If only she would give the band back, he would be free to pursue Rose. He would then be able to ... to what? Make love to her? Offer her the wedding band as a token of his affection? Watch her take the earliest stage out of town?
Who was he kidding? If she gave the band back, it would confirm his worst fears. He didn't want Rose to leave. He just wanted to carry her to his room and strip the clothes from her and lose himself in her sweet body.
But why would she stay? He hadn't treated her in a warm, gentle, courtly fashion. No, he had done everything but make her experience totally miserable, while she had laughed and cajoled him every step of the way. She was unendingly optimistic even in the face of his wrath.
He cleared his throat nervously. "I'm sorry if I upset you earlier. Tonight was important to you, and I should never have said anything that might have spoiled the occasion for you."
"Two apologies in one week, Mr. Burnett. That must be some kind of record." She halted her ministrations and glanced down at Travis. "I appreciate the way you defended my honor. I've never had anyone to protect me. I'm just sorry you got hurt."
Travis resisted the urge to tell her just how he would like to protect her. How he would like to keep her locked in his bedroom or even set up in a nice little house. But that was impossible. He couldn't tell Rose these urges, and somehow the thought of setting her up as his mistress just wasn't appealing.
"It's because of men like that drunk that I didn't want you working in the theater to begin with. Nice women don't work as actresses or run séance parlors. I just don't want to see you get hurt."
She picked up a new cloth and dipped the rag in a second bowl. This time when she laid the compress against his skin, the cloth was warm and soothing. "Travis, I consider myself to be a very nice woman. But I have to earn a living. I can't stay here forever, depending on you. My mother earned her living as an actress up until she died. I intend to pursue a career full-time."
She wiped the cloth against his skin. "You have to accept the fact that I never took your mother's ring. I know you don't believe me, but I don't know how to convince you."
Travis's gaze held hers. His hand reached out and stopped her hand from wiping the blood from his face. "I don't know what to think about you, Rose. I want to believe you didn't take Mother's ring, but everything points to you. There was no one else."
And he wasn't ready to let her go. Not yet. But he would never admit it aloud.
Even if she had taken his mother's wedding band, he didn't want to see her walk out the door and out of his life.
He released her hand, and she stepped from between his legs. She took a deep breath and slowly released it.
"You always want to believe the worst about me, though time and again I've proven you wrong. What will it take to convince you of my innocence?"
Her voice was steady and sure, and he wanted to believe her, but he couldn't.
"No ... you're wrong. I don't know what to believe about you anymore. I only know you're different from any woman I've ever met."
Silently he added, I don't want you to leave.
***
Rose blew the lantern out and climbed into bed alone. The moon shone through the window, a moonbeam skittering across the foot of her bed like her thoughts through her head.
Travis's own words came back to haunt her. He didn't know what to think of her anymore. He didn't believe she was innocent, and he could not convict her either. Therein lay the problem.
She had stayed here at the ranch now for well over a month while he tried to decide what to do with her. While he tried to find some proof of her guilt. While he waited for her to confess. And stubbornly she refused to admit to a crime she hadn't committed.
After everything, the fact that he still thought her capable of stealing from his mother hurt. How could he believe that she would steal from Eugenia? She'd never seen the ring, couldn't even describe the band. It was as if he were blind to the truth and her personal standards. Yes, she'd been a con artist, but never a thief. She'd never taken anything from people they hadn't been willing to give.
But more important, why did she care? The man had kidnapped her, held her captive, and still refused to let her go.
Her life had not been the same since Travis Burnett had come charging into it, and she must be demented to be attracted to the man. Why else would she have stayed at his ranch so long? She could have left at any time, but something held her back. Something much stronger than Travis.
She'd given herself to him and would gladly do so a second time, if only he would give her the chance. She'd considered seduction, but somehow the thought of her seducing anyone made her want to laugh. She hardly had the feminine wiles to seduce him back into her bed. Yet she wanted Travis, yearned for him, and that was hard to swallow considering the man held her imprisoned in his home.
But their time together had not felt as if she was being held captive. She had stayed with Travis only because she wanted to explore these feelings he seemed to evoke. She'd stayed because the only other place for her to go was a cold boarding house in another Western town. And she was enjoying the close-knit atmosphere of the Burnett home.
Never had she experienced a place where family seemed to take a genuine interest in one another. Never before had she longed for a life that revolved around a home, land, and a stubborn cowboy. A man who exuded honesty, goodness, and a voice that made her tremble inside. He was everything she'd dreamed of in a man. Yet she knew she didn't stand a chance of being with him permanently.
The sound of him rustling around in the room across the hall heightened her awareness. Her experience with men was limited, to say the least, but no one else had ever made her wish she were someone else. Someone Travis could accept, fall in love with, care about. But why did that matter?
She could only be who she was and no one else. Travis Burnett could never accept her or the love she felt for him.
She turned and punched the pillow next to her. There—she'd admitted it to herself. She'd let the thought she had kept at bay so long finally sneak through the barriers she'd erected. She loved him. Had probably loved him since the night he had tenderly plucked the thorns from her hand. Definitely since the morning they had spent at the pond. But she had refused to acknowledge the tender emotion. She didn't want this feeling for any man. She hadn't planned on including a man in her life as an actress.
Yet somehow those words didn't inspire her the way they once had. In fact, they only seemed to discourage her, and right now she needed encouragement. She was hopelessly in love with a man she would never be good enough for.
Travis could never accept her love, so therefore there was no way she was going to let him know how she felt about him. She'd keep this little secret all to herself. But she could no longer stay in his house. Living in close proximity to him day in and day out, watching him, and knowing she could never have him, would be impossible. It was time to move on.
The play would be in town for the next week before the troupe headed south to San Antonio, and tonight the director had asked her to come along and play the part of Bianca permanently.
Rose had been thrilled they thought her capable enough of doing the part on a continuous basis, yet torn at the thought of leaving Travis behind. But this was what she had waited for all of her life, and she knew this could lead to her goal of becoming a star on the stage.
Unfortunately, acting didn't seem as exciting anymore. Not since living with Travis, at the Bar None, had awakened her to a life she was missing. But she had to go; she had to get away or lose her heart permanently to a man who would always think of her as a thief and a con artist. A man who could never love her.
***
Travis sat down in a chair in the Pinkerton man's office and glanced across the desk at Jake Hall. The Pinkerton agency had opened an office in Fort Worth due to the recent number of stage and railroad holdups.
Tucker had used Mr. Hall when he had tried to find out exactly what happened to Tanner, hi
s missing brother, though Mr. Hall hadn't done the actual investigation himself. One of his assistants in Louisiana had tried to find Tanner, with no success.
Still, Travis felt uneasy sitting there waiting for the man to find his report on another human being's life. Rose's life.
"Here it is. I put this together a week ago."
He flipped open the book and scanned the report. "Oh, yes. Miss Rose Severin, otherwise known as Desirée Severin. Nothing much was found on her, but her father was a different story. Seems he had quite a reputation with the ladies and was known for swindling women. He especially liked rich young widows. If he wasn't making enough money that way, he had several scams he liked to run. One was buying and selling stock for a company that didn't exist."
"What about Rose? Was she involved?" Travis asked, anxiety suddenly gripping him.
"I'm getting to that, Mr. Burnett." He took a deep breath. "Her mother was the famous actress Rosalyn Severin and played the New York stage. She married Mr. Severin a year prior to Rose's birth. For most of their married life, Mr. and Mrs. Severin lived apart. Seems Mr. Severin had a way with the ladies, especially more than one at a time. When Mrs. Severin passed away, Rose and a servant named Isaiah went to live with Mr. Severin."
"So far you've not told me anything that Rose hasn't told me," Travis said, feeling frustrated. So far everything the detective had said didn't paint the picture he'd expected of Rose. In fact, it seemed rather tame.
"So she's been telling you things about her past. Hmm." He fiddled with his pencil. "Let's continue. Isaiah was a black slave who belonged to her mother. He was given his freedom papers before Rose's mother died. But he chose to stay with Miss Rose and was her primary caretaker, since her father spent most of his time escorting ladies or playing cards."
"What about Rose? What has she done?" Travis pointedly asked. He couldn't have been wrong about Rose, could he?
"I'm getting to that. Several years ago, Mr. Severin met up with a woman who was just his type. Young and rich. He latched onto her quickly and married the woman. But the new Mrs. Severin didn't want any reminders of previous loves hanging around, and Rose was way too pretty. Mr. Severin abandoned his only child, so he could live with the new Mrs. Severin, leaving Rose to fend for herself. He left her stranded in Kansas City, Missouri, and she was barely eighteen at the time."
"She told me her father was dead."
"Well, I'm sure he probably is in her eyes. Far as we could find out, that was the last she heard from him. He was only married a short time before he died of heart consumption."
"What happened to her after that?" Now he'd find out the bad stuff. Now he'd see that he'd never been wrong about Rose. He couldn't be wrong about Rose.
"Isaiah was still with her, but they had no obvious source of income. I would assume she did what all young women must do when they have no man to provide for them, though I could never find any house of ill repute she had been associated with."
Travis bristled.
"Later, Miss Severin started her own con game. Séance parlors, where she called herself Miss Desirée Severin, Voice of the Dead. She traveled from town to town playing a medium."
"That's all?" he questioned. "No stealing from little white-haired ladies? No being chased out of town or thrown in jail?"
"Nope. Morally she's a little shady, but nothing on the wrong side of the law, yet. Of course it could be she's never been caught. Women get away with more than a man," the detective observed.
Travis sat there stunned. She wasn't the person he thought she was, and he had kidnapped her and held her captive, believing the worst about her.
"Are you sure you have the right person?" he asked, still certain of her guilt, puzzled by what the Pinkerton man was telling him.
"We check and double check our sources, Mr. Burnett. This information is correct."
"Oh." Travis stood, feeling the sudden urge to get out of there, to get away and think. He held out his hand. "Thanks."
"Here's the report. You can take it with you and read it at your leisure."
"Thanks," Travis managed to say as he took the report. His mind buzzed with the knowledge that the image he had carefully constructed for Rose no longer fit. Had probably never suited her.
He rushed out of the man's office. Rose Severin was an innocent. She had never been the lying, stealing thief he thought her to be, but a woman trying to survive in a hard world.
And he had treated her deplorably just because he thought he knew the type of person she was. He'd been wrong.
What the hell was he going to do now?
Chapter Seventeen
It was late when Rose returned to the ranch from town that night. Late enough that everyone had gone to bed, with the exception of Travis. Light poured from his bedroom window, a beacon in the otherwise inky sky. He was still awake, probably waiting up for her.
She took off her hat and gloves, then climbed the stairs slowly. The house was silent except for the sound of her shoes hitting the wooden steps that led to her bedroom and the occasional creak of a floorboard giving beneath her feet. She'd hoped Travis would be downstairs waiting for her again, but not tonight. Tonight he was in his bedroom, and her news couldn't wait.
The news of her departure would nag her until she told him the truth. She had thought briefly of simply leaving, but that was not how she wanted to depart. She was not a thief, and she refused to sneak off in the middle of the night, like the swindler he thought she was. She would walk out of there on Sunday and catch the stage like everyone else.
At the top of the stairs she glanced over at his room. Light emanated from beneath the closed door. She tossed her hat and gloves onto her bed, turned, and took the few steps to reach his room.
Rose raised her hand to knock, feeling awkward, and then hurriedly tapped on his door before she could change her mind.
He opened the door and stood there, framed in the lantern light, his bare chest gleaming, with the top button of his pants undone.
God, he looked gorgeous standing there, half naked, framed in the doorway.
"Hello," he said, his eyes raking her with a hungry glance. "Did you have a good performance tonight?"
"Yes, I ... it went well," she stuttered at the sight of him staring at her.
"No more drunks?" he questioned.
She smiled. "Not a one. I think they're afraid to show up and take the risk of being beaten. Tucker has been there every performance making sure everyone is peaceful."
"Good. My brother is doing his job then."
She shrugged. An awkward silence fell between them as he stared at her, and the warmth of his eyes made her breasts tingle with awareness. His bed dominated the room, though it was only a piece of furniture. Its presence took center stage and she couldn't help but stare at him, trying to avoid looking directly at where he slept.
"I... I need to talk to you," she said, barely managing to get the words out. She loved this man, and suddenly the urge to fling herself in his arms was almost overpowering, but she resisted. She had to leave or forever be cursed by the knowledge that he thought her a thief.
His hand reached out and pulled her into his room, shutting the door behind her. She felt trapped as he leaned against the closed door. "What about?"
"I've been offered the part of Bianca for the duration of the play. The troupe is leaving on Sunday, and I'm going with them," she gushed, almost tripping over her words in a hurry to expel them.
Travis just stared at her; he didn't say a word.
"You can't hold me any longer, Travis. You must let me go. I didn't steal your mother's ring."
He ran his hand through his hair. His brow furrowed, and his eyes darkened. His face held an odd grimace that twisted her heart. She didn't want to leave him, but she must, for the sake of her future and her heart.
"All this time I've waited for you to either find the ring or the person who stole it, and all you've done is concentrate on me. I don't have it. So I plan on being on that stagecoac
h on Sunday. You can't stop me."
Travis took a step toward her. His eyes were unreadable, his face drawn, and she felt his edginess, even if he didn't show his displeasure. The air was so ripe with tension, she could almost touch it. His eyes seemed to engulf her, and she fought the urge to retreat across the hall to her bedroom. But she stood her ground, refusing to back down from him ever again.
"Where are you going?" he finally asked.
She swallowed. He hadn't said she was free to go, but he hadn't refused either. "Waco. We'll be down there for two weeks before moving on to San Antonio. They offered me a job through the rest of the tour."
He nodded. "I told you, you were good."
"Thanks. I ..." She stuttered, her eyes locked in a staring battle with his large brown ones. "Look, I can't stay here any longer. I should have left before now, but—"
Reaching out, he ran his hands down her arms. A rush of heat sent her blood raging through her. He put his hands around her waist and hauled her into his arms, molding her body against him.
"I don't want you to go," he whispered huskily, before his lips came crashing down on hers.
***
Desperation had him clinging to her. Greedily, his lips covered hers with an urgency that clawed at him. She was leaving. The very moment he'd been dreading was thrust upon him before he had time to recover from what the Pinkerton man had told him that afternoon.
He was filled with an urgency that surged through his blood, thundering in his ears, reverberating through his mind. This woman who tempted him, tantalized him, and had led him on a merry chase was not who he'd thought she was. Like a medieval knight, he had captured her and brought her to his lair, and now, when he didn't want her to leave, she was going.
And he didn't have the right to ask her to stay.
His mouth plundered hers as he melded her sweet body to his. His hands were everywhere as his need exploded through him in a gripping sensation. He needed her in a blinding way. He needed her to chase the demons from his consciousness and clear the voices from his mind. He needed her to chase his doubts away.