WM02 - Texas Princess (6 page)

The senator took a long pul of his cigar then let the smoke out slowly. “If the danger I fear coming tomorrow proves real and I need the second favor, you have to promise me you’l act immediately.”

“Al right,” Tobin answered. How could he not help if Mayeld or Liberty were in danger? “What do you want me to do?”

The senator looked straight at Tobin so there would be no misunderstanding, no doubt of how serious he was. “If there is an attempt on my life tomorrow, I want you to kidnap my daughter and ride like hel is chasing you toward that mountain ranch your brothers told me about. It just might be the only place in this state where I’d know she would be safe. Captain Buchanan and his men wil worry about me. They don’t have the men or time to protect her. And, if I’m in danger, the last thing I want is her with me.”

A hundred questions came to mind, but Tobin just stared at the senator. The sounds of the night were around them, blending with only a whisper of music coming from the house.

Final y, Tobin said, “Al right.” The other questions didn’t matter. He’d do what the senator asked.

“I’l have your word, McMurray. You’l keep her there until I come after her.”

“You have it, sir,” Tobin answered.

They walked back and shook hands in the darkness between the barn and the house.

When Tobin lay back on his bedrol wide awake an hour later he’d gured out a few things.

One, the senator hadn’t asked the favor lightly. It must have taken months to plan and check out the McMurrays. He already knew and trusted Travis, but buying a horse had given him the chance to meet the other McMurrays. If Lib-erty’s life were in danger, the senator would look for a fortress and Whispering Mountain was just that.

Two, Mayeld had no intention of tel ing his daughter in advance. Maybe if he said anything about her being in danger it might upset her too much, or she’d want to cal off the wedding.

No, Tobin reconsidered. The old man wasn’t worried about upsetting her; after al , he wanted Tobin to kidnap her. Surely that would upset the fair Liberty. But, for some reason only the senator knew, Liberty wasn’t in on her father’s plan.

Third, Mayeld didn’t trust Captain Buchanan’s ability to guard him. Tobin had learned earlier that the captain’s men were the guards. Maybe Liberty hadn’t said a word to her father about the problems with her ancé, but the senator wasn’t blind.

Tobin swore, wishing he was back on the ranch. This trip conrmed his belief that people in general were to be avoided. The lives around him were more complicated than the plot of a novel.

A tapping sound rattled the stal door and for the third time since sunset, Tobin reached for his Colt.

“Mister,” a female whispered. “Mister, are you awake?”

Tobin sat up. “Yes.” Around this place no one must ever sleep.

The door slipped open just enough for the top half of a woman’s body to enter. The pretty redheaded maid from the kitchen smiled down at him. “I was just wondering,”

she said with a slow smile, “if you need anything to make yourself more comfortable tonight?”

“What’s your name?” Tobin asked.

“Stel a,” she answered. “And you are Tobin McMurray. I asked.”

“Nice to meet you, Stel a.” Tobin didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “I don’t need anything.

Thank you, but I’l look forward to seeing you tomorrow if I’m welcome back in the kitchen.”

She grinned. “You are. I’l make you hot buttermilk biscuits myself. Everyone says they are the best in Texas.”

Her eyes raked his body and Tobin had the feeling he wasn’t the rst visitor she made biscuits for.

“I’l look forward to it. Good night, Stel a.”

She hesitated a moment, then disappeared.

Tobin smiled, thinking he’d look forward to a hot breakfast tomorrow, but it would be green eyes that l ed his thoughts tonight, not buttermilk biscuits.

chapter 5

Y

when Liberty returned to the dance, she’d

tried to skirt past al the people wanting to give her their best wishes and nd her father. Somehow, she had to make him see reason. If she couldn’t talk him into cal ing off the wedding, at least she’d get him to postpone it. He might be neglectful at times, but face to face he’d never been able to tel her no.

Final y, she found him in his study, staring out the window and deep in thought.

“Father,” she said as she walked into his outstretched arm. His embrace was indifferent as it often was when she’d disturbed his thoughts.

“Princess,” he whispered, hardly looking at her. “Having fun?”

“I need to talk to you,” she said. “I have a problem.”

“Can it wait until morning? I need to set a plan in motion before it’s too late.”

Liberty guessed it would be a waste of time to tel him how unhappy she was about the wedding. “Of course, until morning.” She tried not to think of the hundred conversations he’d postponed over the years and never found the time for. Oh, he loved her, she’d never doubted that. Whenever matters of state gave him a minute to remember he was more than a senator, he always looked around for her.

Hugging him tightly, she whispered, “Good night, Father.”

“Good night, dear,” he mumbled. “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

At the door, Liberty turned back for one last glance at him. For the rst time in her life she might have to solve a problem without him. Her father had handpicked the captain, saying Samuel would grow into a ne ofcer in time. She remembered how the senator introduced them six months ago, bragging that Samuel was on his way up in the world and Liberty would be lucky to win his favor. Once, when the senator wasn’t aware she stood near, he’d said Buchanan was the son he wished he’d had.

It wasn’t likely her father would see her side and cal off the wedding. She sometimes felt as if the marriage had been set in a smoke-l ed room before she had even entered, and the bargain wasn’t hers to change.

Liberty straightened as she marched down the hal way, not knowing if she was strong enough to ght them both. For the most part, she thought of herself as more the mouse type. She’d never crossed her father—not over anything important. And the captain was used to taking charge.

Long, powerful ngers closed around her arm. Liberty let out a smal cry as Samuel moved up beside her.

“There you are. Come with me, Liberty. There are people I want you to meet.” His smile was polite, professional and cold.

She fol owed aware that he’d ordered and not asked. They seemed to be beyond smal talk. Straightening her gown, Liberty took a deep breath tel ing herself Samuel had a great deal on his mind. It was his job to keep her father safe. Trouble brewed on the border. He’d just accepted a new post he had to report to after the wedding. Captain Samuel Buchanan no longer had the time or energy to court her and the cracks in his polished manner were showing.

But none of these excuses made any difference. Samuel was not the man for her. She knew it al the way to her core. He was handsome, had high goals, and had been chosen by her father, but he was not the man for her.

Like a boy showing off his prize, Captain Buchanan circled the bal room. After he’d introduced her to everyone he thought important, he insisted on dancing.

As she fol owed his steps on the oor, she wondered how she’d gotten herself to such a hopeless place in her life. She’d been spoiled and pampered since birth. The only child of two only children. The motherless daughter of a powerful man. The beauty every man wanted to court. But now . . . where had it gotten her? Engaged to a man who probably knew to the penny how much money she had in her trust fund, and already considered her to be his property. Her father was too worried about something else to care.

Unwil ing to make a scene, she sat next to Samuel for a late supper. Her ancé talked about their wedding and his plans immediately after. “We’l have our honeymoon on the road to my new post,” he’d said as if she would have no objection. “I want to get there as soon as possible, and I know your father wil want to get back to Washington.

Once he’s back it wil only be a short time before he misses you and I’l be transferred.”

Liberty nibbled on her meal as he changed the subject to horses. “I know that fel ow in the barn probably has no idea how to act around a lady like you, but I don’t have time to teach you to ride. In the few days we have left before the wedding, he can start and I’l nish your lessons later. Right now I’ve more important matters that draw my attention.”

He nished the last bite of food on his plate and stood. “I think I’l go to the parlor for a cigar.”

Liberty saw her chance. “I think I’l retire. I’ve a headache.”

Samuel walked her to the foot of the stairs and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night.

Get some rest, dear, you look tired.”

Liberty had to force herself not to run up to her room.

She knew with al the houseguests Samuel wouldn’t fol ow her, but she needed to put as much distance as possible between them. He’d been obnoxious al evening. Since their kiss in the garden, he seemed to believe that he had a rm grip on his bride-to-be.

“Wel , he has another think coming,” Liberty mumbled as she climbed out of her clothes and tossed them aside. She wasn’t one of his men and she didn’t have to fol ow orders.

Joy, her maid, fol owed behind her, picking up. When Liberty stepped behind her beautiful china silk screen to remove the last of her clothing, Joy handed her a night shift.

“Is everything al right?” Joy whispered.

“It’s ne,” Liberty lied. “Go on up to your room. You’ve got to be as tired as I am.”

Joy yawned. “It’s been a long day and tomorrow we have to start packing. Stel a said she would help me. She’d like my job, I fear. Would like to move upstairs, if you know what I mean. Thinks she’s too good to be in the kitchen al the time.”

Liberty didn’t want to think about the staff. “Good night,” she said as she took the warm cocoa from Joy and waved her farewel .

After the maid closed the door, Liberty strol ed to the window and stepped out on her tiny balcony. The back of the house was dark. The barn only a shadow. Most of the guests had long ago gone to bed. This quiet time of night usual y calmed her. She loved listening to the wild sounds of the night on the rare trips to Texas. Everything seemed so untamed, so free. Everything but her.

Liberty’s thoughts grew dark. She could almost feel the cage that was being built around her. Her father already had too many worries; he didn’t need to know hers. In a few days Samuel would control not only her, but al the money, she had. In a few days the cage would be completed and the door locked and she’d have no choices left . . .

no life to cal her own.

Samuel said once that as the senator’s son-in-law he would natural y inherit al the Mayeld support if he wanted to run for Congress one day. Liberty didn’t think it worked that way, but that might explain why Samuel spent most of his time with her father.

“In a few days,” she whispered, trying to think of some way she could change her fate.

Al her life she’d dreamed of freedom, but for her there never seemed to be more than a few moments in time when she could slip away from her obligations. Every hour of every day she was surrounded, protected, pampered.

The horses in the corral circled, rustling the night with their stomps and whinnies.

She leaned over the railing, listening as if they were whispering to her. If she knew how to ride a horse, she could run away.

Even the possibility frightened the breath from her. If she could ride, she could escape.

She stared at the corral. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw the lean shadow of a man. He stood with his back to her, his legs wide apart, his arms resting on the corral fence. The faint sound of a low whistle drifted through the air as if he were calming the horses. Even in the dark, she knew who it was.

Tobin McMurray.

Maybe her one real chance to escape before the cage door closed.

chapter 6

Y

Tobin tried to ignore Stella at breakfast, but it

was hard to not be thankful for her buttermilk biscuits. They were, as she’d promised, the best he’d ever eaten. When he nal y looked at her, he was surprised that the biscuits didn’t seem to be the only things that had risen in the kitchen. Stel a’s bosom seemed to have doubled in size and looked like it might erupt out of her blouse at any moment.

“You’re up early,” she said with a giggle. “The men who help out around here aren’t in until after daylight unless the senator needs them.” She glanced over at Anna. “Of course, that doesn’t include Dermot. He lights the morning res for Anna and banks them at the end of the day.” She smiled at Tobin. “He says he likes starting and ending the day at her side. Don’t you think that’s about the most romantic thing a man could say?”

Tobin had no idea how to respond, but he tried to make conversation. “I like to be working by dawn.” He didn’t add that around Whispering Mountain, Martha threw out leftovers to the hogs by sunup. The memory made him wish for home, but he’d promised the senator last night that he’d stay another day.

“You’re not romantic?” Stel a leaned closer.

“No.” Tobin swal owed without chewing a bite. “I’m not.”

He tried to keep his gaze respectable, but it wasn’t easy when she kept leaning over to pass the butter or to ask if he wanted more coffee. He remembered once Teagen had commented about a wel -rounded saloon girl in Austin during Tobin’s rst trip off the ranch. His older brother said that a man can appreciate beauty without making a fool of himself. Tobin, almost sixteen at the time, went back into the bar that night for another look and ended up climbing the stairs with the saloon girl.

Every part of her was pretty, and when she undressed she smiled with a look in her eyes that made him feel drunk. In a violet robe that covered little, she’d taught him how to kiss and how a woman liked to be touched. She took her time, welcoming his advances as she told him al the things he could do to please a woman.