Westin's Wyoming. Alice Sharpe
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Chapter Four
Pierce looked over his shoulder again. “I’m assuming the photo ties into that ‘important’ reason for your visit,” he added.
“Yes,” she said. “I tried to tell you earlier—”
“As we rode, I know. But I want to look you in the eyes when you talk.”
“Why? Do you think I would lie?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what—”
“Words aren’t the only way a person speaks,” he said, “and sometimes the way something isn’t said is pretty informative.”
She blinked a few times as she thought about that statement. “It may be hard to get time alone again,” she warned as he stopped the horse next to the walkway.
“I’ll figure it out.” He got off the horse, stepped onto the walkway and reached up to help her dismount. The next thing she knew, she was sliding down his firm body, his strong hands gripping her waist, his breath warm where it touched her bare skin. Her feet hit the rocks a second later and she looked up at him, peered into the depths of his eyes, and felt a shock as something almost tangible passed between them.
And in that moment she knew she could trust him with her concerns. Not everything, of course, and certainly not with her heart.
What an odd thing to think.
“Princess? You are all right?” the general called, and she and Pierce both turned to find the older man marching toward them, moving faster than normal.
General Kaare was old-school. Royals should be admired but never touched by a mere mortal like Pierce Westin.
Ignoring his question, she looked around the open meadow. “Where’s Toby?”
“I am told he is out in the barn with the cowboys. Your maid is inside getting your rooms ready for occupancy. Mr. Vaughn was cold—I believe he’s inside by the fireplace being attended by the staff. Come now, come inside.” The general’s eyes lingered on Pierce’s hands which still encircled her waist.
“What about her bodyguard?” Pierce asked as he kept his hands right where they were. “Where is he?”
“Patrolling the immediate vicinity, getting the lay of the land, or so he called it. Come, Princess.”
Something cold touched Analise’s cheek and she looked up as another flake landed on her forehead.
Holding her hands palms up, she watched the flakes swirling overhead before landing on the blue cashmere. “Is this your storm?”
“No, this isn’t the storm,” Pierce said, his eyes delving into hers. At last he moved his hands—on his terms, she noticed with a touch of amusement. “These are just stray flakes. I’ll be inside after I get Sam to the stable.”
“Let your staff take care of that,” the general demanded as he straightened the lapels on his coat. “We must discuss—”
“My staff?” Pierce repeated with a sudden glint in his eyes. “This isn’t a castle with servants, General. Around here, a man takes care of his own horse. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” With that, he swung himself back into the saddle and trotted off toward a large structure to the south.
Analise smiled into her jacket collar.
“The man is impudent,” the Colonel snapped. “He is much too familiar with you. Furthermore…”
“General? We are guests in his home.”
“And why exactly is that?” the general asked, leveling hooded eyes at her. “Why are we here, Princess Analise? After the situation in Seattle, why didn’t we skip this frivolous side trip and return to Chatioux as I suggested? I know your father—”
“We are here because I want to be here,” she interrupted, affecting the aristocratic manner she knew would remind him not to push too hard or too far.
He studied her intently for a moment. “Then, Princess, let me say this. Without information and in such a remote spot, I am powerless to protect you.” He held up a hand to still her as she started to comment. “Furthermore, it is clear you’ve placed your trust in this cowboy, this stranger. So be it.” He bowed his head slightly and gestured toward the house with one large hand. Analise preceded him down the walkway.
PIERCE SPENT THE next hour getting Sam settled and delegating work. He put men on duty creating something approaching a campout in the pavilion Jamie mentioned. He sent another up to replace the lock on the violated gate in Shadow Canyon, and turned over babysitting chores to Jamie to whom Toby had taken an instant liking. Even now the child was perched atop the mare as Jamie led her around the indoor arena, Cody’s yellow Lab trotting along while expertly avoiding hooves.
The dog was kind of an odd choice of breed for a ranch. For the first time, Pierce wondered where she’d come from.
The kid spied Pierce and waved vigorously, slipping in the big saddle when he took one of his hands off the horn. Pierce waved back before the boy fell, and turned away, a bitter taste in the back of his mouth as Patrick once again flitted across his mind.
The next thirty minutes were spent in a frustrating string of dropped calls to his partner at Westin-Turner. Bob Turner was an old army buddy and a good friend, but lately he’d been discontent. Pierce thought he knew why—it was Sue, Bob’s girlfriend, and she was exerting pressure on him to settle down.
The ranch hand who had driven the truck to the airstrip and back showed up as Pierce was leaving the barn, the Lab close on his heels. The man had a familiar look to him but he was far too young to have worked here in the days Pierce was around all the time. “You one of Tom Garvey’s boys?” Pierce asked.
“Yeah. I’m Lucas.”
Pierce offered his hand and they shook. Lucas was in his early twenties, sandy-colored hair, blue-eyed and wiry like all the Garvey men, no doubt strong as an ox despite it. He had a pointed chin and nose and about three days’ growth of beard which didn’t really amount to much. “I went to school with your older brother, Doyle.”
“Yeah, I know,” Lucas said. He shoved both hands in his pockets.
“How is Doyle?”
“He’s okay,” Lucas said, but his eyes shut down. Too late Pierce remembered Cody saying something in one of their phone calls about Adam firing Doyle last winter. Something about temper issues, a fight that broke another man’s nose. Though no formal charges were ever filed, Doyle had left and everyone knew why.
Pierce and Doyle had been adversaries in high school. Both of them had been screw-ups, but while Pierce’s antics had been confined to victimless rowdiness, Doyle’s had landed him in juvie. The boy was as mean and sneaky as his father, the elder Garvey.
Well, that was in the past. Pierce quickly changed the subject.
“For the next twenty-four hours, I want you to be a kind of unofficial bodyguard for our guests, especially Princess Analise,” he said. “Just keep an eye on things around the ranch. Report anything unusual to me. And later on, when we have the cookout, stick close by. I’ll find someone else to help you.”
“How about Darrell Cox?”
“The big guy with all the freckles? Sure, he’d be fine.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks,” Pierce said and took off for the house, the dog running ahead. After he called his assistant back on the land line, his plan was to get some answers from Princess Analise.
And that brought her fully back to mind. He rebuilt her face, then the feel of her seated behind him on the horse, especially when she’d bumped up against his back. That led to reviewing the second she’d spent sliding down his body when