Texas Moon TH4

by Patricia Rice

  Janice shook her head in amazement. She wore her thinnest gown and not enough petticoats to be decent, and still she felt like a steamed ear of corn. She eyed the raging horse and eased away from the fence. She didn't like horses, and she definitely didn't like the looks of this one.

  "That young fellow certainly knows his horses," Peyton commented behind her. Unconsciously she had gravitated in the direction of Betsy and her tutor.

  She didn't know which young fellow Peyton referred to, but she didn't think she agreed with his comment either. She merely nodded and kept at least the corner of her eye on the tableau in the paddock while she turned to admire Betsy's work.

  She stared at the striking ebony horse leaping off the canvas. "Betsy, that's marvelous! That's not watercolor. However did you learn to do that?"

  Too intent on trying to capture a particular gleam in the horse's eye, Betsy didn't even look up. "Mr. Peyton taught me. He let me use his paints."

  Janice had a sinking feeling that the oil paints were considerably more expensive than the pitiful child's colors she had bought Betsy for her birthday, and she sent Peyton a look of gratitude. At least, she thought she was grateful. When Betsy had to leave the luxury of these new paints behind, she might be of a different mind.

  "The girl's talented. She has a good eye. She's got a lot to learn when it comes to animals and such, but there's plenty of time. She's about outgrown watercolors. I couldn't keep her painting clouds and flowers forever."

  This last was almost an apology, as if he understood Janice's financial predicament.

  "I'm grateful for all the help you've given her, sir. I only wish I could reimburse you for your efforts."

  Peyton grinned, a charming grin reminiscent of Evie at her worst. "Just send me the proceeds of her first sale, and we'll call it even. I'd only drink it up or gamble it, anyway."

  The horse squealing from the paddock caused them to turn and watch the athletic display of man against beast. Ben was on the stallion's back, clinging to the saddle and the reins as the animal reared and circled and screamed in protest. It was an admirable contest, but Janice felt only fear as sharp hooves slashed the air dangerously near to the men at the fence.

  As Ben brought the horse under control, Tyler ran to throw open the paddock gate. Peter was already moving away from the fence in the direction of the little group beside the easel, instinctively placing himself between the horse's path and his family. Janice hadn't thought he even knew they were there. Perhaps he didn't. Perhaps he was just sensibly removing himself from the path of danger.

  It didn't matter. Nothing could have prevented what happened next. It was just one of those quirks of fate that one of the Monteigne youngsters chose that moment to dash out of a mock-orange thicket in pursuit of a puppy that had escaped his care, just as Ben and horse sprang through the paddock gate.

  A scream split the air. Tyler jerked his head up in time to find his son on a collision course with death. He ran for the boy at the same time as Ben tried to wheel the horse away. It all happened too fast for Janice to ever put together completely.

  Tyler grabbed his son and rolled out of the way of sharp hooves. The horse reared. Ben went flying from the saddle. And the stallion broke loose from all restraint. The animal's path to freedom led directly toward the little party at the easel.

  Janice knew she was screaming as she grabbed Betsy and started to run. She had never screamed in her life, but she couldn't stop now. The horse was bearing directly down on them, breathing flames for all she knew or cared. She could hear Peter's shouts, but they were meaningless to her. All that mattered was rescuing Betsy from the tearing hooves of the beast racing toward them.

  And then the horse screamed, and the yard suddenly filled with people streaming out of nowhere. Somebody grabbed Betsy out of her arms. Someone else caught Janice and held her trapped. Everyone froze, staring in the direction of the paddock, with no one running to help Ben or Tyler. Terrified, Janice looked over her shoulder.

  Peter had the stallion's reins. He hauled on them as hard as he could, but the brute was terrified and furious. Even as Janice watched, the horse nearly lifted Peter from his feet. And then in amazement she saw her husband get his foot in the stirrup and throw himself on the horse's back. The scream in her throat died as the world came to a standstill. The only movement was man and beast. The horse bolted.

  She realized Peyton held her. His old arms couldn't keep her steady as she sank to her knees and watched her husband race across the tree-studded yard on the back of a beast from hell. Her heart tore from her chest and raced after him, carrying with it all the frightened screams that froze in her throat.

  The horse aimed directly for the low branches of a magnolia, but Peter jerked it to the outer edge and ducked. They avoided an oak, and even the stallion had sense to stay out of an enormous holly. And then they hit the drive and disappeared from view.

  Shaking, unable to move, Janice stayed where she was as Evie and Carmen ran to Ben and Tyler. Tyler climbed to his feet, carrying his son back to Evie, but Ben was down. Betsy clung to Janice's hand, tears streaming down her cheeks, but neither said anything as they watched the road where Peter had disappeared. A wail went up from a different direction as Jasmine came running out of a small house and saw Ben on the ground. Disaster was strewn in the path of the stallion, and Peter was on its back.

  "The boys and I will go after them. Get her in the house."

  Janice heard Tyler's voice, but she ignored it. She resisted the hands pulling her to her feet. She had lived through more disasters in her life than she ever wished to contemplate. She always found it easier to meet them on her knees. Beneath her breath, she prayed fervently while her fingers worked at the handkerchief someone handed her.

  "Leave her be," Carmen spoke sharply over Janice's head, overruling the murmurs urging her to stand. "We'll wait out here. Betsy, fetch your sister some ice water."

  "At least get her out of the sun," Peyton muttered. "There's a bench under that oak."

  The bench faced in the direction that Peter had gone. Janice accepted this new position. If she could just keep watching, he would return safe and sound. She knew he would. He had to. The alternative stretching out before her if he did not was too bleak to consider. She wasn't ready to be a widow. She wasn't even a wife yet.

  She didn't cry. Tears were ineffective in the face of disaster. She had learned that a long time ago. Panic held her frozen, but steadfast concentration sometimes worked. If she could focus every inch of her being on the person endangered, sometimes they came through. She'd done that for Betsy more times than she could count. It hadn't worked for her mother and father, but they had lost faith in her. Peter didn't know to doubt her. All she had to do was sit here and concentrate and will him to be all right.

  She heard the other horses riding out, but in some dark part of her mind Janice realized the men would be as useless as tears. All they could do was pick up Peter's broken body if he fell. She bit her lip and focused her mind more fiercely. He wouldn't fall.

  The ice water went ignored. Betsy's hand in hers was a help. Two minds focused on the same situation couldn't hurt. She squeezed Betsy's fingers and prayed harder.

  When cheers finally rang out from the road, it took a moment before Janice could accept them. She kept praying, hoping the noise meant what she needed to hear, terrified she dreamed it.

  But Betsy jumped up from the bench and cheered with the rest of them, and with hope rising, Janice dared to scan the road hidden behind the trees. Betsy couldn't race down the drive like some of the boys were doing now, but she obviously had confidence that the cheers meant good news. Even Peyton limped toward the road as fast as his arthritic legs would carry him.

  The horse and rider bursting through the shadows and into the sunlight were the most beautiful things she had ever seen in her life. Janice held her breath as Peter brought the glistening black to a smooth canter and then a walk. His shoulders strained beneath the confinement of his
white shirt, and his powerful legs clung to the animal's sides until she couldn't tell where man began and horse ended. She let out her breath in a grateful sigh of relief as he guided the massive beast into the paddock and someone slammed the gate after him.

  Picking up her skirts, Janice ran as quickly as she was able toward the man who had risked his own life to save them all. How could she have ever thought him anything less than hero material? She must have misjudged him terribly. She'd finally found a man who could save her from the lifetime of drudgery she had faced, and she had almost turned her back on him.

  Peter was off the horse and climbing over the fence when she heard him yell at Tyler as the other men jockeyed their horses to join him, "I'll take that wager, Monteigne! You've got a winner here."

  Janice halted in her tracks, staring from the man she'd thought racing toward death to the grinning men still on horseback. Surely she hadn't heard right?

  "Only if you ride him," Tyler yelled back, sidling his horse in closer. "Ben's turned his leg. He's out of the running."

  To Janice's absolute horror, Peter walked up to Tyler and held out his hand. "That should increase my percentage. Who's going to circulate the rumor the beast is uncontrollable?"

  Tyler laughed and shook Peter's hand. They weren't paying any attention to her at all. They behaved as if this whole thing were some kind of cosmic joke fate had played into their hands. People had almost died today, and they were calculating how to fix the odds on a horse race!

  She swirled around in a fury and walked right into Evie.

  Evie caught her arms, steadied them both, and, glancing over Janice's shoulder to the men slapping each other on the back, started back to the house beside her.

  "Well now, you can't say that wasn't exciting. That husband of yours rides pretty well for a Yankee, I must say. I think we could all use a fresh lemonade after that. Ben's already inside complaining about all the women hovering over him. Maybe you could persuade Peter to come in and apply the reins to Ben. He really shouldn't use that leg for a while."

  Janice had never really felt fury until now. Terror was an old friend, but fury was as senseless as tears. But it seemed better to be furious than to break into the hysterics. If the horse hadn't killed him, she would. He had risked his life, their future, for a horse race? And he was going to do so again? And all this to obtain the money for a gold mine that might not even exist? She practically shook with rage.

  She didn't think she could stand it. She had married a madman, a gambler, a bankrupt ne'er-do-well who would no doubt spend his life sponging off his friends and chasing rainbows. She would have to leave him. She would have to find a job and start all over again. She wanted a house of her own. She wanted a future. She didn't want grandiose schemes involving horse races and gold mines. She didn't want Peter Mulloney.

  Suppressing her fury, Janice stopped in the parlor to console an impatient Ben. She sipped the lemonade someone handed to her. She gave Betsy a hug and sent her out to play. And when Peter finally entered in a circle of triumphant men, she turned her back on him and walked out.

  Peter watched her go with bewilderment. He had done what needed to be done. He'd thought he'd returned the conquering hero. He'd even found the means to make the money to buy the gold mine. He'd thought she would be proud of him. He had expected kisses and hugs. He hadn't expected an icy glare and the echoes of an unslammed door.

  Behind him, Tyler and Evie exchanged glances.

  "You men are such fools," Evie whispered.

  "Fools? What did we do?" Tyler's expression reflected the same bewilderment as Peter felt.

  "You tear up dreams like bits of paper and walk on them," Evie declared. Then smiling at the child running to her for attention, she went in pursuit of the required cookies.

  Chapter 18

  "You've been avoiding me all day. What is it?" Peter finally cornered his wife on the gallery later that evening. The scent of the magnolias was overpowering with the onset of darkness, but the fresh air felt good after he stifling heat of the lighted interior.

  "I've been busy," Janice replied stiffly. "I need to see if Betsy has gone to bed. Let me by."

  "Like hell, I will. Betsy's old enough to put herself to bed, and even if she isn't, there's enough people in there to help her along. The whole damn place crawls with people. There hasn't been a minute when I could get you alone."

  She arched her eyebrows in imperious question. "Why would you want to get me alone? I'm perfectly capable of speaking in company."

  "Don't give me that schoolmarm attitude, Mrs. Mulloney. I wasn't born yesterday. You're avoiding me, and that can only mean one thing that I know of. You've got a bee under your bonnet about something. Now let's get it out."

  "Why? It's my bonnet." Smiling pleasantly, Janice attempted to skirt around him.

  He grabbed her bustle and pulled her back. When she turned to smack him, Peter trapped her against the railing, placing his arms on either side of her to keep her from swinging at him. "You're my wife now. Everything that's yours is mine. So that's my bonnet and if I want to find out what's under it, I will."

  "This is a ridiculous..." Janice squealed as the hat she had donned when she came outside went sailing into the bushes. "You can't do that! I haven't but two hats and that one has to do me..."

  "Until I buy you a new one. And I will buy you a new one. That one looks as if you found it in a cow pasture. Now tell me what's wrong or I'll assume that bee is stuck in your hair and start on it next."

  He reached for the pins and combs holding her hair in place. Janice smacked at his hands. "Nothing is wrong Now stop that. I'm not a child. I'm entitled to my own thoughts and actions."

  It only took the removal of a pin or two to collapse the first smooth loop of hair. It straggled over her shoulder in a limp mass, and she shoved it nervously behind her ear.

  Peter stole it back and wrapped it in his fingers. "You promised to honor your vows. Didn't they include honoring and obeying?"

  He purposely deleted the first part of the vow. She may have promised to love him, but he knew as well as anyone that wasn't possible. He didn't doubt that women were capable of imagining the emotion of love. He just knew that this woman would never love the man who represented all that she despised.

  He knew she had to despise his family. He despised them. She had talked of poverty and starvation, and he knew the man responsible. He didn't expect her to differentiate between himself and his father. There wasn't a world of difference between them. So he would just be content with honoring and obeying.

  "There are limits, you know," she informed him. "If you told me to jump off a cliff, I wouldn't do it. And if you turn into a drunk who wallows in the mud, I won't honor you. Vows may be pretty, but they're not practical."

  "And you are. You are nothing if not practical. Now tell me, my practical wife, what is it that I have done to upset your practical soul? Should I have let the horse loose to trample where it would? Should I have conveniently broken my neck so you could go weeping home to Daniel and live in luxury for the rest of your life? Just what exactly is it that I did wrong?"

  Janice shoved ineffectually at his imprisoning arms. "You married me, that was what you did wrong. Now let me go, Peter. I won't be treated like this."

  Instead of releasing her, he circled her waist with his arms and pulled her up against him. "That wasn't wrong, insane, maybe, but not wrong." He bent his head and pressed his mouth against hers.

  She went stiff against him again, but the day had left Peter too unsettled to let her get away with that. He teased his tongue along the corner of her mouth and felt her lips part. With a sigh of satisfaction, he took advantage. She gasped and tried to shove away when he took possession of her mouth, but the move only gave him easier access to her breast. He captured it with one hand while he leisurely explored of the sweet hollow behind her lips. He had longed for this for a long time. He couldn't be easily persuaded away.

  Her corset hampered his exploration
s, but he managed to slide enough of his hand along the ridge to feel her nipple swell against his palm. He caressed it while stoking the fires with deepening kisses. He was rewarded when she moaned and shuddered against him.

  That moan was almost his undoing. He grew hard and aching and could think only of what it would be like to be inside her again. He forgot his question. He forgot where they were. He forgot everything but the woman melting in his arms. His reluctant wife might act cold, but underneath the frost was a woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  Janice clung to his coat, and then her hands slid beneath the hampering material to wrap around his neck. The heat of her fingers burned through the layers of waistcoat and shirt. He wanted to strip off her gown and taste her skin, but he had enough sense left to realize this was the wrong time and place.

  He knew if he let her go, she would retreat. He knew he couldn't go forward. So he stayed where he was and enjoyed what he was given.

  A door slammed and small feet pattered across the wooden gallery and down the stairs in accompaniment with childish laughter. Peter pulled Janice deeper into the shadows thrown by the morning glory vines rambling up the post. A woman's voice called from a nearby window, and he gritted his teeth as Janice tried to pull away. Lord, what would he have to do to kiss his own wife?

  Another door slammed. This time adult shoes traversed the boards, and they didn't conveniently run off into the darkness. Peter cursed beneath his breath as the steps drew closer. Pulling away, he attempted to right the damage he had done to Janice's clothing.

  Breathlessly she pushed his hand away and straightened her lace, but the hairpins were long since gone. She tucked her hair up the best she could while Peter stayed in front of her as shield.