Fit to be Tied

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Fit to be Tied

  ISBN 9781419915055

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Fit to be Tied Copyright© 2008 Myla Jackson

  Edited by Briana St. James.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication March 2008

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/)

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Fit to be Tied

  Myla Jackson

  Dedication

  Dedicated to my sister, Delilah Devlin, and my very dear friend, Layla Chase, who constantly challenge me. I’ve become a better writer through their friendship and guidance. Thanks!

  Chapter One

  Richard stared around the ballroom full of people he knew plus a few he didn’t. An overabundance of young women tightened the noose around his neck. Had every mamma west of the Brazos heard about the Rayburn will?

  A pretty yellow-haired young lady in a pale pink ball gown approached him, a fan fluttering in front of her face, a frightened-doe look in her pale green eyes. Younger than Cal’s little brother, the girl barely had breasts.

  Pushing her closer was her mother, Beatrice Caldwell, a stout woman in a black dress. “Richard, let me introduce you to my youngest daughter, Faye. She’s fifteen next month and has all her teeth.”

  Richard fought to keep from laughing out loud at the absurdity of the woman’s comment. “I’d consider it a fine recommendation if the girl were a horse.” If the woman made Faye open her mouth and show her teeth, Richard would leave. A man had his pride. “Excuse me, ladies.”

  As he scanned the room for an escape, walls and women closed in on him. The door to the garden stood open on the opposite end of the ballroom, allowing a gentle fall breeze to sift through the crowded interior. “Pardon me.” He nodded at Miss Caldwell and her mother and dove into the sea of marriage-hungry misses and mammas. When he surfaced on the other side, he risked a glance back at the disappointed faces.

  “Giving up already?” Stephen caught him before he made good his escape. Dressed in a black frock coat and a deep blue vest, Stephen appeared the city gent he claimed he wanted to be.

  Richard preferred his work clothes to the fancy frock coat he wore now. “This fancy frippery was a waste of money.” He tugged at the necktie and rolled his shoulders.

  Stephen grinned. “If it makes you feel any better, you look quite dashing.”

  “It doesn’t help and this damn tie is choking me.” Richard knew he shouldn’t have sent Stephen back east to school. He’d returned with all kinds of strange ideas of how Richard should dress and behave. What did the cattle care?

  “Look at all the lovely ladies you have to choose from.” Stephen waved a hand toward the crowded floor where women outnumbered men ten-to-one.

  Every one of them appeared like a vulture, ready to pounce on his carcass should he trip. “I need air.”

  “I still can’t believe Mathis talked Miss Violet into calling off your engagement the day before your wedding. Not very neighborly, if you ask me.”

  “He must have promised her a great deal of money.” Richard pinched the bridge of his nose, the pain of a headache pressing against the backs of his eye. Or had the pretty, yet insipid, Miss Violet found Richard too repulsive to contemplate marriage with him?

  “Just remember you only have until tomorrow to find a wife or Spring Valley will go to Victor Mathis.”

  Richard’s teeth ground together. “I’ll die before I lose Rayburn land to Mathis.” He stared at the women gathered like patrons at the butcher shop and him the side of beef hanging in the window. As much as he needed a wife, he couldn’t tolerate the blatant desperation burning a hole in his gut. Rayburns were never desperate when it came to women. “I need air,” he repeated.

  “Brother, I think I’ll stay in town after the party. Percy Yates offered to put me up. Have you secured lodging in town as well? You’ll be much closer to the preacher and the eligible women.”

  “I’m headed home tonight.” He’d deal with tomorrow tomorrow.

  “If you’re going all the way back to the ranch, beware of the Black Bandit. I hear he’s been attacking travelers on the roads surrounding Mule Ear. He’s known to wear a broad-brimmed black hat and a black mask and he rides a black stallion.”

  “Bandits don’t scare me.” Richard stared around the room full of trussed-up females, thinking the bevy of women frightened him more than a gun-toting thief.

  “Just be careful,” his brother warned. “You don’t need to be his next victim.”

  “I can hold my own.” Richard preferred risking his life to a bandit than risking his sanity to a room full of scheming women, both young and old. He marched toward the French doors, anxious to leave the stifling perfumes and stares of the lovely ladies of Mule Ear.

  Stephen slapped him on the back. “You may prefer to run and hide, but I intend to enjoy the night. To think my big brother is afraid of a few women.” Stephen’s laughter followed him into the garden.

  Hands dug in his pockets, Richard paced the meandering paths skirting the renowned rose bushes of the Clancy estate. Thomas Clancy, the mayor of Mule Ear, Texas, had made his money the old-fashioned way—inherited it from rich relations in England. His wife fancied herself as a matchmaker, bringing together the young people of the county. Her latest project being him, Richard Rayburn, cowboy, ranch owner and recluse with a pressing problem.

  His grandfather’s will stipulated he must wed by his twenty-fifth birthday. If he failed to wed by that time, the six hundred acres his grandfather originally homesteaded would go to Richard’s neighbor, Victor Mathis.

  Richard’s grandfather, the stubborn old coot, knew that particular parcel of land had the only consistent source of water on all the Rayburn property. If he lost that tract, the next drought would wipe out his cattle herd.

  Until this morning, Richard thought he had the problem solved. He’d proposed last month to Violet Hempstead, who’d been after him to marry her for the past two years. She’d seemed thrilled, planning a huge wedding with all the fuss and trim befitting the spoiled only daughter of the county judge. Then this morning, the day before Richard’s twenty-fifth birthday and their nuptials, she’d informed him the wedding was off. No reason or warning.

  Mrs. Clancy, having heard of the debacle, called in all her favors and staged a ball inviting all the eligible women in a fifty-mile radius. Mothers scrambled to find gowns befitting an engagement ball and hauled their daughters to the Clancy mansion that very night, each hoping to secure land the prize bachelor.

  Richard appreciated Mrs. Clancy’s efforts, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of tying himself to another woman so soon after Violet’s betrayal. How could he trust a female after his fiancée’s unfortunate timing? Not that there had been any love lost between him and Violet. However, he trusted her word to follow through on the betrothal and actually marry him.

  Despite Violet’s terrible timing and the ultimate possibility of losing his land to his neighbor, Richard could feel nothing but relief that the wedding had not gone as planned. Marri
age to Violet could be nothing more than boring at best. The woman talked non-stop about dresses and hats. She’d never have made a good rancher’s wife and what would he have done with a woman who was nothing more than an expensive ornament? Yes, he was better off without her. But that didn’t solve the problem of his land and the encroaching deadline outlined in his grandfather’s will.

  Engrossed in his own bad luck, Richard ducked beneath a rose arbor and ran headfirst into a lady coming out.

  She stumbled backward, the hedges breaking her fall.

  Richard reached out to steady her, grasping slim, white wrists as smooth and silky as a horse’s velvety nose. That she wore no gloves struck him as curious, considering the other women all wore fine white gloves, as if they had something to hide. Not this young woman. Did she flaunt the society’s dictates where fashion was concerned? And were those callouses on her palms? What lady would allow callouses to form on her delicate hands and not cover them with the required white gloves? A lady of substance, perhaps?

  For the first time since he’d arrived, he could feel a spark of interest in the opposite gender.

  “Pardon me,” she said, dusting leaves from her gown. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “No, it was my fault. If my attention had been on where I was going, I wouldn’t have missed you.” In the light from stars in the cloudless Texas sky, he drank in the beauty of the woman. Dark hair as sleek as the blackest ebony and eyes a very pale shade of…what? The lights from the windows of the mansion played tricks on him. “What color are they?” he demanded, the words popping out like a green cowhand nervously awaiting a woman’s favor.

  “Beg pardon?” She frowned up at him.

  “Your eyes—are they blue?” As soon as he asked the question, he regretted it. What kind of country clod would she think him? Oh hell. So much for good first impressions. Not that he cared. This whole party had been a bad idea from the start. When he should have dropped her hands and walked away, he couldn’t help rubbing his thumbs over the small callouses on the inside of her palm. When he realized what he was doing, he did release her, his face heating.

  “Why, yes indeed. My eyes are the very palest shade of blue.” She smiled up at him and looked down at her gown. “The same color as my dress, don’t you think?” A gentle smile curved her lips. “It was my mother’s gown.”

  “You mother must have been as lovely as you.”

  “Yes she was.” Her smile disappeared, the light fading from her eyes. As quickly as it had gone, her smile returned. “Now that we’ve bumped into each other, perhaps we should be introduced. I’m Julia Blackmon of Blackmon Estate, east of Mule Ear.” She held out her ungloved hand.

  He enclosed her fingers in his and reveled at how small and delicate they were, yet strong and capable. Even more curious for a lady. Despite how firm her fingers were, he bet he could squeeze once and break every bone. “Richard Rayburn. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Richard Rayburn? As in the Richard Rayburn, the most eligible bachelor in town?” Her smile broadened. “Aren’t you the man Mrs. Clancy threw the party for?”

  Richard dropped Julia’s hand and backed up a step, bracing for the woman to throw herself at him in an attempt to curry his favor and elicit an offer of marriage from him before the night was over. This one he could handle, but he couldn’t help a twinge of disappointment if she tried. She’d prove to be like all the others at tonight’s marriage market. “Yes, ma’am. Unfortunately, I am.”

  Her head tipped to the side and her smile widened. “Why unfortunate?”

  “Being jilted by your fiancée the night before your wedding is not considered unfortunate?”

  “A woman who would walk away from a wedding with you obviously doesn’t love you.” Her smile lit the darkened garden. “You should count yourself lucky she did you such a favor.”

  Richard found himself returning her smile and then frowning when he considered his dilemma. “Regrettably, I have until tomorrow to marry or my land is given away.”

  “You have so many choices to choose from tonight. A decision can be made quickly, thus securing your land.” She walked along beside him, the moon shining down on her smooth white shoulders. “I fail to see your problem.”

  “Sounds too mercenary to me.” He tugged on the coat his brother had insisted he wear. “This is not me. I’m a rancher, not a gentleman. These women couldn’t handle life on the ranch.”

  “How do you know?” She stopped in the path and tipped her head to the side, exposing a long length of her lovely neck. She could turn any man’s head with her sultry beauty.

  Richard’s groin tightened when he realized he’d like to taste the smooth white skin at the base of her throat. Lusty thoughts ran rampant behind his attempt at gentlemanly behavior. Had he been so long without feminine company that he could become so completely aware of what a woman had to offer simply by walking in a garden with a perfect stranger? If his trousers were any indication, he had long passed aware and transitioned into full-fledged arousal. Damned greenhorn.

  What had she asked while he’d been enveloped in a haze of need? Ah, yes. “I see all these women dressed as you—beautiful ball gowns, delicate shoes and fancy hair. You all belong in the ballroom, not on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. Like the rest of those women, you are used to being pampered and taken care of. I can’t promise that. The woman I marry has to be tough enough to hold her own on the range, in a kitchen and with a gun. Hell, we still have the occasional Indian roaming across the grasslands.”

  Her face sobered and she stared down at her clasped hands. “Not all women are hothouse flowers. Some just want a home of their own and the security and love of a husband, no matter how wealthy or poor. To love and be loved is their only dream.”

  “I don’t see how I can find such a woman with one night left to choose, much less one to love and love me.” Perhaps if he had a few days to get to know Miss Julia…

  “You are in quite the dilemma, sir. I wish you luck in your quest.”

  He reached out and captured her hand, not wanting her to leave. “What? Didn’t you come for the same reason as the others?” For the first time that night, he wanted a woman to throw herself at him. This woman.

  She stared up at him, her brows rising. “You mean to inspect the eligible bachelor?” Her gaze scanned him from tip to toe and she chuckled. “No, I prefer to make my own way in the world. Men can seldom be counted on to provide stability.”

  “That’s a cynical view for one so young.” His lips thinned as he thought about Violet’s betrayal. “The same can be said about women.”

  She laughed again, the sound warming the cold places inside him. “Then, sir, you must be counting on the wrong women. Pardon me. I must be going.” The woman with the black hair and pale blue eyes edged past him and hurried back into the ballroom, her hips swaying gently beneath the yards of pale blue fabric.

  After she’d disappeared into the throng of lovely ladies, it struck him as refreshing that she hadn’t offered herself to him as a prospective wife. For that alone, she’d caught his attention. And the soft sweep of her lily white shoulders, the curve of her neck, the ebony black hair cascading down her back…

  Richard could see her as a definite prospect. How he’d love to see the rest of her, test her flesh, taste of her honey to determine if she were the right flower for him. He moved toward the ballroom, not nearly so daunted by the task as he had been a moment before meeting Miss Julia Blackmon. Now to find her and determine if she really was the one he’d choose to marry tomorrow.

  * * * * *

  Julia left the party early, pleading a headache. She and her “Aunt” Fiona hurried home to the house on the edge of town where she’d make the change and be gone in less than fifteen minutes, if all went well.

  The revelers would be at it for another hour at least, giving Julia time to get in position on the road leading west out of town. Mrs. Clancy’s marriage ball for Richard Rayburn had all
the makings of a rich night for the Black Bandit, or at least this woman’s version of the infamous thief. She would lean heavily on the real Bandit’s fame to strike fear in the hearts of her victims. Hopefully, she’d get out of the situation with her life and a few jewels to sell for money to buy food. The young ladies were dressed in their finest gowns and jewels. The men carried their most expensive pocket watches and rode their best horseflesh. She’d make out nicely if she played her cards right.

  Struggling with buttons at the back of her dress, Julia waited impatiently for Fiona’s help.

  The older woman carefully laid aside the worn shawl that had belonged to Julia’s mother and the only ball gown she owned in suitable condition to be seen in public, although somewhat dated. “Are you sure about this? What if something happens and you’re hurt? How will I know and who can I trust to come looking for you?” Fiona was the only one she’d told of her plan that night and only because she needed help in and out of her dress. Otherwise, she’d have gone it alone and sealed her own fate, accomplice-free.

  “Don’t worry so much. If I’m caught, you must claim ignorance. Say you thought I was meeting my lover and you had no idea I was stealing.” She glanced at the woman, her heart going out to her. She’d been like a surrogate mother to her when her own sweet mother passed away from influenza. “I wouldn’t do this if I had any other choice. If I get caught, please don’t let them know you were involved in any way. If anyone is to go to jail, it should be me.”

  Fiona gasped. “Miss Julia! If your mother could hear you, she’d have a fit.”

  Julia’s lips thinned. “Well, she can’t hear me from her grave, nor can she help me. And if we plan to save what’s left of our home, we have to have money to do it.”

  “If only there were another way. Can’t you marry a wealthy man? Wouldn’t that be better than stealing from unsuspecting travelers?”