The Rancher Takes A Bride (2 page)

"
Espéce de casse-couilles!
" She said in French exactly what she was thinking. The man was certainly a pain.

"Cut the parlee-voo, lady. I don't believe a word of it."

"You should. I'm calling you, Mr. Burnett, every despicable word I know," she practically shouted at him, enraged at his intrusion in her cozy business.

"Call me anything you want, but I'm warning you. Shut down your séance parlor. You picked the wrong person to try to con, and you're not going to get away with it."

"And just who is this person I supposedly tried to con?" she asked.

"My mother, Eugenia Burnett."

"Ah ha!" Stepping in front of him, she stood within inches of this handsome yet foreboding man. The scent of masculinity drifted to her nose, a clean smell of virile male.

"And if your mother wishes to learn more about your brother? Is this not her choice?"

"My mother misses my brother, and I'll not have you taking advantage of her. This is the only time I'm going to tell you. Leave my mother alone, or I'm going to shut down your parlor."

"
Monsieur!
If you don't want your mother searching for your brother, then you must talk to her. Not I!" She took a step back, letting her gaze travel the length of his person. "Besides, I see no badge. You do not have the authority to threaten me, or shut me down."

He smiled, his full lips pouty, and took a step closer to her. His hand reached out, the tip of his finger gently tracing her chin, his rough skin sliding against hers. His touch left her oddly unsettled. She tried to swallow the lump that filled her throat.

Now was not the time for her long-denied body to suddenly take notice of a man. She needed this town, needed this job.

She didn't need a gun-toting, overprotective mama's boy, who looked like sin in a nicely bundled package.

"I'll shut you down in a heartbeat," he said, low enough only to reach her ears. "My little brother, Tucker, is the marshal."

Picking up his hat, he strolled out the door, his gun slung low around his hips, his pants snug against his backside.

Rose watched him walk through the door and wanted to scream. Though they had gotten off to a slow start, business was just beginning to increase and the thought of having to pick up and start over again left her furious.

No damn cowboy with a connection to the local law was going to run her out of town.

***

Until yesterday, Travis Burnett had thought his mother didn't believe in ghosts, was as sensible as they came. So why had Eugenia suddenly started visiting a séance parlor?

Travis let the door slam behind him as he entered the house he'd lived in all his life. His father had built this home after he'd made a small fortune trading Texas cattle. Longhorn cattle.

Walking down the short hall, he found his mother in his office going over the books, adding up sums of figures. He sat down in an elbow chair across from her, stretching out his long legs in front of him, his spurs jingling as he crossed his ankles.

Like a wolf in sheep's clothing, Eugenia was steel wrapped in a soft overcoat. A gentle matron with an iron will, stubborn enough to have lived with his father for forty years. Yet since his brother's disappearance more than ten years ago and the death of his father, she'd seemed fragile, in need of protecting. The laughter that had once shone from his mother's brown eyes had overnight dimmed with sadness, and at times she seemed lost, in need of direction.

"What are you doing home so early on a Saturday night?" she asked, not looking up from her paperwork. "Not enough excitement going on in town?"

"I just spent the evening at a séance."

He watched as her head jerked up from the ledger she was working on, her eyes trained on his. She raised her brows questioningly.

"Miss Severin's parlor?"

"Yep."

She gazed at him, her face an innocent mask. "She's certainly a pretty little thing."

He leaned forward, surprised by her comment. "Mother, how did you get involved with this woman? Why are you going to séances?"

"Oh, several of the ladies from my sewing circle were talking about her, and we decided to just drop in and see what a séance was. You know Katie McLaughlin lost her husband recently, and the poor dear is—"

"Mother!"

"Well, the poor dear is terribly lonely and misses her husband something fierce. They obviously were very much in love and had a wonderful marriage."

"Look, I'm sorry about Mrs. McLaughlin, but do you know this séance woman had the gall to tell me she saw Tanner tonight?"

She crossed her arms, a stubborn set to her jaw. "Well, dear, let's hope she had a vision of him."

Travis swore.

"Son, it's impolite to swear in front of a woman, especially your mother. Desirée can read palms and tarot cards, and she sometimes has visions of people who are alive."

"You're upset I'm swearing, not that you gave money to a woman who takes advantage of people who are grieving and lonely?"

"Every penny I spent was worth meeting this young woman if she can help me locate your brother. Desirée is delightful, a very caring person who obviously understands how you feel when you've lost a loved one."

He stared at his mother in disbelief. His brother had been a strong, vital force whom they all missed, but ten years had passed with not a word of his whereabouts. The last time they'd seen him was right before he ran away to join the Confederate army. Travis thought his mother had accepted Tanner's death, but obviously he'd been mistaken.

She tilted her head and gazed at him. "I thought you were supposed to see Cecilia tonight?"

"Don't change the subject. I know you don't like her."

"She's more timid than a church mouse and twice as dull. You marry her and you'll be bored within a week." Eugenia slammed the ledger shut. "Name one woman you've courted seriously in the last year who isn't either afraid of you or only interested in hitching up with the Bar None?"

He grinned at his mother. "Uh, Sister Bertrice doesn't seem to be interested in me."

"Travis!" Eugenia shook her head. "It's not healthy for a man to work as hard as you do. You need to get away from the ranch more, socialize, and get to know people. How else are you going to find a wife?"

Travis took a deep breath and refused to let his mother's words goad him into a confrontation he knew he could never win. So instead, he gave her the same response he'd given her for the last two years. They both knew it was a way of avoiding a subject they didn't agree on. "I'm busy with the ranch right now."

For a moment she just stared at him. She sighed. "You must admit, Miss Severin is a stunning creature."

Stunning didn't begin to describe her. More like a curvaceous stick of seductive dynamite. One wrong move, and he'd go up in flames.

The memory of her glossy brown curls, framing a face that was almost ethereal, left him wondering what she looked like underneath that red dress that dipped low, revealing the curve of her breast. Travis reminded himself that it wouldn't matter if she were prettier than Molly Riley's highest-priced whore. She was still a cheat and a liar, even if her emerald eyes teased of hidden promises and enticing pleasures.

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear indifferent. "What does it matter what she looks like? She's cheating people out of their money. She's deceiving them."

"Travis Burnett, everything in your world is black and white. If you'd been born a woman, you would understand her plight."

"What plight? Seems to me like she's got it pretty easy."

"A man has choices he can make as to how he's going to earn his living. A woman can either get married or become a cook, a laundress, or a soiled dove. If she's real lucky, she might get a job as a schoolteacher or a governess. But most women choose marriage."

"Maybe." If he didn't divert her attention, he'd be hearing the lecture on getting married and producing an heir. "But do you really believe she saw Tanner?"

For a moment his mother's bottom lip trembled with indecision. Exasperated, she stood—all five feet, three inches—and came around the desk to stand in front of her son. "I don't know for certain."

"Yes or no, Mother?"

"There you go again, speaking in absolutes."

Travis stared at her and frowned with annoyance.

"I can't give up and admit your brother is dead. I have to try everything I can to find him, even unconventional ways if that's what it takes."

Travis hung his head and shook it from side to side in disbelief. His sensible mother believed the little cheat!

One visit and somehow Desirée Severin had gotten her money-grabbing hooks into his mom.

"Then hire another investigator. Just don't go see Desirée Severin again. She's a cheat, a beautiful fraud who wants to separate you from your money."

"She's compassionate and friendly, and she soothed poor Mrs. McLaughlin's grief. She made the woman feel good for those few minutes. And for the first time in a long time, I've felt hope at finding out the truth about Tanner." She sighed. "I'd be doing the same if it were you. I still miss him terribly."

"We all do, Mother. But we don't hold séances to try to contact him."

"Maybe we should." She looked him square in the eye and with a defiant shake of her head said, "We could invite her to dinner. Maybe if you got to know her, you'd feel differently."

A jolt of pure shock almost knocked Travis out of his chair. He reacted instantly. "That's crazy!" Throwing up his hands, he took a calming breath. "Miss Severin, if that is her real name, comforted your friend by lying, by pretending to be able to speak with her dead husband. Tanner is dead or else he would be home. No one can speak with him. She's after your money, Mother!"

"Oh, Travis. When did you become so suspicious of everyone?"

Slowly he rose from the chair, a fierce sense of protectiveness encompassing all six feet of him as he towered over his petite mother.

"You know, Mother, even Father agreed you were stubborn and likely to do what you wanted whether he approved or not I don't want to see you taken advantage of, so I'm going to insist you stay away from Miss Severin."

She lifted her chin. "You're my son, not my keeper."

"I don't care. If you see this woman again, I'll go straight to Tucker and together we'll make sure we close her down."

"But she's not doing anything wrong. She's helping people. Why can't you show a little compassion?"

"She's taking innocent people's money. The woman is using grief to make a living. She's the worst kind of thief—she takes advantage of people when they're vulnerable."

He took a deep breath, the need to protect his family strong within his chest.

"But—"

"Tucker's trying to clean up this town; he won't hesitate to send her packing. Don't see her again, Mother."

***

Eugenia wanted grandchildren in the worst possible way. All her friends' children were married and had children, yet Eugenia couldn't get even one of her three sons married.

Travis and Tucker were both about as interested in love as in a good dose of castor oil. At thirty, her oldest son, Travis, hadn't even tried to find a wife and had managed to scare off most of the women in town. Tanner was lost, possibly even dead. And Tucker, after a youth fraught with danger and youthful foolishness, had finally come home a gunslinger with a past. No children, no marriages, no wives, not even a steady girlfriend to offer Eugenia hope of seeing her sons settled with families of their own.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Eugenia would do whatever it took to help her sons find the tender emotion of love, complete with babies. And the delectable Miss Severin, who had stood up to Travis, her overbearing son, was exactly the type of woman he needed. Someone who could handle his impertinent behavior. Someone he couldn't walk all over.

Glancing down Jones Street one last time, Eugenia pushed open the door to
The Last Word
. A tiny bell jingled above the door, and Madame Severin strolled through a curtained area.

"Mrs. Burnett, you've returned," she said quietly. She wore a soft yellow polonaise dress with a pompadour neck that exposed the creamy whiteness of her breasts, just enough to cause a man's gaze to linger.

"I needed to speak with you," Eugenia said. There was something about this young woman. Something that reminded Eugenia of herself years ago. Whatever it was, she thought the woman would be good for her son.

"Come sit, and I'll have Isaiah make us some tea. I don't have another appointment for at least two hours." Desirée led Eugenia to a small sitting area.

"Thank you." Eugenia sat down on a horsehair couch, while Madame Severin disappeared once again behind the curtain.

Eugenia glanced around the sparsely furnished room where Desirée conducted her business. A small, round table sat in the center of the room. A scarlet cloth threaded with gold stitches and tassels covered the table and hung down to the floor. The urge to explore where meetings with the dead were held teased Eugenia, but she resisted. After all, she was here to get to know Desirée better, to see if her first impressions were correct.