Texas Loving (The Cowboys) Page 19

  “You are going to come back to sleep in the house, aren’t you?” Eden wasn’t afraid of being in the house by herself, but it might be her best chance to see if this attraction between them could develop into anything beyond the physical.

  “Are you sure you’ll be comfortable with me in the house alone with you?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “If this were England, you’d be ruined unless I married you the next day.”

  “Reputations aren’t so fragile in America, especially when it’s generally conceded that the lady in question can take care of herself. Really, Edward,” she said when she saw him hesitating, “you have to remember this isn’t England.”

  “I know that, but—”

  “But you don’t want to sleep in the house.”

  “It’s not that. I’m just not comfortable.”

  “Well, this is part of learning to be a Texan. There’s lots more discomfort ahead.”

  His sudden smile was unexpected. Then she realized it wasn’t a smile. It just looked like one. It was more of a grimace.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said.

  She was horrified to realize he thought she enjoyed making fun of his discomfort. “Of course not. Maybe I’m doing it wrong, but I’m only trying to help you realize it’s easier to be a Texan than you think. You just have to be more natural, to be more yourself.”

  “To be more myself.” He appeared surprised. “That’s the first time anyone has asked me to do that. I’ve always been told I needed to be more like Patrick.”

  “I liked your brother, but I prefer you just the way you are.”

  “Really?”

  “I thought you knew that.”

  “I hoped, but I never believed it. Except for Patrick, nobody else ever has.”

  “I guess that’s why I like Patrick. He has good taste.”

  He paused, looked hard at her as though trying to read her inner thoughts. “You really want me to stay in the house with you?”

  “Yes, I really do.”

  The next pause was even longer. “Okay,” he said, and nonchalantly walked out the door.

  She turned back to the sink, her mind on Edward rather than her rapidly cooling dishwater. What was the reason for his reluctance? Up until now he’d been more than willing to spend time with her. She didn’t understand why he should suddenly get cold feet. If he wanted a chance to kiss her, then staying in the house was the perfect opportunity. She could only assume that although he’d found it comparatively easy to shed the yoke of duty to his family, he was having a much harder time unlearning the training that had been bred into him since birth.

  Eden decided to do everything she could to help him. She liked the English Edward, but she suspected she’d like the Texas version even more. There was only one way to find out.

  Her dishwater had gone cold, but she hardly noticed.

  Edward couldn’t decide whether he was too much of a snob or whether Finn and Brady were complete jerks, but he couldn’t like them. Brady was bad enough by himself, but he was even worse when Finn was around. The latter was presently describing, for Brady’s envious enjoyment, how he’d spent his night in San Antonio. Since it involved passing so many hours in the arms of three lust-driven women that it would have been impossible for Finn to get any sleep, Edward was inclined to be skeptical. Brady drank in every word, periodically punctuating the recital with exclamations of frustrated animal hunger.

  “You’d better hurry and wash up,” Edward said, impatient to have the recital come to an end. “Eden said dinner, I mean supper, would be ready at six.”

  Finn turned to Edward and said with what he assumed was an English accent, “Then dinner will just have to wait.”

  Edward decided it would be better to ignore Finn. The man had never liked him and made no attempt to hide the fact. Since their work kept them apart most of the time, it had been fairly easy for Edward to stay out of his way.

  Using the small mirror on the wall next to the bunkhouse door, Edward finished combing his hair, then turned away.

  “Who are you trying to look so pretty for tonight?” Finn asked. “I haven’t heard tell of any dances.”

  “I’m trying to look pretty because it’s common decency to make sure you don’t smell like your horse when you come to the table, or look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backward. Did I say that right? I don’t want to appear too English.”

  “He’s just kidding you,” Brady said to Edward, obviously a little nervous at the antagonism between the two men.

  “No, I’m not,” Finn nearly snarled. “I hate the limey’s guts. He waltzes in here without knowing his ass from his head, and expects everybody to kowtow to him.”

  “I don’t expect to be treated any different from anybody else,” Edward said. “But I hope people will withhold judgment until I’ve had a chance to prove myself.”

  “You’ll never prove yourself as long as you can’t handle a rope.”

  “It’s on a long list of things I need to learn. Now, I’m headed to the house. It’s almost six.”

  Finn made some parting remark, but Edward dug his heels so deeply into the rocky soil he wasn’t able to hear most of it. He supposed he’d have felt the same as Finn if some American had come to England and expected to be handed a job right away without having any qualifications or previous experience.

  “Where are Finn and Brady?” Eden asked when Edward entered the kitchen.

  “They’re coming.” He hoped they were, but the smells enveloping him were so mouthwatering, he didn’t care if they never showed up. He couldn’t remember any meal in England smelling this good. “What did you cook? It smells wonderful.”

  “Nothing special,” Eden said, a big smile lighting her flushed face. “Just some baked ham, potatoes, beans, fresh peaches, and hot biscuits with butter.”

  He couldn’t decide which aroma was more enticing, the ham or the biscuits, but it didn’t matter because he intended to enjoy plenty of both. He wondered why a plain meal on a Texas ranch could seem more appetizing than a banquet table in London. The sudden explosion of a door being thrown open caused him to whirl around, seeking the reason for the unexpected noise.

  “Bring on the victuals,” Finn shouted as he headed for the chair at the head of the table. “Everything had better be good and hot.” With that he yanked the chair out from the table and dropped into it. “What are you waiting for?” he demanded when Eden didn’t move. “Get a move on. I don’t like to wait.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Edward had never been one to act without thought. That wasn’t consistent with his heritage or his responsibilities. Now, however, those restraints were off, and before he realized it, he’d crossed over to Finn and hauled the man up from the chair by the front of his shirt.

  “You’ll speak to Eden with respect,” he growled, his nose only inches from Finn’s, “or you’ll cook your own supper.” Edward was aware that his size dwarfed Finn—the man’s toes barely touched the floor—but he wasn’t about to let any errant sense of fair play cause him to back down.

  “I didn’t hear neither Hawk or Zeke set you up to give orders,” Finn growled back. “I’ve been here longer and I’ve proved myself. You can’t do a damned thing.”

  “One thing I can do,” Edward said, “is fight with my fists. *I’ll be more than happy to prove myself should the need arise.”

  Edward could understand bad manners—all sorts of men were afflicted with them—but what he couldn’t understand was the hatred he saw deep in Finn’s eyes. He hadn’t done anything to inspire such enmity and couldn’t imagine Eden had, either, yet Finn was filled with a bitter anger at something or someone.

  “A lot of good that will do the horses,” Finn scoffed, too angry to back down. “If anyone should be giving orders, it’s me.”

  “As far as I know,” Eden said, interrupting, “neither Hawk nor Zeke felt it was necessary for anyone to give orders. Each of us has our own
work. If any orders need to be given, I’m sure my father will be more than capable of giving them.”

  “But he’s not here, is he?” Finn asked in a voice that taunted rather than inquired. “How’s he to know what needs to be done?”

  “I believe Eden is more than capable of keeping her father abreast of what’s going on here.”

  “Keeping her father abreast,” Finn repeated in mockery. “My, you sure do talk mighty fine. I can almost see you in a wig and knee breeches, bowing and scraping before some godless whore in silks and satin.”

  Edward was as shocked by the image Finn had of him as he was by the venom in his voice. “What you think of me isn’t at issue here. This is about treating Eden with courtesy and respect. If you can’t do that, get your own meals.”

  The hatred in Finn’s eyes didn’t abate, but Edward’s grip on his shirt had tightened until his feet threatened to leave the floor. “I’m sorry I spoke so roughly,” Finn said to Eden. “I didn’t get any sleep last night. It was a long ride into San Antonio and back.”

  Edward didn’t know how Finn had the gall to make such a statement after his stories about how he’d spent his night in San Antonio, but he figured it was pointless to press Finn any further. He hoped Hawk and Zeke would consider replacing the man as soon as possible. He might be a top hand, but he was too filled with hate to be trusted. “Eden will take the seat at the head of the table,” he said to Finn and Brady. “We’ll take our customary seats.”

  The atmosphere at the table was so strained, Edward would have been willing to forego eating just to escape, but he didn’t want to leave the man with Eden. He doubted the ranch hand would attempt to harm her, but he was impatient for Finn to leave the house. It was a relief when Brady pushed his chair back from the table, thanked Eden for supper, and got up to leave.

  “I guess I’ll be taking my leave as well,” Finn said, getting to his feet with exaggerated slowless. “Miss Maxwell, the quality of your cooking is exceeded only by the extent of your beauty.” Turning to Edward, he said, “Don’t wake me up when you come to bed. Some of us have real work to do.”

  Edward’s hands balled into fists he longed to send smashing into Finn’s insincere face, but he forced himself to ignore the man’s words. He didn’t take a full breath until the kitchen door closed behind Finn.

  “Why does he dislike you so much?” Eden asked.

  “Because I exist,” Edward said. “I don’t know whether he thinks your family favors me unfairly or whether he resents that I own a horse like Crusader, but he has disliked me from the beginning.” Edward hadn’t paid too much attention to that at first. Being an aristocrat had made him the object of disfavor with lots of people, but this was the first time the situation had become so personal.

  “I never feel comfortable around him,” Eden said as she began to clear the table. “I feel like he disapproves of me.”

  “Why would he?” Edward had never cleared a table in his life, but it suddenly occurred to him that if he wanted to become a Texan, he probably should learn. It felt strange at first, but Eden didn’t blink, just said, “Set the bowls on the counter. I’ll put the food away.”

  “Do you save what we don’t eat?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  He didn’t know, but now that he thought of it, no dish ever came to the earl’s table a second time. If it wasn’t eaten by the family, some of the servants ate it or it was fed to the livestock. Texas ranchers didn’t have servants. Nor did they have several farms as well as a whole village to keep them supplied with an endless quantity of food. Learning to be a Texan seemed more challenging every day. The more he learned, the more he realized he didn’t know.

  “I just never thought about it,” Edward said.

  Eden laughed without turning back to look at him. “Of course not. You were the heir. The cook might have talked about what to do with leftovers with your stepmother, but she’d never have mentioned it to you.”

  “I never talked about food.”

  “Neither does my father. He pays for the food and expects it to appear magically every day.”

  Watching Eden put away the food and begin to wash the dishes made Edward realize there was a great deal of work involved in preparing meals. He’d attended dozens of banquets and lavish dinners without once giving a thought to the time and effort that went into the preparation of the food or setting the table. It shocked him to realize how little he’d valued the efforts of the men and women who enabled his family to live at leisure and in luxury. Maybe this was the reason Finn disliked him so much. Had he been acting as if he expected everything to be done for him, as if what he wanted was more important than what anyone else wanted?

  He’d been so focused on preparing Crusader to win the race, he hadn’t paid attention to anything except learning how to do his job. He didn’t know how he related to Finn and Brady. Did he think he was better than they were? If so, did it come across in the way he acted toward them? His whole life he’d been taught to believe he was better than anyone who wasn’t also an aristocrat, that he was owed courtesy and deference just because he was who he was. But who was he really?

  He was a bastard, and that meant practically everybody was better than he was.

  “Do you think I’m a snob?”

  The question appeared to have caught Eden by surprise. She turned, a questioning expression on her face, her brow creased. “No. Why did you ask? Did Finn say something?”

  “I was taught to be . . . arrogant, that I was better than anybody who wasn’t in my class.”

  “I never thought you were a snob.” Eden wiped her hands, prepared to give him her full attention. “You never acted like that toward me.”

  “But we were all of the same class in England.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “The earl treated you as an equal. The rest of us just followed suit. Now I’ve got all the training and experience but not the pedigree.”

  Eden turned back to her dishes. “No one cares about pedigree in Texas. You are what you make of yourself. Even if you were the earl himself, you’d have to start over here. Now stop worrying and decide where you’re going to sleep. Dawn comes mighty early.”

  She didn’t have to tell him. He’d been getting up early for years, but early in England wasn’t the same as early in Texas—by about two hours. At least he didn’t have to worry about midnight balls or evenings at the opera. All he had to worry about here was a day spent in the saddle and the pleasant ache of a well-used body.

  “Would you like some fresh coffee?” Eden asked.

  His first response was to say he’d prefer a brandy or a cognac. “Coffee sounds fine. Should I take some to Finn and Brady?”

  “I expect they’ll make their own. Go on into the front room. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

  He felt a little guilty leaving before she had finished her work, but he barely knew what he was supposed to do around the ranch when he was on horseback. He had no idea how to handle himself in a kitchen.

  It made Eden sad to see Edward caught between two worlds and not feeling he belonged in either. It wrung her heart to see him try so hard to mold himself into his idea of a Texan. Despite the accident of his birth, he was an aristocrat through and through, and that could prove an insurmountable barrier to his staying in Texas. He never spoke of his family, but she knew he missed Patrick. The brothers had been each other’s best friend. Edward hadn’t been able to make any real friends in Texas. Here Hawk and Zeke were his bosses, Finn and Brady kept their distance, and he barely saw anyone else. He must feel lonely, isolated, cut off from everything he knew and loved.

  “Will you race Black Cloud against Crusader tomorrow?” They’d been sitting quietly in comfortable armchairs, each lost in thought, so his question surprised her.

  “I thought you didn’t want to train him that hard.”

  “I want to try him with the jockey, to see how he acts in a race.”

  “The jockey or Crusader?”


  “Both.”

  She thought he was more worried about the jockey. Crusader was an easy horse to ride.

  “I’d be glad to ride against Crusader, but don’t get angry if I beat him.” She’d said that to tease him, but he didn’t smile.

  “You won’t beat him if the jockey can get the best out of him.”

  Eden didn’t argue because she was afraid Edward might be right. Black Cloud was a proven success, but Crusader practically bubbled over with promise. Still, she had every intention of winning that race. After last year’s bungled competition, Black Cloud deserved it.

  She should probably have asked her father for some of his brandy. Men like Edward weren’t accustomed to drinking coffee after dinner. They weren’t used to eating Texas-style food either. She was probably lucky he didn’t have indigestion.

  They fell into another comfortable silence. She liked the quiet, the feeling of companionship that didn’t require words. For all of his energy and drive, there was a quiet about Edward that was comforting and reassuring. Maybe it came from his lifetime as an entitled member of the privileged upper class, but Edward was the only man she knew who could relax without losing his sense of power. Even twenty-five years of uninterrupted success hadn’t taught her father how to do that. It was something to marvel at . . . and enjoy. Not that every woman wanted a man who would sit across the room from her without saying a word.

  Her thoughts startled her. Did she want this man? That’s what it sounded like, what it felt like, but was she sure? Their whole relationship had been off-center from the beginning. Before she’d ever met him, his family was certain she’d come to England hoping to squeeze something out of the earl. Then there had been the problem of his anticipated engagement to Daphne. And once Eden and Edward had managed to become friends, she’d confronted him with the facts of his birth, and his whole world had fallen apart. Now he was in the last place she’d expected him to be—Texas—trying to become what was virtually impossible—a Texas rancher.