The Men of Pride County: The Rebel

by West, Rosalyn

  Like her mother before her, Juliet knew how to make a man feel welcome.

  And while he selfishly enjoyed being that man for the moment, he also thought it high time she found one of her own to cater to.

  “Dinner’s almost ready.”

  Juliet stood in the doorway of the small kitchen. An apron covered her practical gown, and her features were flushed by the heat of the stove. Not a beauty, but a handsome girl, her father observed. One who would make some deserving officer a fine wife.

  “If it’s no trouble, set two extra plates. I thought the dinner table would be a good, informal place for my seconds to get to know each other.”

  A deeper color rose to his daughter’s cheeks, but her reply was automatic. “No trouble.”

  Crowley knew better. Something was bothering her, and he didn’t think it was worrying over how to divide their beef into two extra portions. It was one of the guests who flustered her, and by evening’s end, he hoped to learn which one.

  No trouble.

  Juliet grumbled to herself as she diced more potatoes for her stew. Most of her ill-temper was because it ordinarily wouldn’t have been any trouble. She was used to stretching meals to accommodate her father’s last-minute invitations to their table. But this time it irritated her.

  And she knew it had to do with Noble Banning.

  The thought of sitting down to a meal with him disconcerted her. She’d have only enough time to set two more services and dish the meal, none to freshen her appearance or change into another dress. Such sprucing-up details wouldn’t have occurred to her if Miles had been their only guest. The knowledge that she wanted to fuss in order to please the smug Kentuckian galled her no end.

  After all, he wasn’t coming to dinner to ogle her.

  But obviously, that was Miles’s intention.

  Miles Dougherty had been her father’s second in command at his last post in Texas, before the War between the States pulled the Crowleys back East. Miles had gone on to serve under another at Fort Blair until that unfortunate commander had taken a bad turn after a sudden, unexplained fever. So her father’s return had the comfortable feel of a reunion.

  Miles Dougherty was a fine man. Everything about the tawny-haired major was solid as stone—his build, his character, his ideals. He was career Army, a volunteer who wished for nothing more than to lead his own command. Her father had been impressed by his unflagging devotion to duty, and Juliet, by his devotion to her.

  He met her at the door with a warm kiss of welcome that grazed her cheek. And when he stepped back, she saw something new in his eyes. Before there had been fondness and friendship. Now there was more. More like confident ownership. Her smile of greeting faded.

  “Hello, Miles. How good to have you back to sit at our table.”

  “Always a pleasure to be invited.”

  He stepped inside, and before she could close the door, Noble Banning slipped across the threshold behind him.

  “Good evening, Miz Crowley.” He leaned closer to croon sotto voce, “I don’t suppose you’d allow me a quick kiss, too.”

  Though her pulse was suddenly thrumming, her reply was cool. “I don’t think so, Major. Were I you, I’d be grateful for the supper.”

  Her tart reply earned a sober response. “Oh, I am, ma’am, truly I am, considering most of the meals I’ve sat down to in the past three years weren’t fit for human consumption. This is the first table I’ve seen since ‘61.”

  Unbidden, her tone gentled. “Then I trust you’ll have no complaints.”

  “No, ma’am. I don’t imagine you’d accept them kindly.”

  “No easier than your compliments, sir.”

  He gave a low chuckle, then strode past her to greet her father. “Good evening, sir. I hope you’ve gone to no trouble on our behalf.”

  “No trouble,” Juliet supplied with enough vinegar to earn a quick glance from the colonel. She forced a smile. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I must tend the stove.”

  All three waited at polite attention until she’d left the room. Once in the kitchen, she dished the stew with a vengeance.

  “A quick kiss, indeed. Maybe you can turn the heads of your vacuous Southern girls with such nonsense, but you’ll find me immune to your empty flattery.”

  But for all her angry mutterings, her heart beat faster just considering what a kiss from Noble Banning might be like.

  Perhaps she could blame her limited experience of kissing for her senses being all aquiver. Otherwise, why would such intimacies with a stranger hold an appeal? Her knowledge of kissing, at least mouth to mouth, was based on one brief moment beneath the mistletoe four years ago. She’d been so surprised by Miles’s sudden demonstration that she’d had no time to decide whether or not she enjoyed it. A stiff, dry pressure against her alarm-slackened lips—a gesture that hadn’t stirred half the excitement as the mere thought of experimenting with Noble Banning.

  Annoyed with herself for getting worked up over the Southerner’s teasing remark, Juliet deposited the meal on the table with unnecessary force, then assumed her seat. Conversation between the men resumed almost at once, the topic Army business. Used to being excluded, Juliet ate in silence, keeping her attention focused on her plate and suppressing a desire to study Noble Banning’s mouth.

  “The horses should be arriving tomorrow, unless those damned Apache thieves snatch them,” Miles reported. “We don’t have an animal on this post that’s worth a ration of grain.”

  “Or a rider, either. Until now,” Crowley amended with a nod toward Noble. “Major Banning, my experience with livestock purchased locally is that it’s green and wild. I trust you have men who can break them to the saddle.”

  “All of my men are capable, sir. Most of us were practically born in the saddle.”

  “As soon as the beasts are marginally agreeable, I want you to set up a schedule for drilling. I want this company turned out as proper cavalry. I’m sick of having the Indians riding circles around us. Until we can come close to matching them in the saddle, we’ve no hope of maintaining a balance here in the West.”

  “Sir, my men don’t need to be drilled on how to sit a horse,” Miles protested with a cutting glance at Noble.

  “Miles, no offense to you or your men, but you’re more suited to a wagon seat than a saddle.”

  “But sir, I don’t think there’s anything these Seseshes can teach us.”

  Crowley chuckled. “That’s because you haven’t seen them ride.” His mood chilled slightly. “And I would remind you to watch your language, Major Dougherty.”

  The two majors exchanged cool stares for a long moment, then Noble returned to his meal. He paused after a few bites to say, “This is excellent fare, Miz Crowley. You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

  The colonel beamed proudly at his child. “Jules is a fine cook. She can make hardtack into a delicacy. We’ve no shortage of men seeking invitations to dinner.”

  “Particularly once she puts Hortense and Willamina to work I’d guess.”

  Miles scowled when Juliet and Noble traded small smiles. He felt moved to state, “You’ve an exceptional daughter, John. I’ve always said so.”

  “Yes, you have,” Crowley conceded, but his attention was pulled between Juliet and his new major. Slowly, he smiled. “A woman like Jules is a treasure out here on the frontier. She knows a man’s wants before he needs express them. I shall hate to lose her.”

  Blushing awkwardly, Juliet glowered at him. “Really, Papa, such things you say. You’re not going to lose me.”

  He sighed dramatically. “Kind of you to say, daughter, but totally untrue. You’ll find some dashing young man to replace me in your heart, and I shall be back to eating from the army kitchen.”

  Her stare riveted to her chipped china plate, Juliet struggled against the humiliation heating her face. “If you continue embarrassing me like this, Father, you may find yourself standing in line with a plate tomorrow.”

  “She means it, too,” Crowley lau
ghed. “Gentlemen, for the sake of my palate, let’s turn our talk to something else.”

  While Miles went on to give a detailed report on raiding party activities, Juliet risked a quick glance at Noble. He was listening intently to the conversation between the other two men and unaware of her interest. Feeling safe to allow a longer minute of study, Juliet’s gaze lingered over the symmetry of his features: the lean, sculpted line of cheek and jaw, the raven blackness of cropped hair and heavy brows, the startling blue of his pale eyes. And the surprising soft and supple bend of lips that shifted expressively in response to what was being said—pursing, curling, thinning, even as his stare remained unblinking.

  And as she watched, fascinated by those mobile twists, the tip of his tongue edged out to slide along the seam of his mouth, leaving a moist trail that had her breath suddenly shuddering. There would be nothing stiff or dry if he were to …

  The corners of his mouth took a slight upward turn.

  Aghast, Juliet lifted her gaze to find him staring directly at her from across the table. How could he have missed the hungering way she perused his lips as she imaged the feel of them upon her own? Caught in the midst of her fantasizing, she had only two choices. She could look away in shame or she could brazen it out as if she’d done nothing wrong.

  She’d never learned to stomach a skulking retreat.

  When she met his stare with an unapologetic one of her own, a gleam of appreciation heated the chill blue depths of his eyes. That warmth increased to an uncomfortable level, which finally forced Juliet into turning away as if indifferent. While she returned to her potatoes, he covered his chuckle with what might have been the clearing of his throat.

  She didn’t make the mistake of risking eye contact with him again.

  Keeping her imagination tightly leashed through the remainder of their meal, Juliet had recovered enough of her composure to extend her hand and offer a faint smile when Noble thanked her for the dinner as he readied to leave.

  Instead of a polite press of her fingers, Noble lifted them, bending to meet them half way. His breath blew warm over the back of her hand, exciting a shiver from wrist to shoulder. He did more than touch a proper kiss to her knuckles. Beneath the leisurely caress of his lips, he drew lightly on her skin, then devastated her with the slow stroke of his tongue behind the ridge of her knuckles. It was all discreetly done under her father’s nose.

  By the time Noble straightened, Juliet could scarcely control her trembling. She stared into his eyes, mesmerized by his unblinking intensity. Her fingers curled about his in an almost desperate panic until he smiled with a formal remoteness and said, “Good night, Miz Crowley. Again, my thanks for the hospitality.”

  It was an effort to force her fingers open so that he could slip his hand free. If they’d been alone, she’d have never let him go until his actions had been explained. What explanation could there be? He was mocking her for her attitude of uninterest, making her weaken before her own desires.

  And she did desire him. For all the wrong reasons. And perhaps for some of the right ones.

  If her father chose to be blind to her dazed behavior, Miles wasn’t as obliging. She intercepted his tight scrutinizing glare and tried to defuse it with a wan smile. He wasn’t fooled.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she managed in a somewhat normal voice. “I’ll clear the table and leave you to your cigars.”

  Her china plates almost didn’t survive the distance between the main room and the kitchen. The shaking of her hands had them clattering together by the time she slid them into a basin of soapy water. She leaned there against the dry sink for a long moment, as chills rattled along her bones and her skin felt feverishly hot.

  So this was what it was like to lust after a man. She took a deep breath and tried to observe the sensations dispassionately. Her heart pounded and her chest felt tight. The rhythm of her breathing came out of sync. All because she’d imagined the taste of his lips and was teased by his indecent kiss upon her hand. There the skin still tingled and the reason why made her all the more breathless.

  She’d read about it, of course, in books her father never would have ordered for her had he known of their content. She knew one could expect basic man-woman responses on a level both powerful and primitive, but she’d been unprepared to experience those feelings herself—at least not with a man like Noble Banning, a man she’d sworn to dislike on general principles alone.

  But the truth was, she didn’t dislike him. She didn’t trust him, but she couldn’t despise him. Whether that was because of her weakness for his handsome face or her respect for his sharp mind didn’t matter. What mattered was that the feelings were totally inappropriate and her father would most likely lock her away if he knew of them. When he spoke of losing her to another man, he certainly hadn’t meant a man like his Southern second in command.

  With her thoughts under control and when her hands were steady, Juliet returned for the glassware and table services only to be caught up in the topic of discussion.

  “You plan to keep them under guard, of course.”

  Her father gave Miles a bland look. “They’ve done nothing to deserve such treatment.”

  “They’re Southerners, sir, traitors. That sly devil sat here all during dinner measuring you for the best place to put a bullet.”

  “Miles,” rumbled a word of warning. But he refused to heed it.

  “We’ve given them guns, horses, the very means to slay us and escape into the night. What’s to stop them from killing us all in order to return to their homes?”

  “Banning gave me his word.”

  “His word? John, are you insane?”

  “Careful, Major Dougherty. My daughter asked the same thing, but it’s not within my power to court martial her.”

  “What makes you think you can take that man’s word? He’s betrayed the very Union we fight to protect. What makes you believe he’ll risk his life for it now?”

  “He told me he would. And I choose to believe him until he gives me reason to believe otherwise.”

  “Colonel, you’re placing your men in danger, and your daughter as well.”

  Crowley’s features darkened. “You are out of line, sir. I have the utmost respect for Banning, as do his men for him. Please do not force this issue further or I will lose mine for you.”

  Dougherty immediately snapped to stiff attention. “I beg your pardon, sir. And I wish you a good evening.” He unbent slightly. “Thank you for the meal, Juliet.”

  Juliet nodded, but her silence gave Miles no excuse to linger.

  “Papa, he’s concerned for us all,” Juliet said when they were alone. “Haven’t you wondered if he’s right to worry? You know I do.”

  “No, Jules. I can’t afford to second-guess my decisions. Banning gave me his word—and I then gave him mine that he and his men would be treated with the respect due soldiers of our United States Army. I’ll not leg-shackle them like criminals and be suspicious of their every move. Miles is just—”

  “Just what?”

  Crowley sighed. “He’s jealous of an officer who outranks him and who he fears may surpass him in my favor.”

  “And would he be right?” She posed the question casually, as if she spoke only of rank and not of other areas of competition.

  “Miles Dougherty is a fine officer. I wish I had ten more like him.”

  “And Banning?”

  “If I had ten more like him, I could bring the hostiles to their knees.”

  And so answered her question of whom he favored.

  “Be careful, Papa.”

  “You think Banning would like me dead?”

  She looked uncomfortable but that didn’t curb her observation. It never did. “I’m saying he has every reason to wish it.”

  Crowley nodded. He wasn’t a careless or a foolish man. He had to know the danger of housing the enemy under their same roof. Caution and wisdom went hand in hand.

  “And you would be right.” He bent to kiss h
er cheek. “Good night, my dear. Try to put your fears aside for a good night’s sleep.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said wryly. “I don’t think Major Banning has any intention of sneaking into my room to slit my throat tonight.”

  She wouldn’t admit it, even to herself.

  What she feared was his ability to slip into her dreams to do worse.

  Chapter 6

  The unmistakable sound of a gunshot echoing too loudly to have come from anywhere but inside the house woke Juliet from a restless dream of ice-blue eyes and tempting kisses.

  Papa!

  She rolled from bed and snatched her Navy Colt off the floor, checking the chambers as she raced into the front room. Experience had taught her to be ready for anything, and with her heart in her throat, she greeted whatever waited pistol barrel first.

  Her father was lifting himself up off the army-blanket rug. He, too, had pistol in hand. A quick assessment revealed a broken front window and no threatening assailant.

  “Papa, are you all right? What happened?”

  The colonel studied her for a long, silent moment, then managed a chagrined smile. About that time, Miles, Noble Banning, and the colonel’s aide crowded in through the front door, each armed and alert. Their superior’s embarrassment increased as he included them all in the explanation.

  “I feel like a green fool,” he muttered. “I was cleaning my revolver, tripped on that damned rug, and threw a shot through the window.”

  Juliet rushed to embrace him, holding tight to control her own trembling as she scolded, “Papa, how could you be so careless? You nearly scared ten years off us.”

  “I’m sorry, daughter. Gentlemen, you may return to your rooms. Please assure the men that all is well and tell them to go back to sleep.”

  As the group of officers drew relieved breaths and her own frantic fears eased, Juliet’s attention was drawn to the splendid sight of Noble Banning wearing nothing more than his uniform trousers. What made her heart race then had nothing to do with distress. Her wide gaze canvassed the rugged expanse of muscled shoulders and heavily black-furred chest, her hands itching to survey that awesome terrain with the same leisure her stare allowed.