"Come back here. We're not through talking about this."
"Then talk till you're blue in the face, but I'm through. Good night, Travis."
It was all Travis could do to watch her walk away. The urge to go after her and kiss her until she became pliant and hot in his arms was still strong, but he resisted. But how much longer could he withstand her tempting wiles? And did he really want to?
***
The sound of the dogs barking, sounding the alarm, woke Travis from a fitful sleep. His feet hit the cold floor, and he reached for his trousers and his six- shooter. His first thought was that Desirée was escaping, and he sprinted for the closed bedroom door, tucking his shirt into his pants as he went. Yanking it open, he rushed across the hall. In his haste, he pushed her door open. The wooden portal slammed against the wall.
Desirée sat straight up in bed, her long mahogany hair streaming wildly about her face. Oh God, she was beautiful.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
A sleep-tousled Desirée was almost too much for his barely held-in-check sensuality. She looked so innocent with her hair hanging untamed about her face, her nightgown falling off one silken shoulder. The urge to throw caution out the window and crawl into her bed was strong.
"Nothing," he said and felt like a fool for interrupting her sleep. "Sorry to have awakened you."
"You come crashing into my bedroom in the wee hours of the morning and expect me to go back to sleep?"
He ignored her comment, knowing he'd have said even more if the situation were reversed.
"Just stay in your room." The sound of the dogs growling sent him rushing down the stairs, his gun in his hand, leaving a very sexy Desirée to her own conclusions.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and hurried to the window. He peered out into the inky blackness. The dogs were standing in the yard, growling at a Negro man on horseback.
Several of his cowhands, rifles in hand, were approaching the man. Travis stepped out onto the porch.
"Who are you? What do you want?" he called into the night.
The man threw his leg over the saddle and slid from his horse. His feet hit the ground and Travis's men raised their rifles.
"I ..." The click of hammers being pulled back gave the man pause. "I don't want no trouble."
Just then Desirée flew past Travis, down the stairs, straight into the arms of the man. "Isaiah! Isaiah," she called into the darkened night. "Thank God you found me. I was so worried about you."
The Negro man returned her hug. "Oh, Miss Rose, you scared the life out of me. I searched for you for days. What are you doin' here?"
She leaned back and gazed up at the man. "I'm so happy to see you. It's a long story, Isaiah. But now that you've found me, we won't be here much longer."
Suddenly it dawned on Travis just who this man was. He was the missing manservant. "Put your weapons down, men," he called. "You all can go back to bed!"
Reluctantly, the cowboys walked back to the bunkhouse, occasionally looking back over their shoulders at the touching scene, clearly admiring Desirée in her night shift.
Travis frowned and tried to step between their line of sight and Desirée. He didn't need his men gawking at her every time she stepped outside.
After the men disappeared inside, Travis strolled over to Desirée and her manservant.
"Name's Isaiah Wilkes, sir. I'm Miss Severin's servant. Sorry to ride in this late at night and cause a fuss."
Travis frowned. Something wasn't quite right. "Did you call her Rose?"
Desirée gasped.
Isaiah looked at Desirée, a guilty grimace on his black face, before he lifted his eyes to Travis. "Yes, sir, Miss Rose Severin, otherwise known as Desirée, Voice of the Dead."
Chapter Eight
A stiff wind could have blown Travis over as he stood, stunned, absorbing the news that Desirée's name was really Rose. Inwardly, he called himself a fool. He should have known her real name wasn't Desirée. Hadn't he mentioned to Eugenia that very first night that Desirée was probably a fictitious name?
"Rose," he said with disgust "From France?"
"Don't go making a big deal out of nothing. My real name is Rose. Rose Severin, born right here in America. But my stage name is Desirée."
"Do you change it each time you change cons, or each time you change towns, or maybe even every Saturday night? Take a bath, scrub off the dirt, and choose a new name? Tired of the old life, change towns, change names? Even change professions?" he shouted.
It seemed so dirty. She'd lied about her name, and somehow he felt betrayed. He glanced at Isaiah, who stepped back and was hurriedly loosening the cinch on his saddle, his eyes downcast.
"That's enough, cowboy. I'm getting tired of your insinuations," she said, her voice tense in the darkness.
"Lady, I don't give a damn. A lie is a lie. You should have told me your real name was Rose."
"Why? So that you could haul me down to the county jail under the name of Rose, instead of Desirée? So you could drag me halfway back across Texas as Rose, instead of Desirée? Or could it be that Rose sounds more like a lady than Desirée?"
Angrily he chewed his bottom lip.
The urge to scream at her that he had given the wrong name to a Pinkerton man was strong. That piece of knowledge was better kept to himself.
She sidled up closer to him, her wrapper flapping in the cool breeze. Like moonbeams, her eyes flashed in the darkness. "You aren't playing fair, so why should I? Abduction isn't a noble cause."
"You're right, I'm not playing fair. But then again, I never play fair when people try to con my family or steal from me."
She laughed. "Guilty until proven innocent."
"Miss Rose, I'm going to take this horse to the barn now."
"Go ahead, Isaiah." She turned back to Travis. "Somehow I don't think having to prove you're not guilty is what the founding fathers had in mind when they wrote the Constitution."
"They didn't have a lying con artist distracting them."
"So now I'm a distraction. A lying distraction at that." She took a deep breath and tried to reason with him. "Look, it's the middle of the night, I'm tired, and you've caused me more than enough grief this evening. I suggest you step back and take a breather, or I'm going to come out with fists flying."
"Well, at least then you won't be kissing me," he shot back, knowing the words were a mistake the moment they left his mouth.
She stepped forward and grabbed him by the arm and shook him. "Wake up, cowboy! You've started a lot of the kissing yourself! I don't understand it and I don't think I want to know why, but there's an attraction between the two of us. It's time you realized it." She stepped back and took a deep breath. "God help me, I'd just as soon kiss a snake."
"Believe me, the feeling is mutual. Snakebite is quick and fatal. Your kiss could be just as deadly."
She raised her arms in disbelief, then dropped them dramatically. She started to laugh hysterically. "I've just admitted I'm attracted to you, and all you can say is my kiss is deadly?" She sighed, her breasts rising and falling. "Merde! You are a stubborn, ignorant man."
For a moment he was stunned, as the impact of her words sank slowly into his dazed, angry mind. She had admitted she was attracted to him. She was drawn to him, just as he was drawn to her. Slowly his anger receded, to be replaced by that anticipatory feeling that came upon him whenever he was with Desirée, or whatever she was calling herself now. That feeling that something better was just a deep kiss away. That feeling he'd been running from since that roadhouse outside of Waco.
God, yes, he wanted her too, but it was all wrong.
The memory of her deception came racing back, and he reminded himself that she'd probably told any number of men she was attracted to them. Why should he think he was the first, though he wanted to believe her words were real? Part of him wanted to believe that she was attracted to him, but he couldn't. "How can I know your words are not just an attempt to seduce me into letting you g
o?"
The expression on her face drooped like a wilting flower, and he watched as she clenched her fists. "Lourdeau schnock."
"Don't start talking that French talk to me," he demanded. "Speak English so I can understand."
"Vache!" She turned and strolled off, leaving a stunned Travis watching her just as Isaiah returned from the barn.
"What did she just say?" he asked Isaiah.
Isaiah shrugged. "I don't know for certain, but I think she just called you some kind of animal."
***
Rose had never been so despondent in all her life. Her normal cheerful disposition had been beaten down to near extinction. Only Isaiah's return the night before had lifted her spirits. Even then, they'd had precious little time alone until this afternoon.
Sun rays glistened on the shimmering pond as Rose and Isaiah walked along the beaten path surrounding the water. It was their first chance since his return for a private moment out of range of listening ears.
A warm breeze teased wisps of dark curls about her face. She brushed the tendrils back with her hand. "It seems like you've been gone for much longer than a couple of days. How was your father, Isaiah?"
"He's getting old, Miss Rose. I was really hoping we could stay in this area a while longer so I could visit him again."
"I know. Me too," she said wistfully. "We were doing well in Fort Worth. We could have earned enough money to reach New York."
"Yep."
But instead she was trapped on a ranch struggling with a growing sense of awareness of a man who thought she was a thief. One moment she wanted to shoot him and the next she wanted to kiss him. Her warring emotions battled within her, neither one maintaining the upper hand for long.
"I don't think I can take Mr. Burnett's hospitality much longer, Isaiah. I would have tried leaving again, but I was hoping you'd find me." She squeezed his arm. "And you did."
Since the trellis incident, she'd been watching the comings and goings on the ranch, looking for a better opportunity to escape.
"Well, I had to do some serious searching," Isaiah said, his boots scuffing at a rock in the ground. "It gave me quite a scare to see you'd moved on without me."
"Isaiah, I never would have left you." She placed her hand on his arm. "I didn't have any choice."
A bird trilled a song in a nearby cottonwood tree, the noise oddly soothing.
Isaiah chuckled. "Yeah, that's what the deputy told me."
Rose kicked a rock and watched it roll, tumbling down into the pond. Isaiah's arrival last night had been a balm to her disturbed soul. Finally, she had someone on her side. Someone who knew who she was and, more importantly, what she wasn't. Someone to help her make Travis realize she wasn't a thief.
"The marshal told me Mr. Burnett was holding you because he thought you had stolen his mother's wedding ring." Isaiah glanced at her, his dark eyes gazing at her with pity.
"Yes. I don't even know what the band looks like." She paused and then turned to look at Isaiah. "He doesn't know me, but still he's assumed the worst about me."
Isaiah stopped walking, reached down, and picked up a rock. With a gentle toss, he threw it out over the water and watched it skip across the pond, creating small ripples on the otherwise smooth surface.
"Yet you said last night that you're attracted to him. Is that true?" he questioned.
She crossed her arms protectively about her. "I don't know. Every time I start to think he's a nice man who's honest and good, he accuses me of some new violation. He thinks I'm the worst kind of woman. He thinks I cheat people out of their money. He thinks I'm a thief and a seductress."
She put her hands on her hips and stared at Isaiah. "Me a seductress." Picking up a rock, she threw it, trying to make it skip across the water, only to watch it plunk into the pond.
"Miss Rose, you're a beautiful woman. Mr. Burnett doesn't know you've had little experience with men. He doesn't know that we're trying to make a livin' the only way we know how."
"Still, I'm not who he thinks I am. He hasn't given me a chance." She sighed. "His life has been so lucky." She glanced off at the house. "He's lived here with an honest-to-goodness family. He went to church and school, probably even graduated. I bet he never went hungry or watched his father change women as often as he changed underwear."
Isaiah squatted down on his haunches and rested. "Nope. That man ain't like your papa, that's for sure. So is it the man you're attracted to, or living in a big, fancy house? Do you want a family and children, Rose, or to be an actress like your mama?"
Rose glanced at the man who was more of a father than her real father had ever been. His question surprised her. She'd never really considered being anything besides an actress like her mother. It seemed as if she'd been born with the idea of being on the stage, yet she'd never made it up on one yet. It was always in the future. Always when they arrived in New York.
She worried her lip. "Of course I want what I've always desired. I wish to be an actress. You know that's what I've dreamed of doing. It was the reason I started this séance parlor business. To earn money to reach New York."
"I'm only asking," Isaiah said, watching her closely. "I'm wondering if that is still your dream."
"Just because I met a man who reeks of dependability and breathes honesty doesn't mean I'm ready to give up everything I've planned and waited for."
Isaiah picked up another rock and threw it across the water. "If that's what you still want, then that's what you need to do. But sometimes dreams change, and if yours changes, Miss Rose, its okay."
Rose bent over, picked up a large rock, and threw it across the pond. It landed in the water with a splash and quickly sank.
"Nothing has changed. I still wish to be an actress. I still want to go to New York. I'm going to be like my mother and be famous. In fact, the sooner we get out of here, the better. I'll wait just long enough for you to visit your family again, and then we're leaving with or without Travis Burnett's approval."
"You never answered the other part of my question, Miss Rose," Isaiah reminded her.
"What? You mean about being attracted to Travis or his way of life?"
"Yes."
She stared across the pond for a moment. "It's got to be his life. Surely I wouldn't be attracted to the man. He's a do-gooder. We're about as opposite as two people can be. I'd probably be bored out of my mind with a man like him, living here in the sticks."
Isaiah nodded his head. "Just be careful, Miss Rose. You're not very experienced with men and matters of the heart."
"Don't worry about me."
An apple tree full of spring blossoms grew close to the water, and the sweet smell filled the breeze. Rose walked down and picked a small twig from the tree and held the fragrant stem to her nose.
"There might be another reason for us to consider waiting before we head off to another city," Isaiah said, as he watched her.
"What do you mean?" Rose asked.
"Hudson Productions is coming to Fort Worth and they'll be putting on a production of The Taming of the Shrew." They're bringing some of their actors with them, but they are holding auditions for other parts two weeks from now. It would be a good way to get some acting experience."
"Yes!" she cried, doing a little dance in the grass.
Isaiah glanced up at her and smiled. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, I'm going to audition. Yes, I'm going to get a part, and yes, it's finally going to start happening."
A twinge of excited fear filled her. This would be her chance to prove to herself that she could be an actress like her mother.
Isaiah held up a hand. "Have you forgotten, Mr. Burnett doesn't want you to leave the ranch?"
"No, I haven't forgotten. But he can't hold me prisoner here any longer."
Since the first night, she had been a relatively easy prisoner, hoping he would see she wasn't a thief, hoping he would realize his mistake, hoping he would release her. But no morel Travis was about to have his hands full of trouble.
/> ***
Rose peered into the parlor, hoping to catch a glimpse of Travis sitting in his favorite chair. It was late evening, and she and Isaiah had spent the rest of the afternoon stitching up the rips and tears in her only dress. They had washed it, and now Rose felt prepared to take on Travis, whom she hadn't seen all day.
She'd tried not to watch for him, but several times she'd caught herself looking off in the distance, watching for a tall man on horseback, wanting to see his figure silhouetted against the sky. But no such luck.
Restless after her preparations, she'd finally decided to go downstairs and wait.
Eugenia glanced up at Rose as she stood in the doorway. "Desirée, dear, come in. Travis still hasn't come in from the barn. Seems one of the cows was having a difficult birth, and he's been out trying to save the calf."
Rose stepped in through the door and watched as Eugenia's eyes widened. "My, my, you certainly look pretty tonight. You've fixed up that dress very nicely."
"Isaiah repaired it for me."
"Well, Travis will have to be dead not to notice," Eugenia said, her knitting needles silent in her lap.
"Thank you." The thought of Travis thinking she was pretty left a pleasant feeling that she immediately tried to stifle. Right now she didn't want that warm, breathless feeling. She was trying to escape from Travis and his mother. Yet part of her wasn't ready to leave behind the handsome, stubborn cowboy.
Eugenia picked up her knitting, and the sound of needles clicking resounded through the parlor like castanets. Rose took a seat in a rocker by the window and glanced out into the inky blackness.
Tense, she waited and watched, occasionally getting up to pace the floor, eager for his return.
Maybe now would be a good time to apologize to Eugenia. She felt she owed the woman at least an explanation regarding her name.
"Eugenia, there's something I need to tell you."
"What, dear?"
"When you met me in the séance parlor, I introduced myself as Desirée Severin. Desirée is my stage name. My real name is Rose Severin."
Eugenia smiled and tilted her head to the side. "Rose," she said as if trying her name out. "I think I like your real name much better. It seems more fitting than Desirée."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I never gave it much thought until Isaiah called me Rose last night and Travis had a fit."