Territorial Bride. Linda Castle

Not to me.”

      But in her heart she knew she lied.

      He had become more than a greenhorn, more than a dude. He had set out to prove he could ride shoulder-to-shoulder with any man jack on the Circle B.

      And he had succeeded.

      That was the hell of it all, she realized with a ragged sigh. He had been able to do it.

       Could she?

      Could she do what he had done? Was Missy smart enough and determined enough to learn to be a proper lady?

      She flopped over on her back and stared at the ceiling. He made her want to be soft and lovable like a kitten. Tonight when he’d taught her how to dance she had felt feminine. But then when she looked at his face and saw his true feelings etched in every sun-browned line, she’d wanted to rip him to shreds like a riled she-cat.

      “Damn and double damn him.” She tightened her fist into a tight ball and used it to pummel her pillow. “I’ll show him. I can do it. I will learn to be a proper lady. I’ll show Mr. High-and-mighty James I can stand on my own two feet. I won’t quit until he has admitted that I have succeeded,” she swore, then she buried her face in the down ticking and cried like a baby.

       Chapter Four

      The train car swayed and rocked like a green broke mustang. Mr. and Mrs. James lurched unsteadily up the aisle, doggedly making their way forward to the dining car, while Missy sat beside Ellen and tried not to notice Brooks sitting across the aisle from her.

      He wasn’t easy to ignore.

      Soft worn denim and battered leather chaps hugged his long legs. Patricia James had been tight lipped with disapproval over his decision to travel in his ranch clothes, but that did not deter his outrageous behavior. In fact, he seemed to become more defiant as they traveled. Now a sooty stain of a two-day beard shadowed his cheeks.

      Missy pulled her gaze from his face and once again focused on the worn Justins, hitched carelessly up on the back of the empty seat in front of him. He shifted, causing his arms to flex. Heavy muscle corded beneath the rolledup sleeves of a sturdy gray-and-tan-striped work shirt.

      He had filled out and turned rock hard in the past year, while he worked at the Circle B. She sighed and wished she could forget how much he had changed.

      Rod, sitting in the window seat beside Brooks, gave his brother a sidelong look of amused curiosity. For his efforts he earned a flashy smile of cocky arrogance. Then Brooks pulled his Stetson low over his forehead and hunkered down in the seat.

       His nonsense is enough to make a preacher cuss.

      Why did he have to come along? Missy admitted a part of her was thrilled, for she wanted him there to see her triumph.

       If I do triumph.

      She shook the negative thought from her head. She would succeed, and she didn’t give a hoot in hell what he thought, anyway.

      Why did he have to be so goll-dang contrary about everything?

      Why did she have to keep noticing?

      There was no excuse for him to be dressing like that, and not shaving…unless it was just one more way to make her feel foolish. Each time she glanced at him she was painfully reminded of where she came from and how much she did not fit in.

       That is why he is doing this—to shame me.

      Anger and disappointment settled over her as she turned to look out the window. The landscape sped by at an amazing clip. At this rate they would be in New York in no time.

      “Are you nervous?” Ellen’s soft voice drew Missy’s attention from the brown and green ribbons of landscape shooting by the window.

      “Do I seem nervous to you?” Missy challenged.

      “Maybe a little.” Ellen gave her a sympathetic smile and nodded toward Missy’s lap. Following the line of her gaze, Missy discovered her fingers were busy tying the strings of the borrowed reticule into tight little knots.

      “Oh—oh, I am sorry.” She stilled her hands. There was no use denying how she felt, not with the truth of it tangled in her fingers. “I hope I haven’t ruined it,” she moaned. Her entire outfit was borrowed, from the jaunty hat on her head, courtesy of Bellami before she’d left on her honeymoon, to the pale green skirt and traveling jacket from Ellen.

      “Don’t worry about it.” Ellen waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I just hope you are not regretting your decision to take us up on this invitation since—since Brooks decided to come along.”

      Missy looked up and caught Brooks eyeing her from under the brim of his hat. The shadow turned his eyes a deep shade of evening blue. She drew herself up and stuck out her chin a little, determined not to let him see how much his scrutiny and his disapproval had unnerved her.

      “No. I ain’t. Not a bit nervous,” she said, more loudly than necessary. “I am lookin’ forward to it. It will be a great adventure. What do I care if he decided to go back home?”

      Brooks’s mustache twitched as he chuckled. He pulled the hat brim back down over his eyes, then he sank lower in the seat as if he was going to take a nap.

      “Damn him,” Missy cursed under her breath. “He would like nothin’ better than to see me tuck my tail between my legs and run back home. He can’t wait for me to get there and make a goll-darn fool of myself. That’s why he changed his mind about coming and hopped on the train at the last minute.”

      Ellen smiled. “Cousin Brooks does seems to…affect you.”

      “I guess you could say that. He makes me so consarned mad I could just spit.” Missy started to unknot the strings on the reticule.

      “Is that all? He only makes you mad?” A skeptical smile tickled the corners of Ellen’s Cupid’s bow mouth.

      “Yes. He makes me mad as a hornet.” Missy nearly choked on the lie. Brooks did a lot more than make her angry, and had ever since she’d made the mistake of letting him wrap his arms around her and pull her out onto the dance floor. If only she had not been fool enough to think it meant something to him. “And I swear, if he gives me that superior look of his one more time, I’ll…well, I’ll think of somethin’.”

      She went back to untying knots, but she was still muttering under her breath. “How I wish…” Her voice trailed off.

      “What, Missy? What do you wish?” Ellen turned pale blue eyes in her direction.

      “Promise you won’t laugh?” Missy lowered her voice so there would be no chance of Brooks or Rod overhearing.

      “I promise.”

      “I wish I hadn’t been stupid enough to accept this invitation.” She swallowed hard. “But now I’m in it up to my hocks.” She sighed and scooted lower in the seat, as if she could somehow disappear altogether.

      Without conscious thought, her eyes slid over Brooks. Something about the way he looked, so relaxed and unconcerned, with the faded denim hugging muscular legs, his legs so casually propped up on the next seat, made her angry all over again.

      She turned back to Ellen and the words came out in a rush. “But more than that, I wish I could be a lady. I want to learn to talk right and walk right and show…” her unwilling gaze slid back across the aisle to the manly form that so unnerved her “…him.”

      Ellen smiled as if she understood, but Missy knew that she didn’t. How could anyone understand that Brooks had wounded her deeply? For over a year he had endured her teasing while he went about proving himself. Then the sidewinder had made her think he had a feeling for her when he’d held her close in his arms, taught