Cherished (6 page)

Now, Breen thought, watching from the window
in his study as the buckboard drew up before the front steps and
the Tobias family alighted, she was here at last.

His waiting was over.

She’s a jewel, a rare and spectacular
jewel
, Breen reflected as he surveyed Juliana’s small, piquant
countenance, softly illuminated by the night’s first stars. He
enjoyed the fact that she had journeyed all this way without the
faintest idea of his plans for her. As a matter of fact, he had
enjoyed everything about Juliana Montgomery from the moment he had
first met her at the Governor’s Ball. Her beauty, her gracefulness,
her enchanting, tinkling laugh. He had known as soon as he set eyes
on her that she was everything he could ever want in a woman, that
she possessed the qualities he had long been searching for in a
wife. She was lovely, sophisticated and refined, yet spirited
enough to make him proud when he walked into a room with her on his
arm. None of these mealymouthed, insipid little debutantes would do
for John Breen, nor would a homespun Colorado girl suffice. In
marriage, as in everything else he put his hand to, he had to have
the best, a woman all other men would envy him for possessing. As
soon as Breen had glimpsed Edward Tobias’s niece, decked out in
pink tulle and lace, waltzing round and round the ballroom with a
score of foolish boys panting after her like pups chasing a bone,
he had known that Juliana Montgomery was the perfect bride for
him.

It was time for him to marry, time to think
about begetting himself a son to whom he could pass on the empire
he had built and which he was constantly expanding. But his wife,
and the mother of his son, had to be special, someone as remarkable
in her way as he was himself. Juliana was that. Every inch a lady,
yet not shy, not prim and boring. There was a natural grace and
poise about her, a subtle, tantalizing sensuality that had struck
him immediately. She looked soft as a kitten, yet when they had met
there had been laughter and confidence in her eyes, a directness
that he admired. He couldn’t wait to get her in his bed. Breen had
a sixth sense about such things. He’d have bet a fortune that
beneath Juliana’s golden innocence lurked a passionate woman, a
woman just waiting to be driven wild by a man’s caresses. He would
be the one to oblige her, too. No one else. He’d kill any other man
who touched her. Breen vowed that to himself as he let his gaze
travel over the elegant features and feminine enchantments of the
girl walking toward his door. He smoothed the tip of his mustache
before turning from the window. Yes, he thought with satisfaction,
he would have her, and before the month was out.

Walking up the lane to the ranch, Juliana
breathed in the icy sweetness of mountain pine. She glanced toward
the peaks of the Rockies, instinctively drawn by the vista of
looming mountains, and was so transfixed, she did not notice the
rest of the family lingering behind. As she trod up the steps of
the porch, still gazing at the lavender sky and great dusk-shadowed
peaks, the front door was suddenly thrown open. A tall man in
elegant gray shirt and breeches strode across the porch and smiled
directly down at her.

“Welcome, Miss Montgomery. Welcome to Twin
Oaks.” Taking her arm, John Breen guided her up the final step and
drew her onto the porch.

Juliana murmured a greeting in response, and
thought he would turn to Uncle Edward and Aunt Katharine and usher
them all into the house. But to her surprise he ignored the others,
and drew her along the porch to a window where light streamed out.
Still holding Juliana’s arm, he stared down at her, studying her
face and hair, illuminated by the glowing light. His smile deepened
at her surprised expression. Behind his gaze was a keen, richly
amused glint that she found somewhat unnerving.

He cut a splendid figure. Tall and slim, he
had a rugged countenance browned by sun and wind and distinguished
by a light, well-trimmed mustache and a pair of shrewdly
intelligent topaz eyes. She remembered those eyes. His hair, a
darker gold than Juliana’s, was brushed smoothly back, each strand
perfectly in place. His jaw was strong, with a cleft in his chin.
His grooming was immaculate; he looked like a man whose suits would
always be flawlessly pressed, whose boots were at all times
magnificently polished. Even his teeth shone as he smiled down at
her, but something about that smile, and the anticipatory
expression in his eyes, made Juliana uneasy. His look was bold,
victorious almost.

Like a mouse caught between a cat’s paws, she
suddenly wanted to squeak and run.

Silly
, she admonished herself.
You’re imagining things
.

But Juliana had not been the belle of St.
Louis society for two seasons without having learned to recognize
when a man was attracted to her. She felt a tiny shock race down
her spine as she continued to meet the intent stare of John
Breen.

He had shown no sign of being attracted to
her that one time they’d met—had he? Thinking back quickly, Juliana
realized she had been so busy with her swarm of overeager suitors
that evening, she had barely paused for breath when Uncle Edward
had introduced her to John Breen. Now, searching her mind with
great rapidity, she did remember that he had held her hand an
inordinate amount of time, and complimented her on her beauty
before she had been swept off by her current dancing partner. But
she had taken both the compliment and the warm look he bestowed on
her as civilities, nothing more. She hadn’t given John Breen
another thought until Uncle Edward had told her of this business
trip to Denver. Even then, she had thought of him merely as her
uncle’s associate, a mogul famous for his vast self-made
wealth—never as a suitor with a romantic interest in her. Yet, as
she stood before him now on the porch, she could not deny that he
was regarding her with the glance of a man who has much more on his
mind than business.

“Are you cold, Miss Montgomery? You’re
shivering. Come into the house and get warm.” He glanced over at
the rest of the Tobias family, who had come onto the porch and were
standing silently by, waiting to be greeted.

“Edward! Here, at last,” Breen threw over his
shoulder. “Come in, everyone. You’ll want to rest before the party
gets under way.”

To Juliana, as he led her into the house, he
said, “I hope the journey wasn’t too tiring for you.”

“No, Mr. Breen. Not at all.”

“You’re a bit pale. Every bit as beautiful as
I remember, of course, but ...”

“Juliana fainted when we got to town,”
Victoria blurted out.

Juliana gritted her teeth and managed to
restrain herself from glaring at her cousin, though at that moment
she would have dearly loved to box Victoria’s ears.

“Fainted?” Swift concern flashed across
Breen’s features. He swung Juliana around to face him. “Are you
ill? Shall I send for a doctor?”

“Oh, no, please. It was nothing. Victoria
shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Victoria, having no idea of John Breen’s
marital intentions toward her cousin, had been feeling peeved at
being so pointedly ignored. It was bad enough that Juliana
commanded the attention of the handsomest young men back home, but
to see John Breen positively doting on her the moment they arrived
without scarcely a glance at anyone else was too much to bear. She
knew Juliana hated any reference to her weakness regarding
bloodshed, and it gave her a surge of pleasure to confide something
to John Breen that would discomfit her cousin: this one missish
quality, the only frailty she seemed to possess, embarrassed
Juliana, and perhaps, Victoria thought with a flash of inspiration,
it would even diminish their host’s obvious admiration for her—for
surely western men preferred women of a hardier constitution. But
Victoria’s satisfaction was short-lived. John Breen appeared only
more intently interested in Juliana, and both her parents instantly
shot her such a furious glance that she quailed inwardly and
clamped her mouth shut.

It was Edward who cleared his throat and
said: “You see, there was a bit of trouble in town, John, and
Juliana became upset. A man was shot and she happened to run into
the fellow who did it—”

“What? Who was it? Did he touch you? Hurt you
in any way?” Breen questioned the girl swiftly, a hard look
entering his eyes.

“No, no, it wasn’t anything like that.”
Juliana could have happily strangled Victoria at that moment. “He
was a bounty hunter,” she started to explain, “and it wasn’t really
his fault at all—” but Uncle Edward cut her off.

“Cole Rawdon was the fellow’s name. He gave
the poor girl a nasty shock. You certainly can’t blame her for
fainting. Any girl of sensibility would have done the same.”

“Rawdon.” Breen frowned as he turned the name
over in his mind. “I’ve heard of the man, but never met him. What
happened?”

“Nothing, really.” Juliana insisted, with a
shake of her head. She was startled by the overly solicitous manner
in which John Breen was behaving toward her, almost as if he was
responsible for her safety and welfare. She was uncomfortable with
the fuss being made over the entire subject. “I am feeling
perfectly fine now—only a little tired—and I’d rather not discuss
it,” she said with what she hoped was a cool smile and her most
dismissive tone.

But Aunt Katharine was not to be silenced
until she had explained the matter to her own satisfaction.
“Juliana was naturally distressed,” she told Breen, stroking her
niece’s arm in a fond way. “She is such a sweet, sensitive girl,
and cannot abide violence of any sort, and here she stumbles upon a
brutal killing the moment she arrives in town—why, she actually saw
the dead man ...”

“Damned unlucky.” John Breen shook his head.
The look he gave Juliana was regretful. “I’m sorry your visit got
off to such a rough start. You’ve been gently raised—it’s only
natural such an event would shock you. Eventually, if you spend
some time in these parts, you’ll toughen up. But not too much, I
hope.” He grinned down at her. “You see, I like softness in a
woman.”

Juliana stiffened. How could her uncle stand
by and let such a forward remark pass unanswered? But Uncle Edward
was staring at his thumbs, and Aunt Katharine’s gaze was fixed
steadfastly upon the pattern in the Turkish carpet.

It was ludicrous. If any of the beaux who
came to call in St. Louis had ever treated her to such intimate
glances and bold words upon such a short acquaintance, she would
have been forbidden any contact with them. John Breen was behaving
as if ... as if he were her husband!

She remembered what Aunt Katharine had said
about not insulting their host, and she wondered with a little stab
of anger just how far her aunt and uncle would go to avoid giving
offense. She swallowed back her anger, and the setdown that sprang
so readily to her lips. It would not do to put him in his place,
she realized reluctantly. She had, after all, given her word to try
to be charming to the man. But not too charming, she told herself.
In fact, I’d do well to steer clear of John Breen before he seeks
favors I am not inclined to grant. It wouldn’t surprise me, she
thought with what she imagined to be great sophistication, if at
some point during our visit he even tried to steal a kiss!

“Might we have a cup of tea, Mr. Breen?” was
all she said to change the subject, speaking in the chilly, even
tone she reserved for suitors not in her favor. “I am certain my
aunt and Victoria are as in need of refreshment as I am.”

“Of course.” Breen eyed her in amusement,
sensing that her hackles were up, though she did nothing overt to
snub him. He led the way toward the parlour with lanky strides. “My
apologies, ladies. Hearing about the incident in town made me
forget all my manners. You see, I have no wife to act as hostess
and remind me of the niceties when guests arrive. You must forgive
me. The party won’t begin for a few hours, so you’ll have plenty of
time to rest and get ready. Miss Montgomery, right this way.”

As Juliana followed him through the wide
front hall, she felt herself nearly swallowed up by the massive
lines of the house that surrounded her. The ranch house seemed
almost as big as the land encompassing it. The dark-paneled walls
gleamed in the bright lantern light; beyond the hardwood floor of
the hall she saw a huge oak staircase leading to the second-story
landing, and there was a whole series of huge, sprawling rooms
branching off the main hall. The first of these was an enormous
parlour, big as a ballroom, and furnished with crimson damask sofas
and overstuffed blue velvet chairs, carved mahogany tables, and a
sideboard heaped with decanters of whiskey and brandy and wine. A
stone fireplace alive with a crackling fire added its cheery glow
to the crimson-draperied room. There was a Turkish carpet on the
floor and several fine watercolors gracing the parlour walls, but
despite the grand beauty of her surroundings, Juliana was
uncomfortable. Even as he poured a brandy for Uncle Edward and
watched the ladies sip their tea, something calculating and
expectant in John Breen’s expression every time it rested upon her
made her feel as if she were a tasty morsel about to be consumed
whole by a hungry man.

Even later, bathing in the rose-scented
bathwater Breen’s Mexican housekeeper prepared for her in her room
and patting herself dry with a luxuriously thick towel embroidered
in French lace, Juliana could not forget the gleam in John Breen’s
eyes whenever he was beside her, or the possessive touch of his
hand upon her arm. She shivered. Well, she would be polite to him,
but that was all. Surely Aunt Katharine and Uncle Edward would not
expect her to actively encourage his attentions only to further
Uncle Edward’s business dealings! That would be too much. John
Breen disturbed her somehow; despite his handsomeness, his charm
and air of solicitation, she sensed something cold, frightening
about the man. She didn’t trust him. And she didn’t want to get
into a situation where she would be alone with him.