An Agent for Diana (The Pinkerton Matchmaker, Book 10)

by Rebecca Connolly

  “You’re the senior agent,” Diana whispered, her green eyes bright in the light of the morning, and wide as they stared into his. “You tell me.”

  The warm burst in his chest roared into an explosion, and he found absolutely no answer to give her. He had one, to be sure, but not one that could be shared, and not one he dared say aloud.

  The answer was yes, of course. Yes, he was in danger. Yes he was right to hate this idea. Yes, it was complicating things to have a woman for a partner.

  Yes, he was enjoying this whole endeavor. Far more than he should, than he could, and than he usually would.

  He lifted his eyes over Diana’s head to see they were no longer being observed, and he exhaled, pressing his lips quickly to her brow in a perfectly perfunctory kiss that wouldn’t be taken any other way. “All right, we’re safe. I’ll race you.”

  He took off at a run, escaping his feelings as much as his wife, praying that the exertion would be an effective distraction for both of them.

  It had to be.

  “Rude!” came the outraged cry behind him, and for an instant he thought he had truly wounded her with his evasion. Then a streak of color caught his peripheral vision, and though it did not blow past him, it kept pace with him handily.

  And it giggled with an infectious air he was coming to know all too well.

  “Not happening, Diana,” he insisted loudly, forcing his legs to pump faster, moving with a speed he hadn’t reached in several years.

  It wouldn’t be gentlemanly, trouncing his wife in a footrace, but he’d never had a partner that could outrun him, despite not being the fastest agent, and he was not about to start now.

  He’d give up being a gentleman for the sake of his self-respect.

  So long as his mother never found out.

  He heard some sound from Diana that he ignored, and ran harder, laughing to himself now. The blood pounded in his ears, his laughter echoing strangely, his lungs burning with the strain of maintaining this pace. He would win this race, and he would run himself into the ground to do so.

  The barn was in sight, and he rounded off the road, pushing himself even harder, even faster. He couldn’t even hear Diana anymore, and he grinned at the thought that he had outpaced her so handily, despite her own speed. She’d be irritated with him, scowl in a rather becoming way, and begrudge his every instruction in the shooting lesson. But she had vowed to obey him, in a way, and he would be only too pleased to remind her of that.

  He reached the barn and came to a stop, chest heaving, legs already beginning to ache, but exuberant in his victory. Now he had only to wait for his dawdling wife, and let things commence.

  A strange mixture of laughter and panting met his ears, but not from the road he’d just run. It seemed to be behind him, if that was in any way possible.

  “It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.”

  He stiffened, and slowly turned, knowing what he would see, but not how he would see it. Diana stood inside the barn, red-faced and hair in disarray, though still braided somehow, and she grinned at him without any sort of shame or reserve.

  Wyatt stared at her, his lungs seeming to sputter in their recovery, arms and legs aching more out of outrage than fatigue. “How?” he eventually managed.

  Diana laughed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Lesson number one, Wyatt. One does not have to be as fast as one’s opponent if one can outthink him.”

  He continued to stare, processing what she had said. He inhaled and exhaled slowly as understanding dawned. “You knew a shortcut.”

  One shoulder lifted in a dainty shrug. “I saw what could be one yesterday on our tour, and I took a chance today. It happened to pan out.”

  “So it seems.” He had to smile a little, soundly trounced as he was, and admire the cunning of this surprising partner he’d been saddled with.

  Her nose wrinkled slightly. “You’re not upset, are you?”

  He scratched the back of his neck and laughed once. “No. Embarrassed I didn’t think of it, impressed you did, but not upset.”

  “Good.” She pulled one arm from behind her back, silver pistol in hand. “Now, shall we begin?”

  “Where did that come from?” he demanded, pointing at the offending weapon, too large to be designed for a woman, too small to be intimidating to anyone looking at it.

  Diana huffed and cocked the gun, lifting a brow. “Somewhere you don’t need to know. Now, teach me to shoot before the entire town is actually awake and we become notorious.”

  “Here they come.”

  Diana glanced up towards the road where, sure enough, a few men were beginning to gather, coming in their direction. “Lovely,” she said, returning her attention to the target of their shooting.

  She’d only grazed the fence posts thus far, but Wyatt had cleanly hit all four and the beam twice. He’d adjusted her stance here and there, her hand position twice, and praised her efforts, despite the lack of success. Apparently she was better than he’d thought she would be, whatever that meant, and she was ‘remarkably steady’ throughout.

  What a lovely thought. Steady. Just what every woman wants to hear.

  She closed her left eye, aiming the pistol the way he had showed and demonstrated.

  “Hurry,” Wyatt murmured in a surprisingly soothing voice, sending a warm ripple down her spine. “Or you’ll never get it off.”

  “Patience,” she replied, keeping her voice low.

  She pulled the trigger slowly, bracing the gun securely, and felt her heart stop for a moment with the release of the bullet. Miraculously, the center of the wooden post split just an inch or two from the top, splinters flying off in every direction.

  Diana gaped at the near-perfect position, and turned to Wyatt, not bothering to hide her shock.

  He was no less stunned and blinked at the sight before taking her in owlishly. “How did you do that?”

  “If I knew, I’d have done it the first time,” she replied with an astonished laugh. “Beginner’s luck?”

  “I certainly hope so.” He holstered his gun and shook his head. “Diana Henderson, you terrify me sometimes.”

  She frowned at the false last name, then heard the footsteps behind her and immediately forced a wry smile, sauntering over to him. “Why, what a lovely thing to admit. Not all husbands would be so frank with their wives.”

  Wyatt smirked and slid his arms about her with far too much ease. “Let it never be said that I was less than frank with my wife, then, if it appeals to you so much.”

  Diana took a chance, arching up and brushing her nose against his. “It does.”

  He shuddered, and she felt it, her breath catching with the sensation.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  Diana whirled with a gasp, not entirely feigned, and Wyatt moved her behind him in a quick, fluid motion, immediately taking a defensive position.

  Four men approached, two of whom she recognized from the night before, though their names were not known. One was clearly the sheriff, and, strangely, he stood a little apart from the others.

  Yet he was the one leading the way, and spoke again. “Do you know whose fence this is?”

  “Uh…” Wyatt stammered in a convincing display of nerves, though Diana wondered faintly if he, too, was not entirely feigning. “No, sir.”

  “Well, it is mine!” a scraggly bearded man croaked, stepping in front of the sheriff. “And I demand satisfaction!”

  “Easy, Roger,” one of the other men said in a perfectly calm tone. “These people are not from around here.”

  Roger looked at him in dismay. “Who goes around shooting a stranger’s fence, Bill?”

  “Mr. Harris, please,” the sheriff replied, faint lines on his face appearing. “Let me…”

  “Arrest him, sheriff!” Roger demanded, whirling around to face him. “Or I’ll see justice another way!”

  Diana gasped in her most realistic dramatic way. “No!” She wrapped her arms around Wyatt’s w
aist, clenching and hugging herself close. “No, please!”

  “See here, Roger,” the fourth man said in a placating tone. “Don’t distress Mrs. Henderson.”

  Wyatt rubbed Diana’s arms and shushed softly, then cleared his throat. “My apologies, sir. We did not think the farm was in use, given the state of the barn, and its vacancy. My wife wished to learn to shoot, given that we are returning to live near my family in Texas, and given the tendency towards unrest, I thought I’d indulge her.”

  “There’s your first fault,” Roger muttered audibly, and Diana whimpered, leaning around Wyatt to look pitifully terrified for their audience.

  “And then,” Wyatt went on, ignoring the comment and gesturing towards the aged and faded fence, “we saw the bullet holes and marks already there, and we just assumed it wouldn’t be an issue. I am very sorry, clearly we were mistaken there. May I pay recompense?”

  Roger scowled at him, but the others seemed to be mildly amused. “I am perfectly free to shoot at my own fence,” Roger grumbled, his complexion turning ruddy. “Doesn’t mean I allow anyone else to. And there’s disturbing the peace as well, ain’t there, sheriff? Shooting so close to town at this time of morning. Clearly, he needs to be locked up.”

  Diana pretended to crumple in distress, and Wyatt, being rather intelligent, swept her into his side, smoothing her hair back and supporting her with one strong arm around her back. “There, there, love,” he murmured, cradling her head against him. “It’s my fault.”

  “No, Wyatt, no!” she insisted. “I could have waited until we were in Texas, and Caleb could have driven us out to a safe place to shoot. I am so impatient, I shouldn’t have insisted!” She covered her face and made several weak sobbing sounds against him.

  His hands swept up and down her back in a soothing fashion, and she felt, for the first time, a faint shaking that made her suspicious. This was no time for laughter! She was giving a marvelous performance, and it would seal their release from this idiotic confrontation.

  “Roger, they didn’t harm anyone, or anything, including your fence,” Bill said finally. “See how Mrs. Henderson cries.”

  “It was her shot that did the most damage,” Roger shot back without sympathy. “She should be crying.”

  Diana wailed for good measure.

  “Mr. Harris,” the sheriff broke in, “he has offered to pay recompense, though it hardly seems necessary, given the number of bullet marks you yourself have put in.”

  “That’s enough out of you, sheriff!” came the biting response.

  Diana would have given a fortune to see the expressions in this exchange, but would have to trust Wyatt to observe them enough.

  There was a harsh clearing of a throat, and then the fourth man spoke again. “It’s enough, Roger. No harm was meant, and the peace was not disturbed enough for a ruckus.”

  “But…”

  “And you’re not charging Henderson anything,” Bill added firmly. “He’s a guest to the town, and you don’t need it. No crime has happened, we can leave and let the sheriff be.”

  Diana sniffled and turned in Wyatt’s hold to look hopefully at the others. “Truly?” she asked.

  She received a smile in return. “Truly, Mrs. Henderson. And that was an excellent shot.”

  Diana blushed and hid her face against Wyatt again.

  “Come on, Roger. Orson. Let’s leave the Hendersons to their morning activities. Sorry to frighten you, ma’am.” And with that, the three men left, and only the sheriff remained.

  He sighed heavily and scratched at the greying stubble at his chin. “Well, I’m not sure that was worth rushing over for, but duty calls.”

  “Certainly does,” Wyatt agreed, sounding more natural now. “Wyatt Henderson.”

  “Stephen George, sheriff,” he replied, shaking hands with Wyatt. He tipped his hat at Diana, and she ceased pretending to be so terrified. “Well, when I can manage it, that is.”

  Wyatt looked after the others, then back at the sheriff. “Yes, I wondered about that. They didn’t seem to think they needed you.”

  Mr. George shrugged. “They don’t, in their minds. I wasn’t summoned by them. I heard the shots and investigated myself. They tolerate me, but I know full well they don’t care one way or the other if I’m here.” A shadow crossed his features as he shook his head. “I know what happened a few years ago, and I’ve done all I can to avoid the same tragedy, though I must still do my duty as I see it.”

  “That does you credit, Mr. George,” Diana told him, smiling with all the warmth she could muster. “It cannot be so easy.”

  “Duty is never easy, Mrs. Henderson,” he replied. “Which makes it all the more worth it to see it done.” He gave her a searching look, then smiled quickly. “And I sense you are not nearly as distressed as you led us to believe, ma’am.”

  Diana grinned outright. “Well, I was afraid, to be sure, but a bit of enhancement of such fears couldn’t hurt where my husband’s freedom is concerned, could it?”

  Wyatt and Mr. George laughed, and Wyatt pulled Diana closer, his eyes rather warm as he looked at her. “What a brave soul you are, Diana,” he teased as his fingers drummed slowly against her waist. “Such extremes just to keep me out of prison.”

  She tilted her head and looped her arms around his neck. “Well, it was either that or pull my pistol back out and pretend he was the fence post. I thought my tears had a better chance.”

  Wyatt laughed again, the sound sending waves of delight across her skin, and, for a moment, she completely forgot to pretend at anything at all.

  “They’d work for me, my dear,” he replied, his voice dipping in a way that curled her toes. “Nothing like your tears to send an arrow straight to my heart.”

  She’d have swooned had she not forced her knees to lock. As it was, a guttural sound of appreciation began to make its way up her throat, but she was quick to swallow it back.

  Another laugh brought Mr. George back into remembrance, and Diana blushed again as she looked at him. “If I had arrested you, Mr. Henderson,” he laughed again, “at least you would have had a doting visitor at the jail.”

  “I would indeed,” Wyatt returned, squeezing Diana lightly. “I am a fortunate man.”

  Not to be outdone, Diana leaned her head fondly against his shoulder. “And I dearly love to dote,” she announced, letting a dry note enter her tone.

  Mr. George smiled in earnest at them both. “May I atone for making Mrs. Henderson afraid by treating you both to a hearty breakfast?”

  Diana was close to nodding when Wyatt squeezed her again, this time into silence. “I’m afraid I owe my wife a pastry from the bakery, Mr. George. I am rather fond of doting as well, it seems.”

  That brought a rousing laugh from the sheriff and Diana elbowed her impertinent but rather charming husband hard.

  “Dinner, then?” the sheriff asked on a laugh. “My wife Eliza would dearly love to make your acquaintance, ma’am. And she makes a delicious beef stew.”

  Diana straightened and smiled, nodding. “How can anyone refuse such a promise? But I’ll warn you, Mr. George. My husband has an appetite fit for three men.”

  Wyatt chuckled and Mr. George returned her nod with one of his own. “I have three growing boys, Mrs. Henderson. Believe me, we are used to ravenous appetites in our home. Shall we say six?”

  “Perfect!” Diana quipped.

  “We would love to,” Wyatt assured him, shaking his hand again. “Many thanks.”

  Mr. George nodded. “I’ll come for you at the boarding house at a quarter to. If you’ll excuse me, I must make my morning rounds.” He tipped his hat, and made his way back to the main road again.

  Diana watched him go, then settled her arm around Wyatt’s waist rather comfortably. “Well, well, Mr. McGrath.”

  “What?” he asked, leaning a bit away to give her a look.

  She returned it with a sly smile. “Making friends and enemies in one morning? Aren’t we the ambitious pair?”

>   He snorted and affectionately ruffled her hair, before gently shoving her away. “Don’t let a gun in your petticoats make you cocky.”

  Diana laughed once. “It isn’t in my petticoats, but that was a good guess.”

  “Come on!” he protested. “It has to be there! Where else could you stow it?”

  “Buy me that pastry, and I’ll give you a hint.” She winked and blew him a kiss before striding towards the road.

  Three seconds later, he swept her up and tossed her over his shoulder, sending her into breathless giggles and pummeling against his back.