Running Wild (4 page)

Her breath caught in her throat, then broke through to
emerge in quick little spurts. The world around them slipped away and for a
moment she couldn’t speak, could scarcely think. She was so near to him she
could smell his male scent, pine mixing tantalizingly with the fragrance of his
leather jacket and some other sharp, unknown smell. “Old—older men, I suspect,
might need more time. . . .”

His throat worked. His right hand, encased in a big tan
glove, tightened on the fence rail. “There’s a world of difference between
‘want’ and ‘need’,” he rasped.

Her corset was too tight. Oh far too tight. She couldn’t
breathe—

“Virginia,” a voice called out from somewhere far away.

Nicholas’s head jerked up. He took a step back. Then
another.

Father—

“Ah, I thought I should find you here.” The voice wasn’t
from somewhere far away. Either that or her father could fly, because he was
suddenly standing at her side.

Nicholas nodded at him. “Sir.”

“Nick. Star—are you enjoying the horse breaking?”

Horse breaking? What horses? Oh, the ones on the other side
of the fence. Where Nick was now turning to look, watching Harley bucking
around on the dun again, managing to stay aboard longer this time.

“It is—it’s exhilarating,” she answered.

His mouth twitched. “I suspect it is. If you would be so
obliging as to accompany me, however, we have some arrangements to make
concerning tomorrow’s journey.”

She nodded. “Of course. Nicholas, I shall see you later,
then?”

He turned back to her. A curtain had fallen over his face,
making his thoughts impossible to read. “No, ma’am, pro’bly not ’til morning. I
have some business in town this afternoon that’ll keep me into the night.”

Her father hooked his arm in hers. “Why then, we shall see
you first thing in the morning, Nick. Come along now, my dear.”

“Oh,” she said and ran her eyes over Nicholas’s long, tough
body one more time before allowing Father to lead her back to the ranch house.
Once out of earshot, Father said in a low, gently mocking voice, “You ought not
to tease the wildlife, my dear. These are not the tame creatures you are
accustomed to in Boston and New York.”

“I was viewing, not teasing. Although I must confess, he
is—” She paused, searching for a word, while endeavoring to slow the pounding
in her chest and quiet the desire sparkling in her veins. “He is eye-catching.
I think. . . . Yes, I do believe,” she said, forcing lightness into her voice,
“that I might wish to have one of my own.” She turned to smile into her
father’s eyes.

His smile spread, his infrequent dimple popping out. “Aye,
daughter, I am not surprised.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you not? As Port would gladly
point out, he’s hardly urbane.”

“True, but Nick is well-mannered enough, and what is more,
he is a man.”

She laughed, which helped to calm her nerves. “Of course he
is, Father! Why else would I want him?”

He patted her elbow as they approached the house. “You
misunderstand me, Virginia. I meant in character. You’ve met few real men; most
of the ones you know are mere caricatures of men. Have a care with McGraw. He
is not one of your playthings.”

Father was right in that. Nicholas McGraw was not at all
like the men she knew. Most of the men of their set reacted to the twin
challenges of her spirit and intelligence by smugly lauding their
societally-bestowed superiority over her, an infuriating game they knew full
well she could not win. In defense, she’d learned to hide both under the façade
of the flirt, and fought that superiority on a wider scale, in newsprint and
speeches.

But not Nicholas. Nicholas had met those challenges
squarely. Somehow, it not only inspired desire, but also soothed her too-often
abraded pride.

She tilted her head and gave her father the little-girl
smile that had charmed him so often in the past. “Do you think, sir, that I
might not be able to manage him?”

“It’s merely a warning, imp.”

“It’s a dare, and now I must insist we return to the Bar M
after rescuing Lee, so that we may discover who is correct.”

Father shook his head as they climbed the steps. “People who
play with fire, my dear, get burned.”

“True, but often the fire’s beauty makes the pain worth it.”

***

Nick followed Miz Montgomery, arm linked with her father’s,
as she strolled across the yard to the waiting coach. Every swing of her
well-rounded hips sent a fresh wave of lust through his blood. When he recalled
their conversation the previous day, that lust turned to rough, driving hunger.
His hand itched to slide over the lush curves of those swinging hips, to her
waist, over her breasts, and then down toward her belly, while watching those
wildcat eyes darken in excitement.

Damn.

Damn, what had gotten into him? When he recollected his part
in that conversation, he just about winced. He knew better than to talk to a
lady like that. A good man, a decent man, respected all women, be they the
lowliest of whores or a genuine, high-society lady like Miz Montgomery. He sure
as hell didn’t lust after daughters of friends.

They stopped in front of the open door and Ward helped his
siren-of-a-daughter into the coach.

But Miz Montgomery didn’t act like high-society ladies.
Ladies didn’t say things like that. Then again, he thought disgusted as he went
over the conversation in his mind, she hadn’t really said anything bad, had
only
implied
it. Ah hell, she’d baited him and he’d gone for the bait
like a half-starved coyote. After which he’d high-tailed it into town, to the
Golden Nugget, even though it wasn’t one of his regular nights with Eva or May,
even though he’d been looking forward to spending an evening talking to Ward.
He couldn’t, not when he was lusting after the man’s daughter.

It hadn’t done much good. Eva’d only taken the edge off,
because his brain insisted upon creating visions of black hair and
brandy-colored eyes.

Ward turned to him and offered his hand. With the
Montgomerys in one coach and Melinda and the kids in the other, they were ready
to leave. “We are very much obliged to you, Nick, for your hospitality. You’ve
made this journey worth the while, regardless of its outcome.”

Nick gave him his hand, and Ward’s greeted his with the
fairly-met grip of a man who had nothing to prove. “Monty’ll be fine, sir. I’ve
seen him in trouble before. He always lands on his feet.”

Ward grimaced. “Aye, Nick, and that would be a comfort if my
son’s physical welfare were all that concerned me. However, the situation
surrounds other weighty matters of which Lee seems entirely unaware.”

Jess Sullivan. Nick hesitated. He liked Jess, but he doubted
his view would hold any sway with Ward. A man like him made his own mind up. “I
reckon you’ll straighten it all out.”

Ward nodded. “Indeed we will. Thank you, again, and should
you or your family ever find yourself back East, we should be greatly honored
if you would stay with us.”

“And you too, if you’re ever back this way,” Nick replied,
meaning every word—until the window opened and Miz Montgomery leaned out. She
flashed her wide smile and said in her husky, singsong voice, “Why that is ever
so kind of you, Nicholas. I am sure we’d love to visit with you above all
things.”

He stepped back and tipped his hat. “Any time, ma’am,” he
said politely as Ward scowled at his daughter and climbed in. Nick nodded at
Horace atop the carriage, who slapped the reins. They started off. For a moment
Nick watched them, squinting against the morning sun as they moved through the
valley. Oh yeah, she was an a-number one tease and good riddance to her.
You,
woman
, he thought, turning back to the ranch house,
are a world of
trouble
.

Aristophanes, Lysistrata

Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Star took a sip of champagne and surveyed the small
ballroom, crowded with Jess and Lee’s wedding guests. A little more than a
month earlier, her confirmed-bachelor brother had shocked his family by
declaring that, far from having a fleeting interest in his actress, he had
formed a serious attachment to her. The news had all but sent Father into an
apoplexy. At length, however, between a kidnapping, a rescue, and one minor
gunshot wound, Lee had persuaded Father of Jess’s good character. A proposal
naturally followed, for one could not shoot a woman of good character without
proposing. Jess, displaying the perfect manners of the gunshot victim, had
accepted, and then insisted upon a wedding in Denver so that her acting troupe
might attend. Happily, Marvelous Melinda had insisted upon helping with the
wedding plans, which she followed up by inviting them for an extended visit to
the Bar M to recover from trials, tribulations and shootings.

An extended visit with Nicholas McGraw suited Star
very
well.

Thoughts of him had followed her to Texas: recollections of
his bright eyes and his deep, smooth voice tossing out curse words and sexual
innuendoes without a flicker of shame. A thrill coursed through her veins and
into her belly as she scanned the crowd for sight of him. Because of the
necessity of spending much of their time in Denver planning the wedding, she’d
had but two days at the Bar M after leaving Texas. It had only been enough time
to fuel the fire. Now, halfway through the reception, she was ready to pursue
the reward she’d worked so many hours for: a brief, lust-driven liaison with
Nicholas—hot, exciting and discreet, for surely no liaison could be more
discreet than one carried on fifteen hundred miles from home.

“Well, Star, I must confess,” someone said at her elbow,
“I’d not have believed it due to the short notice, but you and Port pulled the
thing off, didn’t you? Pity he couldn’t be here to enjoy it.”

Star turned to smile at Del—Caldwell Huntington. He hated
his given name even more than Port did his. It was one of the few things they
had in common, beyond the fact that their fathers were the best of friends, as
close as brothers. In sentiment, it made the Huntingtons and Montgomerys
cousins.

“He missed Meredith horribly, and with mother here now, he
felt he should be with her.” Her eyes fell on Del’s wife, Jane, across the
room, a woman of medium height and beauty. “We’re very glad you and Jane could
come.”

Pain flashed through Del’s dark eyes, followed by a touch of
hope. “I am also. We’ve had our difficulties, but after I returned from San
Francisco, we had several heart-felt discussions. I believe that we’re, at
last, on the path of reconciliation.”

Star controlled a wince. Del and Jane had had “difficulties”
for the full three years of their marriage. Of course, many marriages had
trouble. Caroline Astor, queen of New York Society, rarely saw her husband, who
spent most of his time aboard his yacht with other woman. As their separations
were quiet and discreet, Society deemed their marriage to be all that was
proper.

Del’s was not. Del and Jane’s marriage was too often the
talk of the town—of
every
town up and down the Eastern Seaboard.

“Well,” she said hesitantly, “coming here was a good start.”
Although now Jane was flirting with Rick Winchester. A better start would be if
Jane—and Del—would suppress their attraction to the opposite sex. Or if Del
would control his lamentable temper, and Jane her penchant for igniting it.

He glanced at Jane again and his jaw tightened. “At any
rate, that’s not my purpose in seeking you out. I’ve brought some distressing
news with me.” With a deep breath, he turned from Jane, took Star’s elbow and
led her to a chair against a wall. “Take a seat, sugar.”

Sugar. Del was the only man alive who would address her so.
In their youth he had employed the term to annoy her and then later to attempt
to win her favor. Over the years, however, it had become an expression of
friendly affection.

She arched an eyebrow. “Take a seat? Del, you must know that
I’m not so paltry as to swoon at the mention of bad news.”

In the midst of seriousness, his eyes lit up with mischief.
“That’s merely because you refuse to lace your corset so tightly as to cause
loss of breath.”

She laughed. “Now that comment deserves a slap, Del
Huntington. You ought not to talk to a lady about corsets.”

“Generally I don’t, unless I’m occupied with removing them.”

“Or about that, you rogue! Now, pray tell me your dire
news.”

The amusement melted from his face. “It’s about Isabella
Kingston. My apologies sugar, but she’s dead.”

The blood drained from Star’s face as she sank into the
chair.

***

If Nick had any real taste in women, his eyes would be
following Lee’s bride around the stuffy, over-decorated ballroom. She was
undoubtedly the most beautiful woman there. In fact, she was the most beautiful
woman Nick had ever met, with hair like black silk and eyes the color of a cloudless
mountain sky. She had the face of an angel and a body to tempt Satan. Yup, if
Nick had any taste he’d be jealous as all get out of the bridegroom, but
instead he was fighting to keep his eyes off the bridegroom’s sister. Tall as
she was, it was hard
not
to see Miz Montgomery. She’d pulled back her
hair in a dizzying array of curls, with a few light tendrils escaping to tease
her temples and to invite a man to kiss her there. It was her shimmering gold
gown, though, low cut and hugging her body like bark on a tree, that wrangled
his attention.

From the moment he’d received Melinda’s joyful telegram
announcing Lee and Jess’s wedding—and of the Montgomerys’ impending visit—he’d
been on pins and needles. Bad medicine though Miz Montgomery was, he’d been
unable to suppress the anticipation rushing through his godforsaken blood at
the thought of seeing her again. The couple of days she’d spent at the ranch,
and the few days he’d been with the wedding party in Denver, had transformed
that anticipation into wicked desire, provoked by her seductive smiles, her
singsong voice, and the come-hither expression in her wildcat eyes. Some days
she really did seem part mountain lion, and she was stalking him.