Never Love a Cowboy (11 page)

Jessye headed into the hallway. Although the conversation with Madeline had helped, she was still haunted by the ugliness of Gerald’s remarks. To distract herself, she concentrated on the mundane. How
many hands did it take to polish the wood trimming that lined every floor and ceiling? She could almost see her reflection in the floor as she walked out of the main parlor.

She shook her head. She’d best not think about fancy things. Even if this cattle drive paid off as well as Harry thought it would, all the fancy things in the world wouldn’t give her the one thing she wanted most.

As she neared the stairs, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of bright crimson. She looked over her shoulder and stumbled to a stop. A little girl with riotous red hair sat on the second step of the sweeping stairway, peering through the rails into the parlor. Hugging a rag doll close to her chest, she wore a white nightgown, her bare toes peeking out and curling around the edge of the first step. She was such a tiny thing.

Jessye felt as though a fist tightened around her heart. Her own daughter would probably resemble this child—only she would be sitting on the steps in a saloon, steps that led to rooms where gentlemen lived and women sometimes visited.

“Hello,” Jessye said softly, unable to resist the temptation of speaking to the child.

The girl snapped her head around, her green eyes wide. She pressed a tiny finger to her lips. “Thhh. I ain’t thupposed to be here.”

Jessye walked quietly and sat on the third step, the skirt of her gown draping around her. If she were wearing britches, she would have had room to sit next to the girl. “You must be Mary Ellen.”

Mary Ellen bounced her head up and down. “I like
to look at the pretty ladies.” She peered through the railing a moment before turning her attention back to Jessye. “My mama is the prettiest.”

“And you’ll grow up to be as pretty as she is.”

The girl shook her head. “No, I’m gonna look like the angel what brung me.”

Jessye’s heart gave a sudden lurch. “The angel that brought you?”

Mary Ellen bobbed her head. “Mama said an angel in San Antone brung me to her and Papa.”

Jessye felt her throat tighten, her eyes sting. Coincidence. It was just coincidence. This child could not be—

“Your mama told me that you are going to be four.”

The child bobbed her head. “I’m gonna have a cake with horses on it. Do you like horses?”

“Young lady, what are you doing?” a deep voice boomed.

Jessye uncharacteristically jumped. Mary Ellen popped up from the stairs and threw herself into her father’s arms. An aching chasm widening in her chest, Jessye watched as David Robertson’s arms tightened around the mite he held.

Mary Ellen pressed her cheek to his. “I wanted to dance.”

“Sounded to me like you might be pestering Miss Kane,” David said.

Jessye rose, her knees trembling as she gripped the banister of the stairs. “I assure you she wasn’t pestering me. She’s a delight.”

David glanced at his daughter, and the love shining in his eyes told Jessye that he agreed. “One dance,” he announced.

Mary Ellen squealed and squirmed out of his arms. She held the doll out to Jessye. Jessye took it, feeling the warmth of the child’s touch within the fabric, a touch she might have had—

She watched as Mary Ellen placed her tiny feet on her father’s shining boots. She heard the violins playing in the background as David Robertson waltzed his daughter around the foyer. When the music ended, he lifted his daughter into his arms. “Now, it’s time for bed.”

Mary Ellen snuggled her head against his shoulder and extended her hand. Jessye handed her the doll and watched as she tucked it between herself and her father.

“If you see my wife, tell her I’ll be down in a few minutes,” David said.

Jessye hoped her smile didn’t appear as fake as it felt. Crossing her arms beneath her breasts, pressing them close against her, she tried to hold in the pain, the joy, the grief, all the emotions swirling through her like a tornado trapped within a house.

“He adores her,” a soft voice whispered behind her.

Jessye swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back the tears before turning to face Madeline. “She’s a lovely child.”

Madeline flicked her gaze to the stairs and back to Jessye. “We’re very fortunate to have her. Our son had just died when we stopped by a mission near San Antone. A young woman had given birth, and circumstances were such that she thought it was in the child’s best interest to give her to us.”

Jessye was surprised to see tears glistening within Madeline’s eyes.

“I don’t know the woman’s name or what became of her, but there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t thank her for having the courage to give up her child. I hope someday that she will know that we treasure the gift she gave us—and that her daughter is loved and happy.”

Jessye’s throat tightened. “I’m sure she knows that, Mrs. Robertson.”

“You really must call me Madeline. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d best go rescue my husband. Knowing our daughter, Mary Ellen has no doubt convinced him that he has to sing her to sleep.”

When Madeline disappeared at the top of the stairs, Jessye sought her escape. She found the door that led outside, shoved it open, and stepped into the warm night air.

A balcony surrounded the area. She walked to the far side and gripped the wrought iron railing. Tears leaked slowly through her closed eyes, trailing along her cheeks, pooling on either side of her lips.

“She’s your daughter, isn’t she?”

Harry’s voice came through the darkness, stoked the pain flaming through her.

“No, she’s not my daughter.”

“After our dance, I wanted to talk with David because I thought I remembered hearing that he had a son, not a daughter. David told me how they came to have Mary Ellen. There’s too much coincidence for her not to be yours.”

Jessye spun around and pounded her fist into his chest. “She’s not my daughter, you damn Englishman! I have no daughter because I gave her up.” The tears
increased, her shoulders slumped. “And it hurts, Harry. God, it hurts so damn bad.”

He encircled her within his embrace. She wrapped her arms around him and gave his back one hard pounding just so he’d know it was anger driving her to accept his comfort—and nothing more. “It hurts in a bad way knowing what I gave up, and it hurts in a good way to see how much she is loved.” She lifted her face to meet his gaze. “Did you see her?”

“Yes, I was standing just within the doorway. Your circumstances will change once we get these cattle up north. On the way back to Fortune, we could stop by here, and you could explain to David and Madeline that you want her back.”

She shook her head. “Those people took her as their own. She became theirs. It wouldn’t be fair to any of them to take her back now.” She clenched her fingers around his jacket. “When I gave my baby up, I knew then that it was forever. But at seventeen, I just didn’t realize that forever was an eternity.”

His lips trailed over her face, gathering her tears. “You are the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known.”

She felt anything but remarkable as her arms moved from around his back and eased up to entwine themselves around his neck. “She’s so happy,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“And loved.”

“Definitely.”

“I did the right thing, giving her up.” She hated the doubt she heard reflected in her voice. She was grateful for all the Robertsons gave her daughter, but a part
of her was unable to stop the resentment from building because she hadn’t been able to give those things to her child.

Harrison cradled her cheek and gazed into her eyes, wishing he had the power to wipe away her doubts. But he knew he couldn’t, because within the green depths, he saw the pain that still lingered. Knowing her daughter was loved by others had to ease the burden of her guilt, but it would never fully ease her pain.

He lowered his mouth to hers, tasting the salt of her tears. She whimpered, a soft sound that tore at his heart, a heart he’d never known he possessed until he’d met her. A woman whose strength had been forged by the fires of betrayal, she still possessed the innocence of a child. She should not be here, within his arms, because he was exactly what he claimed to be: a scoundrel.

And she didn’t know how to play the game.

As her arms tightened around his neck, for one insane moment, he reveled in the fact that she did not know how to pretend love. Avarice had never been his weakness, but he was greedy now for the full taste of her. He teased her dampened lips with his tongue until they parted on a gentle sigh. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, savoring the lingering taste of wine. Easing his arm around her, he pressed her body flush against his.

His conscience felt as if it were being stretched on a rack, awaiting some henchman’s assault. She needed comfort, not lust. His body aching with need, he realized one of them would suffer tonight.

Better it be him.

Pulling back, he met her gaze. “I think it’s time we left.”

She didn’t protest when he took her hand and led her back into the house. He started up the wide, sweeping stairs, and she staggered to a stop.

“Where are we going?” she whispered harshly.

“To say goodnight…and good-bye.” He saw the doubts flicker within her eyes, and he squeezed her hand. “Come on.”

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she nodded before walking up the two steps so they were even. He slipped his arm around her waist. “Just a quick peek,” he said quietly.

“What if we get caught?”

He smiled devilishly. “Trust me. Slipping in and out of ladies’ bedrooms is a skill I mastered long ago.”

“Do they have a special school for scoundrels?”

He nodded. “I graduated at the top of my class.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said as they reached the landing.

He pressed his finger to his lips and led her along the hallway to a door that was partially open. A pale light spilled from the room. He pushed the door open further, and Jessye glided inside like a wraith. She glanced over her shoulder. “Come with me.”

Nodding, he followed her inside the child’s bedroom, filled with miniature furniture and dolls. Jessye neared the canopy bed and sank to her knees.

The child slept with her doll tucked close to her body. He watched as Jessye’s gaze lit on the tiny girl, and she touched her daughter’s hair. “Oh, Harry, she is so beautiful.”

Something unfamiliar clogged his throat at the sight of her memorizing her daughter’s features. How had he ever considered, even for a moment, that this woman had not loved her child? The depth of love reflected in her eyes was without equal. To be allowed to share this moment with her humbled him as nothing in his life ever had.

As Jessye began to rise, he helped her to her feet. Leaning over, she brushed a light kiss over the sleeping child’s cheek. She walked quietly across the room, stopped in the doorway, glanced over her shoulder briefly, and stepped into the hallway. Harry followed, closing the door slightly.

Tears shimmering in her eyes, she leaned against the wall as though she needed something solid behind her to keep her upright.

“I suppose coming up here has been a blessing and a curse,” he said.

She gave a brief, jerky nod. “I just need a minute.”

He recognized from the jut of her chin that she would not welcome comfort from him now. How had he come to know her so well?

“You don’t have to always be strong, Jessye.”

“Yes, I do, because if I’m not, there is no way in hell I’m gonna be able to walk out of here and leave her behind.”

He thought his fellow countrymen could take lessons from her on the best way to keep their chins up. He retrieved his handkerchief and handed it to her. “We’d best thank our hosts. Dawn comes early.”

When she finished drying her eyes, he cradled her elbow and guided her down the stairs into the main parlor. David and Madeline stood at the entrance.

“We hate to leave good company, but I think it’s time we gathered Kit—”

“He’s already left,” David said.

Harry didn’t like hearing that bit of news, but he simply smiled. “Then we shall catch up with him at the hostelry.” He took Madeline’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Thank you for an enchanting evening.” He shook David’s hand before escorting Jessye out of the house into the night.

Once outside, she wrapped her arms around her middle.

“Are you going to be all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “It was just an evening I never expected.”

“Your daughter is loved, happy, and safe. I would think a mother could wish for nothing more.”

“Oh, Harry, you don’t know all the things a mother can wish for, but thank you for those few moments that I will hold in my heart until the day I die.”

He thought of all the expensive gifts he’d bestowed upon his mistresses over the years, and the appreciation he’d never received. How was it that this woman had the ability to make him feel worthy because of a gift that had cost him nothing?

J
essye stood outside the livery while Harry
returned the carriage he’d rented to take them to the Robertsons’. She looked at the stars, and a peace settled over her that she hadn’t known in over four years. She had kissed her daughter goodnight, touched her, inhaled her innocent fragrance, and knew she was safe in a world that was not always kind.

“Making a wish?” Harry asked as he came up behind her.

“I stopped wishing long ago.”

“That’s a shame,” he said as he took her hand, slipped it around his arm, and escorted her toward the hostelry.

“You never struck me as a man who believed in wishes.”

“I don’t, but I always assumed women and children did.”

The shadows and light from the lanterns played across his features as they passed several buildings. The constant shift in shading suited the way he only revealed small parts of himself before retreating behind that wall of self-interest, a barrier she now sus
pected shielded him from himself as much as from others.

She had deemed him lazy, but he worked as hard or harder than most of the men they’d hired.

She thought he placed his own wants first, and yet this evening he had made her feel cherished, as though he placed her above his desires.

She turned her attention toward the shadows hovering near the buildings. He could manipulate cards. Why not people? He had told her within the boundaries of business friendships did not exist. How far would he go to gain what he wanted?

He’d been blunt in Fortune about his wanting to bed her. Was Gerald right? Would Harry manipulate her heart simply to gain her body? A conquest to be left behind in ruin at dawn?

He shoved open the door to the hostelry, and she walked through, her skirt whispering over the floor. She knew she would forever remember this night.

They approached the front desk, and the sleeping clerk jerked awake. He reached into two separate boxes stacked behind him and handed Harry the keys to their rooms.

“Has Mr. Montgomery returned?” Harry asked.

“Nope.”

“Where is the nearest gentleman’s club—saloon—that is still open?”

“That would be Bret’s place at the end of the road there.” The clerk pointed straight ahead. “Just start walkin’. Cain’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” Harry took Jessye’s arm. “I’ll escort you to your room.”

“Are you worried about Kit?” she asked as they reached the stairs.

“Of course not. I’m not his keeper.”

The briskness with which he spoke—as though he had no wish for her to know he was concerned about his friend—made her doubt his words. “He seemed upset talking about his brother’s wife at dinner.”

“I didn’t notice.”

Another brisk response. Interesting. Another lie? He stopped outside her room, unlocked the door, and handed her the key. “Goodnight.”

He started to walk away.

“Harry?”

He faced her. Suddenly skittish for reasons she didn’t understand, she closed her hand around the emerald teardrop. “I should give you back the necklace.”

He shrugged. “Keep it. I have nothing suitable with which to wear it.”

Her heart twisted at his attempt to make it seem as though the jewelry were nothing but a bauble. “I was thinking we could trade it for supplies.”

“Don’t worry about the supplies. Kit will work something out.”

“With David Robertson?”

“If need be. Kit can talk an angel into sinning.”

She tightened her fingers around the jewel. “I just feel guilty knowing the money could have been put to better use.”

He furrowed his brow. “Better use? I took great pleasure in watching it sparkle tonight. In my mind, it was money well spent—and it was my money to spend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the night is still young and I am in the mood to prowl.”

“It’s after midnight.”

“My favorite time of the evening. Goodnight, Jessye love. Sleep well.”

He disappeared down the stairs. The scoundrel. She’d heard him ask about a saloon. She locked her door and hurried after him. She only wanted to peer quickly into the building, and if she ran into any trouble, Harry would be there.

Not that she expected trouble, but still it was comforting to know he would be near. Scowling, she walked through the lobby. She didn’t like to rely on a man for comfort.

She stepped outside and saw Harry’s silhouette. She’d spot that arrogant stride anywhere. She walked along the dirt street, grateful for the muffling of her footsteps. He had a purpose to his gait, and she was having a difficult time keeping up, damn his long legs.

The saloon come into sight, light spilling through the doorway. Harry veered down the alley between the saloon and the building next to it.

She quickened her pace, rounded the corner, and staggered to a stop. She watched Harry approach a slumped figure on the ground, slip his arms beneath the man, and lever him into a sitting position.

“Ah, ’arry, I knew you’d find me,” Kit said, his words slurred.

“You’re drunk. You’ll have regrets come dawn.”

“I have regrets now.” He grabbed Harry’s jacket and jerked him closer. “I’m in hell.”

“I know,” Harry said quietly.

“So are you. It used to be three of us—you, me, and Gray—in hell together. But I think Gray got out.”

“Yes, I rather think he did.”

“Lucky bastard.” He released his hold on Harry. “Don’t tell him I called him that. He despises being a bastard.”

“I don’t think his illegitimacy bothers him any longer, not since Abbie came to love him.”

She heard a heart-wrenching sob.

“I would have gladly born her pain to spare her,” Kit lamented, his voice rife with anguish.

“I know.”

“What did Clarisse do to deserve such suffering?”

“She did nothing.”

“I loved her. I still do. You can’t understand that, can you? You who knows nothing of love. Who loved you? Ever? Not your father or your mother, and certainly not that jackanapes brother of yours.”

“Love is for poets and fools.”

“Then I gladly welcome the opportunity to be a fool.”

Kit slid his gaze past Harry and gave her a crooked smile. “Tell him, Jessye. Tell him how grand love can be.”

Her heart lurched at the command she could not obey.

Harry snapped his head around. “What in the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to take a look at the saloon.”

“Have you no sense, walking through town at night, alone?”

“Careful,” Kit warned, sloppily patting Harry’s shoulder. “One might think…you’re testing the waters of love.”

“Will you shut up? You’re sloshed.”

“Strong drink improves my vision. I see two of
everything.” He slumped forward. “And I see Clarisse. So beauti…ful.”

“Come along. We need to get you to the hostelry.”

Harry struggled to lift Kit.

“I’ll help you,” she said, stepping out of the shadows. “I can get his feet.”

“Not necessary.” Harry slung Kit over his shoulder and stood. “You can get the doors.”

“You’ve done this before,” she said softly.

“Many a night.”

“You were right earlier when you said that I don’t know you. When you asked the clerk where the nearest saloon was, I assumed you were going out to drink and gamble. But you were trying to find Kit, weren’t you?”

“He is too much of a gentleman to empty David’s liquor cabinet, but when he’s in a mood such as this, he tends to stop at the first tavern he spots and drinks until he passes out. I didn’t fancy the thought of him being robbed.”

As they trudged toward the hostelry, she heard Kit snore and dared to ask what made no sense. “He was in love with his brother’s wife?”

“His father arranged for Clarisse to marry the heir of Ravenleigh. The only time in his life he ever regretted not being born first was the day his brother got married.”

“Did she love Kit?”

“
That
I do not know.”

She licked her lips. “Why are you in hell, Harry?”

“You should never take to heart the ranting of a drunken man.”

“I’ve worked in a saloon all my life. Men most
often speak the truth when they’ve had too much to drink.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not in a position to take the cards from my pocket and risk having you cut to the high card.”

“I don’t want you to tell me because of the turn of a card. I want you to tell me because…because you want to.”

“
That
will never happen.”

“I trusted you with my secrets.”

“It’s not a matter of trust, but rather of shame. Now let’s get this poor fool to bed.”

“She’s Mary Ellen’s mother, isn’t she?” Madeline’s voice carried a hysterical edge to it.

Harrison sat in the Robertsons’ drawing room, studying Madeline’s pale face. Near dawn, when he’d returned to his room, he’d received the urgent message to come to their home. Now he was torn between revealing the truth and keeping the promise he’d made to Jessye to never bare her secret to anyone. He sighed deeply. “Yes.”

“Oh, my God,” Madeline whispered, reaching for David’s hand and clutching it until her knuckles turned white. “Does she want her back?”

“Desperately.”

“Dear God, no!” Madeline lunged to her feet and rushed to the window. David joined her and wrapped his arms around her.

In the soft light of dawn, Harrison saw the tears glistening along her cheeks as she pressed a fist to her lips. He slowly came to his feet. “But she won’t take her from you.”

Madeline swung around and looked at him, the hope in her eyes almost too painful to witness. Damn Gerald Milton for the bloody mess his lack of honor had caused.

“Are you sure?” Madeline asked.

“I’m positive. In her heart, you are the child’s parents. Mary Ellen is your daughter. Jessye has no wish to put any of you through the hell she has endured.”

“What of Mary Ellen’s father?” David asked.

“He’s dead.” God, how Harrison wished that lie were true.

Madeline sank into a nearby chair, swiping the tears from her eyes. “So it was coincidence that our paths crossed again?”

He held out his hands imploringly. “I’m not a big believer in a higher power who guides our steps, but I can’t deny that fate seems to have taken a hand here. Jessye has always feared she made a mistake, giving her daughter over to strangers. Last night, I think she found a measure of peace.”

“I could not love Mary Ellen more had I given birth to her myself.”

“That fact is evident, Madeline,” he said quietly.

“But I also know what it is to give birth to a child and to lose that child.” She rose regally, and he thought it a shame the woman wasn’t British. “I need to speak with Jessye before you leave.”

Standing in the mercantile, Jessye watched as Dan, Magpie, and Cookie carted supplies to the wagon waiting in front of the store. Kit had handed over a list to the owner and gone outside. His face had a
greenish tint, and she doubted fresh air would make him feel much better.

He’d left her with instructions to purchase anything she thought they required, but his list was so complete that she couldn’t think of anything else they needed.

She walked past the counter, trailing her fingers along the corner of the glass case. She stopped at the sight of a pair of dueling pistols displayed prominently in the front. Harry’s pistols. So this was where he’d bartered them away.

The merchant was selling them for fifty dollars. She wondered how much Harry had actually gotten for them.

Kneeling, she pressed her hand to the glass and studied the one thing he’d ever treasured. What made them so precious to him?

She touched the money belt hidden beneath her clothes. Purchasing the pistols would leave them with no choice but to take on an investor. The profits would be split further, but she desperately wanted to give Harry back his pistols.

She rose and walked outside. Kit sat on a bench, his elbows resting on his thighs, his head buried in his hands. She strolled over and sat beside him.

“Kit—”

“Please don’t talk so loudly,” he rasped.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t feel well—”

“That is an understatement.” Eyes closed, he leaned his head against the wall. “I have one foot in the grave.”

She fought not to smile at the misery he’d brought upon himself. “I need to know how much money you need from me for the supplies we’re purchasing here.”

He waved his hand. “None.”

She sat up straighter. “What do you mean, none? You’re filling every nook and cranny in the supply wagon—”

“Harry gave me money.”

“Where did he get that much money?”

“I’ve known Robin Hood too long to question his actions or to doubt his motives.”

She furrowed her brow. “Robin Hood?”

He sliced his gaze to her. “Robin Hood is a legendary English thief who lived in Sherwood Forest. He robbed from the rich and gave to the poor. Harry has a penchant to rob from the arrogant.”

“You’re telling me he gives to the poor?”

“I met Harry while I was a student at Eton. His father provided him with a disgustingly large allowance. He had no need of money, and yet when we’d receive our allowances, he’d challenge several of us to various games of chance. He’d leave us with just enough money so we could get by—if we were very frugal—until our next allowance arrived.”

“Is that why you became his friend? So he’d stop cheating you?”

“Not exactly. One night Gray and I realized he was manipulating the cards—no one was blessed with that much luck—so we decided to beat a confession out of him and force him to return our money to us. As we were on our way to his room, we saw him leave—and we followed. We followed him to an orphanage, where he placed a pouch on the doorstep. When he was out of sight, we retrieved the pouch.”

“And found your money.”

“Every shilling that had been lost to him.”

Jessye shook her head slightly. “Why?”

“Wounded hearts are difficult to heal. Who am I to question Harry’s motives when his deeds have a tendency to put my actions to shame? But I’ll make you a wager. I will give you my share of the profits when we reach our destination if every man who now owes Harry money doesn’t suddenly find Lady Luck smiling on him and his fortunes reversed so he ends up owing Harry little more than a pittance.”