Prince Charming (14 page)

He gave the lie without batting an eye. She was watching him closely, looking for the least little sign of concern.

She didn't find any. “You aren't at all concerned, Mr. Ross?” She didn't give him time to answer. “Have you been in other storms like this one?”

“Lots of them,” he lied.

“Well then.” Her sigh was long and filled with relief. She even managed a smile.

She was feeling much better now, almost safe. Then he inadvertently went and ruined her near recovery. He took his pants off.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Mr. Ross, whatever are you thinking?”

She fairly shouted the question. He lost his patience with her. “Will you quit calling me Mr. Ross?”

He'd snapped his demand back at her. She was astonished by his show of temper. “If you wish,” she replied. She kept her eyes closed. She heard him mutter something under his breath but couldn't make out the words. It was probably a blasphemy, she supposed with a frown she sincerely hoped he would notice.

Lucas stripped out of the rest of his clothes and walked over to his suitcase to get fresh, dry pants. He normally slept in the nude, but because he'd been sleeping up on deck, he had, of course, kept his clothes on. He was going to have to wear pants tonight as well, he knew, and all because this young lady he was saddled with was acting so damned squeamish and prim.

God save him from virgins, he thought. She was probably going to have heart failure when she realized he had every intention of sharing the bed with her.

He didn't have any intention of touching her, however. Being intimate with his bride would only complicate their financial arrangement. The last thing he wanted or needed was a wife, and he knew that if he touched her, he would feel honor bound to stay married. He'd just as soon be hanged. Or put back in prison.

His mind was filled with thoughts about the horrors associated with marriage, and for that reason he didn't notice the ship had tilted again. The trunk slammed into his right foot. He muttered an expletive, shook himself out of his dour thoughts, and put his pants on.

Taylor watched him. She was mesmerized by his physique, and since she was certain he wasn't aware she was looking at him, she barely blushed at all over what she was seeing.

Lucas Ross was as sleek as a panther. The splay of muscle in the backs of his thighs and shoulders seemed to roll with each movement he made. His skin was bronzed in color, no doubt by the sun. His waist was narrow, his shoulders were incredibly wide, and heavens, he really was a fine specimen of male perfection. If she'd been the faint-hearted sort, she was certain she would have swooned by now. In her opinion, he was magnificent.

She found herself wishing he would turn around. Lucas didn't accommodate her. He buttoned up his pants and walked over to the side of the bed. His chest was covered with a thick mat of dark hair. It tapered to a vee at his waist.

The ship suddenly lurched again. Taylor was so mesmerized by the sight of her husband, she forgot to brace herself. She went flying. He caught her in his arms just as she was about to be pitched to the floor.

Her reaction surprised him. She laughed. He hoped to God she wasn't getting hysterical on him.

“What's so amusing?”

She shrugged. His skin was warm to her touch. She noticed that when she wrapped her arms around his neck. The ship rocked again. It was an excuse she had been waiting for. She put her head on his shoulder and held tight.

“You aren't going to go back up on deck, are you? You'll only get wet again.”

“I'm not going back up on deck.”

She didn't loosen her hold. She wasn't about to let him get away. Being alone was too frightening. Lucas had become her safe haven against the storm.

“You can't sleep on the floor,” she blurted out. “The trunks will drive you to distraction, flying about the way they are.”

“What do you suggest?”

“You'll have to sleep with me.”

He almost dropped her. She leaned back and looked up at him. Damn but she had the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen. And mouth. A man could get lost staring into those blue eyes and thinking about what he would want her to do to him with those sweet sexy lips.

“I'll sleep under the covers and you may sleep on top,” she rushed out. The look on his face confused her. She didn't want him to think she was being brazen, just practical.

“It's a sound solution,” she announced with a nod. “And very civilized.”

He tossed her into the middle of the bed. Taylor realized her nightgown was bunched up around her knees. She hurried to straighten her gown and get under the sheets. While he stood there watching her with his hands on his hips and a strange, indefinable look on his face, she squeezed herself up against the wall, fluffed her pillow behind her head, and closed her eyes.

Lucas was too tired to figure out why Taylor wasn't acting frightened by him any longer. He fully intended to take advantage of his temporary good fortune. He would get into bed before she changed her mind. He went over to the lantern, turned the flame down, shoved a trunk out of his path, and then walked back over to the bed.

She tried to stay on her side, but the rocking of the ship made that extremely difficult. She didn't have enough bulk to keep her still or an anchor to hold onto, and Lucas had only just stretched out on his back when he found her plastered up against his left side. She apologized profusely, then scooted back to the wall.

She kept coming back. Each time the ship rocked she slammed into his side. He suspected she'd be black and blue by morning. Each time she hit him, she groaned. The moans soon became a prelude to her pleas for forgiveness.

It was like sleeping with a fish. Lucas's patience was quickly worn out. He rolled to his side, threw his arm around her waist and his thigh over her legs, and pulled her up close to him.

She didn't protest. She was, in fact, thankful for the anchor. She reached up to nudge his head out of her way, then lifted her hair back from where he'd trapped it with his shoulder. She pushed the thick curls to the other side of her neck. She should have braided her hair before going to bed, she supposed, but it had seemed silly to do such an ordinary chore when death was behind the next wave. As soon as the storm had begun, she'd hurried down to Victoria's cabin to make certain she was all right, and by the time she'd made it back to her own room, she could barely walk a straight line.

Everything was going to be all right. Taylor let out a loud yawn. Odd, but she wasn't at all afraid now. The warmth from her husband's body soothed her, and it only took a few minutes for her to completely relax.

“Mr. Ross?”

He didn't answer her. “Lucas?”

“Yes?”

He sounded surly. She pretended not to notice. “Are you sleepy?”

“Yes.”

She folded her arms across her chest, being careful not to touch his arm.

“Isn't it odd neither one of us has become seasick?”

“Go to sleep, Taylor.”

A full minute passed before she spoke again. Lucas thought she was going to cooperate. He was wrong. “I'm very weary,” she whispered. “But not at all sleepy. Isn't that odd?”

He didn't answer her. “Perhaps, if you talked to me, I might become sleepy.”

“Why would my talking make you sleepy?”

“You might be boring.”

He grinned. She said the damnedest things. “Fine, I'll talk you to sleep. Do you have any particular topic in mind?”

“Tell me about Redemption.”

He was surprised she remembered the name of his town. He couldn't imagine why she would be interested enough to hear anything more about the desolate place.

“I already told you all about Redemption. You'd hate it. Why don't you think about all the parties you'll attend in Boston. That should put you to sleep. God knows it would me.”

Parties were the last thing she wanted to think about. She hated formal affairs, and the thought that she would never again have to attend an artificial gathering filled with pompous, self-opinionated bigots made her smile. She knew Lucas believed she wanted to be part of Boston's society, and she saw no reason to dissuade him. She supposed most young ladies would like all the frivolity. She wasn't like most, however. Maybe she really was almost as peculiar as her great-uncle Andrew, as Madam had proclaimed on more than one occasion.

“You don't hate Redemption, do you?”

“I'm starting to,” he answered with a yawn. “It's already getting crowded and growing every day. I'll be glad to leave.”

“Leave? Why would you leave?”

“I don't like crowds.”

“Aren't your brothers there?”

“The ranch is a day's ride away from the town.”

“Well then?”

He let out a loud sigh. She really wasn't going to stop nagging him until she had her answers. Lucas gritted his teeth in frustration. She poked him in the shoulder. “Do you actually plan to abandon your brothers?”

“Jordan and Douglas have enough cattle and horses now. They don't need me any longer. I'll help Kelsey, the youngest, get settled, then I'll leave. They'll do just fine.”

She believed his attitude was callous and cold, but she kept her opinion to herself. She didn't want to alienate him. Besides, she wanted answers, not an argument.

“Where will you go?” she asked.

“Hunting.”

“Hunting for what?” she asked.

“A man.”

She hadn't expected that answer. She thought he would tell her he wanted to hunt for gold or silver. Even though the rush was officially over, she'd read there were still reports of veins located further west. But hunting for a man?

“And when you find him?”

Lucas didn't answer her for a long while. He wasn't about to tell her the truth, that he had every intention of killing the bastard. He didn't think her delicate nature could handle knowing exactly what was on his mind, and so he simply said, “I'm going to finish what he started.”

“Is he an evil man?”

“Yes.”

She thought about that for several minutes. The differences between the two of them were startlingly clear to her. She was running away from evil; Lucas was going to confront it. Was he a man of courage or was he letting vengeance rule his life?

She decided to find out. “Was he . . .”

He cut her off. “When I'm finished, I'll go back to the mountains, where a man can't be hemmed in.”

She took the hint. Mr. Ross obviously wanted to end the discussion. She decided to let him have his way. She was a patient woman. She could wait to find out all the particulars.

“Madam told me you were born in Kentucky.”

“Yes.”

“But you fought on the side of the North?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I moved North a long, long time ago.”

“Before Montana Territory?”

“Yes.”

“Did you believe in the war?”

“I believed every man in America has a right to freedom.”

“And every woman and child,” she interjected. “They should have the same rights. No man should have the power to own another . . . isn't that right?”

“Yes.”

“You said you were eventually going back to the mountains. You want to be completely free, is that it? To go where the wind takes you.”

“Yes.”

“Won't you get lonely?”

“No.”

“You're very antisocial.”

He couldn't help but smile. She sounded as though she felt sorry for him. “You don't have to pity me, Taylor. I don't want a family.”

Too late, she almost blurted out. He had a family, and it didn't matter to her that he might not want one. The babies came first. They were too young to fend for themselves. “And so you'll turn your back on . . . everyone?”
Me,
she silently added.
You'll turn your back on me.
Lord, what would she do if she needed him? How would she and the twins and Victoria and her baby ever get along?

Taylor's burst of panic was short-lived. She calmed herself almost immediately. She would do just fine. She hadn't planned on needing or wanting Lucas Ross in her life. It was ridiculous to feel even a bit of nervousness. She was an independent woman of means.

When she first heard the news of George's death and knew she was going to go to Boston to take on the responsibility of raising her nieces, she thought she would find a small city somewhere out West and take the little ones there. She would hire a housekeeper, and when the girls were older, she would make certain they had the finest tutors in America so they would be properly educated. Why, there might even be an acceptable school they could attend. The children were going to have every advantage, but more important, they would be safe from harm. Taylor wanted to make certain her uncle Malcolm never found them.

She was now reevaluating her decision. Every city in America had access to the telegraphs . . . and trains. They could easily be found in a city such as St. Louis or even Kansas City. Neither place was far enough away or difficult enough to get to should her uncle decide to send someone after her.

She let out a little sigh. Her voice was a bare whisper when she spoke. “Have you ever had a fear so unreasonable, it consumed you?”

She didn't wait for him to answer her. “I remember once, when I was a little girl, being unreasonably afraid of a falcon my father brought home. It wasn't enough that the predator was in a cage. I couldn't even stay inside the barn. Then the yard wasn't acceptable either. I ended up hiding in my room.”