The Rancher Takes A Bride (6 page)

"What?" He stared at her blankly as comprehension dawned. "The ring Father gave you! You're missing your wedding ring?" he charged.

She nodded and sobbed. "My wedding band! My most precious possession!"

For a moment he couldn't breathe, as rage seemed to engulf him in red-hot flames. "Dear God, I'll wring her neck with my bare hands!"

"No, Travis," she exclaimed. "It isn't worth you going to jail over. Just find my ring. Bring my ring back."

"Why was it off your finger?" he snapped.

"Uh, my hands have been swelling with this warmer weather, and I'd taken it off." She dabbed at her eyes. "She must have gone through my purse."

"Mother, if you'd just left well enough alone, none of this would have happened."

Tucker stood in the corner, his arms crossed, shaking his head, his gun slung low on his hips. Except for the badge, his appearance was the image of his past. "I'm going to fire that deputy of mine. Everyone else I'm going to give instructions to do nothing for my mother without my permission."

"I was just trying to help her. I felt bad, since she really hadn't done anything. She's a nice lady."

Travis stood and grabbed his hat. "I better go, if I'm going to catch the stage."

"I'll go with you," Tucker said.

"No, you stay here. You've got a job to do." Travis crammed his hat on his head. "What time did she leave?"

"It was the noon stage, the one that leaves from the El Paso Hotel going to San Antonio. The man at the stage office said they would stop and spend the night at a coach house right outside of Waco."

"Hell, Mother, why didn't you send someone to get me? They've had a good two-hour head start. It will be late before I reach them."

"Well, I—was too upset. I didn't know how I was going to tell you and Tucker." She held the handkerchief up to her weeping eyes.

"Don't cry," he said, feeling awkward at the sight of his mother's tears. "I'll get your ring back. It could take me a few days."

"Don't worry about things around here, son. Take all the time you need." She stood and went to the stove. "I cooked some biscuits and bacon for you to carry with you, in case you get hungry. And son, please don't be too hard on her."

Travis knew how a dog felt being jerked on a leash. "She stole your wedding ring, and you're worried about me being too hard on her?"

Tucker started to snicker and quickly changed it into a cough at his brother's frown.

"Well ... I'm sure she had a good reason," his mother said.

"There's no good reason for stealing." He gazed at his mother in amazement and then shook his head. Sometimes he thought the disappearance of his brother and the death of his father had caused her mind to slip.

***

Later that evening, Travis burst into the coach house, his eyes quickly scanning the room. "Where is she?"

"Who?" the stage driver asked, his eyes large, his fork midway between his plate and his mouth.

"That French séance woman. Where's she hiding?"

"There was only one woman on the stage, and we gave her the bedroom," the stage driver said.

Travis stormed across the room.

"Sir, we don't want any trouble," the station house manager called.

"Don't concern yourself," Travis responded as he strode quickly to the door the stagecoach driver had indicated. "This won't take long."

He didn't bother knocking, but kicked open the door, startling Miss Severin, who whirled around to face him. She stood before him, clad in only her corset, chemise, and stockings.

The material scarcely covered her ample bosom, leaving her creamy shoulders visible through the thin material, her breasts peeking over the top of the garment.

She yanked up a dress that was lying on the bed and tried to cover herself. Her eyes went wide with fright as she shrieked, "
Merde!
Not you! Get out!"

A kick in the teeth could not have hurt worse than the sight of her curvaceous body clearly outlined in her underwear. For a moment Travis didn't think he could breathe, but slowly the oxygen returned to his brain, sending blood, rushing through his body like a speeding train.

"You took something of mine!" he demanded, trying to keep his eyes focused on her full lips, wanting only to taste the core of her mouth.

"It must have been your mind! You certainly don't have any manners. Have you heard of knocking before you enter a lady's room?"

"I have to be in the presence of a lady first," he spat, his fingers curling to a fist and then relaxing, over and over again.

"Honey, from what the girls in the city jail told me, I'm probably more lady than you're accustomed to."

He slammed the door closed and took two steps into the room. With a yank, he pulled the dress away from her and tossed it on the bed. She took several steps back, her green eyes wide with fright.

"I'd be more than happy to give you a sample of what the girls in the city jail are accustomed to receiving from me," he acknowledged, a little less harshly.

She looked like a frightened doe, and then suddenly she lifted her chin and thrust out her chest. "You're really not my type, cowboy." She pointed her finger and poked him in the chest, painfully. "I've spent the last two days in jail planning your murder and how it would be slow"—she trailed her finger down his chest—"and painful."

Her finger left a trail of fire. He resisted the urge to grab her hand and bring it to his mouth.

"But when you couldn't find me to extract your revenge, you took advantage of my mother," he said. His voice belied the fact that right now all he wanted to do was throw her on the bed and bury himself deep within her body, despite his fury.

She looked at him oddly. "Why are you here? I left town just like the deputy warned me."

He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her within inches of him. "Let's go right to the problem. You took my mother's wedding ring, and I want it back."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, twisting in his arms trying to get away.

"Yeah, and next you'll be telling me you're Florence Nightingale."

"Look, cowboy, I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't take your mother's wedding ring."

Grass-green eyes met and held his gaze unwaveringly. Damn, she was so good at lying that he almost believed her.

"Your mother paid my fine and got me out of jail. She followed me home, and while I packed, she tried to persuade me to move out to your ranch."

She was definitely lying. "My mother would never ask you to move to our ranch."

"You and your mother obviously need to sit down and get to know each other. You don't agree on anything."

"We agree on one thing. Where's her wedding ring?"

Travis shook Desirée hard enough to make her head shake and then quickly released her, her soft skin leaving his hands warm, the smell of her causing his blood to flow like hot lava.

She took a deep breath, the tops of her breasts straining against the material of her chemise, the outline of her nipples peeking through the white material. "I don't have your mother's ring. I didn't steal anything!"

He looked around the room and spotted her reticule lying on the bed. Quickly he grabbed her bag and started rifling through it.

"You're welcome to search through my belongings, but you're not going to find the ring. I suggest you start with my trunk."

Blood heated his already flushed skin. God, she was beautiful, standing there proudly in her chemise and stockings defending herself, even though he knew it was a lie. Her glossy brown hair hung loose and curling wildly down her back, urging him to run his fingers through her locks. Her skin was flushed with anger, her green eyes flashed with annoyance, and like a Gypsy queen she wove a spell around him.

If only she wasn't a cheat and a liar. If only she was a good, honest whore, he'd already have her on the bed and be seeking his release.

He paused and let his eyes roam over her body long enough to get her attention. She tilted her nose in the air disdainfully, yet her cheeks had a rosy tint to them that belied her proud defiance. God, he wanted her.

"To hell with the trunk. What if I start with you?"

Travis watched her swallow and noticed a spark of unease in her eyes. He took a couple of steps toward her. She retreated until her back was against the wall.

He placed his hands on either side of her, touching the wall, trapping her. "I could run my hands inside your clothing and let my fingers slide into the crevices ..."

"Stop!" Nervously, she licked her lips, then placed her hands on his chest and pushed away from the wall, propelling him back. Thrusting her breasts out, she placed one hand on his chest and firmly pressed. She stared into his eyes. "I can talk to you till we're both older than dirt, and you aren't going to believe a word I say. So I'm saying it for the last time. I didn't steal your mother's ring."

He froze. Her creamy white breasts lay before his eyes, and like a man drowning, he swallowed, trying to regain control. He hadn't been with a woman in months, and he'd never been tempted the way this woman was tempting him.

Why shouldn't he take what she offered?

His arms wrapped around her, his gaze drawn to her luscious mouth. He watched as she ran her tongue across her bottom lip, and the urge to follow its path overcame him. What did she taste like? Was she honey and sweetness or something more exotic?

"Like I was saying," he drawled. "I think I'll start with your lips."

His mouth covered hers, and he molded her body against his, letting her feel his response to her teasing display of flesh.

What started out as a simple press of lips soon changed into a melting. He nibbled on her bottom lip, teasing until she reluctantly opened her mouth for him and he poured himself into his kiss and into her. They shared the breath of life between them, as he tasted her sweetness, feeling the blood pulsing through her as his hand gently brushed her neck.

When had he ever kissed such a sassy, tempting morsel who left him craving more?

Travis found himself quickly losing all sense of control. The urge to pick her up and carry her to the bed pulsed through him, like the fire coursing through his veins.

Abruptly, she broke off the kiss. For a moment they both stood there, stunned, until the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile.

"Nice work, cowboy, but I still don't have the ring."

She thought she had the best of him. She thought she could get away with stealing from him. She thought he'd go away and leave her alone. But she was wrong.

He took a deep breath and quickly tried to regain control. "Get dressed."

"I tried, but you told me to stop," she said breathlessly. "Make up your mind."

"Honey, if you don't get dressed in about thirty seconds, I'm going to take you up on your offer, and the people sitting outside this room are going to be blushing at the sounds coming from in here."

"Yes, sir," she said mockingly but scrambled to put on the dress that she'd recently discarded. It took her several minutes to button the garment while he stood back and watched, trying to recover.

When she was finished, she turned around and smartly saluted him. "What other commands, sir?"

"You've got one minute to grab some personal items you need that will fit in my saddlebags before we leave."

She looked at him oddly. "What do you mean before we leave? I'm going to San Antonio. You're leaving."

"Wrong! You're returning to Fort Worth with me, until I find my mother's wedding band."

"I will not go back with you!"

"I'll carry you if I have to. You've got one minute to grab some things."

"I'm not going!" she yelled, her arms folded over her chest. "I stole nothing from you."

"You've got thirty seconds."

"
Espece de con
."

"Twenty seconds."

"
II est casse-pieds
."

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six . . ."

"
Espece de salaud
."

"Four, three, two, one. Time's up."

He started toward her, and she ran around to the other side of the bed.

Her face was flushed, her lips swollen from his kiss.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Travis Burnett! I don't have to and I won't."

He jumped onto the bed, his boots sinking into the feather ticking as he walked across the mattress to reach the other side before she could get away. Jumping down to the floor in front of her, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder as though she weighed less than a saddle.

"Last chance, Miss Severin. Is there anything you want?"

"
Espece de con comme la lune
, "she said, trying to kick him with her legs.

"You know, I really enjoy you speaking that sexy French talk to me. I think you're telling me how you're going to take that pretty little body of yours and make me hotter than a bonfire."