A Lady of the West

by Linda Howard

  What was he going to do about Victoria? She threatened him in a way no one else ever had, because she threatened him emotionally. Last night had shown him his own frightening vulnerability to her. He was terrified of his weakness for her, of how close and raw she made his emotions. The only way Jake knew to deal with this kind of threat was to flee, to protect himself by being rid of her, but he couldn’t do that without losing the ranch.

  She had been McLain’s wife; he should be disgusted at the thought of touching her, but the truth was that he ached to have her again and again. She was so fine that McLain’s ugliness hadn’t been able to coarsen her. The night they had just shared hadn’t diluted the intensity of his desire; it had increased it.

  He desperately wanted to fight that desire, to keep himself heartwhole. He could send her away, but the thought of some other man marrying her made him grind his teeth in rage. And with her went the legal ownership of the ranch. He was caught in her woman’s web like some stupid insect, and damn if he liked that idea.

  He couldn’t let her go, so there was no sense in even toying with the idea. He and Ben had control of the ranch, but they didn’t have ownership. Unless he married Victoria. Then it would be his, and he would deed half of it to Ben.

  He could keep the ranch, or he could protect himself by letting Victoria go. He and Ben had been born in this house; the thought of coming back to it, reclaiming it, had been the driving force of their lives. He’d fought for it, killed for it, won it back, but still it legally belonged to someone else. He could try to close himself off emotionally, try to protect himself with the wall of ice that had served him so well until now. But physically and legally, he and Victoria were to be man and wife. He really had no choice.

  Ben walked in, sipping his own cup of coffee. He sprawled in a chair close to Jake’s and eyed his brother with sharp awareness, both of where he had spent the night and of what was on his mind now.

  “She’s a fine woman,” Ben said.

  Jake looked up. “I know.”

  “And a real lady. I’m not too sure about that cousin of hers, but Victoria is a lady through and through.”

  Amusement lightened Jake’s frown for a minute, and he grinned at his brother. “Emma? She’s even more proper than Victoria. What did you do to her to get her stirred up?”

  “Me?” Ben snapped. “She shot at me, damn it, and tried to knock my brains out with the rifle!”

  Jake shrugged. “Victoria took a shot at me, too.”

  “She fought like a wildcat,” Ben said, remembering the way Emma had felt beneath him, the way she had gone still when she’d felt his hardness pushing against her. He shifted restlessly and changed the subject.

  “Do your plans still stand?”

  “What choice do I have?”

  “We both know the choices.” Ben knew Jake would never harm Victoria, but he wanted to jolt his brother out of his brooding, so he said, “Victoria owns the ranch now. You can marry her, or you can kill her.”

  Victoria had come downstairs just after Ben had entered the library, and stood outside the door trying to work up enough courage to greet them. Jake had seen her as no one else had, touched her as no one else had. The memory would be in his eyes when he looked at her, and knowledge would be in Ben’s because the things that a man did to a woman were something that all men knew, and did. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but in her hesitation to enter the room she had. And what she’d heard had drained all the blood from her face.

  So that was why he’d been trying to seduce her. From the beginning he’d planned to make her fall in love with him so she would be willing to marry him and give him legal ownership of the ranch. She supposed she could only be relieved that he’d considered that option at all rather than simply killing her outright, as he’d killed McLain. It appeared he hadn’t yet made up his mind about her fate, though, and the knowledge stiffened her spine.

  She stepped into the library, her entrance making both men look around at her. She was still white, but composed. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” she said in a tone that was calm, if a bit strained. She clenched her hands together to prevent their trembling and forced herself to meet Jake’s narrowed green eyes. “Which should I prepare myself for, a wedding or a funeral?”

  Jake scowled; he still didn’t like the idea that she had so much power over his emotions, but the fact was that she did. Here she was as calm and cool as a nun, all starched and buttoned, as if she hadn’t dug her nails into his back and all but screamed with pleasure while he held her convulsing body still for his thrusts. The memory burned through him and made him grow hard. Kill her? He couldn’t even form the thought in his mind. And how could she think it, especially after last night? Angered, he glared at her, his eyes icy green.

  “The wedding,” he said abruptly. “I’ve sent one of the men after Father Sebastian. He’ll marry us this afternoon.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and left the room.

  At least there was no pretense between them, she thought with a bitter smile. He hadn’t tried to lie to her and dupe her with romance. He hadn’t even bothered asking her if she would marry him, but then, why should he have? She could marry him or die.

  She sought out Emma, whom she found in the courtyard enjoying both the sun and their freedom from the yoke of constant fear. If for nothing else, Victoria felt gratitude to the Sarratts for getting them out of that.

  “Jake is marrying me this afternoon,” she said baldly, not knowing how else to state it.

  Emma’s mouth and eyes went round. “This afternoon?” she squeaked. Then she blushed and said, “Well, yes, of course, after last night—”

  Victoria flinched. “You knew?” She was mortified.

  Emma flushed even redder. “Not last night. But this morning… um, I saw him leaving your bedroom, carrying his shirt.”

  Victoria sank down on a bench and looked at her hands, struggling with her embarrassment. It was foolish, really, after all they had been through. Even though Emma didn’t know the shocking things Jake had done to her or the way she had responded, Victoria knew very well and couldn’t prevent herself from thinking of them.

  Emma sat down beside her and hugged her. “Please don’t be embarrassed,” she said. “You’ll be married this afternoon, so I don’t think it’s so scandalous to have anticipated your wedding vows by less than twenty-four hours. Unless … unless it was awful?”

  “No, it isn’t that.” She paused, then said, “He doesn’t love me.” Victoria sighed and watched a rose blossom swaying in the slight breeze. “Now that the Major is dead, the ranch is legally mine. The only way Jake can get it is to either marry me or kill me. I’m terribly grateful that he’s chosen marriage.”

  Emma stiffened, shocked. “Then you can’t marry him.”

  “Pride would say so, wouldn’t it? But I like living. And he’d have to kill you and Celia, too, so don’t be so hasty saying I should refuse his decision.” She found that there was, after all, some amusement to be had. She smiled at Emma. “And it wasn’t awful at all.”

  Emma blushed and looked away, but a smile tugged at her lips, too. “So it isn’t that the act is awful, but sometimes the man is.”

  “Exactly. One’s modesty is useless and it’s painfully intimate, but not awful.” She took a deep breath. “The opposite, in fact.”

  Emma shivered, but not from a chill. She couldn’t stop thinking about the suspended moment when Ben Sarratt had lain on top of her, his heavy arousal obvious. She had given him the cold shoulder since then because his frank arrogance irritated her, but all she had to do was let her concentration slip and she felt the imprint of his body again, lying all along hers, pressing her down.

  They sat together, each of them thinking of a different Sarratt. At length Victoria’s empty stomach prompted her to the kitchen, since she had slept so late she had missed breakfast. There was work to be done, now that two men had moved into the house, and she had dawdled long enough.

  T
he Major had always been out most of the day, until the end when his mind had gone; in fact, practically the only contact they had had with him was at mealtimes. It wasn’t that way with Jake and Ben. Their presence was very much felt in the house; they were in and out all day, filling the rooms with their deep voices, the stomp of their boots on the tile floors, bringing the scents of horses and tobacco with them. Victoria managed to avoid Jake, but cornered Ben long enough to get him to point out to her which gear was his and which was Jake’s. When she had it separated, she dithered about what to do with Jake’s clothes. Should she put them in her room or in the adjoining room? Perhaps he planned on taking that room for himself, since he’d obviously given orders that it be cleaned out. It would have been simple enough to ask him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. After all that had passed between them, now she didn’t feel comfortable approaching him.

  Jake noticed that his soon-to-be wife was avoiding him to the point that she didn’t even look in his direction, and he grew more and more irritated as the day wore on. If she thought he would put up with this she was going to be sorely surprised. It was bad enough that she had gotten under his skin the way he had, but he was damned if he was going to let her sulk every time she didn’t like something he did, especially when she was wrong. He was still angry that she’d thought he would kill her to get the ranch; more than angry, because that meant she put him in the same category with McLain. He felt wronged. But most of all, he still felt threatened, and he was glad of any excuse to feel angry, to hold himself at a distance from her. Damn her for the effect she had on him! All he had to do was see her and his heart started beating faster, he lost his concentration, and all he wanted was to take her to bed again. He thought of the night and his entire body shuddered with pleasure. It wasn’t just that it had been good; it had been unique. Shattering. He had never before been so lost in a woman, so focused on her to the extent that the world outside that bed had vanished. There was a lot he’d intended to get cleared between them last night, but none of it had been discussed. He’d seen her standing there, he’d known that she was his for the taking, and he’d taken her. Nothing else had been important.

  Jake and Ben, along with the foreman, Lonny, were discussing how they were going to handle the problem of the few remaining McLain men who were still out with the distant herds when Emma tapped politely on the open door and put her head into the room. She looked only at Jake, studiously avoiding the challenging, hooded examination Ben was giving her.

  “Where do you want the wedding to take place, Jake? Victoria says it doesn’t matter.” That was a lie because Emma hadn’t asked Victoria, but it was a small barb intended to sting. Emma hadn’t forgiven him for his deception, and she wasn’t above giving some back.

  Jake scowled, just as irritated as Emma had meant him to be.

  “In the parlor? That’s where she married the Major.” Emma smiled as she pushed the barb deeper.

  Jake’s face went rigid. “No,” he said after a minute, his voice so flat and calm it took a good ear to hear the savagery in it. “The courtyard.”

  Emma smiled again and withdrew. Lonny stared at the closed door with a strangely satisfied smile on his face. “Thoroughbreds,” he announced. “Yep, them women are thoroughbreds. It’ll be nice, settlin’ down with women around. They tend to make men act better than normal, don’t they?”

  “What would you know about it?” Ben asked with a snort of disbelief at hearing such a sentiment from their foreman, who was as tough and wiry as they came.

  “Hell, I been around women!” Lonny snapped. “I reckon I know the difference atween ladies and whores, and these are ladies. They’ll make you two watch your manners, iffen you got any.”

  Ben began chortling and after a minute Jake relaxed enough to laugh, too. Lonny was a veteran of more wars, shoot-outs, and brawls than the two of them combined. Their friendship with him had begun over five years before when they had hauled him, dead drunk, out of a burning whorehouse. For him to lecture them on the difference between ladies and whores was almost more than they could stand.

  Father Sebastian arrived sooner than Victoria had anticipated, and she wasn’t ready. Even given the circumstances of the marriage, she didn’t intend to get married in the clothes she’d been working in all day. On her first wedding day she had brooded; on her second she didn’t have time to do more than quickly freshen up and don one of her good dresses. On the first she had been terrified. She felt a lot of things on the second: sadness, because he didn’t love her and was marrying her only for the ranch; innate fear, for her husband would still be very much a stranger to her despite their lovemaking, and he was a hard, rough man who had lived by his gun; relief, that he wanted her at all, that she would have a chance with him; excitement, very definitely. He would be her husband. Even if he never saw her as anything but a necessary nuisance, she would share his life, his name, and his bed, and she would bear his children.

  There were other differences in this wedding, too. The people surrounding her seemed excited, even happy. Celia was still suffering from the effects of riding and was not as lively as before, but the look of strain was easing from her eyes and her merry laughter rang out several times. Emma was a whirlwind overseeing the rush and bustle of preparing for the hasty marriage, but her eyes were bright. Carmita chattered nonstop; Lola was singing in the kitchen; even Juana hummed as she rushed back and forth on errands. Men were in and out, bellowing, cursing, asking the pardon of any female within hearing distance for their cursing, cursing some more as soon as they forgot themselves, some of the bolder ones flirting with anyone wearing a skirt.

  Only the bride and groom seemed less than ecstatic, though to be honest the men were interested only because of the chance for a party. Jake was tense, and therefore ill-tempered. Victoria was acutely sensitive to the reasons he was marrying her and became more and more nervous as the minutes passed. When she dashed down the stairs to the ceremony that would make her Mrs. Jacob Sarratt, she was shaking so hard she could barely hold her skirts up to keep from tripping over them.

  “This way!” Emma said excitedly, hurrying her through the house. “Everyone’s waiting.”

  Victoria hadn’t asked and had vaguely assumed that the wedding would take place in the parlor because it was the most formal room in the house. But Emma led her into the courtyard. Relief swept through her. The late afternoon sun bathed the courtyard in a mellow, golden light; the open space was crowded with, she supposed, everyone who worked for them now, men and women alike. The men far outnumbered the women, of course, and shifted back and forth on restless feet, awkwardly turning their hats in their hands. The women had decorated the courtyard as best they could with bright Mexican lamps, even though the sun was still shining, and colorful streamers that Carmita or Lola had saved from some long-ago festival.

  Father Sebastian beamed at her as she stepped to Jake’s side. A bit hysterically, Victoria wondered if he didn’t find it strange that he should be performing another wedding ceremony for her so soon after the first. She had become a wife, a widow, and now a wife again with disorienting speed. If she had been at home, she would have worn black for at least a year and been secluded within her family. It would have been unthinkable for her even to consider another engagement for a year and a half, and here she was now remarrying only three days after her husband’s death.

  She fought back the urge to giggle, and jumped when she felt Jake take her hand. She looked at him with huge, startled eyes and was shocked back to reality by the cold green glitter of his. But his hand was warm, and when he felt how she was shaking he gently squeezed her fingers. The action steadied her, reminding her that, for all the violence and danger of this man, he had chosen to protect her.

  She could remember little of her first wedding ceremony, but this one was crystal clear and she knew it would be engraved on her memory. Most of the guests were armed, but Victoria couldn’t fault that when the groom was, too. The sun shone, the birds sang, me
n cleared their throats, the priest performed the ceremony, and she and Jake made the appropriate responses. All the while, her hand was clasped in his hard, strong one.

  There were no rings, but she didn’t feel the lack. She had removed the Major’s ring on the ride back to the ranch, after she had learned he was dead, and dropped it in the dust.

  Jake was also intensely aware of his surroundings, but even more so of the woman beside him. Now that she was becoming legally his, he was struck by the realization that by the laws of God and man he was now her protector; he had sworn to keep her from danger, to keep her warm, to never let her know hunger, to provide for her and any children they might have. He now stood between her and the harshness of life. Yet she was still afraid, because he could feel her shaking and her delicate hand was cold. Didn’t she trust him to protect her? Then he realized that it was himself that she feared. How could she? But the fact that she did told him she was marrying him only because she thought he would kill her if she didn’t.

  The woman needed to learn some lessons about the man she was marrying.

  Then the priest was blessing them, and it was done. There was a flurry of handshakes, hugs, and congratulations, and Carmita threw her arms around Jake’s neck and gave him an enthusiastic kiss on the lips, then was mortified at her own behavior. “Welcome back, Señor Jake,” she stuttered, and fled.

  One of the Mexican cowhands produced a guitar and began strumming it. As the sun went down, the liquor was brought out. Whiskey and tequila ran down the male throats. A few of them grabbed the women and began whirling them around the courtyard, stomping in an enthusiastic fashion that had little to do with an actual dance, but a great deal to do with their high spirits.