A Texan's Honor Page 8

  Which was something of a dilemma. And at the moment, he had no idea how to solve it.

  It would have been a lot easier if he’d been able to think like Silas. Then he wouldn’t care about people or the way his actions affected them. Living with Jake and Isabelle had taught him that people could be trusted, that good people didn’t do bad things purely to gain an advantage for themselves. They said a man had to be able to look himself in the mirror and not be ashamed.

  And at the center of this mess—though she clearly wanted to be anywhere else—was Emily. It couldn’t be comfortable to be pressured from both sides to do something she didn’t want to do.

  He’d been annoyed to find he was attracted to her, but now he was worried because he was starting to feel sorry for her, to like her. That was not a good idea, because he needed to keep a clear head, unclouded by emotion, if he was to find a way through this tangle. But how was he going to do that when even now he couldn’t put her image out of his mind?

  Chapter Six

  Emily was relieved to be reaching the ranch. She’d spent four of the last six days in the saddle, and she was tired and stiff. She wanted to be in her own home and sleep in her own bed.

  “I expect Daddy has been sitting on the front porch since mid-afternoon,” she said to Bret. “He’s sure that something terrible is going to happen to me.”

  “He didn’t want you going to Fort Worth,” Lonnie said, “but he knows Jem and me wouldn’t let nothing happen to you.”

  She and Bret hadn’t had much to say to each other today. She could tell he was getting a little saddle-sore, but so was she. Only Lonnie and Jem seemed unaffected by the long trip. Lonnie had made a point of riding closer to her today. After what Ida had told her, Emily watched him closely. She was just as careful to study her own actions toward him, and was disturbed to see intimations of warmth that she hadn’t been aware of. And he was much more attracted to her than she’d ever guessed. The looks Bret cast her from time to time signaled that he knew it, too. She wasn’t so shallow that she needed the attention of every man she met, but he couldn’t know that.

  It annoyed her that she cared what he might think. She knew he wasn’t fond of Joseph, the only person in Boston she liked or trusted. Joseph had already written her that Bret was jealous of Joseph’s success, that he might even try to convince her to marry him in order to get his hands on her father’s quarter interest in Abbott & Abercrombie. She had no intention of marrying anybody any time soon, most especially not Bret Nolan.

  “I’m sure you’ll be glad to get out of the saddle,” she said to Bret, who was riding on her right.

  “I expect his bottom’s so sore he’ll have trouble sitting down to dinner,” Lonnie said on her left.

  “It is a bit raw,” Bret said with one of his smiles that told her he was about to say something to tease her. “But I’ll manage to sit down to the table if the food is as good as Ida Wren’s.”

  “Don’t worry,” Emily said. “I don’t do the cooking.”

  “That’s good to know,” Bret said, his smile even broader. “It’s been a long time since I had to take a hand in fixing my own supper.”

  Emily noticed he’d started saying supper instead of dinner. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she hoped it didn’t mean he considered the evening meal in Texas unworthy of the term.

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea. Bertie doesn’t like men in her kitchen.”

  “A man’s got no business in a kitchen except to eat,” Lonnie announced.

  “It’s obvious you didn’t grow up in a household of eleven kids,” Bret said. “Isabelle did most of the cooking, but we had to set the table and clean up. About the time Eden was born, Jake made us take over all the cooking. Fortunately, Matt knew how to cook, or it would have been pretty bad.”

  The idea of a group of rough-and-tumble boys learning to set the table and clean up, even cook on occasion, intrigued Emily. Ida’s boys would rebel if she so much as mentioned it, and their father would back them up. She couldn’t imagine how Isabelle had managed it.

  As she drew closer to the ranch house, Emily’s father got up from his chair on the porch and started down the steps. She could see his smile of welcome, could sense his relief that she was home safe. She looked at her father closely. Illness had ravaged his body, reducing a big man to a bone-thin frame. He walked slowly and with an effort, but his strength of spirit wouldn’t yield to his physical weakness. He greeted his daughter with a smile despite having to lean on the step railing and then a cane for support.

  “I’ll see you at the house,” she said to Bret and Lonnie and kicked her horse into a slow gallop.

  “She adores her father,” she heard Lonnie say before she got out of hearing range.

  She supposed she did adore him. Due to her mother’s long illness and early death, her father had been her only parent. No matter how busy he’d been, he always had time for her. She brought her horse to a stop and dismounted. Holding her arms out, she walked into his embrace.

  “How’s my hardheaded, willful daughter?” he asked.

  “Hard head and strong will still intact,” she said, giving him a big hug.

  “I was hoping Mr. Nolan might soften you up a little.”

  “You’d be disappointed in me if I became infatuated with a handsome face.”

  “I’d like to see you infatuated with almost any man’s face. It’s not normal for a young woman to ignore every man she meets.”

  Emily grinned. “I confess I haven’t exactly ignored this one. He is awfully nice-looking.”

  Her father’s eyebrows rose.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” she said, laughing. “He’s very handsome, but he’s just as hardheaded and strong-willed as I am. I’m betting we’ll be at each other’s throats in a couple of days.”

  “You promised to listen to him,” her father said, some of his enthusiasm waning.

  “I only promised to listen. Now smile and act like you’re glad to see him. After all, you’re the reason he’s here.”

  “I see we’re going to have to put our heads together and plot against you,” her father said.

  When Bret and Lonnie reached the house and dismounted, Emily took her father’s arm and turned to meet them. “This is my father, Sam Abercrombie,” she said to Bret. “Father, this is Bret Nolan, the man who’s supposed to make me believe my future lies in Boston.”

  “How do you do,” Bret said, extending his hand to Emily’s father. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. You’re quite a legend back in Boston, you know.”

  “I expect mine is a story they tell little children to scare them into being good,” Sam said with a smile as he shook Bret’s hand.

  “More like to convince younger sons to go out and make something of themselves.”

  “You’re not going to make me believe my brother thinks I’m a success,” Sam said.

  “Maybe not, but I do,” Bret said. “You did what you wanted, and you still inherited your share of the company.”

  Her father laughed so hard, Emily was worried he’d do himself harm. “I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Sam said. “By damn, that’s enough to keep me in good spirits for at least a month.”

  “Why don’t we go inside,” Emily said. “Dad shouldn’t be out in the sun too long.”

  “I’ll be in after I see to the horses.” Bret turned back to the horses.

  “Lonnie can take care of them,” Sam said.

  “I can’t ask him to take care of my horse and bring in my luggage.”

  “I like him already,” Sam said as Bret led his horse to the barn. “I never had a guest take care of his own horse, not even when it was his own horse.”

  “I never expected a city slicker to care about horses, much less know what to do,” Emily said as she helped her father up the steps.

  “I wonder why Silas sent him. I’d have thought he’d have sent Joseph.”

  “There you go thinking Joseph wants to marry
me. What would he do with a wife like me?”

  “Be damned lucky he got you.” Sam had difficulty breathing after climbing the steps. “You may not be as rich as some of the Boston girls, but you’re a damned fine-looking woman. Besides, you’ve got backbone and character.”

  Emily laughed as she held the door open for her father. “When did men start appreciating backbone and character in a woman?”

  “When I married your mother,” her father said, wheezing. Emily took his arm and guided him to his favorite chair in the great room.

  “Don’t move until it’s time for dinner,” she ordered. “I’ll be back as soon as I make sure Bret is settled in his room.”

  “So it’s Bret already, is it?”

  “What else did you expect? I can hardly argue with him if I’m still calling him Mister Nolan.”

  “You’re not going to change, are you?”

  “Probably not, but you’ll love me anyway.” She kissed him on his forehead. “Now I’m home and safe. You’re not to worry anymore.”

  “I can’t help worrying about what will happen to you when I’m gone.”

  “The only reason I’d even consider going to Boston would be so you’d stop worrying. Now rest up. I think you’ll enjoy getting to know Bret.”

  As Emily climbed the stairs to her room, she realized she expected to enjoy it, too. Setting aside the fact that he was handsome enough to warm her blood and cause her cheeks to flush, he was an interesting man, full of contradictions and secrets. He was going to set his will against hers—the kind of intellectual contest she enjoyed. She also had the feeling he would surprise her. She wasn’t sure how, but something told her it would be a pleasant surprise. None of this made sense, of course, but that was how she felt.

  It had been a long trip and she was exhausted, her muscles still felt tight from so many hours in the saddle, but she didn’t have time for a bath before dinner. She barely had time to change her clothes and make sure Bret was settled in his room. She supposed she could have left that to Lonnie or Jem, but he was a guest and she was the hostess. Besides, anybody who took such good care of his horses was all right in her book. The fact that he was the best-looking man she’d ever seen didn’t hurt, either.

  She wondered why Joseph had warned her against him. Bret certainly hadn’t done anything to make her think he was interested in attracting her attention, much less winning her affection. It was mortifying to be attracted to a man who seemed uninterested in her. Where was the sport, the challenge, the slight element of fear that things just might get out of control?

  He was the first man she’d ever been attracted to. It was probably a good thing she could get this first infatuation—if she could call it that—out of her system on a man who had no interest in her. She would have the experience without the possibility of making the mistake of falling in love.

  She was amused and a little out of patience with the foolish thoughts going through her mind. She needed to eat dinner, make sure her father was okay, get a good night’s sleep, and get her mind back on her work. Maybe then she could forget about Bret Nolan.

  Bret thoroughly enjoyed dinner. The food was excellent, the company even better. Sam Abercrombie was a fascinating man who’d turned his back on family status and fortune, scorned his relatives’ opinion, and used their criticism to spur his ambition to prove them wrong. Part of the charm, part of the miracle, was that he didn’t think he’d done anything unusual. He’d simply wanted something different and hadn’t let anything stand in his way.

  Several leaves had been taken out of the dining room table, but it was still too large for three people. The room itself, not to mention the crystal and table settings, were unusual for a ranch some distance from Fort Worth. Joseph and Uncle Silas would never believe this table was as impressive as the one they sat down to each night.

  “My daughter’s got my rebellious spirit,” Sam said. “She’s not paying any more attention to me than I paid to my parents.”

  “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you tell Bret what an undutiful daughter I am,” Emily said as she rose from the table. “I’m going to go get my exhausted body ready for bed.”

  “See, she doesn’t give me any respect at all.”

  Bret could tell from the love-filled look on Sam’s face that the father-daughter relationship was entirely to his satisfaction.

  “I’ll give you one hour,” Emily said. “If you’re not done by then, I’m coming down and carrying you off to bed. You,” she said, directing a severe look at Bret, “are not to let him get worked up. If you do, you’ll be on a horse back to Fort Worth before you know what happened to you.”

  “I promise,” Bret said.

  Emily kissed her father on the forehead and headed upstairs.

  “I love that girl, but she’s more than I can handle,” Sam said. “One of the reasons I want her to go to Boston is to find a husband who’s good enough for her.”

  “Do you mean one who’s strong enough to handle her?”

  “No, I don’t.” The emphasis was impossible to miss. “There’s nothing wrong with Emily. She’s a lot like me, so why would I think she needs to be handled?”

  “I obviously chose the wrong word,” Bret said. “Sorry.”

  “I want her to find a man who can appreciate her strengths, not just be interested in her looks and her money.”

  “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you have to realize that men in Boston aren’t any different from men anywhere else in the world. Looks and money come first. It takes time for a man to see past that to character. Not many succeed—or want to try.”

  Sam seemed to shrink a little in his chair. “I should have sold this ranch after her mother died, but I didn’t want to leave Texas. I didn’t want to share my little girl or my life with my family. Hell, I don’t like my family. Why would I want to live with them?”

  “Are they really that bad?” Bret didn’t know the Abercrombies well. He wasn’t considered on their social level.

  “Why do you think I contacted Silas Abbott? I wouldn’t send my dog to my brother.”

  “Then why do you want Emily to go to Boston?”

  “Because she can’t stay here. She could run this place by herself, but who could she marry? Lonnie?”

  “She could move to Fort Worth or Dallas.”

  “Nothing but cowhands, good-for-nothings, and thieves. I wouldn’t send my dog there.”

  “You know Emily is dead set against going to Boston, don’t you?” Bret said.

  “I’m sick, not deaf or stupid.”

  Bret laughed. “I just want you to know it’ll be very difficult to change her mind.”

  Sam gave him a penetrating look. “I get the feeling you’re a very capable young man, probably able to convince young women to do things they probably shouldn’t do.”

  “Maybe, but I haven’t talked any young woman out of her reputation.”

  Sam laughed heartily. “I never heard it phrased quite so politely. In my day we said a young woman had disgraced herself.”

  “I haven’t caused one to do that, either.”

  Sam’s gaze narrowed. “Is something wrong with you?”

  Now it was Bret’s turn to laugh. “I’m perfectly normal, but I’m a poor relation trying to convince my family I won’t disgrace them if they let me in the front door,” Bret said, hoping he hadn’t let the bitterness he felt seep into his voice. “Why would I do something to hurt my own cause?”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you’ve come to Texas to advance your own cause?”

  Bret took a moment to taste his brandy. It was very good, quite expensive, but tonight it didn’t suit his palate. “My uncle sent me because he thinks I’m the one member of his family who won’t be soiled by being in Texas.”

  “And how do you feel about that?”

  “I hate it.” Bret hadn’t meant to be quite so honest, but Sam wasn’t a man to tolerate pretense. “I’ve worked long hours for Abbott and Abercrombie but h
ave gotten nowhere. When I told Uncle Silas I might not be able to convince Emily to go to Boston, he told me not to come back without her.”

  “He sounds a lot like my brother.”

  “So I made up my mind to offer you a deal,” Bret said.

  “If Silas thinks so little of you, what can you offer me?”

  “You want Emily to be where she’s safe, but you want someone to look after her to make sure she doesn’t marry the wrong man.”

  Sam wasn’t allowed brandy, but at this point he drew the bottle toward himself and took a swallow directly from the bottle. “Go on.”

  “I will undertake to convince Emily to move to Boston. I’m prepared to stay here for several months if it takes that long.”

  “Until I’m dead.”

  Bret hadn’t wanted to say that. He was grateful Sam did it for him.

  “If I can convince her to go to Boston, I’ll see she doesn’t marry anyone who will treat her badly. Don’t ask me how I’ll do that, because I don’t know yet.”

  “And what is this going to cost me? Half my ranch? Half my fortune?”

  “Just the right to vote your stock.”

  Sam pushed the brandy bottle away and leaned forward. “Are you trying to take over the company?”

  Bret shook his head. “Uncle Silas has kept me in piddly jobs for six years, but that time has given me a chance to see how the company works. If we don’t make some changes, we’ll be out of business in ten years.”

  “I knew the company wasn’t making much money, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

  “I’ve worked out a plan to restructure the company. My cousin Rupert Swithin—another poor relation—agrees it’s what we need to do to survive. Even my grandmother thinks it’s a good plan.”

  “I haven’t thought of Elizabeth in years. Is she as independent as she always was?”

  “If it hadn’t been for her, Uncle Silas wouldn’t have given me a job.”