by Stacey Kayne
“We did not! We had a lovely house.”
Reginald arched an eyebrow. “Which he built himself, I gather?”
“My mother was happy.”
“Then it must be true what they say, that love is blind. A cabin in the wilds of Missouri is not my idea of a lovely home.”
What did the Carringtons know of love? She’d seen no trace of it since she’d been taken from Missouri, not the kind of love her parents had shared. “We may not have had a grand house, but Mother took pride in our home. She wanted for nothing. We had a wonderful housekeeper to help with cooking and household chores. Geneva wasn’t a nameless servant. She wanted to keep me when Mother died.”
“And yet you were placed with Great-aunt Iris.” Regi grimaced. “Luck was not raining down on you that day.”
As far as Lily was concerned, Aunt Iris was neither better nor worse than the rest of the blooming Carrington clan. None of them could replace her mother. Rose Palmer had been soft-spoken and gentle. She’d been the tranquil center of their family; nothing ever seemed to rile her. Though she could scold quite well, her daughter and husband alike, especially when her father fretted over money.
“Red Palmer, a fool’s fortune cannot buy my happiness.” Her mother had spoken those words many times.
Had she been referring to her inheritance—the fortune Lily had built her life around? She suddenly wondered if her parents would approve of the life she’d chosen. She’d been so focused on taking over Carrington Industries, she’d all but forgotten about the world beyond her mansions.
Her gaze collided with the bare-chested man walking silently from the trees. His shirt tossed lazily over his shoulder, bronze skin and gilded hair flickering in and out of twilight and shadows as he neared their clearing, the night quickly falling in around him.
Not quickly enough.
The vision moving toward her shed new light on the man steadily destroying her senses. His damp wavy hair hung over his eyes. Barefoot but for the bandanna tied around his left foot and his pants rolled up to midcalf, he appeared rather sweet, disarming and wholly inviting.
As he approached the fire, Lily’s gaze slid from curly wisps of hair on his firm chest to the ripple of muscle above his belt. The hard surface flexed with each slow stride. A violent stir of sensation swept through her. She crossed her arms over the sudden, startling ache in her breasts.
Sweet mercy.
“Good God, man,” said Regi. “You’ve caught a feast.”
Only then did she notice the line of fish he held in one hand, his boots and hat in the other. She’d been far too busy gaping at his half-clothed body. Thankfully he and Regi were too preoccupied to notice her visual detour.
Juniper set his hat and boots aside, then dropped to his knees across from Lily. He tossed his shirt over his hat and pulled a bundle of sticks from his back pocket. His damp hair hid his eyes as he focused on the fish and began shoving the long sticks into the ground around the fire.
Lily’s gaze locked on a jagged scar just below his left shoulder, the welted flesh stretching from his collarbone to midshoulder.
“How did you manage to catch all those?” asked Reginald, leaning in to watch him.
“Practice and patience.”
Firelight glimmered against another spot on his right upper arm, a circular pucker of scared skin.
A bullet wound.
“How clever,” Regi said. Inspecting the fish, Juniper slid the open mouths over the sticks arranged around the fire pit, creating a teepee of fish over the low flames.
“This is it for supper,” he said. “My food supplies are depleted from my trip into the high country. A small bag of coffee is all I have left.”
“Coffee and trout is far more than I expected,” said Regi.
A smile bowed Juniper’s lips, which collapsed the moment he glanced at Lily. She swallowed, feeling as though he could see right through her. He stood and turned away, flexing dark skin over a muscular torso.
Fighting a flash of tingling sensation, Lily drew up her knees. She rested her forehead on her folded arms and tried to block him out. What’s come over me?
Tomorrow she’d get her strongbox, make peace with the lumberjacks and sell the blasted camp as Regi had suggested. For the first time in her adult life, she couldn’t win. For the first time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to win.
Chapter Seven
“M iss Palmer?”
Lily glanced up at Juniper standing directly in front of her. He wore a gray flannel shirt and had pulled on his boots. She grimaced, knowing his foot must hurt. His ever-present revolvers shone in the firelight.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
She blinked and realized he held out a cup and plate.
“Starving,” she said, reaching for the dented tin. “Thank you.” She set the cup beside her and positioned the plate on her lap. Two shriveled black eyes stared up at her. Was she supposed to just pick up the whole fish and bite into it, skin and all?
Juniper released a hard sigh and crouched low before her. Firelight glinted on the knife he pulled from a scabbard on his belt. A few quick flicks of his wrists left four fillets on her plate.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, turning away.
Regi sat beside her, holding what appeared to be a fish lollypop. Undaunted by its unappealing exterior, he pulled back the crinkly skin and broke off a piece of white meat.
It dawned on her that she held the only plate. She glanced at the cup of steaming coffee. “I don’t want to take the only cup of coffee.”
“There’s more in the pot,” said Juniper. “After you finish yours, I’ll pour one for Reg.”
Juniper reclined against his saddle and tried to focus on his meal, while subtly watching her. Lily tugged at her green gloves, plucking one finger at a time before tucking the folded leather into her skirt pocket. She stared down at her plate and he half expected her to demand some silverware. Finally, she broke off a large piece of fish and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes closed as a shiver went through her.
Juniper forced himself to look away. She must be half-starved, he thought as he began picking at his own fish.
A few moments later a soft smacking sound drew his gaze back to Lily, just as her mouth closed over a slender fingertip. He stopped chewing as a second finger touched lightly on her pink tongue. He damn near stopped breathing.
Focus on the pain in your foot, he silently ordered, reminding himself that her pretty pink tongue had a razor-sharp edge. He shouldn’t be getting hot and bothered over L. P. Carrington.
She’s not a Carrington, his mind shot back.
He tossed a fishbone into the fire.
She’s Red Palmer’s daughter.
Having licked her fingers clean, she reached for the tin cup.
She’s something else, he thought, watching her scrunch her nose as she took a small sip.
A grin unwittingly curved his lips. “Don’t tell me you’re a tea drinker.”
She peered at him. The fire illuminated her long amber eyelashes. “I prefer hot chocolate, actually.”
He chuckled and shook his head.
“What?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t have pegged someone so sour as having a sweet tooth.”
“And I wouldn’t expect a gunfighter to be a lawman.”
“Touché, Miss Palmer.”
“Must you continue to call me Miss Palmer?”
He sure as hell did. He needed the reminder. “It’s who you are,” he said mildly. “Lily Palmer. Isn’t Carrington just your business front?”
She didn’t bother answering him, but turned toward her cousin. “Here,” she said, passing the cup to Reg. “I’ll only be wasting the coffee.”
Juniper crossed his ankles, propping up his throbbing foot. The shift of tight leather over his wound sent a bolt of pain clear up his leg.
My own fool fault. He wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking, to hand Lily his gun. His choice years a
go to live might have changed her life, but being raised in wealth and privilege wasn’t exactly a hardship. She hadn’t been shipped off with an abusive uncle who’d let her go hungry, forcing her to fight for her life or die in the street.
When he thought about it like that, the guilt twisting inside him made him mad as hell. Instead of focusing on a company in turmoil, she’d held their pay and taken her sweet time packing all her fancy dresses and polishing her daddy’s gun. Men had died on account of her pay holds. Hell, men were still dying! Hadn’t he wanted to have a few choice words with the San Francisco bigwig who’d been making life on the mountain a living hell?
And there she sat, in her fancy dress, steel in her spine, arms locked over her chest as though she lorded over these lands. A spoiled, pampered princess.
“Why are you meddling with such foolish things as lumber camps anyhow?”
Her green gaze tagged him from across the fire. “I—”
“Why haven’t you been married off?” he shot in.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re nice enough lookin’,” he said with a shrug. “When you’re not all scuffed up.”
Her hand went to the drooping sleeve, drawing his attention to the graceful curve of her dainty shoulder, the supple soft skin he’d rather not have noticed and an attraction he damn sure didn’t want.
“I’m unwed because I choose to be so.”
“True enough,” Reginald agreed. “There was once a time when prospective suitors lined the block.”
“Must have been before they got a dose of her shrewd mind and sharp tongue,” Juniper said in a whispered yet perfectly audible tone.
Lily’s eyes flared.
“Would you look at all those stars,” Reginald said, clearly trying to change the subject.
“My guess is,” Juniper said, holding Lily’s hostile gaze, “any man with the sense God gave him would dodge the risk of frostbite and beat a hard, fast path to safety.”
The strangled noise coming from Reginald sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter.
“Sorry, Lily,” he choked. “Carrington women do seem to be cold by nature.”
Lily gaped at her cousin. “I’m not cold! I simply choose to focus on building my business. I have nothing to gain by tying myself to a man.”
“Spoken like a virgin,” said Juniper.
“How dare you!”
“Had lots of lovers, have you?”
Lily could hardly believe he could casually ask such an outrageous question. Heat flamed across her cheeks. “The fact that you think I’d entertain such a—”
“Actually,” he said in the same neutral tone, “my point is that you likely don’t entertain. You’ve got to give a little of yourself to find real pleasure with someone. Women like you get more of a thrill from watching men squirm. Only a wealthy miser would want a woman who’s got her drawers cinched so tight she can eat coal and spit diamonds.”
“Now see here,” Reginald started.
“You have more nerve—”
“No, I don’t,” Juniper interrupted, his steady gaze burrowing into her. “I just see through yours.”
Startled by a sudden burn of tears, Lily stood and rushed toward the darkness, anxious to be away from Juniper’s penetrating gaze.
Juniper watched her go, his pulse pounding in his ears.
He dragged in a deep, calming breath before glancing at Reginald. “Did I go too far?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Good.” He knew he had. Hell. He’d never spoken so rudely to a woman in all his life. He’d also never encountered a woman who nettled at his control with such efficiency. The ache in his foot had him short-tempered. The ache in his pride wasn’t helping matters. And the ache in his britches made him downright cantankerous.
“In all fairness to Lily,” said Reginald, “she truly does have a brilliant mind.”
“I’m not inclined to disagree with you.”
He wasn’t ready to agree with him, either. So far Lily Palmer Carrington had been nothing but a pile of pretty trouble bound in bad memories and a lifetime of regret.
“What was that business of giving her your gun really about?”
Sheer stupidity.
His reasoning told him Lily had every right to hate him, but he didn’t want to listen to reason. He didn’t want to listen to any voice that allowed her to only see the bad in him.
Juniper shoved his hands through his hair. “Temporary insanity?” he offered, certain the woman was driving him out of his mind.
“Lily can have that effect on men,” Reginald said in a mournful tone.
Juniper glanced at the man sitting to his right. While Reginald appeared relaxed, Juniper hadn’t missed the change in his posture after that last barb toward Lily. He’d been ready to come to his cousin’s defense.
“She can be stubborn and difficult,” said Reginald, “but she’s really not all bad.”
Neither was he. Not that it mattered. She was bent on seeing him as nothing more than a ruthless killer. One of her accusations had nagged at his mind after he’d reached the river.
How can I possibly have faith in the man who killed my parents….
It wasn’t the first time she’d accused him of killing both her parents. “I didn’t orphan her,” he said to Reginald. “I never even met her mother.”
“Aunt Rose died of influenza a few weeks after her husband’s death. For Lily, it may well have felt like one endless wave of tragedy.”
Both her folks in just a few weeks? A ripple of hurt washed over Juniper.
“She was brought west after Aunt Rose’s death. Quite begrudgingly. I do believe the attorneys who fetched her all suffered bite marks and bruises.”
Juniper could just imagine. He wouldn’t expect any daughter of Red’s to be docile. The meek and mild didn’t survive up in the wild country where he’d chosen to raise his family.
“She put up a fight for months,” said Reginald. “It must have been frightening to be uprooted from the only home she’d known and dumped off with complete strangers.”
“Was her mother estranged from the family?”
“Aunt Rose wrote off the Carringtons when she eloped with her outlaw lo—uh, Red Palmer.”
“Family didn’t approve?”
Reginald’s snort suggested not. “I’m sure she was expected to marry a suitor befitting her social status. They tried to find her, but she clearly did not want to be found. The only correspondence came fifteen years later, a letter from Rose’s housekeeper informing the family of her passing and of Aunt Rose’s wish for Lily to remain in Missouri. Of course the family wouldn’t permit it, Lily being an heiress and all.”
“Of course,” Juniper mocked. “Never mind a woman’s dying wish.”
“Believe me, Lily has spent her adult life making sure they regretted that decision.”
The thought of Lily harboring such anger unsettled him. Having her around his family might not be the best plan. He couldn’t have her spouting her opinions about him around Jed and Rachell and their children. They wouldn’t stand for it. And he surely didn’t want them feeling as though they had to defend him. Lily wasn’t likely to be swayed on the subject, especially after he’d been so rude a few moments ago.
Damn. Where was his head? How could he expect her to hold her tongue when he behaved no better? Reginald seemed to fare pretty well with her. Surely the woman could be civil if she put her mind to it.
“The two of you seem to get along okay,” he said.
Reginald’s lips slanted with a wry grin. “We understand each other, I think. We spent much of our youths together.”
“Masochistic, are you?”
His smile widened. “To be raised in a Carrington home is no kindness. I’d have been bored to tears without Lily. She intrigued me. She didn’t fuss or pout at her mistreatment. She planned. The day she came of age was the most exciting day of my life. To see my father and grandfather rendered helpless, the realization that tw
o of their least-favorite people had outsmarted them written across their faces…We were positively drunk with power that day.”
“I take it you had your own problems with the family.”
“Oh, God, yes. Family wealth isn’t the blessing it would seem. When you’re made to feel beholden for the air you breathe, it’s bondage. Lily gave me my freedom. More important—my dignity. She could have destroyed the family’s finances. Corrupt accountants had managed their funds for too long. Lily’s un-spoiled shares were all that kept them afloat. Instead of doing as our relatives feared, she forged her company and rebuilt their fortunes from the ground up. She’s made the entire Carrington clan quite rich.”
“They must hold parades for you both on Sundays.”
“Surely not,” he said with a tittering chuckle. “But their brimming bank accounts tend to shut them up. Everyone but my father and grandfather. Though impotent of any real power, they still sit on the board of trustees. Mostly to annoy us, I think.”
“And the two of you do as you please?”
Reginald groaned and rubbed at his temples. “We work, Sheriff Barns. I assure you, no employee of Lily’s sits around on his laurels. Nor is she one to lounge about and simply delegate.” He stared at Juniper intently for a moment. “I’d wager you and Lily are much alike.”
“You think so? Must be our sweet dispositions.”
Reginald grinned. “Likely,” he said, surprising Juniper. “Lily can be stern, but she does try to be fair. You seem to share her natural tendency to dominate, which comes from a confidence that’s engrained in you. I do believe this is the first time I’ve ever seen her confidence shaken.”
She wasn’t the only one. When it came to Lily, Juniper felt about as confident as a rabbit in a rattlesnake den.
“She never talks about her parents, but after today I gather she hasn’t gotten over the loss.” Reginald yawned as he leaned back.
“You don’t have to lie in the dirt.” Juniper stood and went to retrieve the tarpaulin. He grabbed up his range coat, shrugged it on, then took the heavy canvas and his only blanket back to the fire. He tossed the blanket to Reginald.
