When the Splendor Falls (21 page)

It was the destiny of the Morning Star to chase his bride, the Evening Star, through the heavens for eternity. But she would remain just out of his reach, waiting in the dusk of evening, waiting for the warmth of his embrace. As he reached out for her, the darkness would fall and he would flee into it, lost, until she appeared in the heavens to guide him into her arms with her brightness.

Suddenly Neil knew he wanted this woman—perhaps more than he had any other woman—and he intended to have her. He found himself wondering what it would be like to have her by his side always, from dawn until dusk, and in the dark hours between. To return to the territories with her as his woman—his wife—to return home to Riovado. She had no home here at Travers Hill. Except for this brother of hers, whom he suspected would sell her as quickly as a broodmare, she might have no family to call her own. She would welcome his proposal, for a chance to build a home of her own, where she served no one, and could raise a family of strong sons and daughters who would be their own masters.

Yes, she would come with him. There was nothing to keep her here. She would be his—only his.

Leigh stared up into his lean face, her heart quickening its beat as she realized his intent. Her lashes flickered momentarily, for held beneath him, her wrists shackled by the overpowering strength of his grasp, she could do nothing but wait for his touch. But Leigh Travers was not one to give up without a fight, and she opened her eyes, determined not to cower beneath him, but when her gaze met and was held by his she found herself forgetting about her antagonism, for there was a sudden gentleness in his eyes and in the strong hand that touched her cheek, caressing it. He seemed vulnerable as he stared into her eyes, and in that brief moment, she knew that she held the power to hurt him. How? She didn’t know, but she knew she possessed it. Slowly he lowered his head, allowing his lips to move against her throat, barely touching her flesh. Leigh felt an uncontrollable shiver quivering through her when she felt his breath warm against the delicate contours of her ear. He spoke softly, his words strange and unintelligible to her, but they were words of love and desire. She waited breathlessly when his lips moved over the hollows of her cheeks, then hovered briefly above her mouth, then they were almost touching her lips.

Her lips parted…

Suddenly a horrible, terrifying, bloodcurdling cry cut through the quietness of the stables. Before the last notes of the savage cry had echoed, the stranger had released her and was crouched above her waiting to spring. Leigh stared in amazement, her eyes wide with disbelief as they caught the flash of the knife blade he held poised in his hand. Any gentleness that had crossed his face had been wiped clean and replaced by a look of such cruelty that Leigh knew he was a man capable of killing.

“Damn it! You son of whoredom! You coyote’s hindquarters! You slime on the rock beneath an eagle’s aerie. Where the devil are you?” a laughing voice suddenly called from the entrance. “Not playing another one of them Comanche tricks on me? Should I duck in case a stray arrow shoots past my head? Or is someone going to take a pot shot at me?”

Leigh sensed rather than saw, even before the glinting blade of the knife was sheathed, the instinctive relaxing of taut muscles as the stranger sat back on his haunches, a slight smile beginning to curve his lips. Then in one swift movement he had gotten to his feet and pulled her with him.

Leigh tried to restore her dignity, for she, too, had recognized that voice.

It belonged to Adam Braedon.

At first glance, Adam Merton Braedon bore a strong resemblance to his cousin, so it was understandable that Leigh might have momentarily mistaken the stranger for him. But upon closer inspection, the similarity ended, for although Adam Braedon was tall, he wasn’t as tall as Neil Braedon. Nor was he as lean and bronzed, although his body was firmly muscled and his face bore the healthy color of a physically active man. His blond hair curled naturally and had more of a reddish tint to it than his cousin’s. It was also properly clipped and combed off his forehead, and his long side whiskers, albeit bushy, were neatly trimmed and his mustache fashionably waxed. The color of his eyes was different too; they were a pale gray like his sister Julia’s. And there was nothing hawkish about his profile, which was deemed quite without fault by all who were privileged to gaze upon it. Impeccable as always, Adam was arrayed in his finest riding coat and boots, his breeches pressed with a razor-sharp crease, his shirt front starched to perfection.

“Dagger! Good Lord! Appearing out of thin air, you never change, do you, but I’m not surprised since you were spawned of a heathen land and sired by the ol’ lone wolf of the pack,” Adam Braedon called out when the object of his complimentary greeting stood, revealing himself. “I thought I recognized that bay as one of ours, but when you cut across the meadow, I lost you. I was on the road, my horse doing a gentlemanly trot, my thoughts concerned with the sorry cut of my sleeve, when I spied a heathen rider in the distance. Figured you could only be heading here to Travers Hill, and I knew you weren’t lost. Recognized the colt too. How on earth did you come by him? It belongs to Leigh—” Adam Braedon’s words halted abruptly as he watched a tousled young woman step from behind Neil’s broad back, a dangerous-looking musket held easily in her hands. “What the devil?” he exclaimed, not having missed the rumpled skirt, which she had neglected to brush down, revealing a froth of white petticoat, or her unbound hair, in which several pieces of hay were caught in the chestnut tangles. She looked as if she’d been thrown from her mount—or just been tumbled in the hay by an amorous beau…although, her possession of the musket, and the sound of gunfire he’d heard, would seem to have discouraged any gentleman so foolishly inclined.

However, since he knew Leigh Alexandra Travers would never have been thrown from her horse, the other must be true…but the thought of Leigh Travers being tumbled in the hay by his cousin was just as outrageous an explanation.

Leigh saw the look of disbelief replace the one of surprise on Adam’s handsome face and felt herself blushing all the more as she rightly suspected what was going through his mind. And as she stared at his openmouthed expression, she realized yet again that it was all his fault. Her predicament would never have happened if Adam hadn’t been up to mischief and planted a garden snake in their picnic basket the day before. She would never have stolen the stranger’s buckskins otherwise.

“With that fat head of yours as a target, Adam, I could hardly have missed,” the stranger said, apparently on a first-name basis with Adam Braedon.

Leigh glanced at the two men, startled by the resemblance between them, which, as far as her conscience was concerned, relieved her of any blame for her actions of the last twenty-four hours.

“And when I heard the sound of gunfire, I knew Dagger must be involved, for trouble shadows him,” Adam retorted, shaking his head, “but that wasn’t what had me concerned. ’Twas that Dagger had Leigh Travers’s colt. Now, I asked myself, how on earth did Dagger, who just arrived from the territories, manage to get his hands on Leigh’s lil’ cap’n, when half the county has gone wild trying to?” he demanded, wondering anew as he caught the look of consternation crossing the lady in question’s face.

“Leigh Travers? I haven’t met the lady of your acquaintance, but it would appear she is not overly careful of her property,” Neil responded, thinking of the spoiled blond-haired beauty of the day before.

“You’ve never met the lady?” Adam repeated, looking at the two in disbelief.

“Mr. Dagger and I have not had the time to become properly introduced,” Leigh said, sounding very haughty indeed.

Adam couldn’t muffle his laughter, for neither of the two knew who the other was. It was too fine a jest to ignore, he thought.
Mr. Dagger
she had called him, and he,
Dagger
, had not yet met the lady, Leigh Travers. Adam nearly laughed aloud.

“My, my,” he said, a look of devilment in his eye. “He has not introduced himself to you, nor have you introduced yourself to him,” he questioned.

“No,” Leigh said shortly. “We have not had the opportunity to do so.”

“I understand completely,” Adam murmured. “You saw this unknown man, this stranger, approaching Travers Hill with the cap’n in tow, and thought to confront the man, perhaps believing him to be a thief?” Adam speculated, not realizing that he had just saved Leigh from an embarrassing few minutes by his ready explanation. “And as Miss Leigh’s loyal maid, you thought to get back her property,” he explained further, turning to face her so only she saw his wink.

Leigh stared at Adam suspiciously, wondering what his game was, but since it served her purpose to not have the stranger, this Dagger, know her true identity just yet, she would go along with his charade. After all, he had been the one who had mistook her for a servant, taking advantage of what he thought to be her lowly station in life. Soon however, soon…he would learn differently.

“Exactly,” she said shortly. “But I discovered that Mr. Dagger found Capitaine wandering loose, and very kindly returned him to Travers Hill,” she said, not explaining how Mr. Dagger knew the colt belonged at Travers Hill. “He will be rewarded handsomely for his kindness in returning Travers property. There is no need, however, for this incident to be mentioned further, for this is something between Mr. Dagger and myself.”

“My pardon, but,” Neil interrupted, eyeing his cousin curiously, for although it had been several years since Adam had visited the territories, he knew his cousin too well not to suspect he was up to something. “I am—” he began, intending to correct her concerning his name, and reassure her that he would say nothing about the circumstances of their meeting and her losing the colt. And as the lady had said, it was something between the two of them—and he intended to keep it that way.

But he was quickly interrupted from completing his introduction. “Please allow me to make the proper introductions.” Adam spoke first. “Dagger. S. Dagger. He works for my cousin, Neil Braedon. The
S
stands for Sam, or is it Sonny? Well, we call him Dagger. Nothing more, nothing less. The name speaks for itself, and for the man. Best ranch hand on Riovado, my cousin’s ranch. Swears by him, he does,” he said with a slight bow and polite gesture between the two, nearly choking as he tried to control his laughter as he saw his cousin’s expression. “And this lovely lady is Rose, the ever faithful maid to Miss Leigh. Travers Hill is famous for its lovely roses. Ah, one question, if I might be so bold, but…” Adam said, staring pointedly at the musket in Leigh’s hands, “I am rather puzzled, since I do know both parties in question here. And I’ve never known the lady to miss her shot, nor would I have thought the gentleman could be so careless to get caught in the line of fire. Since I see no blood, and I did hear a gunshot, I assume she missed. Naturally, before explanations and introductions were properly made, of course. Or,” he added as if another thought had just struck him, “did it fire by mistake during the struggle for possession of that deadly weapon?”

Adam didn’t miss the guilty expression that crossed Leigh’s face or the closed one that settled on Neil’s, and his lips twitched, for it was very obvious that they had struggled for possession of the musket. He was only sorry he had arrived too late for that match.

“If you will excuse me,” Leigh spoke curtly, stepping around the stranger as she saw her chance to escape him now that Adam was here. Halting by her colt, she ran her hand along his velvety muzzle, then pressed her cheek against his as he gently nudged her. Slipping the rope from his neck, she patted his rump and sent him into his stall next to his dam.

Turning around after she had shut his gate, she faced the stranger and said, “I trust you will be coming up to the big house, Mr. Dagger? I’m sure the family will wish to thank you for returning their property. I’m certain Miss Leigh will wish to thank you personally.”

“I’ll escort him myself,” Adam spoke up quickly, slapping his cousin on the back as he caught the glint in his eye. “In fact, I think I hear hoofbeats now, so it must be Neil Braedon arriving. He and Dagger are like this,” he claimed, holding up his index and middle fingers and pressing them tightly together. “Almost like brothers. Where one goes, the other is sure to follow. Just like Rose and Miss Leigh. He must have seen you heading this way, same as I did,” Adam easily explained, his eyes twinkling with anticipation at that meeting. “My, my, with Nathan and me here, this could develop into quite a family reunion,” he predicted. “I’m certain that Miss Leigh is going to want to look her prettiest when meeting Neil Braedon. Why, I might even be able to do a little matchmaking between them. Now I think ’pon it,” he said, his grin wide, “they are indeed a well-matched couple.”

Walking along the passage to Leigh’s side, and taking her hand and tucking it inside his elbow, he urged her toward the door, fearing Neil’s temper was near the end of its tether.

“You have a lot to answer for, Adam Braedon,” Leigh told him in an angry whisper, glancing back at the stranger for just an instant before they left the stable. Leigh quickly looked ahead, for the stranger was standing by the big bay, his gaze intent on her.

“I?” Adam said in surprise as they stepped out into the sunlight.

“Yes. It is all your fault, and you’ll pay soon enou—”

“Good Lord! I thought you were just joking!” Adam’s choked exclamation cut her off as he and Leigh came to a standstill just beyond the stable doors. Approaching them at a run, the long blade of a saber glinting dangerously in her hand, was Blythe, a fierce look in her eye as she came to the rescue.

Eight

The little
Revenge
ran on sheer into the heart of the foe.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

“Leigh!” Blythe cried, trying to pull her arm free of her sister’s grasp. Her feet, which earlier she’d despaired so of being far too large, were now firmly planted on the path, bringing her sister’s steps to a halt as she refused to budge until she’d had some answers. “I want to know what happened. Why are we running back to the big house? What happened in the stables? Did you get back the lil’ cap’n? Who was that stranger? Did you shoot him? I heard the shot. I couldn’t believe Julia was still sitting in the dining room talking when I grabbed Great-Grandpa Travers’s saber and ran out. She must have heard the musket fire and my dragging the bench across the foyer. Luckily Mama was asleep and I don’t think it woke her. But I don’t know about Althea, or Jolie, wherever she is. And what was Adam laughing about when he turned away and went back inside the stables? I could see that grin of his all the way across the green. Did you see his side whiskers? I’ve never seen any so bushy before. And I don’t think there is anything amusing about killing a man. And it’s never wise to trust Adam, Leigh. And where did he come from anyway? I didn’t see him ride in. I must have already gone downstairs to get the saber. I nearly fell down the stairs, I was running that fast, but there was no one else, Leigh!” Blythe said breathlessly.