Ace's Wild (29 page)

Hester’s cup settled on the table with a little thump. “Either that, or make an honest man out of Ace.”

“Like you intend to make an honest man of Luke?”

It was a shot in the dark. Hester could have been out with anyone. Except that was Luke’s deep drawl she heard over the children’s laughter.

Hester glanced toward the back door. “Luke and I have an understanding. He doesn’t ask for more than I can give, and I indulge his whimsy.”

“Luke has whimsy?” Petunia considered herself an educated woman with an active imagination, but even she couldn’t get her mind around a whimsical Luke. The man was too darned...male.

“Either that or he’s plum out of his mind.” Hester shrugged. “Since I’m not kissing on some crazy man, he’s got whimsy.”

And that was that. “All right, then. Whimsy it is.”

“So what has Ace got that has you so down in the mouth?”

Petunia glanced toward the door again. She didn’t want the children to hear.

“Don’t worry about them,” Hester said. “Luke promised to play stickball with them before it got too dark. We’ve got a spell, unless someone tags someone out too enthusiastically.”

She blinked. Luke was playing with the children. “Luke?”

Hester shrugged and while admitting to kissing didn’t make her blush, admitting to this did. “The man has some hidden sides.”

Petunia eyed that blush and all it could mean. Was Hester falling for Luke? “So I see. About Luke...”

Hester cut her off. “You’re not going to warn me about men, are you? Because that would be truly ridiculous.” She shook her head with a wry smile. “The schoolteacher warning the whore.”

“I’m not a schoolteacher anymore. And you’re not a whore.”

“Honey, you’ll always be schoolmarm proper and I’ll always be a whore.”

Would she? Would Hester? Were they just doomed by forced choices to never be more?

“I don’t believe that.”

“Then that would make you very unrealistic. You might be stubborn, but you’re not unrealistic.”

“I prefer to think of myself as determined.”

“I imagine you do.” Hester picked up her cup. The children’s excited cries from outside blended with the crackle of the stove fire.

“So how did that determination fail you with Ace?”

Petunia considered busying her hands with her own coffee, but it was cold. She settled for twirling the cup. “He wants too much.”

Instead of looking surprised, Hester merely nodded. “Ah. I wondered when you’d hit that wall.”

“You knew?”

“I know his tastes.”

“And?”

With a shrug, Hester said, “And with some men it’s all or nothing. Ace is one of those men.”

How could she argue when he’d said roughly the same thing to her?

She gave the cup a push. “I’m not that kind of woman.”

“Aren’t you?”

The way Hester said that irked her. She knew who she was. And wasn’t. “What does that mean?”

“There’s some reason you’ve never married, Petunia. A pretty, wealthy woman like you has to run damn hard to escape the marriage trap.”

She hadn’t thought of it like that, but amidst the parties, and fund-raising and planning, maybe she had been running. And maybe not. “There was always so much to do.”

“I’m sure.”

“There was!”

“And nothing strong enough to distract you away from it.”

No, nothing had distracted her. That was true enough. She gave the cup another spin.

“Until now,” Hester added pointedly.

Petunia stopped spinning the cup. “I don’t think I want to talk about this.”

“An all-or-nothing man like Ace is a rare thing.”

“I know.”

“It can be scary when a man demands everything of you.”

It was downright terrifying. “And impossible.”

Hester smiled. “Impossible is for those that don’t understand determination.”

Why did people feel compelled to throw her own words back at her?

“I don’t think I can...trust him to the level he wants.”

“That’s the beauty of loving a man like Ace, honey. You don’t have to do anything. Just take his hand and let him show you just how easy it is.”

That wasn’t easy. That scared her to death.

“And by the way, the children mailed that letter for you that you left this afternoon.”

She clutched the table edge. “What letter?”

“The one you left on the table.”

She grabbed for her pocket. The letter to her father. Oh, damn!

“They said they were just in time. They said they caught the coach.”

Of course they had. The letter she’d written but never intended to send. Her admission of failure in all its glory had made the coach. She wanted to bang her head against the wall. Her day only needed this. Instead, she just said, “Thank you.”

* * *

J
UST
TAKE
HIS
hand and let him show you just how easy it is.

Just.

Why did everyone think everything boiled down to a just? Hours later, Petunia leaned against the wall in her bedroom and stared out the window, seeing her reflection in the dark glass and the night beyond. Lamplight spilled out of the occasional window, bathing the streets in a homey glow. Christmas decorations cast shadows on the walks. Such a peaceful scene. So soothing. Yet it did nothing to alleviate the restlessness inside.

Just.

Running her hands up and down her arms, she fought for calm. So many times in her life she’d stood like this, staring into the night, looking for answers, feeling the walls closing in. And as she had so many times before, she gave up and grabbed the quilt off the bed, wrapped it around her and sneaked down the stairs. Thoughts of Brian gave her pause on the landing, but it wasn’t enough to keep her put. She needed space. Air. Something to clear her thoughts. Pausing only to grab the rifle from the kitchen, she slipped out the front door. The chill of the night met her first. Then the distant hum of the saloon. She took a breath and then another. She didn’t want to think about Ace. She couldn’t help thinking about Ace.

A slight breeze caressed her cheeks. Leaves rustled gently. She set the rifle against the house and sat in the rocker on the wide porch with a weary sigh, leaning back and taking in the peace. Clouds whipped across the sky backlit by the light from the half-moon. The calm settled over her without the usual settling of her thoughts. She tucked the quilt against her.

Just try. Just be. Just don’t fall to pieces when that trying to be what’s wanted—what Ace wanted—and failing, crushes you into the ground.

It figured she’d fall in love with a man who demanded the one thing she couldn’t give.

“Why did it have to be Ace?” she muttered. She hadn’t expected an answer. She about jumped out of her skin when she got one.

“It’s a bad sign when a pretty woman sits alone in the dark talking to herself.”

She paused midlunge. Luke. That was Luke. She closed her eyes briefly and took a steadying breath. As soon as her heart started beating again, she was going to smack him. Hard. Now that her eyes were adjusted, she could see him sitting in the corner of the porch, a darker shadow among the shadows. She tapped the gun butt on the floor. “It’s a dangerous habit to lurk in the dark outside a nervous woman’s home.”

There was the sound of sulfur being struck and then the hiss of the flame catching. A faint light started low and rose along with his arm. “You’re nervous?”

She could just make out the amused tilt of his mouth. “Don’t I have reason to be? What with Brian lurking about?”

“Winter won’t touch you or Terrance.”

The barrel was cold in her hand. She took a metaphorical shot in the dark. “And Hester?”

The match blew out. The scent of sulfur drifted over. Luke’s voice went darker than the night. “No one will touch Hester.”

A shiver went down her spine. “Brian is unpredictable.”

“Brian is under control.”

“Is that why you’re out here on my porch standing guard?”

“I wasn’t standing, I was sitting. And I wasn’t guarding, I was waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you.”

Something in the way he said that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. “You might’ve had a long wait.”

Another scrape and another flare of light. In the glow of the flame, she saw Luke’s expression. The corners of his eyes were crinkled as if something were amusing. It better not be her. She wasn’t in the mood for his jokes.

“The one thing you are, Petunia Wayfield, is predictable.”

No one ever said that about her before. She didn’t like him saying it about her now. “Excuse me?”

Shaking out the match, he said, “It’s not my pardon you need to be begging. You let Ace down.”

“Whether I did or not is none of your business.”

“Ordinarily, you’d be right.” As he stood, his shadow stretched out before him, encroaching into her space. He took a step toward her. “But Ace and I go way back.”

She’d forgotten how tall he was. A little bit bigger than Ace. Maybe she’d just never noticed because whenever Ace was around she couldn’t see anybody else. Or maybe Luke was just better at blending into his smile. He took another step. She stood, that trickle of warning expanding.

His smile glimmered in the dark. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Making this easy.”

By the time she realized what he was up to it was too late. With seemingly effortless ease, he grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. The quilt that had been keeping her warm became a muffling prison, trapping her arms and blocking her view as he heaved her over his shoulder and her world turned upside down. A swat on her butt cut off her scream. Even through the quilt she could feel the warning.

“Stop struggling. You want this.”

This. He kept mentioning
this
. She wiggled harder. What was
this
? “Put me down.”

“In a minute.”

“Now!”

His chuckle jostled her out of sync with his steps. “In case you haven’t figured it out by now, Petunia, I’m not a man to take orders.”

“Ace will kill you.”

“Maybe.”

There was no
maybe
about it. Her “He will” lost its impact as he stepped down. She had no idea of where he was heading. She opened her mouth to scream. It came out as an “Uff” as he stepped up. She grabbed as she started to slip, finding nothing but material to hold on to.

“If you don’t stop, you’re going to get us both killed.”

She couldn’t see his face. She didn’t know if he was joking. Erring on the side of caution, she held still. It made more sense to conserve her strength. At some point he had to unwrap her, and when he did, she was going to kill him. In the meantime, she’d try reason.

“What are you up to?”

He knocked on a door. “Settling a debt.”

He ignored her “To whom?” The door creaked and they were in motion again. His footsteps were hollow markers. Wherever they were, it was empty. Maybe even deserted. The sound of the door closing echoed behind them. The acrid taste of fear filled her mouth.

Ace!

She wished he could hear her. She wished he were here. She wished she’d never balked when he’d asked for her trust. Because that was what it had all been about, she realized, whether from all the blood rushing to her head or just all the time she’d spent mulling on it, what Ace had wanted was her trust displayed in obedience.

“I’m coming up,” Luke called out. She pushed up against his back. With a grunt he bounced her back down. “Just a warning,” he called out to whomever was in the house. “You get trigger happy, and you will regret it.”

That got a response but beyond recognizing the muffled voice was male, she had nothing. Her fingers tightened around the quilt. She was alone in a vacant house with at least two men. Concentrating, she forced her breathing to slow and worked on bringing it to even. She was going to need her wits about her when Luke got to wherever he was going.

“I brought you a present.” Luke’s grip on her shifted.

In the next minute the world tilted, and she was set on her feet. Instinct obliterated her calm. She stumbled into a bolt, tripped and fell. There was cursing, all of it familiar, another off-balancing tug on the quilt and then strong hands caught her and pulled her close.

“Goddamn it, Luke, what were you thinking carrying her like that? Did you forget she might be pregnant?”

“Shit.”

The quilt was pulled away from her face. Through the hair covering her face, Petunia glared at Luke. She wasn’t ready for this.

“You’re a miserable kidnapper.”

Her glare bounced off the amused twist of his lips. “But a hell of a best man.”

Best man?

Ace brushed the hair from her cheek. She didn’t let her eyes turn his way. She wasn’t ready.

“This is none of your business, Luke,” Ace growled.

Luke took a step toward the door. “Obviously, I disagree.”

“We don’t even know yet if I’m with child,” she said. Someone had to point out the obvious.

Ace’s grip tightened but Luke was the one who shook his head. “You still think that has any bearing on anything?”

Yes. No. Maybe. She made the mistake of looking at Ace. For in that brief instant, everything she felt she could see in him she did. The longing. The wanting. The “maybe” fell by the wayside, followed quickly by the “no.” Ace needed her the same as she needed him. Why had she never seen that? Touching the stubble on his cheek, she acknowledged the truth. Because she hadn’t allowed herself to. Because she’d been afraid. “I’m sorry.”

Ace’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing’s changed. I am as I always was.”

Yes, he was. A gambler. A Ranger. Hell’s Eight. A man. And beneath the seemingly precariousness of his lifestyle, Ace was a rock of stability. She cupped his cheek in her palm. She was the one who, for all her outward stability, was uncertain. “I know.”

His gaze heated. “I don’t play, Pet.”

No, he didn’t. And his intensity gave her pause. But only for a moment. Because this was Ace. And he fit her. And she him. “I know.”

He didn’t smile. She didn’t care.

Without breaking eye contact with her he called, “Luke?”

“What?”

“Get out of here.”