Cherished (10 page)

She chose her words carefully, wary of the
intensity she saw glinting in his eyes. Her hair tumbled loose
about her small face, and she saw his gaze upon it. His glance
shifted to her mouth, staring at its softness. She made her voice
as hard and crisp as she could. “If this is a proposal, Mr. Breen,
I thank you. However, I must decline your most flattering offer—and
request that you escort me back to the ranch house at once.”

“Decline? Oh, no. You’re speaking out of
haste, honey, and that’s not good for either of us. You’re a bit
more skittish than I expected, Juliana,” he went on with a short
laugh. “I’m not doing this the way I planned—but seeing you with
that no-good cowboy made me lose my head. I can’t bear it for
another man to look at you, talk to you. This was going to be a
slow courtship, but I’m not as good at waiting for things as I used
to be. I’ve gotten used to getting what I want—and there’s no doubt
about it, honey, I want you.”

His fingers tightened around her arms. He
drew her closer, and smiled down into her outraged face. “Maybe
you’re a mite stubborn, Juliana, but I’m willing to overlook it.
You’re beautiful, and feisty as hell, and I’m going to have the
time of my life taming you.” As she started to struggle frantically
against his restraining embrace, Breen pinned her arms behind her,
grinning. “I know females. You like to put on airs, and act as if
you couldn’t care less about a man, but what you really want is to
be chased, caught, and conquered. Well, I’ve caught you—now comes
the conquering part. You know as well as I do that deep down, this
is what you’ve been wanting me to do,” he murmured, and brought his
lips down on hers in a bruising, greedy kiss that forced her head
back and robbed her of all her breath.

Juliana tried to twist her head away, but he
held her fast, and his mouth covered hers. Sickening revulsion
filled her. She strained to break free but he suppressed her every
movement and the kiss seemed to go on forever. His mouth was wet.
His mustache scratched her face. The smell of his hair pomade
sickened her as she struggled against his restraining arms. When he
at last lifted his head, licking his lips at the taste of her,
Juliana thought she would go mad with the urge to strike him.

“Animal! Let me go!” she cried, trembling
with rage and frustration, but he appeared not to hear her.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the first
time I saw you.”

“If you don’t let me go, I’ll ...”

“You’ll what?” he mocked, tightening his grip
on her to make clear her helplessness. “Honey, I admire your
spirit, but you can’t win in a battle against me. You might as well
just give in and enjoy it. As soon as you stop indulging these
innocent airs of yours, you’re going to make me a damned fine wife.
I’ll be the envy of every man this side of the Panhandle.”

“For the last time, I will not marry
you!”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’ll do as
your uncle tells you, Juliana, and he’ll do as I tell him. It’s all
settled and agreed upon. Now if you don’t hanker to living out West
all the time, that’s no problem. I conduct a great deal of business
in the East—we can travel to New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, and a
number of other cities a good many months of the year. Europe, too.
My holdings are expanding all the time. You’re not exactly going to
be stuck in Denver for the rest of your life, so don’t trouble your
head over that. But Twin Oaks is special to me and that’s where
I’ll expect you to raise our son.”

“You’re loco, Mr. Breen—as they say in these
parts,” she spit out, and tried to kick his ankles.

But to her chagrin he seemed unperturbed by
her vehemence and immune to her booted feet. “Loco about you,
honey,” he said warmly. He was going to kiss her again. She read it
in his eyes.

“I’ve decided the wedding will be Saturday.”
Breen shifted his grasp on her, so that with one hand he could
stroke the tangled softness of her hair. He lowered his handsome,
smugly smiling face toward hers with exquisite slowness. “No need
to let any grass grow under our feet. Soon as the ceremony’s done,
we can send those relatives of yours packing and get down to the
business of a honeymoon.”

His lips were inches from hers. She felt the
tension in his body and sensed the desire consuming him. Something
told her he wouldn’t stop with a kiss this time. Sure enough, even
as he planted his mouth to hers, his hand groped at her breast.
Desperate Juliana pushed against his chest with all her might.

Even as she did so, she remembered
something—something Wade had taught her when she was seven years
old. A technique she’d needed when the bullying nine-year-old son
of an Independence blacksmith had made her life miserable. A
technique that had sent the blacksmith’s boy crashing to the dirt,
whimpering like a beaten puppy. A technique so successful, she
wondered how she could have forgotten it. It involved a swift, hard
lunge of the knee against a particular part of the male body, and
she executed it now against John Breen with every ounce of her
strength, bringing her knee up with such a vengeance that he yelled
in agony. She felt his body quiver with pain and a surge of triumph
ran through her.

Then, gloriously, he released her, and sank
down upon the grass. Juliana leapt free and bolted toward her
horse.

Breen was still moaning on the ground when
she wheeled Columbine about in the clearing, but she didn’t even
spare him a second glance. As she spurred the mare to a gallop and
headed away from the creek as fast as Columbine could carry her,
she had a momentary feeling of euphoria, but as the scrub brush and
wildflowers flashed past, the feeling faded, replaced by somber
dread. Everything was happening too swiftly for her. Things were
out of control. She had to reason with Uncle Edward quickly, and
get them all away from Twin Oaks as soon as possible. When her
uncle heard how despicably John Breen had behaved, what he had done
to Gil Keedy, and how obsessed he was with marrying her—even
against her wishes—surely he would think twice about the
arrangements he had made. Juliana trembled as she rode. She knew
John Breen wanted her, but it certainly wasn’t because he loved
her. The man didn’t even
know
her. No, John Breen loved
the image of her—he wanted her because she was young and pretty and
elegant, he wanted her because she was something he would like to
possess, to pet and play with, a prize to flaunt before the
world.

Back in St. Louis young men had been charmed
by her, captivated, but her background had disqualified her as a
possible bride. Here in Denver, John Breen thought her a treasure
above all others and no doubt wouldn’t give a hoot about her
mother’s past or her brothers’ exploits. He wanted someone with
society manners whom he could show off to his friends—and a
beautiful ornament he could toy with in his bed.

Juliana vowed that he would have neither. At
least, not from her. Not as long as she had a single breath left in
her body.

She dug her heels into Columbine’s flanks and
rode for the ranch.

* * *

Uncle Edward faced her alone in Breen’s
library. His skin was ashen, but his face was set and calm as he
stood before the massive shelves of leather-bound books. “It’s
quite true, Juliana,” he informed her, his round eyes nearly
expressionless. “The matter is settled. John Breen has offered to
make you his wife.”

Between clenched teeth, she managed to lash
out a response. “I decline!”

He sent her a reproving look and smoothed the
lapel of his coat. He blocked her view of the diamond-blue
afternoon sky as he turned and paced to the window, staring out at
the rough landscape. “Too late, Juliana. I have already accepted on
your behalf.”

Pain throbbed in her temples. She clutched
the back of a chair for support. “You had no right, Uncle
Edward!”

“On the contrary, as your legal guardian, I
have every right.” He turned and smiled bleakly at her. “And I know
that once you have had a chance to get accustomed to the idea, you
will see that it is a splendid opportunity for you.”

“An opportunity for
you
—isn’t that
what you really mean, Uncle Edward?” she cried scornfully.

He had the grace to flush. His gaze dropped.
Through the pain in her chest, Juliana managed to speak in a flat,
even tone.

“I won’t marry him. You can’t force me.”

He pushed his spectacles higher on his nose
and squared his shoulders. “You’re wrong, Juliana. Until you are
twenty-one, I am your legal guardian and my actions are quite
proper and legal. I am taking sensible steps to insure your future.
Of course, your aunt and Victoria and I will miss you a great deal,
but we would never stand in the way of what is best. And John has
assured me that he will bring you to St. Louis for a visit within
the year.”

“I will not marry John Breen!” she
shouted.

A sound at the door made her wheel about.

John Breen stood there, fingering his
mustache.

“Your spirit does you proud, Juliana, but
it’s beginning to grate on my nerves.” He came forward into the
room, ignoring Uncle Edward, keeping his gaze riveted on the
furious girl before him. Sunlight streamed in the window, glinting
upon his fair hair and handsome features. “It’s time to stop
fighting your uncle and me,” he said curtly. “Pretty soon you’ll
come to realize we know what’s best for you.”

She stared at him as the throbbing in her
temples grew unbearable. “Why would you want a woman who doesn’t
want
you
?” she whispered.

He smiled at her as if she were an adorable
though wayward child. “You do want me, honey. You just don’t know
it yet.”

She ran past him and pounded up the stairs to
her room. She slammed the door and threw herself facedown on the
pillow, shaking with helpless rage. She had never felt so trapped,
so frightened.

Even when she was a child and her parents had
been killed, she had always known that there was someone to take
care of her—Wade and Tommy, or Uncle Edward and Aunt Katharine. Now
she had no one. No one cared. No one would do a thing to prevent
her from being condemned to this marriage. No one would lift a
finger to save her from being tied for the rest of her life to John
Breen.

No one except herself.

Still trembling, Juliana sat up and dashed
the tears from her eyes. She began desperately to plan.

Juliana was watched closely the next days.
She was not permitted to ride—all the horses were needed by the
hands, John Breen told her. She was kept from going to town—the
buggy was in need of repair, according to her fiancé. And she was
not allowed to spend time alone—Aunt Katharine or Victoria
continually followed her about and remained glued to her side for
hours, chattering about the wedding plans as if nothing were amiss,
as if she were the happiest, most eager bride-to-be in the
world.

Juliana could scarcely bear to look at them.
Aunt Katharine blithely ignored Juliana’s grim silence, and rattled
on about how fortunate her niece was to be marrying a man as
handsome and wealthy as John Breen. Victoria pouted that she hoped
everyone would make this much of a fuss when
she
decided
to marry—quite ignoring the fact that Juliana had decided nothing
whatever for herself. And John Breen set in motion a series of
plans for the wedding and honeymoon, complete with extravagant
festivities, oblivious of his intended’s stony lack of interest in
all that went on about her. To Juliana’s relief, he made no more
effort to be alone with her, apparently deciding it best not to
pressure her further before the wedding. Juliana guessed he
expected that by the time the vows were said and the wedding ring
placed upon her finger she would face up to the reality of the
situation and accept her position as his wife.

Well, we’ll just see about that
,
Juliana thought the evening before the wedding as she stood at her
window gazing out at the gold and lavender sunset spreading
delicately across the sky.

The mountaintops glowed a soft, misty purple
beneath the shimmering light. She stared at the distant peaks with
a mingling of yearning and trepidation. Tomorrow this time she
would be traveling by stagecoach somewhere in those mountains.
Whatever dangers might await her, they would have to be faced and
conquered, for they would be preferable, far preferable, to the
certainty of the fate awaiting her here. Somehow she would get to
Tombstone and try to track down where Wade and Tommy had gone. John
Breen would set out after her, she knew, but if she could get away
quickly, he would give up before long, and she would be free to
search for her brothers, to start a new life with them.

If only Gil were still here
, Juliana
reflected as she turned away from the window and began to pace the
room, scowling when her eye fell upon the ivory brocade wedding
gown draped across the bed, a dreamy vision whipped up by Denver’s
best seamstress for tomorrow’s occasion. Gil might have been able
to help her, she thought wistfully, but he had left Twin Oaks the
day Breen had driven him off, and there had been no sign of him
since. She hoped he was all right. At least he was free of Twin
Oaks, she thought with a sigh. She only hoped she would be so
lucky.

Somehow she would have to pull off this plan
of hers by herself.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the
fears somersaulting inside her stomach. There was a quick knock on
the door of her room, and before Juliana could speak, Victoria
stepped inside.

“Mama asked me to tell you that supper is
being served and everyone is waiting for you downstairs,” Victoria
blurted out, frowning at her cousin’s state of
déshabille
. Juliana’s slender figure was
enticingly draped in a pink satin dressing gown; her small, pretty
feet were bare. She appeared ready for bed, not for supper.