Did she feel responsible for him? In a way. Could that be why she felt this connection to him? Maybe. But she was very much afraid that it had more to do with wanting him. When had that happened? Just now when he’d shown vulnerability, or had it been there all along without her realizing it?
It hardly mattered when it had happened, just that it had. What was important now was what she was going to do about it, and right now she didn’t have the foggiest notion.
She reached for her empty coffee cup. “I think I’ll go to bed. Can I get you some more coffee?”
Edward, shaken out of his reverie, looked down at his cup half full of cold coffee. “I haven’t finished what I have.”
“Give me your cup.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Thanks, but I have to wash them and clean out the coffeepot.” He wouldn’t know how to do either.
“You make me feel so useless.”
“Your job is to make sure the bad guys don’t get me while I’m asleep. I’m happy to make the coffee in exchange.”
“I still don’t think I should be alone in the house with you. I wish one of your brothers were here.”
“Well, they aren’t. As a distant relation, you’re the next best choice.”
“I don’t feel like a relative, not even a distant one, and I don’t want you to think of me that way either.”
The force behind his words caught Eden by surprise . . . and caused a shiver of excitement to sizzle down her spine. He’d risen from his chair and stepped close to her.
“A relative wouldn’t be allowed to kiss you the way I want to kiss you.”
Eden put down her coffee cup before she dropped it. Maybe the electricity between them had existed all evening, but if so the voltage had leaped astronomically with that one sentence. His words asked a question that was duplicated by the look in his eyes. Edward wasn’t talking about a friendly kiss. His look said I want you.
“Kiss me?” She was surprised her voice sounded so weak and tremulous. She’d never been one to be shy around men.
Edward came closer. The expression on his face was one of great solemnity, as though he was about to make a life-changing resolution rather than simply enjoy a goodnight kiss.
Before she could consider what that look meant, Edward took her in his arms. She wanted to lose herself in his kiss, to cling to him so closely, hold him so tightly, she could feel part of him. She wanted the kiss to go on and on, for Edward to stay with her until she felt she had finally gotten enough of being held by him, of being kissed by him, of being made to feel vibrantly alive and infinitely desired.
Until she could get used to the feeling she’d finally found where she belonged.
The end of the kiss was gradual, Edward’s leave-taking slow. It took a moment before she could begin to loosen her hold on him. It was even longer before she felt she could stand without holding on to him.
“I don’t want to go to bed, but I’d better,” Edward said in a strained voice.
“We both should,” Eden replied with an equally awkward tone. “We have a lot to do tomorrow.” Yet at the moment she couldn’t think of a single thing, proof her brain had stopped functioning.
“I’ve decided to take your father’s suggestion and sleep in Hawk and Josie’s bed.”
She didn’t want him that far away, but if the way she was feeling right now was any indication of her true feelings, then no place could be far enough for her to feel cut off from him. It didn’t make sense, but she felt that even if he went back to England, a part of her would go with him. That thought was like cold terror slicing through to her heart. “I’m not worried. I trust you.” She tried to sound casual, but she was certain her voice betrayed her.
Edward stepped back from her. “I think I trust me, too, but I’ve never been in a house alone with an attractive woman.”
She wondered why men thought they were the only ones faced with temptation. Surely he must realize she was as attracted to him as he seemed to be to her? “Should I brace a chair against the door?” She couldn’t repress a smile, was relieved when Edward answered with its twin.
“I promised your father I’d keep you safe. I’ve never gone back on my word yet. I don’t intend to start with you.”
She wondered if he was referring to her heart? If so, he’d already been caught napping. She needed time alone to sort through her thoughts, to figure out just what her feelings were and how deep they ran. If they were what she thought, she had to find a way to keep Edward from going back to England.
“Then I’d better say good night.” She turned and walked quickly to her room. If he had attempted to kiss her a second time, she might not have been able to let him go.
Unable to get comfortable, Edward tossed from one side of the bed to the other, but his discomfort had nothing to do with the bed and everything to do with Eden. She fascinated him, and that fact alone was petrifying. She was nothing like the English women he’d grown up expecting to marry. And although that was good in many ways, it was just as hazardous in others. Even though he hadn’t enjoyed the role of heir to an exalted title, now he was a man without a country, without a society he understood and felt comfortable in. He was strongly attracted to Eden and couldn’t stop himself from thinking of a relationship that went beyond mere friendship, but the thought of what he had to learn, the changes he had to accommodate before he could consider such a relationship, staggered him. He didn’t want to contemplate what Jake would say to the idea of having a former lord as a son-in-law. Jake thought the privileged class was useless, bloodless, and had no positive value to society.
Sighing in frustration, Edward stacked all the pillows behind him and sat up. Through the window he caught a glimpse of the deep blue sky and stars that looked like pinpricks of light shining through a velvet canopy. The unseen moon bathed the landscape with a silvery sheen that made the buildings and trees look like part of a dreamscape, so still and quiet it was hard to believe the scene would burst into motion at the rising of the sun.
Against such a setting, his thinking of a future that included Eden didn’t seem impossible. There would be difficulties, but he’d spent his life overcoming difficulties. This was just one more, a big one for sure, but still just one more. But when he tried to picture his future, he came up hard against brutal reality.
When he visualized a house, he saw an English house. When he imagined how they would live, their friends and the things they’d do, he realized he’d Anglicized everything. That included the food they’d eat, even the clothes she’d wear, the way she would speak. He didn’t need anyone to tell him such an eventuality was impossible. Eden was in her natural setting. If there was any possibility of a future between them, he would have to be the one to change.
But could he build a future here to offer her? She was the beautiful daughter of a wealthy and powerful rancher. He was certain there were many rich men who’d be only too happy to take her out of Texas and settle her into a home staffed by servants, to give her things he’d never be able to give her. All he had to offer was the possibility that his horse would win enough money to enable him to buy enough land to try to start a ranch.
Try to start a ranch.
What kind of future was that for a woman like Eden? He didn’t even know if she would be willing to live on a ranch. She preferred Texas to England, but that didn’t mean she preferred the rough life of a rancher’s wife to that of the wife of a wealthy man, living in Galveston, New Orleans, or Charleston. Some American millionaires were building spectacular homes that they filled with furnishings rifled from the fabled castles and mansions of Europe. Some of the mansions he’d seen when he arrived in New York made Worlege look shabby by comparison. What could he offer Eden to rival that?
It didn’t take any intelligence to know the answer was nothing. When he looked at himself objectively, he wasn’t better off than Finn or Brady. If Crusader failed to win the race, there wasn’t a chance in hell he could have a future with Eden. He’d be
better off if he went further west. That was an easy way to disappear without a trace. It would certainly be easier than staying in Texas and watching her fall in love with someone else.
He tossed aside the extra pillows and lay back down. He refused to feel sorry for himself. He was young, healthy, had a good mind, and a wonderful horse. His future was still ahead of him, but that couldn’t keep him from thinking of the past, mostly of Patrick. Did his brother ever wonder what was happening to him, or was he simply too glad to be the heir to care? Did the viscount ever regret what he’d done? Did anyone in England care that he was gone?
Edward had a bad feeling about the workout even before the jockey mounted Crusader. Though they’d worked together several times since that first day, and the jockey had learned how to handle Crusader more effectively, Crusader’s dislike of the jockey hadn’t abated. He’d been calm and inquisitive while Eden saddled Black Cloud, but the moment he set eyes on the jockey, it was obvious his acceptance didn’t extend to that young man.
“He appears eager to race,” the jockey said, a rare smile replacing his usual frown. “That’s good.”
Edward didn’t consider it good that his jockey couldn’t distinguish between eagerness and antipathy. How was the fellow supposed to get the best out of Crusader when he had no understanding of the horse? A chuckle distracted him, and he turned to see Finn sitting on the ridge above the trail, seemingly more interested in seeing the two horses race against each other than he was in doing his work.
“He’s not eager,” Edward told the jockey. “He’s uneasy. He remembers that you’ve whipped him.”
“How can he win the race if he won’t be whipped?” the jockey asked.
“You can get more out of him without the whip. You just have to learn how to do it. He likes to run. He likes to win.”
“He hasn’t so far,” the jockey said. “I’m beginning to think I’m on the wrong horse.”
“You just do what I say, and you won’t have to worry,” Edward said.
He contrasted the contentious relationship between him and the jockey, and the jockey and Crusader, with the calm that reigned a few yards away where Brady helped Eden saddle Black Cloud and get her ready for the workout.
Putting aside his worries for the moment, he finished saddling Crusader, checked the girth to make sure it wasn’t too tight, then let him trot at the end of a long rope to loosen up his muscles.
“I can warm him up jogging to the start,” the jockey said.
“I know, but he likes the long rein. It calms him.”
The jockey looked skeptical, while up on the ridge Finn seemed to think the tension below was amusing. Try as he might to think the best of the man, Edward was sure Finn was hoping something would go wrong.
“Take your time letting him settle into stride,” Edward told the jockey as Crusader trotted placidly in a circle around them. “I don’t care if he’s behind Black Cloud the whole way the first time down. Crusader is bred for stamina. He’ll catch anything ahead of him in the second half of the race.”
The race would be a single two-mile heat. There had been some talk about shortening it to a mile and a half for next year, the distance of some Thoroughbred races in Kentucky and Long Island, but they were for three-year-olds. Crusader was five and Black Cloud was seven.
“American horses are built for speed,” the jockey said. “If he gets too far behind, he’ll never catch a horse like Black Cloud.”
“Just ride him the way I asked.”
The jockey didn’t say anything when he mounted, and even though Crusader acted up, the young man was calm and relaxed during the warm-up. Some of the tension left Crusader, but Edward knew the horse didn’t trust the jockey. He could see it in Crusader’s eyes.
“Okay, line up.”
Edward raised his arm high as the black mare walked up to the starting line and stood perfectly still. The jockey brought Crusader up at a nervous walk, the horse tossing his head, trying to pull the reins from the jockey’s grip. There was no point in waiting until Crusader calmed down. Edward lowered his arm and the horses were off.
Chapter Seventeen
Black Cloud was in the lead after a couple of strides. Crusader was bigger and more powerful, but it took him longer to reach his full stride. By that time Black Cloud was several lengths ahead. Could Crusader win the race if he gave that much distance away at the start?
“He’s not going to win any money from the back of the field,” Finn said.
Edward had climbed the ridge so he could see the horses as they raced to the end of the trail. He didn’t believe Crusader had lost any more ground, but it was impossible to tell at this distance.
“He has plenty of time to catch up,” Edward said to Finn.
“Have you ever seen that black mare finish a race?” Finn asked, sounding angry. “She doesn’t back up.”
“She won’t need to. Crusader will catch her.”
The turn didn’t go well. Black Cloud slowed down, gradually came to a stop, turned in a tight circle, and was off running in a couple of seconds. Crusader fought the jockey’s attempts to slow him, actually reared before he turned. By the time he was back into stride, he’d lost about ten lengths.
“You ought to be glad there are no turns in San Antonio,” Finn said.
The jockey had changed his strategy from attempting to keep Crusader relaxed and running in his best stride to pumping hard to get him to make up the lost ground.
“Ease up, you fool,” Edward muttered under his breath.
“How many times do I have to tell you Crusader responds best to steady encouragement?”
“He’s riding like all jockeys do,” Finn said. “Once the race is half over, they go to the whip.”
Crusader had stopped trying to catch the black mare and was using his energy to fight the jockey, who resorted to the whip. Too disgusted to utter the curses that came to mind, Edward watched helplessly as Crusader fell farther and farther behind. “He’s an idiot!” Edward raged as he strode down the hill toward the trial. “A complete moron would have ridden better.”
Eden and Black Cloud reached Edward well ahead of Crusader.
“I think Black Cloud is the fastest horse in Texas,” Eden said, “but she’s not that much better than Crusader.” She’d finished more than twenty lengths ahead.
“It was the jockey,” Edward said. “Crusader fought him the whole way.”
“What are you going to do?”
What could he do? There was no other jockey available. “I’ll talk to him again. Maybe if I speak very slowly and use little words, he’ll understand.”
Eden didn’t think that would solve the problem. Edward didn’t either. He was even less hopeful about being able to keep the anger and contempt out of his voice.
The first words out of the jockey’s mouth when he rode up to Edward were, “You’ll never make a racehorse out of this nag.”
Edward took a hard hold on his temper and asked more calmly than he’d thought possible, “Why?”
“He doesn’t want to race. He doesn’t even want to be ridden.”
Edward took hold of Crusader’s bridle and tried to calm his horse. “Maybe you should follow instructions and see what happens?”
“It wouldn’t do any good. He’ll never get close enough to Black Cloud to see her shadow. He’s a good-looking nag, though.” The jockey slid from the saddle. “You ought to sell him to some dude looking to breed pretty riding horses and get yourself an animal that can actually run.”
“He can run,” Edward said from between clenched teeth.
“I’ve been on him enough to know.”
“I’ve been on more horses than you’ve seen in your life,” the jockey said. “If I can’t get it out of him, it ain’t there.”
Edward wasn’t sure what was the final straw. Maybe it was the jockey’s cocky attitude. Maybe it was the little man’s colossal ego, which made it impossible for him to realize he had no ability to communicate with this horse
. Maybe it was the disgusting way he spat on the ground, but Edward had had more than enough of this pint-sized ball of ignorance.
“You’re wrong,” he stated with quiet authority. “I’ve ridden Crusader against Black Cloud, and even with my weight, he was only beaten by two lengths. You know very little about horses and nothing about how to get the best out of Crusader. I don’t know how you came by your reputation, but you’re lucky that owners haven’t realized you’re incompetent. I can only assume your mounts have been so terrified of you, they’ve run as fast as they could to get you off their backs as soon as possible. In any case, you’re fired.”
The jockey had a lot to say; so much in fact, he stalked behind Edward for several minutes, shouting.
“This has been a very interesting morning,” Finn said after the jockey had stormed off. “I can’t wait to see what you do for the second act.”
Edward stifled a sharp reply. He had to work with Finn. No point in antagonizing him even if Finn seemed determined to drive him to it.
“I’m glad you got rid of that jockey,” Eden said when she joined Edward in walking their horses, “but what are you going to do for a rider?”
“Maybe I’ll ride Crusader myself.”
“He’ll never beat Black Cloud carrying your weight.”
“He won’t beat a milk wagon with that jockey riding him. At least with me in the saddle, he’ll give a good account of himself.”
“But he won’t win, and you need the winning purse.”
Seeing his hopes crashing before his eyes made Edward feel desperate. He couldn’t go back to England. Neither could he continue to trade on the Maxwells’ hospitality, being paid to do a job he was only beginning to understand. If he didn’t win, he’d have to find another place to make a life for himself.
“What are you going to do?” Eden asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe I could ask Drew to ride him for you.”
Edward had never met Eden’s sharpshooting sister, but he knew it had been years since she’d worked in the Wild West shows. Besides, she had a husband, three daughters, and a ranch to take care of.
Texas Loving (The Cowboys) Page 20
