Cowboys 08 - Luke (4 page)

But telling herself that didn't change the fact that she couldn't stop thinking about Luke Attmore, couldn't stop picturing him sitting in that chair, his deep blue eyes watching her every move, his near-perfect features immobile, his sensual lips parted in speech. Nor was she unaware of his broad shoulders and powerful thighs. He was a man who'd reached full, magnificent maturity, and it was impossible for her-for any woman, she was sure-to be unaware of or unmoved by him.

Then there was his standing on the street outside her window the last two nights. Was he trying to scare her into hiring him back? She didn't think he was protecting her. Men who could be bought didn't have the kind of honor and loyalty Hans and Otto had. But if he wasn't protecting her, what was he doing?

In the middle of a thought that said she was helpless to find out, she remembered she wasn't in Europe any longer. Neither her uncle nor Rudolf could forbid her to do what she wanted.

"Bring him to me," she said.

"Why do you want to see him?" Otto asked.

"He won't come," Hans said.

"Why not?" she asked.

"He said he wouldn't be your guide unless you asked him."

Valeria jumped to her feet. "Me! Beg him!"

"He said
ask,"
Hans said. "He was not happy that you dismissed him without a reason."

"He was rude."

"I don't think he meant to be," Hans said. "It's just the way of these Americans."

"Then he should change his ways. I don't like them." "I don't think he cares what we like," Hans said. "He made that abundantly clear," Valeria shot back.

Well, he would find himself at a loss this time, this brash American. A princess did not beg.

"Take me to him," she said.

"It would be improper for you to be seen on the streets," Otto said.

That would have been true in Belgravia, but her life had changed forever the moment she entered the United States. If she couldn't go out, she would be bored to the edge of insanity. She'd had parties, balls, visitors, trips, concerts, the library, a thousand and one things to entertain her in Belgravia, and still she'd frequently been bored. She would have none of that at Paul's ranch. She should begin right now to adapt to her new circumstances.

"It won't matter here," Valeria said. "Elvira will accompany me. With you and Hans along, what could be so improper?"

"I don't know where he is," Otto said. "I do," Hans said.

"Then take me to him," Valeria said.

"I ought to make sure he's still at the hotel," Hans said. "And hire a proper room as a meeting place."

Valeria wouldn't be put off. Hans was fanatically loyal, but he was also a stickler for maintaining her royal consequence. "I'm not willing to wait. Elvira, bring me my cloak. If I pull the hood over my head, no one will notice me."

The moment she reached the street, she knew she'd made at least two mistakes. First, the cloak was too hot. She didn't think she could walk a hundred feet without fainting. And second, she could tell from their stares that the people of Bonner knew her at a glance. They all watched her progress down the street in fascination.

"I advised your highness not to venture out," Otto said.

"They're only looking at me, Otto. That causes no harm." But people usually looked at her in admiration, not in gape-mouthed wonder.

"Where is this hotel?" she asked Hans.

"It's right here."

"That's a saloon," Otto said.

"Americans stay at saloons, too," Hans said. "Some of them have rooms just like hotels."

Valeria doubted she would ever accustom herself to the strange and unaccountable things Americans did.

"They're not very different from inns in our country," Hans added.

Valeria had never stayed at an inn. But the moment she entered the Crystal Palace, she decided there couldn't possibly be anything like it in her country. Except for a bar of about a dozen feet, tables and chairs filled every inch of space in the long, narrow room. The walls were bare except for a mirror and two racks of glasses behind the bar. The tables looked clean and the floor had obviously been swept recently, but the odor of whiskey and tobacco vied for prominence with the aroma of coffee and the smell of bacon grease.

Valeria expected to be disgusted. She was only surprised.

But not as surprised as the men seated at the tables. Their stares when she entered made it plain women weren't frequent visitors. Even though she'd come to put him in his place, she felt greatly relieved when Mr. Attmore stood up at one of the tables in the back of the room.

"I didn't expect her to change her mind so quickly," he said to Hans when they reached the table.

"Change my mind about what?" she asked Hans.

"My being your guide."

"I didn't." It disturbed Valeria that she was more aware of the attraction between them than the feeling of outrage that had brought her here.

"Whatever you came to do, it'll attract less attention if you sit down," Mr. Attmore said.

Valeria wanted to refuse to be seated in such a place, but she knew she would probably have to do many things she would never have considered only a few months ago. When Hans held a chair for her, she sat down. The infuriating Mr. Attmore held a chair for her maid.

But taking a seat didn't remove her from the glare of attention. It seemed no one in the room had anything to do but stare at her.

"Could I offer you some coffee?" Mr. Attmore asked. "No, but I would accept a cup of cocoa."

The look he gave her reminded her forcibly of the one he had given her when she had been foolish enough to ask what he thought of her.

"I'm afraid Sandoval doesn't get many requests for cocoa," Mr. Attmore said. "All he has is coffee. Unless you'd prefer a beer."

She supposed he'd said that intentionally, just to rile her. Well, she could play this game just as well as he.

"I'd love a Blauenstaff," she replied, then tried not to laugh at the shocked looks on the faces around her. "It's the favorite beer in my country."

The faint crinkling of the skin at the corners of his eyes told her Luke knew exactly what she was doing. "I'm afraid Sandoval's shipment of Blauenstaff was stolen last week. It's a favorite of so many of the miners, they can't wait for it to reach the saloon."

He wanted to joke. She didn't care as long as he realized she wasn't a silly little fool he could insult at will. "In that case I'll have to decline your offer." "We have other beers."

"I couldn't think of drinking anything but Blauenstaff. I came here to tell you, Mr. Attmore-"

"Call me Luke."

"-that I have no intention of asking you to escort me to Rudolf's ranch. I wouldn't accept your services if you volunteered them."

Chapter Three

"I never volunteer my services," Luke said, without the slightest change of expression. "I charge an exorbitant price. That makes me even more valuable to my clientele."

"Not to me."

"So you've made clear."

"You're free to leave Bonner."

"So I am."

"I'm sure someone else is anxious to retain your services."

"I've had several requests."

"Then by all means take one of them." "I'm considering it."

This interview hadn't proceeded as she'd anticipated. No man had ever sat across a table from her, regarding her with expressionless eyes, returning minimal responses to her questions or statements. She'd all but ordered him to leave town, and he just sat there watching her like a cat with a cornered mouse.

"When are you going to leave?" she asked.

"Why is it so important to you?"

She bridled at the inference. "It isn't. I just wanted you to know you're free to go about your usual activities." "Thank you." His smile was faint and ironic.

"Hans said you refused to keep the money Otto offered you. Why did you do that?"

"I hadn't done any work. It seemed unreasonable to keep the money."

"But you took it at first." "Yes."

"Then you gave it back." "Yes."

"Stop answering me in monosyllables!" "WRY?"

She'd never liked the idea of firing squads, but right now she'd have given half her dowery to see him standing before one. "Because it's rude."

"Why?"

Luke clearly had no respect for position in society, her status as a woman, or her as a person.

"I just came to let you know you were free to take other employment," she said, getting to her feet.

"I'm not sure I feel like working just now." She turned to leave.

"Bonner seems like a nice little town. I think I'll stay for a while."

She turned back. "I would prefer that you leave." "Give me a good reason why I should care what you prefer."

She saw traces of that ironic smile. She reminded herself this wasn't Belgravia, that he wasn't one of her subjects. Probably not one person in this entire, huge, endless country cared what she thought or what happened to her.

That terrified her. Only the loyalty of her servants separated her from complete and helpless isolation. And what reason did they have to be loyal? Could money ensure the kind of loyalty she'd always taken for granted?

If she could only get to Rudolf's ranch. All her life she'd been protected by her prestige, her rank, the circle of people who orbited around the court. It had seemed so deep, so endless, so
permanent,
she'd never considered the possibility it might be taken away.

But it had been. Now she stood perched on the edge of a trackless wilderness with two old men who knew no more than she how to provide guidance and protection. She needed to get to Rudolf. Once she reached his ranch, everything would be all right again.

"Since you are no longer in my employ," she said, "I suppose there is no reason for you to care what I want. However, whether you stay or go, I would like you to remove your prohibition against anyone else serving as my guide."

His expression didn't change one iota. "I haven't prohibited anyone from accepting your offer."

"But Hans and Otto say they've been unable to hire anyone to take your place."

His look might as well have said,
No one can take my place.

"I've offered a great deal of money," Otto said. "Offer more," he said.

"I have, and they still won't take the job."

"Then I guess you'll have to find your own way," he said.

"None of my servants know anything about your country," Valeria said.

Mr. Attmore looked from Otto to Hans. "Do you consider yourselves servants?"

Otto sputtered.

"I consider myself in the service of the princess," Hans said.

"But not a servant?"

"I'm employed to advise her highness."

"So am I," Otto said.

Luke Attmore turned to Valeria. "Looks like you don't have any servants, ma'am, just advisers."

Valeria had known immediately she'd said something to upset this man. Now she knew what. She'd always referred to the people who worked for her as servants. The term didn't suggest anything demeaning. Apparently it meant something quite different in this country, something she would have to try to understand.

"My
advisers
know nothing about your country," she said, trying hard to remain pleasant in the face of his continued provocation.

Luke motioned to the man behind the counter to come over. "Sandoval," Luke said when the man reached him, "do you think Bob Wilson could guide the princess to a ranch above the Mogollon Rim?"

"Bob's tied up working for the stage company just now," Sandoval said. "Just took the job yesterday. He won't be done with that for I don't know how long."

"How about Abe Custis?"

"His cousin broke his leg yesterday. He's got to take over working his ranch until he can get back in the saddle."

"Surely Sam Prentiss could do it."

"Sam left to visit his mother in Alabama yesterday. It seems there's a senorita who claims Sam's the father of her baby. The senorita's father, four uncles, six brothers, and eleven cousins are anxious to talk with Sam."

"How about you, Sandoval?" Luke asked.

"I think the senorita should wait. Somebody will come."

Valeria hadn't failed to notice that all three incidents happened yesterday,
after
Otto had informed Luke his services were no longer required. Luke had boxed her in, and she couldn't do anything about it.

"How long would I have to wait?" she asked Sandoval. "Can't say," the man said with his heavy accent. "A day. A month. Who can tell?"