Wanted: Bounty Hunter (Silverpines Series Book 27), page 5
She started the ignition, and the vehicle purred to life. There was something particularly satisfying about watching her drive through the busy town streets, ensconced like a cocoon in his overcoat. He marveled at the way her slender gloved hands gripped the steering wheel with careless pride as if driving one of the first manufactured vehicles in the country was no major event. He would have given much to switch places with her.
“You’re awfully quiet, Mr. Cassidy,” she observed softly. “I presumed you’d have questions about the job?”
At the moment, he only had one. Where is the blasted man who is giving you such a difficult time? The bounder didn’t deserve to exist in the same town as this lovely creature or breathe the same air.
“His name?” he asked tersely.
“Finneas Banfield.” Her lips twisted in revulsion, then settled back into their normal lines.
He could hardly blame her. It was a dastardly name. “And his description, if you will?”
“Blonde, rather arresting blue eyes, aristocratic features, and a foolish walking stick I’d like to wrap a few times around his ears.” She paused and blew out a huff of air, looking genuinely distressed. “Oh, dear! I beg your pardon, Mr. Cassidy. What you must think of my deplorable manners!”
He was so charmed by her concern about his good opinion he had the sudden desire again to kiss her, to taste the spark and lash of her words; and by George! He was reveling in the fact that none of her venom was aimed at him.
“I’d feel more comfortable if you’d call me Boone.” He wasn’t accustomed to pomp and circumstance in his line of work. Quite frankly, that sort of thing made him twitchy.
The color rose in her cheeks. “I know we just met, but I suppose such familiarity makes sense considering our circumstances.”
Our circumstances? Feeling a little out of his element, he prayed she would elaborate.
Her fingers curled a little more tightly around the steering wheel. “You may call me Rachel.”
The air around them suddenly seemed thinner. Boone cleared his throat in the attempt to dispel some of the intensity surging between them. “If it puts your mind at ease, I wasn’t disparaging your manners. I was admiring your ability to find humor in what must be a…” He borrowed her own words from her letter. “Stressful situation.”
“There is nothing whatsoever to admire about my actions!” Her face swiveled in his direction. “I’m a coward. I’m paying you to take care of a problem I failed to handle on my own.”
He’d not expected such vehemence nor such self-recrimination from a woman in her lofty position. Every noble instinct in him raced to her defense. “On the contrary, you were wise not to engage him without backup. Men like him can be dangerous if provoked.” His gut told him Rachel West was a good person. If she was this afraid of her unwanted suitor, perhaps the man was more of a threat than he’d originally presumed. At any rate, the task at hand no longer felt like a complete and utter waste of his time.
Instead of taking him straight to the inn as he expected, she drove up a ritzy cobblestone drive and parked in front of a home that resembled a rose and white stone castle. Turning off the motor, she turned impulsively to him. “Is that what you consider yourself to be? My backup? I thought in my letter to Mrs. Tandy I made it clear that I wanted…” Her voice dwindled, leaving him hanging off a jagged cliff of desire to hear the rest of her sentence.
Was she actually trying to say she considered him to be mail-order husband material? Him?
The way she was leaning slightly in his direction with her lips parted sent crazy ripples of…something…through his chest. He discovered he could no longer think clearly, and the words that came tumbling out of his mouth next didn’t sound anything like a hardened bounty hunter. “I’m the man who’s going to make all your troubles go away, princess.”
A small gasp escaped her, which proved to be his undoing. He wasn’t certain which of them moved first, only that they met in the center of the vehicle and fused their mouths together.
She tasted as lovely and vulnerable as she looked, like delicately spun cotton candy at a circus. And like such a decadent sugary treat, she literally melted in his mouth and arms.
He held her as gently as one would a butterfly, touching his fingertips to her cheeks and kissing her with cautious wonder, even after her arms wrapped like vines around his neck. As she pressed closer, he was forced to admit how many mistakes he’d made in his presumptions about her. She was stronger than she appeared, vibrant and resilient, a branch that could bend without breaking. And she was far from the boring and proper schoolmarm he’d been expecting. She kissed like a woman with a thousand pent-up longings and needs as acute as his own.
When he sampled the saltiness of her tears, he drew back in alarm. “Pray assure me I didn’t hurt you.” His voice shook with impassioned concern.
“No.” She gave a damp sniff. “You didn’t hurt me.” But the sob in her voice gave lie to her words.
“Then why are you weeping?” he asked in agony.
“Because I feel safe again. I’m no longer alone.”
Astounded at her response, he was too moved for words. She felt safe with him? A Black man strapped to the hilt with weapons and barely concealed resentment?
Instead of kissing her again, he cupped a hand against her soft hair and tucked her head beneath his chin. They fit perfectly together, like the missing pieces of each other. Which made no sense whatsoever… They had no common ground between them. They were nothing alike.
Ah, Rachel West, what are you doing to me, lass?
The scent of soap and flowers enveloped him as she slid her arms around his middle. “I’m so glad it was you who came and not Schmidt,” she whispered against the collar of his shirt.
He shouldn’t want this — not with a woman like her, but every move she made and every word she spoke seemed uniquely designed to tear through his defenses. His hands tightened on her tiny waist. “I’m glad it was me, too,” he admitted huskily, praying he’d not just handed her the weapon she would destroy him with.
He had no idea where their relationship was going from this point, but he was too dazed to try to analyze it with any clarity, too shocked at the knowledge he was falling head over heels for a woman he’d only met a few minutes ago. The words of her letter were swirling through his mind, filling him with impossible hope.
I cannot promise to marry him, though I am open to the idea if we develop feelings for each other and the good Lord wills it.
The words were meant for Schmidt Barnes; would she extend the same offer to him? Because he had feelings for her alright. Such rich and strong ones! They’d ignited in him the moment he set eyes on her.
She was the light to his shadows, the rainbow to his storm. Every cell in his being throbbed with the need to protect this woman, to cherish her, to love her.
Love! The thought shocked him out of whatever wizardry had taken possession of his senses. It was past time for him to get a grip on his sanity and return to the hard, cold world of reality.
He was a bounty hunter, and the trembling woman in his arms was his employer. Whatever had just happened between them was likely the result of his loneliness and her vulnerability — nothing more. He would complete his mission, and she would pay him. Then he would be on his way back to Missouri.
He clenched his jaw. And that would be the end of whatever was percolating between them like a fine brew of coffee over an open fire.
White women didn’t marry Black men. They just didn’t.
Chapter 5: Change of Plans
Rachel
Three pale faces met Rachel and Boone inside the spacious entry foyer of her mansion home.
Claudette had her long, slender arms thrown around a trembling Pansy, their short dumpling of a British cook. Her silvery hair was tumbling out of her bun, and her ruffled apron was splattered with purplish stains. Hodge Jenkins, her stalwart gardener, clutched a rifle against the snappy white and black uniform he insisted on wearing even though they were no longer living in Boston.
“What happened?” Rachel cried, alarmed to discover her three beloved staff members in such a state.
“An intruder broke through the back kitchen window while you were away.” Hodge straightened, allowing the rifle to rest upright against his shoulder, but the ends of his trim brown beard still bristled with indignation. “When Pansy screamed, he climbed back out the window and hightailed it through the courtyard and into the woods. I ran after him and fired a few rounds in the air to scare him off.”
During Hodge’s report, Boone had stepped close enough behind Rachel for his trousers to brush her long, full skirts. She could feel the heat and essence of him radiating protectively around her. “Did anyone get a good look at him?”
Pansy stepped from Claudette’s arms and wrung her hands. “I was bent over taking a cobbler out of the oven when the glass broke. I whirled around and saw a man climbing through the window. He was wearing all black. Even his face was covered. It scared me so badly I screamed and dropped the pan, making a horrible mess.”
“Did you injure yourself?” Rachel asked anxiously, scanning the woman’s face and hands for any signs of cuts or burns.
“Only my apron,” she sighed, flashing her dimples. “And our dessert. I’ll stir up another one before dinnertime.”
“That is unnecessary, my dear,” Rachel assured warmly. “We can do without dessert for one day. Why don’t you get cleaned up and tend to that apron before the stains set?”
Pansy drew up her shoulders like a tin soldier. “I will soak my apron, but I will not forfeit our dessert for that-that hooligan!”
“We’d best notify the authorities of the break-in right away.” Boone’s expression was grim as he strode around Rachel’s skirts to face her. “I’m happy to accompany you to the marshal’s office, if you wish.”
“No, please! We can’t.” Her voice rose in alarm. She knew it was the prudent thing to do: but if word spread about the burglary, it could devastate her school’s potential for enrollment.
“Why not?” He sounded shocked. She could tell her plea went against his lawman tendencies.
She threw up her hands. “Maybe I’m being foolish to keep this quiet, but my reasons are sound. I’m trying to open a finishing school. If news gets out about the break-in, no mother will want to send her precious daughter here. I’d rather repair the window and shore up our security than risk our reputation like that.” She blew out a frustrated breath that made the tendrils of hair on her forehead dance. “Unless, of course, we experience another break-in, in which case I’ll do the sensible thing and get the law involved.”
“I can have the window repaired by the day’s end,” Hodge assured.
Rachel nodded, much gratified at his support of her request. “I wonder what he was after,” she mused, glancing towards the parlor. Her home was full of treasures, but the most valuable ones wouldn’t be easy for a thief to take. The enormous grand piano anchoring the corner of the parlor weighed at least a ton, and the pair of Napoleonic-era fainting couches were far too heavy and oblong for a single man to haul away on his own. She doubted there was much resale value for her great aunt’s collection of old family portraits, though a few of the paintings might bring a tidy sum. Someone could also probably peddle off the china and vases, the tapestries and rugs.
Good gracious! Being a wealthy woman certainly came with its disadvantages. The fact she was now a target for thieves was a dismal thought. It was a good thing she had an extra man around to protect her home and staff. Boone’s arrival couldn’t have been more timely.
Thank you, Lord, for sending help when I needed it the most.
She eyed him from beneath her lashes, wondering what he was thinking.
He looked grim as he nudged her inside the parlor and motioned for her to take a seat on one of the fainting couches. He stood in front of her and crossed his arms. “What sort of valuables do you keep in your home?” His tone was brusque and all business.
She raised and lowered her hands in agitation. “Every item in this home is precious to me.” She’d not considered their monetary value before now. “I inherited most of what you see from my recently departed great aunt.” She glanced around them, nostalgia and grief coursing through her. “To be honest? I have little idea what any of it is truly worth.”
Boone’s expression was impossible to read. He studied her a moment longer before continuing in a gentler voice. “Thieves are usually searching for jewelry, money, and easy-to-snatch items such as coin collections and the like.”
She motioned to the reticule she had looped around her wrist. “My aunt did not collect coins.” Though she did own an exorbitant number of books, vases, and souvenirs from all over the world. “The only cash I have in the house is in my reticule, and I rarely keep much unless it’s payday.” She was still growing accustomed to having such a generous supply of funds at her disposal. “As for jewelry, I’m wearing the pearl earrings my aunt gave me as well as the cameo pendant from my late husband.” She fingered the silver disc at her throat.
Boone’s gaze lingered on her throat. “What about your staff?” He nodded to the trio who had followed them into the parlor.
“Nobody will find my money,” Hodge boasted with an unholy gleam in his clear, gray eyes. “Not even if they searched a thousand years.”
He’d worked for Rachel’s great aunt for eons, making her suspect he had a decent pile of cash stowed somewhere. For his sake, she hoped he was correct about how well it was hidden.
“Are you certain about that?” Boone challenged, lowering his arms. “I’m a bounty hunter, and I happen to be very good at sniffing out, well, anything I set my mind to.”
Hodge’s eyes twinkled with merriment. “If you’ve a thousand years to spare, you’re welcome to try, Mr. Bounty Hunter.” He caught Rachel’s gaze. “That is, if you’re planning on keeping him around.”
She felt a flush creep up her neck at the curiosity swimming in the gazes of her staff. “Goodness! I suppose introductions are in order.” She waved at the dark, handsome man towering over her. “This is the bounty hunter I told you I was sending off for. Boone Cassidy. He’s here to assist me with another, er…matter, but the timing of his arrival is truly a God-send. I think in light of today’s events, we can all agree it will be good to have another man in the house.”
“In the house?” Boone inquired carefully. His posture tensed. “I thought you made a reservation for me at the inn.”
“I did,” she sighed, “and you’re more than welcome to stay there, but I believe we’d all feel safer if you agreed to stay here instead.” She had other reasons, too, for wanting her mail-order suitor in closer proximity, but she didn’t want to think too hard about those reasons at the moment.
Hodge lowered the butt of his rifle to the wood floor with a small thump. “I’ve a room to spare in the apartment over the carriage house. It has its own fireplace and a solid view of the east wing and the courtyard. All we’d need to do is outfit it with a bed and some furniture.”
It sounded perfect to her. “Boone?” She didn’t bother to hide the pleading note in her voice. “The second floor is packed to overflowing with every furnishing imaginable. You’re more than welcome to take your pick of it. There’s no kitchen out there, but Pansy stirs up three hot meals a day except on Sundays. You can break bread with us here in the house.”
His brows had shot up while she spoke. He held her gaze for a long, tense moment. “If this gentleman is certain he doesn’t mind sharing the carriage house, it would be my pleasure.”
“I thank you,” she said quickly before he could change his mind. His reference to Hodge was a reminder that she hadn’t finished her introductions. “This wonderful gentleman whom you’ll be sharing the carriage house with is Hodge Jenkins, my gardener and right-hand man in just about everything.” She smiled warmly at him. “And Pansy is our cook, and Claudette is our housekeeper.” She clasped her hands in delight as she surveyed her dear staff members. “I am so happy they agreed to follow me all the way across the country. It would have broken my heart to leave any one of them behind.”
“We are family,” Pansy declared with a firm bob of her round face and a generous dose of British starch in her accent.
“Yes, we are.” Rachel blinked back tears of happiness. For an orphan-turned-widow, she was blessed indeed to have such wonderful, caring people in her life. And now she had Boone. She could feel his gaze on her but couldn’t quite bring herself to look up at him again just yet. The concern and protectiveness in his dark eyes was rattling her equilibrium.
She drew a deep breath. “Pray forgive me if I sound like I’m prying, but it would help to know if the rest of you have any valuables lying around that we need to be concerned about if the burglar returns. Claudette?” She cocked her head up at her housekeeper.
“I carried mine to the bank yesterday,” the tall spinster confessed. “You’re so generous, Miss Rachel, just like your aunt was. Since I rarely have the need to spend much, it’s grown into a tidy little nest egg I didn’t feel comfortable hoarding in the house any longer. Monsieur Richards helped me set up an account. He treated me like a real lady and everything, chéri.” Her high, angular cheeks pinked at the memory.
Rachel smothered a grin at the way Claudette and the rest of her staff persisted on adding a Miss or Missus to her first name. Despite the fact they were as close as family, the three of them always treated her with the respect of an employer. It was truly endearing.
“I have no money.” Pansy’s quiet announcement made the others in the room swivel in her direction. “Miss Gertie knew my story, but I suppose it’s time to share it with the rest of you as well, Mrs. Rachel.” She twisted her hands in her apron. “For years, I’ve been using every penny I earn to help transport my family from the overcrowded allies of London to the shores of America. I’ve a brother working as a sharecropper in Nebraska, a married sister up in Michigan, plus a few cousins and a crippled son back in Boston.”
