Malachite (The Jewels of Texas Historical Romance Series Book 5)

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  Carmelita lowered the towel, damp with her tears, and offered a trembling hand.

  “You are the image of your father. I thought, when I first saw you, that it was Señor Jewel, back from the grave.”

  Malachite merely stared at her in cool silence.

  “This is our banker, Byron Conner.” Diamond spoke quickly to cover the fact that Carmelita was crying again. “And this is Millie Potter, who owns the boardinghouse in Hanging Tree.”

  Malachite shook Byron’s hand, then turned to the flame-haired woman in the fashionable gown. The heat in his eyes had begun to cool. But when his hand engulfed hers, he felt heat of another kind.

  He studied this woman who had remained calm while the others had panicked. Now he understood. She wasn’t directly affected by this. She was not a Jewel. Not one of Onyx Jewel’s daughters. Though he didn’t know why, he found himself oddly relieved to know that.

  At the touch of him Millie felt a strange tingling that shook her to the core. When she finally managed to withdraw her hand, she stood very still. There was such strength in this stranger. Such anger seething in those eyes. And such control. He was nearly rigid with control.

  “About your desire to see Pa’s grave.” Diamond was making a valiant effort to ease some of his tension. “It’s a far piece from the ranch. And since it’s so late, I think we should wait until morning. If you’d like, you can stay here. I know Carmelita’d be happy to have someone to fuss over. She’ll be here anyway, cleaning. And she’s a fine cook. You could have Pa’s old room. It’s right upstairs, and you’d...”

  “No.” Malachite didn’t bother to hide his disapproval. His response was abrupt and firm.

  “But you’re welcome to...”

  “I want nothing of Onyx Jewel’s. Not his home. Not his bed. Now that I know he has joined the spirits, I want nothing more than to see his burial place before I leave Texas. Since you feel it’s too late, I’ll honor your request and wait until morning.”

  Diamond swallowed. His words were blunt enough. He’d made himself abundantly clear. “All right. Tomorrow morning will be fine. We can meet here, if you’d like. Or in town.”

  Malachite considered carefully before saying, “It will be better to meet here. I expect my reception in your town would be even less enthusiastic than my reception here.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Millie drew herself up stiffly. The nerve of the man, demeaning these people. Demeaning her town.

  He heard the note of disapproval in her tone and flung his words like a gauntlet. If he couldn’t have the satisfaction of a physical fight, he would settle for a verbal war. “Let me make myself clear. I may be Onyx Jewel’s son, but I didn’t come here to be embraced by him. Only a fool would expect such a thing. I came here to be acknowledged. Nothing more. But I could hardly expect to be welcomed into his town. You see, my father—” he spit the name with obvious distaste “—may have been a Texan. But my mother was a Comanche.”

  He saw the slight lift of an eyebrow, the wary look that came into her eyes. He wasn’t surprised. It was the typical reaction when people were confronted by that fact. He knew what people called him behind his back. Half-breed was one of the kinder terms.

  As he turned away Millie called, “Wait. Where will you spend the night?

  “It’s cold and it’s late,” she added, hoping to explain her outburst. “If you’d like, you can take a room at my boardinghouse.”

  He paused, then turned. She caught a glimpse of a fleeting smile, before it was wiped from his lips. “I’ve slept in the cold many times. For a Comanche, it’s as elemental as breathing.”

  He walked out the door, crossed the porch and pulled himself onto the back of his horse. And then he was gone. Swallowed up in the darkness.

  And the others were left to speculate about this strange, angry man who had come, unbidden, into their lives.

  * * *

  “I intend to sit down with Diamond and her sisters in the next few days.” Byron Conner’s voice was muted in the darkness as he sat beside Millie, guiding the team. “They’re going to need some advice.”

  “About what?” Still shaken by the encounter with Malachite Jewel, Millie looked up at the sky and watched the path of a falling star. She had the strangest sensation that he was still here with her. She could almost see those haunted green eyes. And feel that explosion of anger. Could see again those lips curved into the slightest hint of a dangerous smile.

  “About their finances.”

  Millie turned to study Byron’s darkened profile. “Now, why in the world would they need help with their finances? They’re already the richest family in Texas.”

  “I didn’t say help. I said advice. Like you said, their father left a substantial estate. It’s only natural that strangers would come along and try to claim a portion. Who’s to say this—” his tone rang with derision “—half-breed didn’t hear about Onyx Jewel’s death and decide to cut himself in for a piece?”

  Millie’s tone sharpened. “I’ll excuse that statement, since you never knew Onyx Jewel. But I did. And so did everyone in town. And I can tell you, this stranger is the image of his dead father.”

  “That isn’t important.” Byron snapped the reins and the team trotted smartly. It was a fine matched set of sleek, glossy roans, brought all the way from St. Louis, along with the brand-new carriage, to bolster his image as a successful banker. “I’m going to instruct Diamond and her sisters that unless this stranger has proof, he has no legal claim to Onyx Jewel’s estate.”

  Her tone was incredulous. “His face isn’t proof enough?”

  “Not in a court of law. The law demands legal documents.”

  “And what about the heart?” Millie asked softly.

  He turned to her and placed a hand on her arm. “I can see that you’re much too tenderhearted for your own good. It’s a lucky thing the citizens of Hanging Tree don’t have to rely on you to make the tough decisions about loans and mortgages and foreclosures.”

  “Yes.” She gave a sigh. “It’s a good thing. Doesn’t it ever bother you, Byron?”

  “The first rule of banking is you can’t let your heart rule your head.” He glanced up as the darkened buildings of the town came into view. “I don’t believe the ride from the Jewel ranch to town has ever passed so quickly before. It must have been the charming company I was with.”

  Beside him, Millie said nothing. But the look on her face was still tinged with anger. She was too annoyed at his earlier words to be swayed by his obvious attempt at flattery.

  The carriage rolled along the empty dirt path the townspeople called the main street. At the end of town, in front of a sagging, two-story house, Byron reined in the team and the carriage came to a halt.

  He helped Millie down and walked beside her up the stairs of her front porch. Before she could open the door, he put a hand on her arm to stop her.

  “Thank you for accompanying me to the christening, and then to supper, Millie.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  His hand tightened perceptibly on her arm. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to kiss you.” He bent toward her in anticipation.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, it occurred to Millie that Ruby would be thrilled at her matchmaking prowess. This was all going according to Ruby’s plans. She had recently told Millie, in no uncertain terms, that she’d been alone too long. That Millie’s three shy little girls, ages five, six and seven, needed a father. Only the oldest, April, could remember her father. And with every year, those fragile memories faded. As for Millie, the memories of her years with her beloved Mick would never die. But she had acquiesced to Ruby’s prodding. After all, Ruby had argued, Byron Conner was a fine catch. Handsome. Proper. Churchgoing. A successful banker who was respected, if not always liked, by the townspeople.

  Still, Millie couldn’t put aside her annoyance at Byron’s callous remarks about Onyx Jewel’s son. It should have been plain to anyone with half a brain that Malachite Jewel wa
s a tortured soul who had no interest in money. It was a father he’d come seeking, not a fortune.

  She backed away to evade Byron’s touch, turning her face at the last moment so that his lips merely brushed her cheek. “No, Byron. I’m sorry. It’s... very late. And I’m tired.”

  “I see.” He straightened, momentarily disappointed but far from discouraged. “Well, perhaps another time.” He reached up and opened the door. “Maybe I’ll stop by for supper tomorrow.”

  “If you’d like.”

  Once inside, Millie removed her shawl and hung it on a peg by the door.

  She smiled, thinking about her daughters. They’d been delighted when she’d told them that Birdie Bidwell, their fifteen-year-old neighbor, would be spending the night while their mother took supper at the Jewel ranch. Her girls adored Birdie, who had been helping with the chores around the boardinghouse since she was ten. Despite a tendency toward clumsiness, she was a sweet, polite girl who had proved invaluable over the years.

  As she entered the parlor, Millie’s smile disappeared when she discovered that the fire had burned to embers.

  With a sigh she returned to the hallway and draped her shawl around her, then walked to the back door and let herself out.

  A gust of wind sent her skirts whipping around her ankles as she walked.

  A dwindling supply of logs was stacked neatly against the south wall of the shed. She bent to retrieve a log, then suddenly caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. A menacing shadow was moving toward her.

  “Oh.” She straightened and grabbed up a log, swinging it like a club.

  “Easy.” At the sound of a man’s deep voice she swung harder.

  A hand closed over her wrist and the log fell harmlessly to the ground. She was caught in a vise, unable to move, while the man loomed over her.

  For the space of a heartbeat she couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded so painfully she thought it might explode. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps.

  Just then a beam of moonlight revealed her attacker.

  “You!” Catching sight of Malachite Jewel, she tried to back away, but he was holding her fast. “I thought... You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Terrify would have been a better word. She’d struck out blindly, as though expecting the worst. He found himself wondering who or what had brought on such fears. “I decided to take you up on your offer of a room. That is, if the offer is still good.”

  Unable to find her voice, she merely nodded.

  “Good. I hope you don’t mind that I put my horse in your shed.”

  “I... That’s fine.” Did he know what his touch was doing to her? How wildly her heart was pounding? She felt the way a deer must when it stared into the muzzle of a rifle.

  Then she seemed to come to her senses. It wasn’t this man who caused such feelings. It was the fact that she’d been caught by surprise. She needed to pull herself together.

  With a toss of her head she glanced down at the offending hand, and he released her.

  Immediately she took a step back, feeling light-headed. “There’s a livery at the other end of town. Neville Oakley will keep your horse for a dollar a week.”

  “I have no need. I’ll only be staying the night.” He could see the tension humming through her. Could hear the breathlessness in her voice. To put her at ease he said, “I see you were coming out to gather some logs. How many do you need?”

  “That isn’t necessary.” She bent to the pile but his hand on her arm stopped her. Again she felt the strength in him.

  “How many?”

  She drew back, alarmed by the feelings his touch aroused. “One or two. Just enough to see us through until morning.”

  He bent to the pile and easily lifted an armload, then followed Millie up the steps and into the house.

  He glanced around as they entered the big cheery kitchen. A scarred wooden table dominated one side of the room, surrounded by sturdy chairs. Along one wall was a huge blackened fireplace. The room smelled of bread dough rising on a warming shelf above the fireplace, and more faintly of apples and spices.

  “I’ll take this.” She lifted a log from his arms and tossed it onto the hot coals of the kitchen fireplace. Then she placed several logs beside the hearth.

  That done, she said, “The rest can go in here.” She led the way to the parlor.

  Beside the big stone fireplace he knelt and deposited the rest of the logs. When Millie bent to tend the fire, he stopped her with a hand to her wrist.

  “There’s no need. I’ll do this.”

  He tossed a heavy log on the glowing embers. Within minutes fire licked along the dry bark, then caught and burst into flame, illuminating the darkened room. He wiped his hands on his pants, then got to his feet and offered a hand to help her up.

  “Thank you.” She hated that her voice sounded so out of breath. But the truth was, the closeness of this man intimidated her.

  He glanced around at the overstuffed sofa and chairs, the simple curtains at the windows, the lantern on the hearth. Though it was shabby, there was a feeling of warmth here in her home.

  He turned to her, pinning her with those strange green eyes. “Where will I sleep?”

  She turned away to avoid his gaze. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”

  Holding a lantern aloft, she led him past the big, spacious dining room, through the kitchen, now ablaze with warmth and firelight, to a bedroom off the kitchen.

  She set the lantern on a table beside the big bed, covered by a handmade quilt. “This isn’t as big as the upper room. But that room is being used tonight by a neighbor girl who offered to stay with my daughters. It’s the one I usually offer paying guests.”

  “You have daughters?” He hadn’t moved. He stood framed by the doorway. It occurred to Millie that he was so tall his head nearly brushed the top of the door frame.

  “I have three.”

  “But the banker is not your husband.”

  “My husband... is dead.” Suddenly uncomfortable, she started toward the door and was dismayed when he made no move to step aside. She lifted her head in a challenge. “I’ll say good-night now.”

  But still he stood, barring her exit. “You haven’t asked me how I found my way to your door.”

  She paused. Until this moment it hadn’t occurred to her to wonder. “How did you know where to find me?”

  There was a subtle change in his tone. “I followed you.”

  His words shocked her. And yet, they shouldn’t have. Hadn’t she sensed his presence along the trail? It gave her the strangest feeling to know that this man had been watching her in the darkness without her knowledge. And then an alarming thought intruded. That would also mean that he’d been standing in the shadows, watching as Byron kissed her cheek. He’d not only watched but listened, as well. To everything that had been said between them.

  What if she had allowed Byron... ?

  She glowered at him. “You had no right. No right to invade my privacy like that. No right to watch while Mr. Conner kissed me.”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I didn’t intend anything by it.” His tone lightened, as though tinged by unspoken laughter. “But I must disagree with you. What you shared with your stuffy banker was hardly a kiss.”

  The gall of this man.

  She started to push past him. “How dare—”

  His hand came out, stopping her in midstride. “Maybe you’ve forgotten what it is to kiss a man.”

  He saw the look of shock and anger in her eyes. He’d intended merely to taunt her. But now, he intended more. He dragged her roughly against him. His arms came around her, pinning her to the length of him. His head lowered until his lips were brushing hers. Against her mouth he muttered, “I hope this will refresh your memory.”

  It happened so quickly Millie had no time to react. One moment she was angry, indignant. The next she was being manha
ndled by this... this savage.

  All thought scattered as his lips covered hers in a scorching kiss. It wasn’t just the skill with which he kissed her. That sure, easy movement of his mouth on hers. All slow heat that built and built until she could feel the fire pulsing through her veins. Or the way his hands tightened at her back, molding her to the length of him before moving slowly up and down her spine, testing, measuring. It was the hunger in it. Like a man who’d been starved. And the thoroughness. As though, while drawing out every taste, every flavor, every breath, he was laying claim to her.

  He felt her breath catch, then quicken on a sigh, mingling with his as her lips parted. From beneath hooded lids he watched as her lashes fluttered, then closed, and her anger was forgotten as she lost herself in the pleasure.

  His hands moved along the lush velvet of her gown, which only enhanced the soft curves and heated flesh beneath.

  He hadn’t intended this. Couldn’t even recall how or why it had happened. One moment he was enjoying the way her eyes had darkened with anger, and the next he’d simply acted on instinct. But now that he was holding her, kissing her, there seemed no way to stop.

  She smelled like her kitchen. Warm and clean, with a hint of cinnamon and other spices. But her taste was as fresh, as clear as a mountain stream.

  As he took the kiss deeper, Millie struggled to hold on to some last vestige of common sense. But he was doing strange things to her mind, even as he coaxed her body to betray her. Her hands, which she’d balled into fists, were now clutching at the front of his shirt, though she couldn’t recall how they got there. The sigh that escaped her lips was not a sigh of anger, but of pleasure. And the way her body was straining toward his left no doubt of the deep hunger that gnawed.

  He lifted his head and stared down at her. Her mouth looked warm and moist and thoroughly kissed. Her chest was heaving on a ragged breath.

  She was so desirable it took all his willpower to keep from kissing her again. But one more kiss and he’d be lost. He knew, if he had any sense at all, he had to end this now.

  “That,” he whispered against her temple, “was a kiss.”