señora
.”

More than grateful for the interruption, Natalia started, quickly recovered, then rose from the settee. Sarita’s arrival was again timely. However she managed the feat, Natalia often suspected the woman of listening at the door. Not that it mattered.

“If you’ll follow me…” She nodded toward the central hall.

He proffered his arm. “If you’ll allow me.”

She smiled up at him and placed her hand lightly on his muscled forearm. “You’re very kind, Mr. Fields.”

As much as her late husband insisted on running an Eastern-style household, they seldom stood on ceremony unless he had company, especially if it was someone he wanted to impress. In other words, he didn’t waste his citified manners on his wife. Yet, with no one around to observe, Mr. Field’s polite offering of his arm greatly pleased her. However, his elegant manners were likely a front for more sinister intentions. He hadn’t exactly tried to hide his sharp interest in her finances, had he? Perhaps by keeping him at arm’s length, she could divine his true purpose.

Pretty words and fine manners were cheap enough.

Chapter Three

With the Widow Montrose’s hand resting lightly on his arm, Jared clenched his jaw. Never had the mere touch of a woman’s hand on his forearm caused such a rush of lust. Imagine what feelings her touching his cock would engender. Doubtless he’d been on the trail too long and without the comfort of a woman.

Instead, he concentrated on his surroundings. The dining room table was generously lit by beeswax candles, not a smoky kerosene lamp. Another fireplace occupied the far corner of the spacious room. Montrose must’ve had the carved mahogany table and chairs brought from back East. Indeed, they were quite similar to the ones where Jared had grown up in his father’s home. An unaccustomed wave of homesickness swept over him, shaking him.

He recalled the last argument with his father. Couldn’t blame the old man for kicking him out. He’d deserved it.

The widow’s soft voice brought him back to the present. “Mr. Fields, I hope you like beef stew. I warned you it would be a simple meal. Since my husband’s untimely passing, I frequently eat in the kitchen with my housekeeper. It’s comfortable and not so lonely.”

“Beef stew is an admirable dish, especially in the fall. But you eat in the kitchen with your servants?”

“There’s only my housekeeper. She’s known me since I was a child and knows what I like. My late husband hired what he called a
real cook
from New York City.” The corner of her mouth lifted in a slight smile. “However, you’re a little late for her fancy fare. I’m afraid she left on the stage before the funeral.”

“Before the funeral?”

“Yes, we didn’t get on.” Lips pursed, her beautiful oval face pulled into a frown. “I can only guess the reasons, but they might have something to do with the color of my skin. Or possibly the moon eyes she made at my husband.”

Had Montrose been unfaithful with his cook too? Right under his wife’s nose? What man in his right mind would cheat with a wife like this at his side? What a beauty Natalia Montrose was, with the blackest of hair and darkest of eyes. Eyes that sparkled with humor and intelligence. Eyes that challenged him to take her. And burnished skin that begged for his touch.

Or did he have it wrong? Was her desire all in his mind?

To his way of thinking, she certainly had a reason or two to want Montrose out of the way.

Hold on. He wasn’t here to absolve or justify the murder of his client’s son. His assignment was to find the truth.

After he seated her at the head of the table, she gestured to her right, where there was a second place setting of simple stoneware. “I don’t believe in a great deal of formality, Mr. Fields. I had quite enough of it the eight years I was married.” She unfolded a linen napkin and placed it in her lap.

The housekeeper brought in a large tureen, then ladled a generous portion into his bowl and a smaller portion into her mistress’s bowl. The rich, beefy fragrance wafted upward to his nostrils, causing his stomach to growl. “Smells wonderful.”

“I caution you, it might be spicier than what you’re used to. Sarita has quite a way with herbs and seasonings.”

The housekeeper returned with a platter of flatbread and a covered stoneware bowl of butter, then set them on the table.

Natalia nodded her approval. “Would you like more coffee, Mr. Fields, or perhaps some red wine? My late husband kept a wine cellar with a variety of vintages. A Spanish Rioja would go well with the stew.”

As much as he would have loved a rich red to go along with the hearty stew, he couldn’t risk losing focus. Not with the heady beauty on his left. He shook his head. “Coffee will be fine.”

His hostess took her first bite of the stew and savored it by letting out a small, “Mm.” She smiled. “Don’t be afraid of the spiciness. A bit of heat only adds to the enjoyment.” She broke a piece of flatbread in half and slathered it with butter from the crock. She ate it, then slowly licked the butter from her lips.

Good God. Her words were simple enough, but the throaty undertone in her voice led him to think of more than food. As for the manner with which she took pleasure in her food, that only made him think of other earthier pleasures.

Mouth dry, he swallowed hard, then speared a piece of beef. After swallowing, he said, “You’re right about the spice. It’s delicious. I’ve never tasted anything like it.” He quickly followed with a buttered bite of the flatbread. Cornbread, but not sweet like the johnnycake of his childhood.

The sweetness and sensual texture of the creamy butter made a perfect complement to the peppery stew. Too many meals of dried jerky had deadened his appetite, which was now fully awake. As were all his appetites. He held back on the desire to shovel in the stew like a cowhand on the trail, for the situation called for his best manners.

The light from the candles sparkled in the widow’s eyes. She watched him carefully between ladylike bites, quickly dropping her gaze when he held hers too long. The lady seemed to be playing an odd game of flirtation mixed with a measure of deviousness.

“Now tell me, Mr. Fields, how would you manage my holdings?” Again, an underlying note of challenge in her tone.

Stalling for time, he sipped his coffee. “First, I would go over all of your late husband’s financial records and holdings to assure everything was in order.”

“And if something were out of order? How would you know?” She smiled, reaching for her coffee. She sipped daintily, then licked her full upper lip ever so slightly.

God, what a mouth she had. A mouth meant for kissing… He could only imagine her full lips around his cock.

“Mr. Fields?” An underlying note of amusement.

Damn. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a woman. “Sorry, I’m afraid my train of thought wandered.” She
was
playing him. Surely she knew beauty like hers would leave most men—even this man—panting like dogs to bed her.

He cleared his throat. “As to your question, how would I know? I would organize the available paperwork. Bills of sale. Land deeds. Mineral holdings. Bank statements. Stock certificates and earnings. It would all fall into place quite logically, I assure you.”

“And then?”

“I would look into everyday expenses for maintaining this ranch. If you desired to rid yourself of what is likely an enormous expense, running an estate of this size, I could set up an auction. You might want to consider relocating to San Francisco or even the northeast.”

“The northeast?” As she rose from her chair, the widow’s eyes flashed with anger. “Leave the land where I grew up? Leave the land which is part of my soul?” She slapped her hand on the table. “Never!”

The woman had fire in her eyes, and, where her home was concerned, a fire in her belly. Whether she possessed this same fire in bed was what he desired to know more than anything.

But first he must know whether or not she had his client’s son murdered.

“The land,” she said. “This place is everything to me. It was taken from my family not once, but twice. I won’t part with it for any reason.”

“Twice?”

“Yes, twice.” She strode about the room, waving her hands in the air. “Once when the area came under control of the United States. My family had enough hidden gold and influence in the area that they managed to buy it back piece by piece, nearly bankrupting themselves over the years. Then a second time when my father traded me and the land in one tidy parcel in return for my husband’s newfound gold. My father and anyone else will play hell getting this land back. It belongs to me and will belong to my heirs. But my merciless, mercenary father will never see a square single inch of this land back under his control…ever.”

“Heirs? Did your husband leave you…?”

“No, damn him! He couldn’t quite manage that feat either.”

Fury was written across her face, but before he could make any response, her housekeeper entered, clearing her throat. “Pardon, but the last two men are ready to leave before the weather gets any worse. They want to know if you have any further instructions.”

BOOK: Taming Talia
12.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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