Heartstrings

by Rebecca Paisley

  But she did not need her bodyguard to be attractive or clean, she reminded herself. She only needed a big, well-armed man to protect her, and this man was both.

  He grinned at her. “I’m yer man, lady.”

  She closed the door. “I shall be the judge of that, sir. Tell me, what experience have you had?”

  His black eyes glittered as he stared at her bosom. “Experience? Well, I bedded my first wench when I was fourteen and ain’t let up since. Hear tell I’ve got some sixteen kids spread all over Texas and Mexico, so ya can be sure and certain that I’ll git yer belly blowed up real fast.”

  “What?” Theodosia belatedly realized that this man had come in answer to her first circular, not the second. “Sir, you do not possess the intellectual characteristics I specified. What’s more, you do not have blue eyes. Please leave.”

  Still grinning, he headed for the bed and lowered himself onto it. It groaned beneath his massive weight. “Pretend they’re blue.”

  “I will do no such thing. You are not qualified.”

  “Come here, little beauty, and I’ll show ya how qualified I am.” He stood and fumbled with the fastening at the top of his breeches. “Some girls I know call this my blue steel throbber, but there ain’t been no girl willin’ to pay a hunnerd dollars in gold to get her some of it.”

  Keeping her gaze centered on his face, Theodosia swallowed to control her rising apprehension. “Sir, if you do not leave immediately, I shall be forced to summon the authorities and have you incarcerated. Debauched men such as yourself belong behind bars, where they can do no further harm to society.”

  He laughed. “Only lawman we got is Deputy Pitts, and by noon he’s plumb snockered. By this time o’ the evenin’, he’s passed out on the floor o’ the jailhouse. Now, s’posin’ ya take off that dress? Or maybe ya need a little hep?” He lumbered toward her.

  She grabbed her gold-filled velvet bag from the top of the dresser and swung hard, hitting him on the side of his face.

  She might as well have hit him with a sack of whispers. Chuckling, he heaved her over his shoulder, carried her to the bed, and laid her down.

  His beefy hands snatched at her skirts. She tried to kick him; he pinned her legs down with his own, grabbed at her breasts, and wet her neck with great sucking kisses.

  Her all-consuming terror tore a long and desperate scream from her throat. It exploded into her ears and shot through her body, silenced only by the deafening crash of the door as it splintered from its hinges.

  Roman burst inside.

  Theodosia only had time to see the cold fury in his ice-blue eyes before he ripped her assailant off the bed. Mute with surprise and horror, she watched the man spin and slam his fist into Roman’s jaw.

  Instantly, Roman sent him to the floor with a powerful kick beneath the man’s chin. He allowed the man to stagger to his feet, then grabbed his arm and twisted it until a sickening pop assured him he’d broken it.

  The man shrieked with pain as Roman dragged him to the window and promptly pitched him through the glass. He hit the ground below with a dull thud.

  Roman turned from the window, and with his lower sleeve, he wiped blood off the corner of his mouth. His shoulders heaving with exertion, he withdrew a flier from inside his shirt and held it out for Theodosia to see. “I believe you’re looking for a bodyguard, Miss Worth?”

  Chapter Six

  It was all Theodosia could do not to throw herself into Roman’s arms. Never had she been so glad to see anyone, and she was honest enough with herself to admit that his rescue was only a part of her gladness.

  She’d missed him.

  That now-familiar warmth shimmered through her. With wide and hungry eyes, she stared at each powerful inch of him, from the crown of his long raven hair to the tips of his dusty black boots.

  “Why try to hide it, Miss Worth?” Roman asked as he approached her. “We’ve already talked about that heated tickle of yours. I knew what it was then, and I know what it is now. So stop all that wiggling and tell me if I’ve got the job.”

  Realizing she was squirming on the bed, she stilled. “I was not wiggling.”

  “You were.”

  John the Baptist tossed water out of his cage. “I was not wiggling. Watch out for crocodiles in Brazil. You’ve an amazing understanding of Coleoptera, Miss Worth.”

  Ignoring her parrot, Theodosia tried to calm her breathing, which continued to come in pants. “I cannot seem to inhale properly, Mr. Montana. Please open the window.”

  He glanced at the shattered window. “It’s about as open as it can get.” Turning back to her, he gave her a crooked grin. “Think if I kiss you again you’ll feel better?”

  His suggestion nearly stopped her heart. “No,” she answered, her voice half squeak, half whisper. “And you should not have kissed me in Templeton, either.”

  “I like kissing beautiful women.”

  She looked down at her lap. At a complete loss as to how to respond, she began removing specks of nothing from her skirts.

  Roman quickly noted the crimson blush on her cheeks and the rapid pulse in her neck. Her acute sensitivity to his compliment made him suspect that no one had ever commented on her beauty before today.

  What was wrong with those Bostonian men she kept company with? He understood they were her intellectual peers, but was her brain really the only thing they appreciated about her? If so, they were all a bunch of brilliant idiots. “Miss Worth?”

  The softness in his deep voice set her to quivering, and she knew if she failed to find her poise immediately, she would freely stop struggling for it. Taking a deep breath, she hid her trembling hands within the folds of her peach skirts and forced herself to attend to the matter at hand. “Indeed I am looking for a bodyguard, Mr. Montana. What, may I ask, detained you from applying for the position? Had you delayed your arrival one more moment, that—that lascivious malfeasant might have succeeded in violating me!”

  Her accusations quickly reminded him of just how irritating she could be. “If the lascivious malfeasant is the same slobbering son of a bitch I just pitched through the window, he didn’t violate you because I got here just before he did! Dammit, woman! Instead of thanking me, you’re bawling me out for—”

  “I am not admonishing you but simply questioning your reasoning for postponing—”

  “My reasoning?” He jammed his fingers through his hair. “What about yours? If you hadn’t passed out that first flier, this never would have happened! And for your information I just got into town. I only saw your bodyguard ad ten minutes ago!”

  She stood. Her eyes were level with his throat. She raised them and her chin as well. “There was nothing whatsoever wrong with my first circular. The men who answered it did not possess the intelligence to understand that they were ill-suited for the position.”

  “And the woman who made it doesn’t have the common sense to understand that an ad like that is going to attract men who don’t give a damn about qualifications but care only about being paid in gold for something they usually have to pay to get!”

  “If you truly believe me senseless, Mr. Montana, why are you applying for the position as my bodyguard?”

  He thought about how he’d worried about her after having left her in Templeton. “I need the money,” he mumbled.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I need the blasted money!”

  His shout hit her forehead, vibrating upon her skin. “My goodness, when you shout like that, I can see your uvula.”

  More anger swayed through him. “Look, I don’t have the slightest inkling about what a uvula is, and I don’t give the slightest damn. You—”

  “Your uvula is the fleshy lobe that hangs from the soft palate at the back of your mouth. When you shout, I can see it.”

  “Oh, of all the stupid—”

  “Your lip is bleeding. I’ve some salve in my bag. Would you allow me to tend to your cut?”

  Her query sliced through the years, when as
a boy he’d tended to all his injuries himself.

  The women had always been too busy with other things.

  Without thinking, he cupped Theodosia’s cheek and slid his thumb across the delicate skin beneath her eye.

  “Mr. Montana?” she murmured, struck by the intensity of his gaze. “Is something the matter?”

  “What? No.” He yanked his hand down. What the hell was the matter with him? “Nothing is the matter, and I don’t want you rubbing some sort of stinking grease all over my—”

  “Very well, we shall allow your lip to bleed. It will most certainly swell, suppurate, and cause you a fair amount of pain. Lesions to the mouth are—”

  “Never mind about the damned lesion on my damned lip, dammit! What about the—”

  “The job is yours, Mr. Montana. As you know, the salary is one hundred dollars a month in gold. I shall be leaving Wild Winds early in the morning and would appreciate it if you would escort me to another town. I was sadly mistaken in my belief that there were intelligent men here. But the presence of the library induced me to—”

  “That isn’t a library, Miss Worth. Madame Sophie had the word painted on the window so she and her girls wouldn’t be bothered by the fire-and-brimstone preacher who passed through town a few months back. It’s a whorehouse.”

  She could tell by the twinkle in his clear blue eyes that he thoroughly enjoyed taunting her over her mistake. His amusement annoyed her, as did the fact that he knew about the bawdy house. “And how is it that you are so familiar with Madame Sophie and her…girls, Mr. Montana?”

  He picked his hat up off the floor and tossed it to the bed.

  Theodosia watched it land atop the pillow. The hat was black, the pillow was white. The hat was Roman’s, the pillow was hers.

  Her senses spun again.

  Roman didn’t miss the sensual play of emotions in her eyes as she looked at his hat. God, he thought. It sure didn’t take much to get her going. “I know about Madame Sophie and her kind. Miss Worth, because unlike you, I didn’t have the advantage of a chapter-by-chapter sex-treat book. Since I didn’t, I had to learn by hands-on experience. It doesn’t bother you that I’ve known a few painted ladies in my lifetime, does it?”

  She marched to the cracked mirror that hung on the opposite wall and smoothed back her hair. “Why should it trouble me that you choose to while away your evening hours with those demimondaines?”

  He joined her across the room. Stopping directly behind her, he placed his hands on her hips and his chin on top of her head. He might not ever be her lover, he mused, but he was sure going to enjoy making her wish he was. It was only fair. She drove him insane with her genius…

  And he would retaliate by rendering her senseless with desire.

  Keeping those ends in mind, he pulled her closer.

  She tried to brace herself for the flood of heat his nearness caused, but she failed. Unaware that she was slowly licking her bottom lip, she stared at his midnight hair, which curtained the sides of her face and fell over her breasts. She could smell the sun in it, and leather, and the musky odor of hard work, and some other potent fragrance that she instinctively recognized as that of the very essence of masculinity.

  Only after a long moment did she notice her tongue on her bottom lip. She almost bit it in her haste to get it back into her mouth.

  Roman curled his arms around her waist and caught her startled gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “About my whiling away my evening hours, Miss Worth. Maybe coitus can be performed only at night, but lovemaking…”

  He paused just long enough to give her a slow and easy smile. “Lovemaking feels good anytime. In fact, the best time is in the morning. Make love at night, then go to sleep, and you can’t remember the pleasure because you’re asleep. Make love in the morning, though, and you have the whole day to think about it.”

  She hadn’t realized that couples had sexual relations during the day. For some odd reason, she’d always believed such activities were performed at night. “And is the pleasure truly memorable?”

  He knew she’d asked the question in all innocence, but he simply couldn’t resist using her sweet curiosity to his best advantage. “We could make a few memories for you right now.” He slid his hand up her torso, stopping it only when his fingers touched the underside of her breast. “Later, you could think about them and decide for yourself whether they’re worth remembering.”

  The warmth of his hand seeped into her breast while his sensual intentions flowed through her thoughts. She closed her eyes for a moment, marveling over the power of desire. How she longed to experience the full measure of its strength!

  But of course, she couldn’t. With every shred of effort she possessed, she raised her own hand to keep his still. “I was merely wondering about the pleasure. It is only natural that I would reflect upon that which I do not comprehend. However, as I told you once before, the pleasure doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters, Miss Worth,” Roman said huskily. “It matters very much, and if the circumstances were different, I would do everything I could to help you realize that.”

  “The circumstances are what they are, and I shan’t forget that.” She stepped out of his embrace and turned to face him. “Please understand that I cannot allow my physical attraction to you to defeat my purposes. I must concentrate all my efforts on finding the perfect man to sire the child, Mr. Montana.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. That tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed genius of a man. What happened with the perfect Dr. Wallaby? Wasn’t he able to concentrate all his efforts toward giving you that child? Or maybe he got so excited over what he read in your sex-treat book that he fainted before reaching chapter two?”

  The amusement she saw dancing in his blue eyes prompted her to recall that he’d once doubted Dr. Wallaby’s ability to perform the sexual act. She decided not to give him the pleasure of gloating. “Dr. Wallaby did not meet the requirements.”

  “Which ones didn’t he meet? What—”

  “I will discuss Dr. Wallaby no further, Mr. Montana,” she snipped. “Now, if you will excuse me, I—”

  John the Baptist’s loud squawking cut her short. “Ain’t got no tea, ma’am. Bugs got in it. Oh, poor, poor Dr. Wallaby.”

  Roman looked at the bird. “‘Poor, poor Dr. Wallaby’? Why did he say that?”

  Theodosia had never yearned for her parrot’s silence more so than now. “I’m sure I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  “Liar.” Roman crossed to the cage. “Talk to me, bird.”

  The parrot spat a stream of water at him. “Lovemaking feels good anytime. You don’t really think I’m going to let you hurt the girl, do you, Red Bandana?”

  Roman wiped water off his chin. “What else, bird?”

  “Mr. Montana,” Theodosia said as she joined him by the cage and prepared to cover it with a cloth, “he has heard nothing at all that would be of interest to you. And even if he had, he would not respond simply because you wanted him to. He does not communicate but only mimics.”

  Roman snatched the cloth from her hand. “Mimic something else, bird. Go on, mimic away.”

  For a moment, John the Baptist preened his tail feathers. “Go on, mimic away,” he said, blinking his black eyes. “It doesn’t bother you that I’ve known a few painted ladies in my lifetime, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t bother me at all,” Roman answered, and chuckled. “Every male in the world, even a feathered one, craves a little wenching now and then.”

  “Mr. Montana!” Theodosia exclaimed. “If you don’t mind—”

  “Mr. Montana!” John the Baptist repeated. “You see, Miss Worth, I suffer the unfortunate affliction of impotence.”

  “Aha!” Roman shouted, and threw back his head to let out a great burst of laughter. “I knew it! The old guy just doesn’t have it in him! I tried to tell you, but you—”

  “Very well, you were correct, Mr. Montana. There now. Does my admission please you?”

  He watched th
e rise and fall of her bosom. Dr. Wallaby had not had the chance to hold those big, full breasts. Nor had the scientist slid his wrinkled hands over her shapely white calves.

  Theodosia remained a virgin, innocent of any man’s touch but his own.

  And yes, for some reason he didn’t bother to ponder, that pleased him very much.

  He retrieved his hat from the bed and walked into the corridor. “We’ll spend the night here in Wild Winds and head out for Kidder Pass in the morning. Get your things together. I’m going to get us another room.”

  “Don’t you mean two rooms?”

  He slid his hat on. For the life of him, he couldn’t stop smiling. “No, I mean one. As your bodyguard, my job is to stick to you like your own shadow. And that, Miss Worth, means we will be sleeping in the same room night… after… night… after… night.”

  “And create a scandal? We aren’t married, Mr. Montana.”

  He gaped at her. “It didn’t bother you to advertise for a lover. You even offered to pay him. And now my staying in your room is scandalous?”

  She began to gather her belongings. “I should not have to explain my objections to you. If you would deliberate upon them, you would realize the vast difference between my ad and your staying in my room.”

  To be fair, he did what she suggested and took exactly one and a half seconds to think. “Sorry, I can’t seem to realize those vast differences. Guess you’ll have to explain them to me.”

  She slipped her gloves into her bag and closed it. “I do not plan to enjoy the physical attentions I must receive from the man I choose to father the child. However, I already enjoy the attention I receive from you. That, of course, makes our staying together scandalous.”

  He could find no sense at all in her explanation, and for that reason he realized it made perfect sense to her. “We still need to stay in a room together. And I think you know I’m right.”

  She did know. Indeed, after what happened this afternoon, she was afraid to stay alone. “But you will sleep on a pallet on the floor. And you must promise me, Mr. Montana, that you will do nothing to arouse me.”