Elizabeth Lane - The Countess and the Cowboy

Frantic, she flung herself against the door. “Roderick!” she screamed, shaking the latch and pounding on the heavy oak slab. “Roderick, it’s me! Call them off! Call them off!”

With a sudden give, the latch released and the door swung open. Eve stumbled into the entry, then changed her mind and raced back onto the porch. She couldn’t see Lonigan or the dogs, but the pack’s chilling cry echoed across the moonlit yard.

“Roderick!” she screamed again. “For the love of heaven, call them back!”

For an instant time seemed to stop. Then three blasts of a steel whistle shattered the night. The baying dropped to a subdued chorus of yelps as the dogs wheeled and came loping back into sight. Eve shrank into the doorway as they skirted the corner of the house and vanished in the direction of the kennel.

There was no sign of Clint Lonigan. She could only hope he’d made a clean escape. Friend or enemy—whichever he might be—no man deserved to be ripped apart by those nightmarish creatures.

Knees sagging, she closed the door and slid the bolt into place. Roderick loomed at the top of the stairs, wearing a maroon velvet dressing gown and holding a lantern.

“Eve!” He addressed her as one might lecture a naughty child. “What were you doing outside after dark? Those hounds are trained to guard the property. They could’ve torn you to pieces.”

She willed herself to speak calmly. “I wanted to visit my sister’s grave. I didn’t know about the dogs. You should’ve warned me.”

He didn’t even have the grace to look guilty, though her answer did seem to mollify him to an extent. “I would have, if I’d known you were going to wander around after dark.” He glided down the stairs, pausing two steps short of the landing. “Were you alone out there? I thought I heard voices.”

“I spoke a few fitting words over Margaret’s grave. You may have heard me. I’m guessing the dogs did, too.” It was a half-truth. A flicker of caution kept her from mentioning Clint Lonigan.

“Tomorrow I’ll take you out and introduce you to the pack, let them get to know you. If you can spare an article of clothing, something that carries your scent, bring it along to leave with them.”

“Can I assume the children will be safe around them?”

“Those hounds are like puppies with the children, as they were with Margaret. You might even want to wear one of her dresses when you visit the kennel for the first time. No need to wear mourning in this country. To be sure, there’s plenty of cause for it, but with the dirt and the weather, women say black’s too impractical here.”

“I’m glad of that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going up to bed.”

She started for the stairs, expecting him to move aside and give her room to pass, but he stood fast, offering her the barest space against the wall. “I was hoping—” He broke off, staring down at her hand. “I didn’t see that ring earlier.”

Eve’s pulse skittered. “It was my late husband’s, one of the few things of his I was able to keep.”

“But you weren’t wearing it at supper. It’s very impressive. What’s a bauble like that worth?”

“It’s late, Roderick,” Eve said, cutting him off. “I’ve just had a fright, and I’m exhausted. All I want is to go upstairs and sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Very well. I’ll bid you good-night then, Eve.” He finally moved back against the railing, allowing her room to get by, but barely. His hand brushed the small of her back as she hurried past him.

By the time she reached the landing, Eve felt vaguely ill. She hadn’t counted on this. With the earth barely settled on his wife’s grave, Roderick was already acting as if he owned her. If it weren’t for Margaret’s children, she would pack up and leave on the next stage. But her promise to look after Thomas and Rose would bind her to this house, perhaps for years to come. And anyway, she had nowhere else to go, Eve reminded herself, shoulders slumping. So here she would stay, for better or for worse. She would just have to prepare for a reckoning with the man.

She took a moment to look in on the children. Both were slumbering, but Thomas’s young face was streaked with salt where his tears had dried, and Rose was whimpering in her sleep. Eve adjusted their blankets and brushed a finger kiss across each silken head. These precious little ones would be a long time healing. She would be there for them every step of the way, Eve vowed—regardless of their father’s behavior.

In her room, she bolted the door. Unsteady hands unbuttoned her black dress and let it fall to the rug. As she strained to unfasten her corset, she felt the burn where Clint Lonigan’s strong hands had gripped her shoulders. A glance confirmed that he hadn’t left bruises on her skin. But he’d shoved her toward the house with an urgent force that lingered, if only in her memory. What if he hadn’t been there? What if she’d been caught off guard by Roderick’s killer dogs?

The ruby ring felt cold and heavy on her finger. For now she would put it away in a safe place. Wearing it would only tempt possible thieves and set her apart from her neighbors. But she couldn’t deny she was glad to have it back. Lonigan had risked his life to return it. But that was only half true, Eve reminded herself. The ring had masked the rascal’s real intent—to recruit her as a spy.

She’d been right to refuse Lonigan’s request, of course. Nothing he’d said about Roderick had surprised her. But this range war was neither her doing nor her business. Her only concern was for her sister’s children.

Clint Lonigan had her answer—her final answer. The wise course now would be to turn her back and never speak to him again.

Still, as she walked to the open window to shut out the night chill, her eyes scanned the moonlit yard. Deny it though she might, the question haunted her.

Was he safe?

* * *

Out of the ranch’s earshot, Clint spurred his tall buckskin to a gallop. The night wind cooled the sweat that had beaded on his face. It had been a damned narrow escape. Hanford’s hounds had been so close on his heels that he could smell their foul breath. He’d been about to wheel and draw his pistol when their keeper’s whistle had called them off.

It was the countess’s screams that had saved his life. Since the dogs were chasing him, not her, he could only surmise she’d cried out to save him . It was a comforting thought. She may have refused to spy for him, but at least she’d been sympathetic enough to help him get away.

Or maybe she just couldn’t stand the sight of blood. But no, he doubted she was the missish type. She had too much steel in her for that.

When she’d denied carrying money from the Cattlemen’s Association, those azure eyes of hers could’ve melted stone. But how could he believe her, when logic told him that if anyone on that stage was hiding cash, it would’ve been the bewitching countess?

Eve . Her name was like a whisper of wind. He remembered how she’d looked leaning out the upstairs window, her loose black hair framing her face, her breasts pale half-moons above the lace edging of her camisole. The sight of her had stirred yearnings he hadn’t felt since...

With a muttered curse, Clint forced her image from his mind. He was fighting a war, damn it; and if the countess wasn’t with him, she was against him. As long as Eve lived under Roderick Hanford’s roof and cared for his children, there could be no trusting her.

Right now Clint had other urgent concerns to deal with. One of his neighbors had lost half a dozen spring calves. A Dutch farmer, Yost had spotted the calves with a herd belonging to cattleman and county judge Seth McCutcheon. Yost was determined to get them back, even if he had to steal them.