Dare-Devil Daisy (Mail Order Brides Rescue Series Book 5)

by Jo Grafford

  Daisy leaned back against a boulder and smoothed her skirts over her crossed legs. “My father lost his mind after my mother died.” She drew a deep breath, knowing things would have been different if a deadly fever hadn’t taken Lilly Danvers away from them that fateful night. “It was six years ago. He disappeared for a full ten months afterwards. I was raised by a faithful nanny, a doting lady’s maid, and a man of business who turned out to be quite skilled in skimming our accounts. We were heading towards ruin long before my father returned to town.”

  “How old were you when your mother died?” Prescott rolled to his side and reached for her hand.

  “Thirteen.”

  “I was twelve.” He laced his fingers through hers. “Who taught you how to cook?”

  She grinned at him. “Our chef, of course,” she informed him in her haughtiest voice.

  “Naturally,” he stated dryly.

  She knew how uppity it must sound to him to employ a chef, but she saw no reason to temper the truth. “When the parents are away, lonely little girls will make messes in the kitchen.”

  “I see. What other mischief did you get yourself into during your lonely little rich-girl days?”

  “I enjoyed my first kiss.”

  “Did you?” He nuzzled the inside of her wrist. “I’ll admit I’m intrigued.”

  “He was one of our grooms.”

  “Did it happen indoor or outdoors?”

  “Both, I suppose,” she giggled. “He kissed me in the stables.”

  “Deflowered on a bed of hay, eh?” He nibbled his way up her arm.

  “No. Not that.” She withdrew her hand from his and returned it to her lap. “Everyone within a hundred miles was far too afraid of my nanny to take those kinds of liberties, even once I was of courting age.”

  “I very much like the sound of this nanny of yours.” He waggled his brows at her in the flickering firelight. “Should I be worried?”

  She glanced away. Prescott had finally managed to hit a sore spot.

  “No?” he teased.

  “Yes.” She swallowed hard. Her beloved Mona had passed a month ago. She was still in mourning, which was why her current wardrobe consisted only of dark colors. “You should be very, very worried, considering her latest post is with the angels.” A tear slipped hotly down her cheek. She dashed it away, grateful for the deepening shadows.

  “Aw, shucks!” Prescott sat up with a huff of sympathy. “I am sorry for your loss. Here. Let me.” He scooted in her direction and offered her his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” She eyed him curiously.

  “Offering you my shoulder to cry on, sleep on, or do whatever else you wish to do with it.” He slid an arm around her and tugged her closer. “It’s getting late, and there are no beds up here. One of us might as well get some sleep.”

  “Well, well, well,” she teased, taking him up on his offer and laying her head on his shoulder. “It seems you’re capable of a speck of kindness, after all.”

  “Hush, darlin’.” He pretended to glance around them. “Someone might hear you, and I have a reputation to maintain.”

  “There’s no one around. Trust me.” She stifled a yawn behind her hand. “Every creature except the spiders moved off the mountaintop after you skinned Mr. and Mrs. Jackrabbit.”

  “You’re the one who scared away the rattlesnake,” he reminded.

  “What a truly horrifying pair we make.” She burrowed closer, getting comfortable.

  “That we do, darlin’. That we do.”

  A light rustling sound roused Daisy in the dead of night. The cooking fire had died to a few smoking embers, but the moon was spilling white light over the clearing. A shadow moved in the distance, no more than twenty feet away from where she and Prescott reclined.

  Barely breathing, she reached for one of his pistols. He was lounged back against the boulder and had somehow managed to cradle her more fully against his chest during their slumber. Though his eyes never opened, his hand closed warmly over hers.

  “Please assure me you’ve no plans to put a hole in me tonight, darlin’.”

  “I heard something,” she whispered.

  “Probably a deer grazing through.”

  “What if it’s something worse?” she fumed. “Like a coyote.”

  “Coyotes travel in packs, and they howl at the moon.”

  “Or a bear.”

  “Wildfire would be having a fit. It’s not a bear.” He cracked open one eyelid. “You’re welcome to both my pistols. I’ve a knife in my boot if you wish to go digging for that as well.”

  She snorted out a silent laugh. “You’re going straight to Hell.”

  “Come with me?” He winked at her.

  “No.” She pretended to sock him in the gut. “How about you go back to sleep and leave the night critters to the grown ups?”

  “Gladly.” He tipped his head against the boulder once more and closed his eyes. Drat the man, if his breathing didn’t even back into actual sleep within seconds!

  She stared at him in amazement. Was he truly that unafraid of whatever was out there in the dark?

  Another rustling sound made her tense and press closer to him.

  He mumbled something in his sleep and curled his arm more tightly around her waist.

  She watched the clearing, hardly able to fill her lungs with air until the creature showed himself.

  Herself.

  “Oh, you beautiful thing!” Daisy crooned softly at the doe who stepped into the moonlight.

  Another correction. There was more than one.

  Two baby deer followed their mama into the clearing, nosing their sleek little noses against the ground in search of anything edible.

  Daisy silently willed them to step closer, hoping they would stumble across the rest of the wild onions she’d found growing. Did deer eat onions? Or at least their stems?

  Her hand fell limp against Prescott’s holster as she drank in the beauty of the night and the creatures who roamed it. Despite the train robbers and the impromptu thunderstorm earlier, she couldn’t remember ever feeling more at peace. More content with her lot in life. More safe.

  She tipped her head back against Prescott’s shoulder to more fully view him in the starlight. His profile was harsh and unsmiling, his clothing sun-bleached, his boots scuffed, and his hands and forearms scarred. But by now, she knew how misleading his appearance was. He might be no angel like her dearly departed Mona, but he was a loyal friend to the Nicholson’s. He had also proven himself to be kindhearted, brave, and a worthy protector. And a wee bit wicked…

  He’d proven himself skilled at stealing kisses. Well, maybe that was a teensy exaggeration. Or a scandalously large one. To be honest, she’d stolen the first kiss from him. She hoped to steal a few more before her grand adventure was over, beginning the moment he awakened.

  The shadows in the clearing rippled and moved as a cloud passed over the moon. As it slowly drifted and cleared, the first shoot of moonlight landed on a slip of white dangling from the pocket of Prescott’s trousers.

  Mystified, she leaned closer to tug the corner of what turned out to be a small square of paper. It bore a message in neatly scrawled ink. The letters were large enough to be read in the moonlight.

  Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head at what she read. It was a message to the Boomtown Mail Order Brides Company from Prescott Barra. He was blatantly and without equivocation claiming her, Daisy Danvers, as his bride!

  She crumpled the paper in her hand, trying to make sense of it. One thing was certain: Prescott Barra had lied to her. About everything!

  Chapter 6: Excuses

  Prescott

  When Prescott awoke, Daisy was sitting up, regarding him with wide, soulful eyes and an accusing pout.

  His gaze dropped to the slip of paper in her hand. Ah. “I can explain.” He reached for her hand, intending only to caress it.

  She moved it away defensively as if expecting him to snatch away the unfortunate teleg
ram.

  “Meg Nicholson asked me to send it,” he confessed while carefully watching her expression.

  “Why would she do such a thing?” She waved the crumpled telegram at him. “And why should I believe anything you say at this point?”

  “Because it’s the truth.” He sat up and stretched, groaning loudly at the cramp in his back and the knots in his shoulder blades. Blast it all, he was going to be sore for days; but it was worth every ounce of pain since he’d gotten to spend the night holding Daisy. “Confound it, if I know what that woman was thinking!”

  “Fair enough! Then what were you thinking?”

  He dragged both hands through his hair. “The whole time she was asking me to do her a favor by meeting you at the train station, I was thinking I’d rather be doing just about anything else. Then there was the train holdup, and I didn’t have time to think anymore. I just acted. When you fell in my arms, I threw you on my horse and took off with you, hoping to ride with you to safety.” He spread his hands to take in the mountain clearing. “I believe I succeeded.”

  “But why write the telegram at all?”

  “As I already stated, Meg asked me to. She was convinced you weren’t a good candidate for life out West and hoped I would scare away any undesirable suitors until you came to your senses. I had no real intention of tying the knot with you, lass. You can check my story with the telegraph clerk if you don’t believe me. I told him the same. Bram Fairfield’s the name.”

  Daisy seemed to deflate at his words. “You don’t find me marriageable?” she asked in a small voice.

  He rubbed his hands over his face. “I didn’t say that. Why are you always putting words in my mouth, woman, when you’ve no idea what I’m thinking?”

  “Then tell me what you’re thinking!” Her voice rose to a near shriek.

  “Right this second?” He scowled at her.

  “Right this very second!”

  “Can’t promise you’ll be happy with the results, but if you want the truth…”

  “I demand it!”

  “Very well. I think you’re beautiful even when you’re snapping and snarling like a rabid cougar at me.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “A rabid cougar? You certainly know how to charm the ladies, Prescott Barra.”

  “Told you I couldn’t promise you’d be happy with the results of me baring my thoughts.”

  She grimaced as if tasting something horrible. “Dare I ask what else might be festering in that tortured mind of yours?”

  Tortured? You think I’m tortured? I’m not the one running from bandits with a king’s ransom in gems hidden beneath my gown. He reached in his pocket and drew out an antique timepiece he’d purchased at an auction upstate. It reminded him of his grandfather, may he rest in peace. “I’m thinking we better scoot on down the mountain if we’re going to make it in time for me to ride in that rodeo.”

  “At Rattlesnake Junction.” Her lips twisted over the name.

  “It’s a real place. You’ll see.” He leaned closer to flick a finger against her nose. “I’ve never lied to you, darlin’.”

  She sniffed and yanked her face away from his hand. “Except for the part about being affianced yesterday.”

  He cocked his head at her. “You’re the one who engaged the services of the Boomtown Mail Order Brides Company. I simply wrote them and offered my hand for yours. It’s not my fault if they find us suitable enough to send us a bridal contract.”

  “Which you’ve no intention of honoring.”

  He raised his brows at her. “I don’t believe I precisely stated that.”

  “You were precise alright. I distinctly recall you stating you had no real intention of tying the knot with me.” She rose to her feet and leaned over to dust off her skirts.

  “I made that statement when I was under the impression you were not likely to remain in Headstone. Have those circumstances changed, Miss Daisy Danvers?”

  Her pout returned. “Since I do not possess a crystal ball, I cannot predict what the future holds for either of us.”

  “Fair enough. I also made that statement before I met you.” He rose to face her, dusting off his trousers as he stood.

  Her pout vanished, and a blush stained her checks. “What exactly are you trying to tell me, Prescott Barra?”

  He shook his head, hardly believing what he was saying. “Thanks to Meg Nicholson and her conflicting instructions to the two of us, I most likely have a marriage contract headed my way in the mail with your name on it.”

  “So rip it up.” Daisy turned away from him so quickly that her skirts swirled around her knees, riding up her ankles. They were nice ankles, slender and curved inside her tightly laced leather boots. “I’ll not be holding you to a foolish promise you made under such questionable circumstances.”

  “Would marrying me truly be so bad?” He walked up behind her to rest his hands lightly on her waist. He tugged her against his chest, delighted beyond belief when she let him. “We were pretty good together last night shooting up balls of hail. We weren’t so bad at scaring off squirrels together, either.”

  At her silence, he prodded, “That is, unless you’re in a tearing hurry to purchase that return ticket to Boston after a night in the desert with me.”

  “No,” she breathed. “I’ll not give Meg the satisfaction of running.”

  “Is that your only reason?” He slowly turned her to face him.

  “No.” Her lashes fluttered down. “By now, I think you’ve figured out I’ve nothing to go back to in Boston.”

  “I’m more concerned about your reasons for staying than leaving.” He cupped her chin and tipped her face up to his.

  “Press,” she whispered. “If I stay, will you always be this demanding? This difficult?”

  “Forever and always,” he assured cheerfully, lowering his head over hers.

  “I can’t form one blessed thought when you’re standing this close to me,” she confessed shakily.

  Good. He claimed her mouth at last, desperate to discover if kissing her would be as exciting in the sunlight as it was in the starlight.

  She slapped his Stetson off his head and plunged her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

  He supposed he had his answer, but nothing was very clear at the moment. She wasn’t the only one who couldn’t form many coherent thoughts when they were standing this close. “My turn to pry,” he said gruffly against her lips. “What are you thinking right this second?”

  He felt her lips curve into a smile. “Right this second,” she murmured in a dreamy voice, “I’m thinking that I’d really like to see you ride in that rodeo.”

  Good answer. Not the precise one he’d been hoping to hear, but he was a patient man. Besides, he was looking forward to showing off in the ring for his woman. My woman. Funny how he already thought of her like that after a few kisses. He chuckled and pressed his face against her hair, breathing her in. “The clock is ticking, darlin’. Let’s ride.”

  Prescott was extra vigilant as he guided his horse and his lady down the craggy mountainside. The sun was pouring like molasses over the canyons and mesas, heating up the countryside. Though it was mid-September and cooling down at night, the desert would heat up to a full broil by noon.

  “Looking for rattlesnakes?” Daisy teased when she caught him scanning the terrain.

  More like armed robbers on the hunt for a certain diamond necklace, but he had no wish to scare her by admitting what was really on his mind.

  “Or rabid cougars?” She arched her white-blonde brows at him.

  “And bears,” he assured, snatching a quick kiss before she turned around.

  “Bears!” She shuddered. “I don’t believe you mentioned bears last night.”

  “I didn’t?” He feigned innocence, warming to his topic. “Black bears are native to Arizona. So are dozens of species of scorpions, bighorn sheep, horned toads, prairie dogs, and Gila monsters.”

  “Oh, dear! Where are my smelling salts?” She
raised a wrist to her forehead and slumped languidly against his chest. “I feel a swoon coming on.”

  He was beginning to doubt anything could make this particular woman resort to vapors. “Save the dramatics for the rodeo, m’lady. I assure you my bull riding is more worth your swooning than the unlikely chance of running into a bear.”

  “Cocky!” she accused, straightening her spine.

  He grinned at the back of her shell-shaped ear. “I prefer confident.”

  But cocky was a lot closer to how he felt about riding with Daisy Danvers into Rattlesnake Junction. It wasn’t near as big of a town as Phoenix or Tucson, but it rivaled the size of his hometown, Headstone, with their booming offshoot mining community at Hope’s Landing.

  Many a male head turned at the sight of Daisy riding into town. Her white blonde tendrils fluttered in the dry desert breezes and her wine colored skirts cascaded side saddle from Prescott’s horse. He kept a firm hand splayed possessively against her side and pretended not to notice.

  The titters and stares of the female townsfolk were a little harder to ignore. “Look who it is!” One woman pointed excitedly to her companion. They stood at the porch railing of the dusty General Store. “Land sakes! Jes’ wait ’til I tell Rupert. He’ll be raising his bets for sure.” She raised her skirts and took off at a jog.

  “There’s that Bronco-Busting Barra!” another woman hissed a few buildings farther down the street. It was a name that was echoed repeatedly as they made their way to the rodeo ring on the far side of town.

  “See what I mean?” Daisy swiveled in her seat to bat her eyelashes at him. “Cocky!”

  “Confident,” he corrected, flicking a finger down her silky smooth cheek. He wasn’t going to be riding any broncos today, only a single bull — a much more difficult fete.

  He tethered Wildfire at the entrance of the rodeo and assisted Daisy down. “This is where the fun begins.” He winked at her and led her to a long, rustic booth that was bustling with clerks. Lots of cash was being handed over by the men standing in line.