“Ma‘am, I’m afraid I had other plans—you know, the minin’ I mentioned? So I’m gonna have to thank you for your kind offer, but I’ll have to say no.”
“But Mr. Calhoun,” she said, her voice musical and persuasive as she glided forward to lay a hand on his arm, “you can see I have a real need for a man who can keep me safe.”
He forced himself to look away from the appeal in those blue eyes. “Ma‘am, I’ve never had any experience as a bodyguard. You need a man with experience—several men, in fact. And I need to be gettin’ on up into those mountains, and finding some riches of my own.”
“But you’ve already shown me you can protect me, Mr. Calhoun. That’s worth more to me than all the credentials a man could carry. I don’t want to have to hire some stranger or strangers. I want you, Mr. Calhoun,” she said, giving him the full force of her compelling gaze.
His grom tightened as the words echoed in his head. I want you. Lord, what he’d give to hear a woman like her saying such words with a more intimate meaning! Maybe she even guessed as much, and was playing him like a bass on a fishing line.
“And you’ll be handsomely paid, I do assure you—probably more than you could earn mining, and with none of the backbreaking work.”
“No, none of the backbreaking work,” he agreed. “I could live real easy, bein’ your bodyguard—and get killed with an easy bullet.”
Her face paled. “Yes, there is a risk, as you saw this afternoon. But I don’t want to die, either, and I’m willing to pay you well to protect me as best you can. Perhaps all it will take to discourage this—this scoundrel,” she suggested, “is the presence of a strong, intelligent man who is prepared to defend me.”
“You don’t know me,” he told her, locking his gaze to hers. “You don’t know anythin’ about me, Duchess. Everythin’ I’ve told you could be a lie.”
“Well, I can agree with that, at any rate,” Lord Halston said from behind them. “He’s right, your grace, we don’t know the first thing about Mr. Calhoun. He has the look of a ruffian, if I ever saw one. That may not even be his real name. It would be ridiculous to consider placing your trust in such a man. How could you trust a man who might steal the very jewelry from your neck, not to mention the valuables of the important people we will encounter? Why, we might all be murdered in our beds.”
Even as he suppressed a mighty urge to knock the stuckup, mouthy nobleman into the middle of next week, Morgan’s gaze was involuntarily drawn to the matching, square-cut sapphires at her neck and on one elegant finger. He had to admit the man had a point, even if he didn’t suspect how accurate he was. Not that Morgan would ever murder anyone, but stealing just the gems she was wearing right now would probably keep him for a year, if he could sell them for a reasonable price. And if she had more, he might even be able to buy that rancho he was always dreaming about in Mexico.
But the thought died as quickly as it was born. He wouldn’t steal from this woman. Not if she had all the riches of England and America combined.
“My lord, that is unforgivably rude to a man who has offered me nothing but kindness,” the duchess snapped. “You will apologize.”
“I stand by my opinion,” Lord Halston retorted. “It is my duty to say it, even if ’tis not what you want to hear, niece.”
Morgan pretended to ignore the argument and suddenly took the hand she had laid on his wrist into his own. Maybe he could scare her into abandoning the idea, make her realize she was playing with fire, even though he’d love to hear her defy the pompous fool.
“Listen to your uncle, Duchess,” he said, staring down at her with a deliberate, predatory air. He rubbed his thumb over the smooth, soft surface of her palm, lowering his voice so that it seemed they were alone in the room. “He could be right. I might steal all your jewelry... and murder you in your bed.”
The last three words seemed to take on a resonance of their own. He saw the pulse beat quicken in her neck, and felt the faint tremor of the cool hand he held.
“I believe you’re trying to frighten me, Mr. Calhoun, though I cannot think why,” she said. “You already proved you’re to be trusted, even at great risk to your own personal safety. My mind is made up. You’re the man I want for the job, Mr. Calhoun. I can double the salary I was intending to offer you, if that’s all you need to accept.”
He heard Lord Halston start to sputter behind them, and then she gripped his hand as tightly as he’d been holding hers.
It would have taken a stronger man than he was to resist that kind of temptation. Maybe he could stay with her for a little while, at least until she got out of Colorado Territory, until whoever was threatening her figured out he’d have to go through a bodyguard to get to the duchess, and got discouraged. And it wasn’t too likely anyone looking for him would think he’d dare to be seen at the side of an English noblewoman, even if she was going to be in the public eye much of the time. Even if it was summer, it’d be nice to be off the outlaw trail for a while, to have good food to eat that wasn’t cooked over a campfire, to be dry and warm, and not have to sleep on the cold hard ground under the stars.
“You don’t have to double my salary, Duchess. I reckon I’ll take the job.”
Chapter Five
She blinked, and a hectic flush of pink suffused her cheeks, making her look more like an English rose than ever. “Y-you will?” she managed to say at last. “That—that’s awfully good of you. Shall we say four thousand pounds, or would you prefer a weekly amount?”
He waved the thought of money aside for a moment. “You haven’t heard my conditions yet.”
“Conditions?” A trace of hauteur crept back into her voice as she raised an eloquent eyebrow.
“Yeah, conditions, Duchess. You need to hire three other men, too. There should be at least three of us on duty during the day and evening, at least two after you’ve gone to bed.”
She wrinkled her nose in distaste, then shook her head. “That’s out of the question, Mr. Calhoun. I have no desire to be surrounded by a trio of armed strangers treading on my skirts. They would make it appear that America terrifies me. That would hardly generate goodwill, would it? I want one man—you. Are you saying you’re not up to the job?”
Damn, but the lady was foolhardy—and stubborn, he thought, seeing the challenging glint in her eyes. “No, ma’am, I’m not saying that, but it just stands to reason three or four men could guard you better than just one,” he said with all the patience he could muster. “If there were three men guarding you at all times they could cover all the angles—”
She gave a silvery laugh. “Good gracious, it sounds as if we’d be preparing for a red Indian attack,” she said lightly. “No, Mr. Calhoun, my mind is quite made up. I shall either have you to safeguard me, or no one. What will it be?”
He’d worked with mules that were less headstrong than this titled Englishwoman. The only smart thing to do was to refuse, but he didn’t want to do that. He’d taken the measure of the two men in the duchess’s party, and he wouldn’t trust Lord Halston or that skinny secretary fellow, Donald, to protect the duchess from so much as a raindrop, let alone a bad man intent on harming her. He could tell she meant what she said—if he didn’t agree to guard her, she’d try to survive without a bodyguard. Which meant she wouldn’t be alive long.
He tried another approach. Perhaps he could appeal to her pride. “Ma‘am, if it’s a matter of money that keeps you from hirin’ more than one, I’ll work cheap. I’m used to not having