Kate Welsh - The Texas Ranger's Heiress Wife

Helena stalked into the barn, annoyed with herself, and stopped short as the cool darkness enveloped her. Before her eyes adjusted to the dimness, the sound of Brendan’s voice floated her way.

He was chatting away to Harry, his black-as-pitch gelding, as if he didn’t have a care. Harry matched Brendan’s personality to a T. They were both generally easygoing until something ignited their tempers. It didn’t happen often with either of them, but it wasn’t pretty when it did.

The feelings engendered by hearing that voice answered the question she’d been contemplating on her way there. He was the reason she couldn’t make up her mind about today. Brendan was jealous of Lucien, even if he’d deny it till death. He was wrong and she intended to prove it.

But she was in no mood to do so now, and there was no reason to set a match to dry tinder. She had time before she had to leave. He’d soon ride out to look for evidence of the presence of the raiders on her land. He did it every day. That was something they did need to talk about, but he’d been avoiding her. Truthfully, she’d been avoiding him as well. Now, though, she was annoyed enough at him to demand answers to her reasonable questions. Shamrock was hers and if Bren had found any clues pointing to the culprits and their hideout, she had a right to know.

The dim recesses of the barn came into sharper focus, so she walked toward Harry’s stall. The black’s head swung her way and he trumpeted a greeting. Harry’s antics always made her smile.

Brendan turned, and she saw the exact moment he realized it was her. He stiffened up, his back going poker straight. “And what is it I can be doing for the boss lady on this fine mornin’?”

She tried not to rise to the little sarcastic spin he put on “boss,” but some things ate at a person. “You’re right.” She planted her hands on her hips and nodded decisively. “I am the boss. I didn’t ask to be, but it’s what you made of me. So in that case, you can tell the boss lady what you’ve learned about the raiders.”

Brendan seemed determined to play peacemaker that morning, after all. “Other than that they’re vicious bastards? Not a thing.”

“You have no idea who they are? Who it might be, given that you said the Indian agents have vouched for the whereabouts of all the Comanche warriors? To me that says these aren’t Indian attacks at all.”

Brendan shook his head and turned back to fastening Harry’s bridle, then reached for the saddle blanket. “Frustrating as it is, there’s no evidence to prove who the raiders are.”

Helena stiffened. He was lying. She didn’t know how she knew, but she was sure he knew more than he was willing to say.

“You’re lying. You wanted nothing to do with me or Shamrock, yet now you’re here and keeping secrets.”

He tossed the saddle on Harry’s back, then reached under the horse to buckle the cinch. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he said finally, after he’d tightened the saddle down.

“You’re not annoyed that you’ve spent two weeks in the saddle, combing the hills, only to come up empty-handed? You should be chewing nails. Instead you’re in here chatting with your horse and ready to go on the hunt all over again.”

He gave a sharp nod. “That I am.”

“Either being a ranger taught you an inordinate amount of patience or you’re finding plenty out there and refusing to tell me. Why continue all this scouting if it’s a waste of time?”

“Didn’t say it was a waste. Perhaps I’m waiting to see what direction they come in from.”

“Then you picked up their trail. How else could you wait in a specific place for them to show themselves?”

Brendan blew out an impatient breath. “Or perhaps I have all corners of the spread bein’ watched. Did you think of that?”

Feeling foolish and ready to forget the whole thing, Helena started to turn away. Then she stopped. “In that case, who are you, to station men on my ranch without clearing it with me? I didn’t know you had my men watching our borders, because you’ve refused to do me the courtesy of telling me your plans for strengthening Shamrock’s defenses. My ranch’s defenses.”

His green eyes sizzled, but he said mildly, “I taught you to shoot, didn’t I?”

She clenched her fists, infuriated by his calmness. “You taught me to shoot, yes. But that’s the last I’ve seen of you.” Her voice rose as she continued, “From now on, clear every order with me. You’d never ride onto the Rocking R and order Alex’s men around without so much as a by-your-leave to him.”

Brendan smirked. “Granted, but then again, I can talk to Alex without a shoutin’ match eruptin’ within seconds of our first word. I told Mallory. He agreed to the plan. If he didn’t tell you...well, that’s not my problem, is it?”

No, Mallory certainly hadn’t told her, and they’d have words about it, but for now... “Brendan, either you learn to respect my position here and do it quickly, or you can sleep in that rocky no-man’s-land canyon and not my comfortable bunkhouse. Is that clear?”

He grinned.

“I asked you a question. I’m waiting for an answer. And what are you grinning about, you fool?” she snapped.

He took a step toward her, then another. She saw his intent in his hot gaze. He meant to kiss her. He’d always crossed from anger to arousal so easily, ending quarrels before their conclusion—one of them winning by default. But they hadn’t argued after they’d arrived in Tierra del Verde until that one day three years ago. That day he’d just shut down, signed the papers, then walked away—left her. And he’d stayed away.

Now, before she could decide what she wanted, lightning quick, his mouth was on hers. She tried to resist the leather-and-lime smell of him. But the battle was lost before it began. His kisses were meant to gentle her, and they always had before. They did now. And then the pleasure poured through her, along with that irresistible aroma of him. The firmness of his rangy muscles pressed against her length and the roughness of his callused fingers as he cupped her jaw made her want to feel his hands everywhere. She felt her own muscles go pliant, but then a nip on her lower lip demanded more. He wanted entrance. He wanted her to yield to him.

No.

She couldn’t.

If she let him in again, he’d destroy her. Despite her resolve, her limbs felt no more substantial than gelatin as they melted into him. She finally managed to gather her wits and summon strength, mental and physical. She pushed him away. Backward. Hard. He fell against Harry, shock written on his handsome features. She wanted to berate him for taking liberties, but she could no more get the words out than he seemed able to make one of his classic wiseacre comments.

He shook his head and mounted Harry. Then he stared down at her, cocky grin in place. “You look so damn cute when you get riled. Like a pretty little spittin’ kitten. Just couldn’t resist.” Then he tipped his hat and ducked through the stall door that led to the corral. He was gone before she remembered to close her gaping mouth. Which left her fuming. As usual.

Damn him.

Well, she’d show him, with all his security rules and plans. “Jimmy,” she called out.

The tack room door at the far end of the aisle opened and Jimmy’s towhead popped out. “Yes, ma’am?” His hair was in his eyes as always and he had a smudge of something on his chin.

She forced a smile. “I need my gig.” She cleared her throat and choked down the quaver she’d heard in her words. “Could you hitch it up while I go get my hat and reticule?”

“Sure thing, boss. Sorry. Forgot it was Friday. Thought with the ranger here, you might not go. You need me to ride along?”

“Ranger Kane plans to ride with me,” she lied. He’d be gone longer than she would. And if not, her absence would show him who was boss. “He’ll meet me along the ranch road. I’d help you harness up Gray, but...” She gestured to her green silk dress.

Jimmy frowned. “You going to meet Mr. Avery?”

She paused a second. “Are we friends, Jimmy?” she asked.

His eyes widened. “I hope so.”

“Have you come and eaten with me at the house?”

“Sure have. Maria’s a fine cook. Oh. Mr. Avery is...”

“My friend,” she finished. “The only difference is our ages and that the restaurant at the hotel is full of other people. Now, about the gig—”

“Oh! I’ll get right on it. And no need to be thanking me all the time, neither.”

She put her hand on his thin shoulder. “Yes, there is. My father taught me saying please and thank you costs nothing but a moment. And that there is never an excuse for bad manners with a friend or an employee.”

“Your daddy sounds like a nice man.”

Helena bit her lip and blinked away tears. “He was. And a good man. He helped a lot of people during his life.”

Jimmy nodded as if he understood, but she knew he didn’t. Her father had been her world. No one had ever understood the utter void left in her heart when Harry Conwell’s larger-than-life personality had been erased by an assassin’s bullet.

All she’d felt in the months that followed had been a bottomless well of loneliness. But then she’d stumbled across Brendan, and he’d filled the void with his all-consuming love. Then he, too, had gone from her.

Twice.

Because both times he’d found her wanting.

“Ranger Kane’s real nice, too,” Jimmy said, breaking into her thoughts. There was a hopeful tone in the boy’s voice. “I miss him when he doesn’t stay in the bunkhouse, but he is your husband, so I guess he stays with you some nights.”

Helena’s heart froze in her chest. She couldn’t answer or comment. She managed to say, “I’ll be right back,” then turned toward the front of the barn, blinking away hurtful thoughts and welling tears. Those were the nights he probably slept in some soiled dove’s bed.

Loneliness assailed Helena. Maybe someday, somewhere, the person she’d become would be enough for someone else.

If my memories of Brendan will ever let me move on.

Until then, she’d have to make do with friends. Like a bandage over a gaping wound. She wasn’t about to let Brendan deprive her of a single one of the friends she’d made.

* * *

Brendan stood after examining the fresh hoofprint. It had the distinctive nick on the right side, marking it as one ridden in the raid on Belleza. The recent print hadn’t been scrubbed away by the brisk wind.

A tremor of worry moved through him. Someone had been watching them. Watching the sentries he’d placed. The home place. The entire operation.

That someone had ridden straight into the canyon not two hours earlier. He knew, because he’d tracked the bastard.

Maybe Helena was right. Maybe he should camp out near the canyon. But the trouble with that plan was if the raiders struck from the ranch road, saving the northern canyon access for escape, he’d be thirty or forty minutes away when Helena needed him.

Restless, Brendan walked with Harry to the top of the hill. The grass was crushed where their watcher had hidden, spying for Avery.

Fury bubbled in Brendan’s veins as he mounted up and started downhill toward the home place. As he rode, he tried to weigh the pros and cons of going out to keep watch on the canyon or staying around to search for more bastards watching them.

Pretty soon he came to a realization: he couldn’t push his emotions out of the mix where Helena was concerned. Then the major’s voice echoed in his thick skull, reminding him to delegate. So he’d station a man to watch their watcher, and he’d do the same at the canyon.