“My God,” he breathed. “I didn’t have any idea. Did you?”
Amanda shook her head in the negative. Before them stood a great stone mansion with tall white columns, looking like a southern plantation house that had dropped out of the sky onto the range. Land surrounded it, good fertile blacklands that flourished with grass—a paradise for the roaming cattle. In the distance, Amanda could see the Mexican vaqueros riding the ranch, whirling their lariats as the wild calves bawled in protest. It was a ranchman’s dream. Amanda dismounted in stunned surprise, unable to believe this was hers.
“Looks like Austin Rutherford did all right,” Luke remarked as they walked toward the house. “This is some estate! I guess he had no heirs.”
Amanda shrugged, her hand tightening around Aesop’s cage. Even the little owl seemed stunned by the magnitude of the land as he stared from behind his gilded bars.
“I received many fan letters from him, but he never indicated anything of the kind. He seemed merely appreciative. I even gave him an acknowledgement once, in Colorado Gunfight. He sent me several books on Texas that were immensely helpful.”
They reached the gothic-styled porch, and before Amanda could even turn the shiny brass knob, the door opened and a manservant stepped out. Mexican and as brown as a nut, he wore a dazzling smile, and his eyes brightened like lighted sherry as they fell on Amanda. His dark hair curled around his face like a halo, and his worn mustache prickled beneath his broad nose like a furry mouse. His skin, as leathery as an old saddle, revealed his age, but his quick step and agility belied his years. Wearing a soft pair of khaki pants and a brightly colored tunic that seemed well suited to the climate, he nearly danced in suppressed delight as if greeting an old friend.
“Amanda? Miss Amanda Edison?” His smile grew impossibly wider as Amanda hiked Aesop’s cage onto her arm and stretched out a hand. “Amanda Edison! Fess Tyson! I cannot believe I meet you at last! It is really you?” He pumped the extended hand vigorously. “I wait all my life to meet you. How I wish Austin were here to see you at last! Do come in, I am Pedro.” He reached for Aesop, then, with a second thought, glanced up to Luke. “Is he with you?”
“Yes.” Amanda smiled. “This is my…husband, Luke Parker.”
“Ah. Husband. That is very good.” Luke’s hand got the same treatment as Amanda’s. “Any husband of Fess Tyson is a friend of mine. Come in, the sun is very hot. I cannot wait to show you the ranch. Amanda Edison, here at last.”
Luke stared at Amanda in amazement as the author stepped inside the house with the bedazzled manservant. Pedro accidentally shut the door, and Luke faced the closed portal with a disgusted glare, then opened the door and let himself in.
The interior of the house was even lovelier than the outside. Amanda stood in the foyer, drinking in the beauty of the polished marble floors, the pale blue walls, the rose draperies and the polished mahogany furniture. Everything was in perfect condition, from the good paintings of hunting scenes adorning the walls to the Chippendale furnishings.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed in appreciation.
Pedro grinned. “Not what you think, eh Fess Tyson? Senor Rutherford keep this house very well. He made much money growing cotton during the war, then in cattle. The carpetbag men tried to take this place from him, but Senor Rutherford paid the taxes and they could get nothing. It is a good place for a man to settle, but not good for a woman alone. He would be happy that you married.”
“I can see that.” Amanda wandered into the kitchen, then onto the patio in the rear of the house. The tiny portico was lined with stones and landscaped with prairie flowers and cacti. Benches were placed at advantageous parts of the garden where one could seek refuge from the sun, or catch the waning rays.
Pedro put Aesop on a mahogany sideboard, then gestured to the stairs. “I must show you your rooms, and I have another surprise for you upstairs. Please follow me. Oh, you can come, too, Mr. Edison.”
“Parker,” Luke snapped. “It’s Mr. and Mrs. Parker.”
“Ah, I am sorry,” Pedro apologized, then nodding endlessly, led them up the lavish staircase.
Upstairs, Amanda immediately fell in love with her room. It was smaller than the other rooms and less imposing. A lemon-yellow quilt covered the pine poster bed, and a comfortable dresser and chair stood on the opposite wall. But immediately beside the bed was a writing desk, and with it, a tufted wingback chair and a good gaslight. The desk was beside a window, and when Amanda peered out of the spotless glass, she could see the entire town of Waco and miles of sprawling cattle range beyond.
“It is wonderful.” Amanda turned to Pedro. “But whose room was this? Surely, Austin didn’t provide all this just for me?”
Pedro’s smile dimmed a bit. “He had a daughter once. She was muy bonita, and very bright. She would have been like you, smart in school. She read all the time. But she caught the fever and died when she was very small. Senor always thought of you in the same way he would think of her. He wanted you to have her things.” He ran a finger over the desk and held it out to Amanda for inspection. “I keep it very clean.”
“It’s lovely, just like the rest of the house. Is this what you wanted me to see?”
“Oh no, senora, there is one other surprise. This may have been Senorita Belinda’s room, but Senor Rutherford planned something especially for you. Come look.” Taking Amanda’s arm, he led her down the hallway, then stopped and spoke to Luke. “Oh, I almost forget. That room is yours.” Pedro indicated a large bedroom decorated in golds and brown, then continued down the hallway, oblivious to Luke’s sarcastic glance.
“This is it.” Opening the last door, Pedro could barely suppress a grin as Amanda stepped inside and gasped in delight.
There were books everywhere. From one wall to the other, from the ceiling to the floor, they lined the room like readable wallpaper. Amanda lovingly fingered a volume on Shakespeare, then Homer, then Carlyle, Dickens, Twain. There were biographies, fiction books, mysteries, and classics. Books on geography, on history, on folklore and Indian tribes. There were romances and books of poetry, sonnets and scripture. Then, directly in the center, was a reading desk, where every one of her books, written as Fess Tyson, were separated from the rest in a special shelf, with obviously well-worn covers.
“I can’t believe this.” Amanda turned to the manservant, her eyes filled and misty. “He gave all this to me?”
“This was his library.” Pedro beamed proudly. “Senor Rutherford loved your books, Miss Edison. He think you are the world’s best novelist. I cannot read, so he would read the stories to me at night. He was a good man, and you brought him much joy. He only wanted to give some back to you.”
Amanda nodded, then slowly sank to the floor where she could examine each book, one precious volume at a time. Nothing could have meant more to her, not the even the riches of a sultan’s temple or the wealth of a southern plantation. She was like a child, scurrying from one treasure to another, lost in the works of her beloved philosophers and poets.
Luke stood out in the hallway, seeing her transformed from the Amanda he knew on the trail, the woman who used her unbelievable mind to thwart him, to this scholarly and obviously successful novelist. He’d never been confronted with her career before, but now it struck him with full force. Amanda Edison was not just any other woman, but she was apparently well known and something of a celebrity. It was a disturbing thought, especially to a man who’d experienced self-doubt and loss. As he closed the library door behind him, he realized Amanda didn’t even look up, she was so buried in her books. That was all she needed before she’d met him.
Perhaps, it was all she’d need now.
It was late before she left the library, and that was only because Pedro’s timid knock brought her back to reality. The manservant entered the room, then stood before Amanda, as if afraid to speak.
“Senora, it is well past dinner time. I call for you earlier, but you didn’t even hear me. I thought perhaps you would lik
e a bath and a change of clothes, sí?”
“Oh my God, what time is it?”
“It is past nine. Senor Parker just came in from the range. I did not wish to disturb you, but you should eat something.”
“Yes, you’re right. I’ll have a bath right now. And could you bring a tray to my room? Enough for two?” Amanda asked.
“Sí.” Pedro looked very relieved. “I’ll do that right away.”
When he left, Amanda walked slowly to her room, deep in thought. This was no way to start out, instinctively she knew that. Luke obviously hadn’t gone to see a solicitor, and hadn’t made a single mention of divorce since their arrival. Perhaps he meant to make this a real marriage, to run the ranch together in an equal partnership as husband and wife, and to one day have children….
That thought deepened her blush. Smoothing her gown, she noticed that she was still wearing the same trail-worn dress she’d arrived in. Her hair fell in blatant disarray down to her waist, and her boots were covered with dust and badly scuffed.
In her room, Amanda found a steaming tub, along with several fragrant soaps. She undressed and slipped into the water, sighing with bliss as the fragrant bubbles closed around her. After days on the trail, the water felt like silk against her bare skin. She washed her hair, and then wrapped it in a thick fluffy towel as she reluctantly stepped from the tub and dried before a lit fire. Pedro knocked softly, then handed her tray inside the door while Amanda waited behind the concealing portal.
It felt good to be thoroughly clean again. Slipping into the one acceptable nightgown she owned, threadbare cotton though it was, she felt comfortable for the first time in weeks. Amanda gazed into the mirror, surprised to see that she had gotten thinner, that the hollows in her cheeks were more pronounced, and that her eyes looked enormous. Her hair showed the wear of the trip, looking ragged and uneven. Thankfully, the second drawer contained a sharp pair of scissors, and within a few minutes, she had restored her coiffure to all its former glory.
She slipped down the hallway and paused at the door to Luke’s room, peering down the yawning corridor that was lighted with candles, feeling suddenly shy and uncertain. Her hand tightened on the doorknob, and she almost turned back.
You want him, admit it. The voice in her head spoke clearly and simply. You have a chance, Amanda, for the first time in your life, to have what you really want. Don’t botch it. Stiffening her resolve, she opened the door.
“Amanda—” Luke’s words cut off as he saw her standing in the lamplight. Framed by the doorway, her hair brushed and glistening in the dim light like spun caramel, her mouth the color of a wood rose, and her thin nightgown wafting about her like a hazy cloud, she looked beautiful. Innocent. And adorable. “Come in.”
She obeyed, balancing the tray while Luke closed the door behind her. It was then that she noticed he was wearing the rough buckskins he’d donned earlier, minus a shirt. But he had bathed, and his body glowed with all its perfect muscular symmetry, like a sculpture of Apollo. He had removed his hat, and his hair glowed so black that it seemed to contain blue highlights. His eyes fell to the tray, and Amanda held it out like an offering.
“Pedro made it. I worked through dinner, and I heard you came back late. I thought you might like a picnic in your room.”
He smiled, and it was suddenly all worth it. He reached for the tray, took it and put it on the dressing table, then reached for her. “My God,” he breathed, drawing in the scent of her, mingled with soap and the sweet smell of woman. “I’m so glad you came.” He brushed a light kiss across her lips, her body teasing his naked chest with the thin slip of a nightgown she wore. “Let’s see what Pedro made,” Luke continued huskily, “or I’ll start thanking you now and we’ll never get to the food.”
Amanda felt the heat come to her face, but it wasn’t an embarrassed blush. She curled up in a polished winged chair, her feet tucked beneath her, her eyes wide with curiosity as Luke opened the dishes and displayed the exotic meal. There were platefuls of crisp corn tortillas and bowls of freshly cut tomatoes and peppers on the tray. A separate plate held strips of beef fried with peppers and onions and wrapped with cheese in a soft tortilla that Pedro called fajitas. Accompanying the tray was a pitcher of fruit wine that was so sweet and light that it was almost a punch.
“It looks delicious,” Amanda mused, and Luke handed her a filled plate, along with a glass of wine.
Having dinner in a bedroom with a man like Luke was a lot of fun, and certainly not the scandalous activity that some etiquette books pronounced. Giggling, she accepted an offering of fresh sweet orange slices, gasping as the fruit squirted in her mouth. But the sharp, spicy food tasted even better after that, and when Luke refilled her wine cup, she let him, enjoying every moment of the odd feast.
When they’d finished, Luke poured out two cups of thick rich coffee laced with brandy, then they moved to the sofa before the fire. Amanda decided this was definitely a good idea, especially when Luke took her cup and put it aside, and then began to massage her shoulders and neck. Warmed by the fire, the brandy, and the heat from the man beside her, Amanda began to relax, and her body felt as limp as a dish rag. Strange tinglings began in her shoulders, where his talented fingers worked out all the stress and the pain from writing, then continued along her nerve endings until her entire body felt surprisingly renewed. Turning to him slowly, she saw the same emotions reflected in his deep blue eyes and she smiled dreamily.
“Luke, is it right to have a mating urge all the time?”
She saw the amusement dance in his eyes, and a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Why?”
“Because that’s what’s happening to me.”
His smile faded, and his eyes turned hot with desire as he bent down and kissed her. His hand reached up to fondle a sweetly veiled breast, the nipple peeking enticingly through the worn lace. When his hand slid lower, down past a slender waist, through the length of silky chestnut hair that spilled down her back, to cup her rounded bottom, he whispered softly, “Not only is it right, sweetheart, but I intend to keep it that way. Now and forever.”
Chapter
21
This is what it means to be totally happy. Amanda stared out of the wagon, shielding her face from the sun, and watching the throngs of people that filled the street. She and Luke had spent the morning making love, then had only climbed out of bed when Pedro called for the third time. Reluctantly, they had agreed to dine at a decent hour for his sake, and now the manservant scoured the shops for fresh produce to make the evening meal.
The wagon creaked to a halt in front of the sheriff’s office. Amanda scurried in the back and withdrew reams of paper, notes, and Aesop’s cage. Luke lifted her down, then reached back inside for the manuscript.
“I’ll join you in a few minutes. I’d like to meet the sheriff and tell him about Haskwell, just in case we need help. You all right?”
He saw the worried look on Amanda’s face, but she nodded easily. “It’s just been such a long time since the last attack that I was starting to hope it was over.”
“It may be,” Luke agreed. “Haskwell may have given up. I know his men weren’t in too good of shape after that stampede. But believe me, where Haskwell’s concerned, I’d rather be overly protective.”
There was something odd in his voice that gave Amanda pause. She started to question him further, when a stout woman dressed in a green silk gown flounced over to the carriage, then stared in gaping awe at Amanda. Her handkerchief fluttered in the breeze and she held it to her breast, as if unable to breathe.
“It is you! The Fess Tyson! I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Pedro to tell me when you actually arrived. We’re delighted to have you, my dear. I am Marge Meade, head of the Woman’s Committee of Waco. You simply have to join. Wait until I tell the girls!”
She waved her broad pink hand and was quickly joined by several other women. Pedro appeared, shrugging apologetically, his arms laden with groceries. Amanda answered the wo
men’s questions politely and tried to keep a hold onto Aesop’s cage as well as the book, but she was jostled on all sides. She dropped several of the papers and when she tried to retrieve them, the crowd had thickened to the point where she couldn’t move. Luke started toward her, but several men who had been standing nearby and hoping for an introduction seized the opportunity and handed Amanda her manuscript like knights bestowing favor upon their lady.
“You have to autograph my copy of Oklahoma Revenge I’ve read that book a hundred times!”
“You’re exactly like Austin described! Do come for dinner. My wife and children would love to meet you!”
“I thought her last book wasn’t her best, but I won’t tell her.”
“What about the new book. When is it due? What is it about?”
Amanda clutched her bird cage in bewilderment. Luke tried to help, but he was thrust out of the way by the crowd. Glaring at the rotund Mrs. Meade, Luke attempted to elbow his way back into the group, while one of the men gave him a disgruntled stare.
“Would you please wait your turn? We all want to meet Fess Tyson.”
“I happen to be her husband!” Luke said through gritted teeth. He impolitely shoved the man aside and joined his wife. “Come on, Amanda, let’s get out of here.”
“But they want to ask about the new book!” Amanda replied, managing to answer the questions and keep hold of her manuscript at the same time. For a writer who’d experienced very little contact with her audience, this was like a mad dream where everything was a little out of control, but heady nevertheless. She described just enough of the book to make it sound enticing, answered queries on research and her relationship with Austin, and parried critical attacks with a gusto that Luke was forced to admire.
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