WM02 - Texas Princess (10 page)

Tobin didn’t want to think of how much she would hate him if he grabbed her and took her away from not only her wedding but also her father when the senator might be in danger. She’d ght him with al her strength and he’d have to tie and gag her. Tobin had never forced a woman to do anything in his life, but if the senator needed the favor, he would. Not because he’d promised, but because Mayeld wouldn’t have asked unless Liberty’s life was on the line.

“I got coffee warming by the tack room. Ye want some?” Dermot watched the storm from the doorway. “It’l be dinnertime soon. Maybe the rain wil let up enough for us to walk to the kitchen without getting soaked.” He glanced at Tobin. “Not that ye’d care.”

Tobin disappeared in what had become his stal and changed into his new shirt and his only pair of dry trousers. Funny, he thought, how comfortable he was bunking in a horse stal . He liked the smel of hay and the sounds the animals made. Maybe he real y did have a bit of horse blood in him. He wouldn’t have traded this stal for a room in the mansion.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and pul ed up a barrel to join Dermot at the door.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Water plopped from the roof into mud holes near the barn making a strange kind of music. The pale sun hung low on the horizon, with thin

ngers pushing between dark clouds. Any other day it would have been a peaceful time, but Dermot was right—Tobin could feel trouble humming in the distance.

Tobin whistled softly knowing the horses must feel the air changing as a storm rumbled somewhere along the distance.

“Want to make a run for the house? Me Anna said she’d make us a shepherd’s pie.

She’d already made the dessert for tonight. We’l have our choice of pie or cake.”

Tobin shook his head. He wasn’t hungry and he didn’t want to run into Stel a in the kitchen. The girl seemed shy around Liberty, but she’d probably put him in his place if she got the chance. “I think I’l just nish the pot of coffee.”

“Suit yeself,” Dermot mumbled as he pul ed his hat low and limped for the house, dodging puddles like a man crossing a battleeld.

Tobin sat on the bench just outside the barn, drank his coffee, and wondered what Liberty was doing only yards away. Was she thinking about the kiss, or had she done what she said? Had she forgotten it? Had it meant anything to her? Did one kiss mean anything to him? He wasn’t in love with her. Most of the time he wasn’t even sure he liked her.

One kiss meant nothing. She was right. They should both forget it. After al , it wasn’t like he’d taken her to his bed.

Once the thought of them together in bed crossed his mind, it didn’t want to leave.

He’d thought of mating with a woman, but never of sleeping with one. What would it be like to hold Liberty al night in his arms? To hold her with no clothes between them?

Tobin swore at himself. He was thinking like a young pup stil wet behind the ears. He was a man with far more important things to worry about than one kiss.

He stood and went for another cup of coffee. At this rate he’d nish the pot before sunset.

Twenty minutes after Liberty left Tobin on the back porch, she walked into the smal library that Samuel had commandeered for his ofce. She’d changed clothes and tucked her wet hair into a tight bun at the base of her neck. Everything about her looked awless from the shine of her midnight hair to her pale cheeks.

“You look quite presentable, tonight, Liberty.” Captain Buchanan seemed to take in every inch of her. “Beautiful, in fact. I can hardly wait to see you al in white. You’l be the loveliest bride these Texans have ever seen.”

“Thank you,” she managed, without caring about the compliment. His clipped formalness hung in the room like an invisible noose waiting to snare her. She might like the man less every time they were together, but she was learning his moods. His smile that wasn’t quite a smile. His compliment that manipulated. The tight way he held himself as if fearing he might slip and be less than perfect.

Stel a served Samuel tea but looked away when Liberty neared. Liberty decided the girl must be embarrassed at having seen her kissing the rancher. When she got Stel a alone, she’d explain that she felt no shame or regret for what had happened. It might have been an impulse but Liberty would never be able to lie to anyone, not even herself, to wish it hadn’t happened. She and Captain Samuel Buchanan were nished.

Any feeling for him was dead. If they hadn’t been over, she never would have al owed Tobin to kiss her like that.

But she and Stel a weren’t alone. The captain seemed, as he always did, to l the room. He thanked Stel a for the scones, swearing that if she’d join the army men would

ock to enlist just for her cooking.

Stel a smiled shyly. Like Joy, Liberty’s maid, Stel a was completely charmed by the captain.

Samuel pushed a bit further, giving her one of his winning smiles. “Thank you, dear,”

he said lowering his voice with the endearment. “You’ve been a jewel. Now if you’l close the door on your way out, I have some business to discuss with my ancée.”

Liberty saw her chance. “Before you go, Stel a, could you ask my father to join us? I believe he’s in the formal dining room.” In truth, she had no idea where the senator might be, but the dining room was as good a guess as any.

Stel a didn’t look at Liberty, but she shook her head. “He’s at the other end of the house, miss, talking to a couple of rangers. He told me not to disturb him.”

Stel a turned her attention back to Samuel. “I’l see that you’re not disturbed either, sir.”

“Thank you,” he said with such kindness that even Liberty almost believed him.

For a moment he stood at attention until he heard the click of the door. Then he faced her and the angry man she’d seen at the bal returned. Perfect features twisted slightly, distorting like reection in cheap glass.

“I understand you’re on very friendly terms with Mr. Mc-Murray.” His words sliced the silence as he pul ed a heavy wooden chair out for her.

Liberty ignored the chair, refusing to sit.

She wasn’t sure if his comment was a question or a statement. Either way, she didn’t want to be interrogated about McMurray. She also had no doubt where Samuel got the information. What loyalty Stel a possessed had shifted. The little cook had become an informant.

Samuel set his cup down careful y, not al owing even a slight click of china. “I’l not have you embarrassing me days before our wedding. I’ve made no secret of my plans one day to run for ofce. To do so I, and now you, must live a life that is above reproach.”

Liberty raised her head as she faced him. “I plan to talk to my father as soon as he’s available. I hope I haven’t caused you any inconvenience, Captain Buchanan, but I’m afraid there wil be no wedding.” A clean cut seemed the only way to end it. He was not the man she thought him to be.

To her shock, Samuel smiled. “Yes, my dear, there
will
be a wedding,” he answered calmly. “I feared this might be stewing in your thoughts since last night’s little spat. But I’ve taken steps to ensure that it’s too late to change your mind. Everything has already been set into action.” His laughter held no humor. “In fact, I think the wedding should happen sooner.”

Liberty stood her ground. “As soon as Father is free from his meeting, I plan to tel him I wil not marry. No matter what he said, he won’t make me marry a man I have no wish to spend an evening with, much less a lifetime. And, sir, I’m afraid there is nothing you can do about the matter. I’m not a nervous bride. I’m not your bride at al .”

Samuel moved, positioning himself between her and the door. “And what, pet, has brought on this sudden change of heart? One bothersome rancher? Maybe one too many riding lessons?”

“Tobin has nothing to do with this.” She realized her mistake before the words died in the air.

“Tobin?” Samuel smiled a smile she was beginning to hate. “I’l have to deal with Mr.

McMurray later. He needs to learn a lesson.”

“There wil be no later,” she answered, furious that he thought she’d be so easy to dismiss. “It’s time you and your men leave, Captain Buchanan. My father made his career as a soldier for years. I’m sure he can defend himself. We no longer need your guard, and I no longer wish to be in your company.” She’d man a gun herself and stand guard if it would cut this man out of her life faster.

“You’re wrong, my dear.” Samuel stepped forward so suddenly, Liberty jumped backward. “You’l change your mind. You only need someone to guide you.”

His arm went up. She thought he was reaching for her, but instead he shoved her.

A moment later, her side slammed into the wooden arm of the chair, knocking the breath from her lungs. She stumbled backward more in shock than in pain and tripped over a footstool. The hard landing on her backside brought reality back in ful focus.

Samuel towered over her. Hate ickered in his eyes an instant before he bowed and offered his hand. “I’m sorry. I tend to lose my temper, my love.” He laughed. “I never realized how clumsy you were.”

Timidly, she took his hand and he pul ed her off the rug. Rage at the way he’d made his point infuriated her, but she held her tongue. Arguing with a man who would do anything to win could prove dangerous. Until this moment she hadn’t realized just how dangerous Captain Buchanan could be.

Holding her side with one hand, Liberty almost had her footing when she saw him raise his free hand. There was no time to block. Nowhere to run. He slapped her hard across the face.

She would have fal en backward again, only this time he had a rm grip on her.

“You spoiled child. This time you’l not have your way.” The next slap, with the back of his hand, knocked her head back and she saw stars. “A wife needs discipline, and we might as wel get a few things straight tonight. I’ve invested too much time in this quest to give up now. We’re a ne match, even the president says so. You’l thank me for this one day when I’m in the White House and you’re rst lady.”

“I’m not your...” She thought she must be losing consciousness for she barely felt the next slap, or the next. She tasted blood and watched as crimson drops fel on her pale green gown.

She thought of screaming for help, but Samuel had chosen the one place in the house were no one would hear her.

He didn’t turn her loose when she wilted, but pul ed her roughly up and laced her captured hand over his arm. “Now, love, we’l have no more of this discussion.”

His grip was crushing as they crossed to the door, but when she looked up she saw no anger left in his face. He’d calmed as quickly as he’d red.

“We’l talk more later.” He bruised her arm with his hold as he opened the door with his free hand. “And we wil have no more talk of delaying the wedding.”

He didn’t bother to wait for her answer. Quickly pul ing her up the stairs, he said in a caring voice, “I’l tel your cook that you are too tired from riding to have dinner downstairs. Your father leaves for town in a few minutes, so I’l have her x us a tray and I’l bring it up myself to join you. By the time he realizes your carriage didn’t fol ow, it wil be too late for him to return to the house.”

Liberty tried to pul away. Her ears were ringing with the pain. Her hair had tumbled from the bun. She didn’t know or care if it was her nose or her lip that continued to bleed.

When she jerked hard, he released his grip. She fel across the railing, almost tumbling back down the stairs.

As she gasped, he lifted her into his arms, then carried her to her room, looking very much like a caring ancé. No one could see the bone-crushing grip he had on her arm or the red marks already bruising across her face. In the shadows, if he were seen, he would appear to be helping.

“Clean yourself up,” he whispered as he reached her bedroom door. “You look disgusting.”

She thought of screaming, but the maids would be half the house away helping with dinner. What could she tel them? That she’d fal en in the study? And on the stairs, he’d hurt her by merely letting go.

He had slapped her. But slapping one’s wife, though frowned upon, wasn’t a crime. If her behavior on the porch were known, some would say she deserved it.

Liberty needed time to think.

“If you leave your room tonight, I’l tel everyone you fel ,” he said as he dropped her on the rug. “I’l tel them now that you’ve suffered an accident. I’m sure everyone wil understand if we have a smal wedding. We’l be married by dawn. With al his troubles, the senator wil be happy to leave early for Washington. The guests wil be disappointed, but accidents can’t be helped.”

Samuel fought down a laugh.

She didn’t say a word, but she wished Samuel dead. No one in her entire life had ever struck her in anger. She’d been unprepared. Unarmed. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

He bowed slightly and turned toward the door. “I’l be back as soon as I’ve seen to your father.”

Liberty heard him laugh as he closed the door. She didn’t breathe until his footsteps tapped their way down the stairs. Al she could think of was that she had to run. But where? His soldiers were probably at every door. The bedroom window would be a death drop. Samuel would see her go down the front stairs, and everyone would see her if she went down the back ones.

Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she fought back tears. She wanted to go to her father.

One dark thought overcame al others. Once her father left for town, she would be alone with a madman. Scrambling to her knees, Liberty pushed aside pain and stood.

She had to nd him before he left, assuming she’d be right behind him.

Holding her ribs, she walked to the washstand and grabbed a towel, blotting away blood as she rushed to the door.

Locked. Samuel must have taken the key from the inside.

Liberty fought tears, trying to think. Her head stil rang from his blows and pain seemed to be sending messages from every part of her body. But there was no time to take inventory of where she was hurt. She had to get to her father. He’d take one look at her, and not only would he cal off the wedding, he’d probably kil Samuel Buchanan as wel .