Heartstrings (24 page)

She recalled her eyes filling with tears. He’d told her she was beautiful. She’d never imagined how much the words would mean to her. Indeed, before she’d met Roman she’d rarely thought about her looks but had concentrated only on her studies. Smiling, she felt the corner of her mouth spread against his smooth skin. “I wept because you made me happy, Roman. The happiest I have ever been in my life.”

Her admission of happiness, the first any woman had ever spoken to him, strengthened the tug he felt in his heart.

And when she snuggled closer to his chest and wiggled in his arms, he thought about how right it felt to have her there.

Chapter Ten

W
ith Secret tied to the back
of the wagon, Roman drove the buckboard down the moonlit dirt road, Theodosia fast asleep at his side. As he’d vowed to do, he’d taken her out of Kidder Pass in the middle of the night. Sleepy as she’d been, she’d voiced little objection but had quietly done as he’d asked.

When they reached the town of Singing Creek at dawn the next morning, he carried her into the hotel. She never woke up, not even when he took off her clothes and tucked her into bed. After seeing to the wagon and horses, he joined her and promptly fell asleep beside her.

Hours later, when Theodosia awakened, she found herself in a strange room. She had no clothes on and was lying in bed next to Roman. Her first thought was that he was as naked as she was, but the feel of his buckskin-clad legs assured her he was not.

“What is Tibet?” John the Baptist asked from within his cage, which sat atop the small table in front of the window. “A land of giants? Who the hell is Ingrid?”

Theodosia watched her bird fling water onto the windowpane. Where on earth were they? she wondered, examining the small but clean and well-furnished room. She remembered Roman waking her up in Kidder Pass and telling her something about throwing the Jisters off the trail, and she had vague memories of traveling down a long stretch of dark road. But beyond those things, she had no further memory of the night’s activities.

Sweeping her gaze over Roman’s face, she decided her confusion didn’t matter. She was fine. Safe and sound. Roman had seen to that.

Warmed by her own thoughts and the heat of his body, she looked at his hat and gunbelt, which hung on the hatstand near the door. The familiar sight made her smile. Closing her eyes, she allowed her thoughts to drift through her mind like a gentle mist through lazy sunshine, and she wondered what it would be like to wake up beside Roman every morning for the rest of her life.

Married to him.

Her eyes opened. She gasped so quickly that she almost choked. Jerking herself away from him, she shook her head to clear it of such a ludicrous thought.

“Oh, Theodosia,” she whispered.
“Married to him?”

It was one thing to enjoy Roman’s company and attentions and to worry about the inner wounds his disturbing past had inflicted. It was even permissible for her to feel warm regard for him.

But it was quite another thing altogether to fantasize about being his
wife.

What in heaven’s name was happening to her? It wasn’t like her at all to indulge in daydreaming. Such fanciful thinking had no bearing at all on reality, and she’d always prided herself for keeping both her feet firmly on the ground.

She’d misplaced her wits, that was what. So flattered was she by this devastatingly handsome man’s compliments and passion for her—so touched was she by the tender feelings he drew forth from her—that she’d lost complete sight of her all-important objectives.

Resolve hit her as if someone had shot it at her.

The time had come to direct all her concentration toward her plans. She had to remember Lillian and Upton’s child. Had to intensify her efforts to find a man whose intelligence equaled Upton’s. She couldn’t forget her deep desire to travel to Brazil, either. And how could she have forgotten Roman’s own dreams? He didn’t want a wife. He wanted a horse ranch!

Dear God, things had gone much too far between them.

She sat up, and careful not to awaken Roman, she crawled to the end of the bed on her hands and knees.

Her round, white bottom was the first thing Roman saw when he opened his eyes. God, what a great way to start the day! he mused, reaching for her and hauling her back into bed with him.

“Roman, release me this very instant.” Both hands planted on his chest, she pushed with all her might.

The real anger he heard in her voice bewildered him. Taking hold of her shoulders, he gave her no quarter as she tried to escape him. “What—”

“I must get dressed and begin my plans—”

“You don’t even know where you are, Theodosia. How can you make plans?”

“I have made them.” She wouldn’t look into his eyes, knowing that if she did, she’d be completely lost. “And it doesn’t matter that I don’t know where I am. Whatever town this is, I’m certain that a newspaper office is a part of it. I must have my circulars printed and posted. If all goes well, I will begin conducting interviews by late this afternoon.”

He no longer found her advertisements for a lover as amusing as he once had. Letting go of her shoulders, he lay back down and glared at the brass hatstand across the room.

Theodosia got out of bed, opened one of her bags, and quickly donned a silk wrapper. “We slept together. In the same bed.” She glanced at him and immediately wished she hadn’t.

His long ebony hair flowed over the pillow and pooled on the mattress, providing a captivating contrast to the pristine sheets.

His size never failed to amaze her. Even from where she stood, she could see each ripple of his muscles, each masculine line of his thick, long body. One of his thighs was almost as big as her waist!

She couldn’t understand how they’d both fit in the bed. He filled it completely.

“It was late when we got here,” Roman told her, still staring at the hatstand but feeling her gaze traveling over him. “There’s only one bed, and I sure as hell didn’t want to sleep on the floor.”

“You didn’t have to take my clothes off.”

“You didn’t mind when I took them off yesterday.” He swung his feet off the bed and stood.

Her heart swooped. Tantalized by the sheer grace locked within his tremendous frame, she could do nothing but stare as he walked toward her.

“For God’s sake, Theodosia, tell me what happened between yesterday and now that is making you act this way.”

I dreamed of being your wife.

“Answer me!”

“I have not been devoting sufficient time and energy to my goals, and do not shout at me.” Flustered, she folded her arms across her breasts, dropped them back down to her sides, then folded them across her breasts again.

“When I—when I am with you…” she faltered, her fingers tapping the backs of her arms, “you make me forget my aims. In all honesty, I do enjoy your attentions, and as I told you yesterday, I have no immunity whatsoever against—against your
sexual sorcery.
But I cannot,
must
not forget my ambitions. Lillian and Upton’s child is—”

“You said you didn’t regret what happened yesterday.” He flung the words at her as if he were pitching stones.

She cast her gaze to the floor. “I didn’t. I don’t. But it was terribly unfair of me to allow you such liberties. In hindsight, I realize that my willingness gave you to believe that we would continue such intimate activities, which is not the case at all. I apologize for having misled you.”

He didn’t want her apology. He wanted to feel her in his arms again.

“Roman, I understand why you slept with me last night, but the time will soon come when I… Once I choose the man to sire the child…” She lifted her gaze and met his. “When I find him, you will have to sleep elsewhere, and I will tell you now that it will be for more than one night. I have no intention of failing in my endeavors and will avail myself of the man’s services until I have conceived Lillian and Upton’s child.”

Roman’s eyelids narrowed so tightly that he could barely see. Thousands of men lived in Texas, and not all of them were like the greasy son-of-a-bitch he’d pitched out of the window in Wild Winds. It was entirely possible she
would
find a suitable father for the baby.

“Do you understand, Roman?”

His mouth twisted, but he conquered his ire. “I understand, Theodosia.” Quickly, he dressed. “Now let me tell
you
something I hope you will understand,” he said, buckling his gunbelt around his hips. “Your plans are your own business. The only thing that concerns me is getting the rest of the money I need for my ranch.”

“I beg your pardon? But you already have the money to buy—”

“I don’t have any horses,” he snapped. “How can I call my ranch a horse ranch without horses? Pay me my salary when you’re supposed to, and I won’t care if you
avail yourself
of the services of every male genius from here to China.”

He stormed out of the room, slammed the door behind him, and headed straight for the saloon.

He had whiskey for breakfast, more for his midday meal, and by the time he’d had his fill and left the saloon, Theodosia’s circulars fluttered from every post in Singing Creek.

T
hough the cluster of men
outside her door waited quietly, Theodosia had no intention of beginning the interviews until Roman returned.

How could he do this to her? she asked herself for the thousandth time since the candidates had begun to arrive. Had it escaped his memory that she’d hired him to be her bodyguard? And to think she’d paid him a hundred dollars in gold in advance!

She crossed to the window and peered down at the dusty street below but saw no sign of the irresponsible rake. Anger spread through her like slow-working poison.

A sudden pounding on the door nearly made her knees buckle. Deeply startled, she spun away from the window and clutched the bodice of her gown. “I have already announced that the interviews have not yet begun!” she shouted at whichever one of the candidates was banging on the door. “If you will only be patient for a few more—”

“It’s me! Open the damned door!”

At the sound of Roman’s deep voice, relief filled every part of her. She hurried to let him into the room.

As soon as she opened the door, one of the candidates shouldered his way through the group of other men. “We were here first! Why are you letting
him
in?”

Before Theodosia could answer, Roman snatched out his Colt and pressed the barrel between the man’s eyes. Slowly, as if enjoying every tense second, he pulled back the hammer. “I could see to it that you
never
get in.”

Alarmed by the violence of Roman’s action and warning, Theodosia tried to understand what was the matter with him. True, he wasn’t above using force when he deemed it necessary, but threatening murder wasn’t like him at all. “Roman,” she said gently, placing her hand on his shoulder, “he only wants his turn, which is no reason to kill him.”

Roman lowered his gun and walked into the room.

As he passed her, Theodosia smelled whiskey. He reeked of it! Her anger returning with a vengeance, she watched him open John the Baptist’s cage and remove the parrot. He then sat on the bed, and the wall against his back, he settled her pet in his lap and began to stroke the bird’s head.

Theodosia longed to give him a piece of her mind. How dare he return inebriated! Oh, what she would tell him when she’d finished the interviews!

With a wave of her hand, she invited into the room the first applicant, a tall blue-eyed man with wavy black hair. “Please be seated, sir,” she said, indicating the two overstuffed chairs by the window.

As soon as the man sat down, Roman began a conversation with the parrot. “So, bird, what do you know?”

John the Baptist pecked at a button on Roman’s shirt. “Sir, you are seeing my legs.”

Roman glanced at the bird’s scrawny legs. “Yeah, and they’re sexy as hell.”

“Roman,” Theodosia bit out, “would you please—”

“Do you enjoy macerating, too, Mr. Montana?” John the Baptist asked, lifting his right wing.

Roman nodded. “Every chance I get. And no matter how often I do it, I never go blind or insane, and no hair has ever grown on the palm of my hand.”

Swallowing her fury, Theodosia sat down in the other chair and gave her full attention to the candidate. “May I know your name, sir?”

“Andrew Colby.”

“Well, Mr. Colby, I can see that you meet the physical requirements, so we shall advance to the intellectual—”

“You, Miss Worth, are the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” John the Baptist declared, his voice screeching through the room. “While engaged in the kiss, the man must then begin to fondle the woman’s breasts.”

Roman pounded the bed with his fist and laughed uproariously.