The Rancher Takes A Bride (28 page)

Travis glanced at Rose. Was he confused about her? Just who was Rose Severin? He'd delayed going into town to get the results from the investigator. For some reason, he was suddenly dragging his feet about finding out the truth regarding Rose.

He glanced over at the woman and noticed her holding his aunt's hand, tracing her fingertips across her palm and talking earnestly to her. The other women crowded around, blocking his view, laughing and smiling.

My God, she was reading his aunt's palm! He stared in disbelief. Conning the sweet little old lady with lies, filling her mind with useless prattle. Telling her God-only-knew what, right here in his family's midst.

No, he wasn't mistaken about Rose.

He turned his attention back to his uncle. "Thanks for the advice, Uncle. I'll consider what you said."

The old man smiled a knowing smirk. "Anytime, son. I'll talk to you again before we leave."

Travis strolled away, certain of one thing. He could never marry Rose Severin. Once again she had proven herself to be untrustworthy. His family surrounded her, and she knew he would never approve of what she was doing. Once again she'd disregarded his wishes and this time was reading palms.

Hot, self-righteous anger rolled through his body in waves.

He strolled into the circle of women, trying not to appear too abrupt. "Hello, ladies. I hate to interrupt, but I'd like to take Rose for a little stroll."

Rose glanced up at him, her eyes meeting his. Those emerald orbs flashed with indignation. They were the first words he'd spoken to her since their fight over her acting.

Several of the women giggled. His aunt gazed at him, smiling. "Just be careful to bring her back safe and sound, young man. No kissing until the engagement."

He flushed and his conscience twinged him. He'd done more than kiss Rose, yet didn't feel a bit of remorse for having sex with her, only that he'd been her first.

His anger seemed to intensify. "Excuse us, ladies. Rose will return soon."

Travis gripped her wrist tightly in his hand and tugged her from the circle of aunts and cousins. He dragged her away from the crowd of family across the yard. Finally he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, his hand covering hers.

Rose glanced at him, her eyes flashing with indignation. "I know you're mad. Yes, I was reading their palms, but I was doing it for free and they asked me to, after they found out I knew how."

He marched her away from prying eyes and listening ears. They walked in silence until he felt they were far enough away.

Finally he slowed down, his hand still holding her arm. "You know you're about as nervy a person as I've ever met."

"What do you mean?"

"It takes a lot of audacity to come meet my relatives, get yourself into their good graces, and then start working the crowd."

"What? Your mother was introducing me to everyone. She was the one who wanted me to meet your family."

"You're trying to take advantage of them!"

"How? By being friendly, by saying hello?" She turned to face him and put her hands on her hips.

"No. By smiling and flirting and then telling them lies as you read their palms."

"That's not what you're upset about. You wanted me to sulk away in some corner, like you're behaving. You didn't want me to talk with anyone." Her voice seemed to climb higher as her anger from the last few days spilled forth. "You're jealous that I was having a good time, while you pouted."

"I am not pouting. You can hang around with the whole bunch of them. But I refuse to allow you to take advantage of my family by giving them some cock-and-bull story while holding their hand," he shouted.

She glared at him. "I don't tell cock-and-bull stories. I read palms. I hold séances. That's my occupation."

"You're a liar and a thief, is what you are! And now you've got half of my family believing we're going to be married."

There was a moment of silence, and Travis could hear birds chirping in the background along with the high-pitched squeals of the children.

"You know, if that's what you think, then why have you been kissing me? If I'm such a liar, then why did we have sex? As for everyone believing we're going to be married, that was your mother's doing. But don't worry, even though we had sex, I wouldn't marry you." She took a deep breath. "Ever since that morning down at the pond, you've acted ridiculous."

"I have not."

"You jumped up and practically ran that morning. You didn't even come back to the ranch until after I was in bed, and then you left early the next morning. You've barely said more than five words to me since ... since we had sex."

"I've been busy."

"Busy avoiding me."

He took a deep breath and walked away from Rose. "You should have told me you were a virgin."

Her eyes grew wider, her voice louder. "Would you have believed me, even if I had? Or would you have thought that it was just another lie?"

He swallowed, trying to find the words to respond. His anger all but dried up, and he knew she was right about everything, but he didn't want to admit the truth to himself—and especially not to her.

Rose reached for the dainty watch pin attached to her chest, her movements stiff and huffy. "I have to go-"

"You have rehearsal today?" he asked quietly, suddenly feeling drained.

"I have rehearsal every day until the day of the show," she snapped. "But don't worry, I'm coming back here to face you after rehearsal. Every night I hurry home to sit across from a man whose face could easily turn to stone, as he tries to avoid contact with me." She glanced again at her pin. "I've got to go."

"I'll drive you," he suggested.

"No! Isaiah takes me. Stay here and visit your family."

She walked briskly away from him, her long skirts swishing as she hurried away.

He watched her leaving and his heart ached. She'd been right. He hadn't known how to face her, so he'd avoided her. Though all he really wanted to do was pick her up and carry her to a quiet, secluded place and make slow, languorous love to her sexy body for as long as it took to completely satisfy them both.

How much longer could he go on observing her every day without touching her again? And did he want to?

Isaiah helped her into the wagon, and it was all Travis could do to keep from running after her. Rose Severin was a beguiling woman, an exciting vixen, and he couldn't seem to get her out of his thoughts. But worse, he couldn't seem to keep the thought of having her out of his mind.

Their morning together had been so hot and sweet that even now it haunted his nights. Kept him from sleeping as he lay in that cold bed and wondered if a second time with Rose could be any better.

Yes, she was right, he had treated her abysmally. He had avoided her, refrained from being alone with her, and tried his best to put her out of his mind.

Because he wanted her so badly.

But she was always just a heartbeat away. She was always just a thought from crossing his mind and the memory of her on a warm summer day, muddy and soaking wet, would remain with him forever.

He'd been a fool. What woman would have accepted being treated the way he had handled Rose? What woman would have calmly gone on about her business when he'd taken her virginity and then ignored her?

Not many.

Maybe it was time he tried to be a little more understanding. Maybe he needed to at least be kinder to her. Maybe he should start with an apology.

***

"Where is Petruchio?" screamed the director. Nothing was worse than a director with only three days left before the opening, a drunken actor, and a weeping leading lady.

Rose didn't want to be at rehearsal. For well over two weeks, they had practiced five hours a day, until she felt as if she were repeating the words in her sleep.

At least clearing the air with Travis had felt good, except he still believed she was a liar and a thief. He'd never shown any trust in her, and she was past taking his unfounded accusations. She had reached her limit with Mr. Burnett, and he would do well to recognize her anger and show some respect.

For weeks now she had hoped he would one day realize that she was innocent, not the evil mistress that he painted her, but so far nothing had convinced him. And this afternoon's disagreement had left a rancid taste in her mouth.

She'd given the man her virginity, made love with him, shared her most private, intimate self, and he still believed the worst about her.

"Rose, are you supposed to be at stage right or stage left?"

The director's voice yanked her back to the present, and she glanced around at where everyone else was standing and realized she'd missed a cue. She was supposed to be on the other side of the stage. "Sorry, I missed a cue. I should be over on the other side of Katharina."

She hurried across the stage, and the actress who was playing Katharina glared at her.

"Okay, everyone, let's start again from the top of Act Two, scene one," the director yelled.

Rose put her hands behind her back as if they were bound. "
Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself, To make a bondmaid and a slave of me; That I disdain: but for these other gauds, Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself, Yea—
"

"Stop!" The director yelled, shaking his head. "Your sister is tormenting you, trying to find out about your suitors. Bianca is distraught, not whiny. Can you grasp that, Miss Severin?"

Rose nodded. "Yes, sir."

"From the top of Act Two again, please."

Rose started her lines again, wanting only to be back at the ranch, with Travis and his family.

Being with such a large family had been so interesting as they sat around and spoke of years past and generally caught each other up on what was happening in their lives. She'd never belonged to a group of people who shared a common bond. Right up until the moment Travis dragged her away from the Burnetts, she had been enjoying herself.

"Miss Severin!" The director screamed.

Rose stopped and glanced out at the irritable man.

"Yes?"

"I'm sitting out in the audience and I can't hear you. Speak up! Make your voice vibrate with the emotions and feelings of your character. Once again, Bianca is not whiny!" He shook his head. "Begin again."

For the third time, Rose started saying her lines and somehow, this time they made it all the way to the slap before the director screamed at the actress playing Katharina.

Somewhere in these last few weeks, acting had suddenly ceased being a dream and had become a reality. A very real reality that was no longer fun, but hard work that was tiring and monotonous.

And sometime during the last month, Rose had begun to enjoy living out on the Bar None, experiencing the ups and downs of ranch life. The cattle, even the horses, no longer seemed as frightful as they once had.

Sometime she had learned to love the way she could stand on the front porch at night and see the stars twinkling above her in the sky, hear the crickets singing and the cows bawling.

Somehow since her arrival at the Bar None, there had been a subtle change going on inside her. She felt more contented, more relaxed, and just a little mollified, despite being held against her will.

But soon she would be moving on. Soon she and Isaiah would catch a stage out of town.

A full moon hung in the eastern sky just above the horizon as Isaiah helped Rose from the wagon, while Bart, the man Travis insisted ride with her for protection, held the reins of the horses. She was so tired, she didn't know if she could make it across the yard to the house and up the stairs to bed.

Whatever naive joy she'd found in acting, the director seemed to have killed these last few rehearsals. Tonight he'd kept them an extra two hours trying to perfect the scene. How had her mother done this day after day, rehearsing, giving up personal time, to be coerced, yelled, and screamed at?

The extra two hours of rehearsal, then the long ride home, had gotten her and Isaiah back late. The reunion was long over, everyone had gone home, and the house was dark except for one lone lantern. She was tired, she was heartsick, and her bed upstairs beckoned invitingly.

"Good night, Miss Rose. You get some rest," Isaiah said, unhitching the horse from the wagon.

"Good night, Isaiah. I'll see you tomorrow." She nodded her head toward the driver. "Night, Bart."

"Night," he mumbled.

Rose trudged slowly toward the house, her legs leaden and heavy, her back aching, and her voice sounding scratchy and rough from repeating her lines over and over. Hopefully, the world would appear a better place in the morning, for tonight it seemed a dark, lonely locale. A site where her dreams appeared more like a nightmare than her heart's desire.

She stepped onto the wooden porch, her hand on the rail, when she heard Travis's voice.

"I was starting to get worried about you," he said, his voice deep and husky in the night air.