The Rancher Takes A Bride (26 page)

They both tried to speak at once, their eyes locking in silent combat. Travis spoke up finally. "Nothing happened, Mother. I have the men still rounding up the cattle. With the newborn calves we have this year, we should have a very productive year."

Eugenia nodded her head, glanced down at her plate, and asked, "So what did the two of you do while I was away?"

Rose swallowed and knew she couldn't look at Travis this time or her face would give away exactly what they had done. She gazed at the food on her plate.

"I found the
Complete Works of William Shakespeare
on the bookshelf, so I spent most of my time reading."

Eugenia glanced at Rose. "I'd forgotten all about that book. Did it help you?"

"Yes, I think so. At least now I have an idea of what this play is about."

Travis laughed. "I hope you got the part of the shrew?"

Rose glared at him. "No. I'm Bianca, the beautiful sister everyone wants."

Travis glanced at her, his brows lifted. "Why not Desirée, the fortune teller, séance holder, all-time con artist?"

Anger, as fierce as a hot fire, spread through her, and she swallowed, trying to calm her rapid pulse. Her first response had been to lash out at Travis, but she refrained.

She smiled. "Shakespeare didn't know Desirée, or he might have included her in one of his dramas."

Tucker burst out laughing, his laughter contagious as it spread around the table to Eugenia. Rose simply smiled at Travis as she met his glare of indignation.

He jumped up from the table, reached over, and grabbed her by the arm. "Come on, we're going to settle this right now."

Rose pushed back from the table and turned to Eugenia and Tucker. "Excuse us, we have a problem to take care of."

As they were leaving the room, Rose heard Tucker say, "Nothing's changed." But it had.

***

Travis didn't know if he was more upset about the fact that he had taken her innocence or that she had lied to him and disregarded his directive that she not try out for this play.

All he knew was that since that day at the pond, he had been confused. All he could think about was that he had taken her virginity, her innocence. Though he'd never thought of her as untried before that morning, he was the man who had shown her how it could be between a man and a woman.

Yet a tiny voice kept asking if he would have believed her even if she'd tried to tell him of her innocence.

He had a tight grip on her forearm as he dragged her out of the kitchen, down the steps, and around the back of the house.

"Where are we going? Back to the pond?" she asked, her voice taunting.

Travis ignored her. She knew he couldn't take her to the pond. That place held too many memories that constantly nagged him. He didn't need any additional ones to get in his way.

They walked past the trellis, where a rose petal drifted on the wind. Hell, he couldn't talk to her here either, without remembering the night she'd tried to escape down the lattice.

He continued walking, past the burned-out barn, the memory of seeing her in that burning building still a frightening image.

The last few days had been hell. Everywhere he turned, there was Rose, a memory of Rose, a glimpse of Rose, or a thought of Rose. Until he thought he was going to go stark, raving mad.

The woman filled his mind, his senses, even his sleep, and he didn't know what to do about her. There was only one thing he wanted to do with her, and he couldn't.

He strolled past the barn, past the bunkhouse, and out into the pasture before he felt they were far enough away from prying ears and away from memories that would haunt him.

He released his grip and stared at her. "I told you no, you could not be in that play. How did you get this part?"

"I tried out like everyone else," she smugly replied.

"You haven't been out of my sight, except for that short amount of time at the dress shop," he insisted.

She smiled.

"My mother helped you?" he questioned in disbelief.

"Don't start blaming Eugenia. I talked her into helping me once we were in town. I've waited my entire life for a chance like this, and you were not about to stop me."

He grabbed her arm again and pulled her up against him. It was a mistake; he should never have touched her, brought her so close, smelled the lavender in her hair, gazed into emerald eyes that made him burn with unbridled desire.

He'd tasted the little gypsy woman once. Once was all he needed to purge her from his system. Once had satisfied him for all time.

Hell! Who was he kidding? Once had only whetted his appetite for more. He wanted to throw her on the ground right now and have his way with her.

But he couldn't touch her again. To touch her again would only cause him even more guilt, and he was suffering enough.

"You know I don't want you doing this."

"Why? What difference does it make to you?"

"I ... You're under house arrest. I'll have you thrown in jail."

She rolled her eyes. "Go ahead, cowboy, arrest me. Put me in jail and I promise I'll tell your mother what happened between us," she said, her voice low.

She meant every word. He knew, with a certainty he found almost frightening, that she would tell Eugenia about their tryst. Yet he didn't want her out of his sight.

He took a step back, along with a deep breath that he slowly released. He glanced up at the sky and the white cumulus clouds drifting by.

He'd been holding her hostage, and while she was in his care, he'd had a moment of weakness. He felt lower than a snake and meaner than a rattier. He owed her. But to pay her money would be insulting, and he didn't know quite how to handle this situation. So instead he gave her what she wanted. He glanced back at her, his eyes holding her gaze.

"Okay, you've got your part in the play. But I don't want you going into town alone. Every day one of the men will drive you, and every night you'll come back to the Bar None. You'll be escorted at all times by one of my men."

She threw her arms around him, giving him a spontaneous hug that almost completely undid him. What would it be like to receive impulsive affection from Rose every day of his life?

Suddenly she realized whom she was hugging and she released him, then took a step back.

Her chin lifted and she glanced up at him. "I'd say thank you, but then again, who are you to tell me what I can and can't do? I'm warning you, cowboy, back off or you're going to get burned."

With that announcement, she turned and practically skipped back toward the house.

Travis scuffed his boot in the dirt, wanting to kick something, anything, to ease this frustration. She was not the perfect woman he was looking for. Yet how could he want her so badly, knowing it was imperfect, yet still hunger for her embrace?

***

Several days later, Rose stepped onto the stage, cleared her throat, and tried her best to relax. She had waited and wanted this day for years, and now, when it was upon her, she only felt anxiety. Pure fear pulsed through her. And to make matters worse, the stage seemed large and bare, making her feel vulnerable.

"Okay, let's all find our marks and read the scene one more time," yelled the director.

She picked up her handwritten script, found her mark, and waited for her cue. It was so important that she prove herself capable and worthy of being in this play. Not only to herself, but also to others.

She was Rosalyn Severin's daughter, and she must do well, even if for no other reason than to honor her mother.

"Miss Severin, are you with us?" the director yelled.

Rose glanced up, coming out of her daydream. "Yes, sir."

"Then please read your lines."

Rose took a deep breath. "
Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself, To make a bondmaid and a slave of me; That I disdain: but for these other gawds, Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself, Yea all my raiment, to my petticoat, Or what you will command me will I do. So well I know my duty to my elders.
"

The actress who was playing Katharina said her lines, and then once again it was Rose's turn. She repeated her lines, and then Katharina was to pretend to slap her. But the actress's hand connected with Rose's cheek, leaving her stunned.

"Sorry, guess I missed my mark," the woman replied.

A few snickers could be heard around the stage. At first Rose was shocked the woman had actually hit her. Then the director started yelling at her, waving his arms. "You're supposed to run off the stage."

Still holding her bruised cheek, she ran across the stage and behind the curtains. For a moment the urge to continue running was strong, but she shook her head in denial. It would take more than the leading lady's jealous behavior to run Rose off.

Several hours later, Rose felt as if her cheek was bruised from being slapped, her voice was scratchy, and her legs were aching. But her first rehearsal had gone relatively well, with the director only yelling at her twice.

Isaiah brought the wagon around to the front of the makeshift theater, and she crawled in, her feet aching and her body tired. Bart, the man Travis had insisted ride along with her, climbed in the back of the wagon.

Rose ignored the man, just as she'd pretended all day he wasn't there.

"Good even', Miss Rose," Isaiah said, looking her over. "How did your first rehearsal go?"

Rose sat down wearily in the wagon and glanced over at the older man. "All right, I guess. But I am tired."

Isaiah smiled and clicked to the horses, putting the wagon in motion. "I remember your mama saying those same words. Rehearsing ain't easy. She used to come out of the theater and want to go straight home and to bed. She would be plumb tuckered out at the end of a play."

Rose glanced at Isaiah as she hung on to the side of the rocking wagon. She sighed. "I wish she were here now to help me. I feel like there is so much to learn."

"You'll get it, Miss Rose. Don't you worry."

"Either I'll start to understand what the director wants, or he'll be looking for a new Bianca." She gave a little laugh. "I'm certain that would please Mr. Burnett."

Isaiah reached up and scratched his head. "I was surprised he let you act in this play."

"He didn't have any choice. I was not going to miss this opportunity."

Isaiah gazed at Rose, his black face wrinkled in a frown. He turned and glanced at the man sitting in the back of the wagon. His hat was pulled down low, and a soft snore occasionally drifted out from under it.

"Why is acting so important to you, Miss Rose? Is it because of your mother or do you have a real love for it?" Isaiah asked, slapping the reins of the horses, to pick up a little speed as they left the city of Fort Worth behind.

Rose turned and glanced at the older man. "It's all I've dreamed of since I was a little girl. I can't remember anything else I've ever wanted as much."

Isaiah glanced at her, his dark eyes full of understanding. "But why have you wanted to be an actress? Because of your mother?"

Rose grabbed the edge of the wagon to keep from bouncing off the seat as they hit a rut in the road.

"You know I can't remember very much about my mother. Only hazy images of her all dressed up on her way to the theater."

"Do you remember your father with her?" Isaiah asked.

She looked at him oddly and searched her memory. Strangely enough, the few memories she had were not of her parents together. She had images of them, but they were always apart.

"No, Isaiah, it seemed that there were men with her, but I don't remember who they were, only that they weren't my father."

"Miss Rose, your mother was a good woman, but she made a lot of mistakes in her life. You were probably the best thing that ever happened to her."

"What are you saying, Isaiah?" Rose asked. She gazed quizzically at the Negro man as he controlled the horse, his strong hands managing the reins.

"After you were conceived, your mother didn't see your father until right before she took ill and died. He'd already moved on down the road, looking for a new game and a new woman."

A breeze blew across the prairie, swirling the dust in odd twists and patterns. Rose turned her face away from the stinging crystals.

"If you think I didn't realize what kind of man Daddy was, then you're wrong. I knew a long time ago he was not the kind of man who kept a promise to a woman. So if you're trying to tell me my parents didn't live together, it's really all right." She sighed, wondering what her life would have been like if her mother had lived. "Daddy was not the kind of man I'd ever consider marrying, and I'm sure Mama must have regretted falling in love with him."

"Miss Rose, your father had a good heart. He just had a roving eye and a restless spirit that kept him on the move all the time."

"I know, and after Mama died, I was fortunate he made room for me in his life. He wasn't a bad father, just not the kind of man a woman would want to marry." She considered her thoughts carefully for a moment. "Actually, living with Daddy was often fun. Right up until he met that witch of a woman he married. I still can't believe he ran out on us for her."