The Texas Ranger's Heiress Wife

Brendan stepped forward and reached out to her, but she knocked his hand aside, and with more strength than she knew she possessed, shoved him on his black-clad butt in the dirt. She didn’t even wait to see him land, just whirled and ran to the house. Then she tore open the side door, rushed inside and slammed and locked it. She pulled out the key for good measure, grasping it in a death grip.

She’d never let him in again.

Never.

Her breath stuttered in her chest and she wiped at her face. And stared at her wet hand. Tears! He’d made her cry. Again.

Damn him.

Chapter Four

Helena walked toward the barn, still undecided whether or not to keep her weekly luncheon appointment with Lucien Avery. She was dressed and ready.

So why was she dithering?

She never dithered!

She’d thought this out. Made up her mind about how it would look now that everyone thought Brendan had returned—supposedly to their marriage. She couldn’t stop her traditional Friday luncheons with Lucien. It would be tantamount to an admission of guilt that her meals with him were about more than companionship and conversation. They talked about the books they’d read, their lives before coming to Tierra del Verde. Not much about the ranching business, though. He didn’t like talking about that with her the way Alex did. But not doing so was restful, and an escape from the pressure of having responsibility for a spread as large as Shamrock resting on her shoulders. They were friends, she and Lucien. Only friends, no matter what others thought.

Helena stalked into the barn, annoyed with herself, and stopped short as the cool darkness enveloped her. Before her eyes adjusted to the dimness, the sound of Brendan’s voice floated her way.

He was chatting away to Harry, his black-as-pitch gelding, as if he didn’t have a care. Harry matched Brendan’s personality to a T. They were both generally easygoing until something ignited their tempers. It didn’t happen often with either of them, but it wasn’t pretty when it did.

The feelings engendered by hearing that voice answered the question she’d been contemplating on her way there. He was the reason she couldn’t make up her mind about today. Brendan was jealous of Lucien, even if he’d deny it till death. He was wrong and she intended to prove it.

But she was in no mood to do so now, and there was no reason to set a match to dry tinder. She had time before she had to leave. He’d soon ride out to look for evidence of the presence of the raiders on her land. He did it every day. That was something they did need to talk about, but he’d been avoiding her. Truthfully, she’d been avoiding him as well. Now, though, she was annoyed enough at him to demand answers to her reasonable questions. Shamrock was hers and if Bren had found any clues pointing to the culprits and their hideout, she had a right to know.

The dim recesses of the barn came into sharper focus, so she walked toward Harry’s stall. The black’s head swung her way and he trumpeted a greeting. Harry’s antics always made her smile.

Brendan turned, and she saw the exact moment he realized it was her. He stiffened up, his back going poker straight. “And what is it I can be doing for the boss lady on this fine mornin’?”

She tried not to rise to the little sarcastic spin he put on “boss,” but some things ate at a person. “You’re right.” She planted her hands on her hips and nodded decisively. “I am the boss. I didn’t ask to be, but it’s what you made of me. So in that case, you can tell the boss lady what you’ve learned about the raiders.”

Brendan seemed determined to play peacemaker that morning, after all. “Other than that they’re vicious bastards? Not a thing.”

“You have no idea who they are? Who it might be, given that you said the Indian agents have vouched for the whereabouts of all the Comanche warriors? To me that says these aren’t Indian attacks at all.”

Brendan shook his head and turned back to fastening Harry’s bridle, then reached for the saddle blanket. “Frustrating as it is, there’s no evidence to prove who the raiders are.”

Helena stiffened. He was lying. She didn’t know how she knew, but she was sure he knew more than he was willing to say.

“You’re lying. You wanted nothing to do with me or Shamrock, yet now you’re here and keeping secrets.”

He tossed the saddle on Harry’s back, then reached under the horse to buckle the cinch. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he said finally, after he’d tightened the saddle down.

“You’re not annoyed that you’ve spent two weeks in the saddle, combing the hills, only to come up empty-handed? You should be chewing nails. Instead you’re in here chatting with your horse and ready to go on the hunt all over again.”

He gave a sharp nod. “That I am.”

“Either being a ranger taught you an inordinate amount of patience or you’re finding plenty out there and refusing to tell me. Why continue all this scouting if it’s a waste of time?”

“Didn’t say it was a waste. Perhaps I’m waiting to see what direction they come in from.”

“Then you picked up their trail. How else could you wait in a specific place for them to show themselves?”

Brendan blew out an impatient breath. “Or perhaps I have all corners of the spread bein’ watched. Did you think of that?”

Feeling foolish and ready to forget the whole thing, Helena started to turn away. Then she stopped. “In that case, who are you, to station men on my ranch without clearing it with me? I didn’t know you had my men watching our borders, because you’ve refused to do me the courtesy of telling me your plans for strengthening Shamrock’s defenses. My ranch’s defenses.”

His green eyes sizzled, but he said mildly, “I taught you to shoot, didn’t I?”

She clenched her fists, infuriated by his calmness. “You taught me to shoot, yes. But that’s the last I’ve seen of you.” Her voice rose as she continued, “From now on, clear every order with me. You’d never ride onto the Rocking R and order Alex’s men around without so much as a by-your-leave to him.”

Brendan smirked. “Granted, but then again, I can talk to Alex without a shoutin’ match eruptin’ within seconds of our first word. I told Mallory. He agreed to the plan. If he didn’t tell you...well, that’s not my problem, is it?”

No, Mallory certainly hadn’t told her, and they’d have words about it, but for now... “Brendan, either you learn to respect my position here and do it quickly, or you can sleep in that rocky no-man’s-land canyon and not my comfortable bunkhouse. Is that clear?”

He grinned.

“I asked you a question. I’m waiting for an answer. And what are you grinning about, you fool?” she snapped.

He took a step toward her, then another. She saw his intent in his hot gaze. He meant to kiss her. He’d always crossed from anger to arousal so easily, ending quarrels before their conclusion—one of them winning by default. But they hadn’t argued after they’d arrived in Tierra del Verde until that one day three years ago. That day he’d just shut down, signed the papers, then walked away—left her. And he’d stayed away.

Now, before she could decide what she wanted, lightning quick, his mouth was on hers. She tried to resist the leather-and-lime smell of him. But the battle was lost before it began. His kisses were meant to gentle her, and they always had before. They did now. And then the pleasure poured through her, along with that irresistible aroma of him. The firmness of his rangy muscles pressed against her length and the roughness of his callused fingers as he cupped her jaw made her want to feel his hands everywhere. She felt her own muscles go pliant, but then a nip on her lower lip demanded more. He wanted entrance. He wanted her to yield to him.

No.

She couldn’t.

If she let him in again, he’d destroy her. Despite her resolve, her limbs felt no more substantial than gelatin as they melted into him. She finally managed to gather her wits and summon strength, mental and physical. She pushed him away. Backward. Hard. He fell against Harry, shock written on his handsome features. She wanted to berate him for taking liberties, but she could no more get the words out than he seemed able to make one of his classic wiseacre comments.

He shook his head and mounted Harry. Then he stared down at her, cocky grin in place. “You look so damn cute when you get riled. Like a pretty little spittin’ kitten. Just couldn’t resist.” Then he tipped his hat and ducked through the stall door that led to the corral. He was gone before she remembered to close her gaping mouth. Which left her fuming. As usual.

Damn him.

Well, she’d show him, with all his security rules and plans. “Jimmy,” she called out.

The tack room door at the far end of the aisle opened and Jimmy’s towhead popped out. “Yes, ma’am?” His hair was in his eyes as always and he had a smudge of something on his chin.

She forced a smile. “I need my gig.” She cleared her throat and choked down the quaver she’d heard in her words. “Could you hitch it up while I go get my hat and reticule?”

“Sure thing, boss. Sorry. Forgot it was Friday. Thought with the ranger here, you might not go. You need me to ride along?”

“Ranger Kane plans to ride with me,” she lied. He’d be gone longer than she would. And if not, her absence would show him who was boss. “He’ll meet me along the ranch road. I’d help you harness up Gray, but...” She gestured to her green silk dress.

Jimmy frowned. “You going to meet Mr. Avery?”

She paused a second. “Are we friends, Jimmy?” she asked.