Texas Rose - By Patricia Rice Page 0,90

not half as good a storyteller." Tyler leaned back against the post and contemplated the woman before him. She was a liar, but she was the most wholly desirable liar he'd ever met in his life. And she was his wife. It set a whole war of conflicting feelings rampaging through his middle. He didn't want to acknowledge any one of them. "And I doubt that writing books makes Miss Alcott as rich as you."

Evie shrugged. "Nanny was the one with money. We haven't seen any since she died."

"That doesn't make any sense," Tyler pointed out. "Would you care to tell me the whole story?"

"No, I wouldn't." Evie crossed her arms and glared at him. "Would you care to tell me what you intend to do with me? I'm your wife, but no one seems to know it. That's just fine with me, but you can't keep hanging around like this without someone calling me other names."

There was that. Tyler wiped his palms against the knees of his trousers. "I can get you that divorce if you've got your cap set for some other man. But if you haven't, what's the hurry? I'm not planning on marrying anyone else. I owe you some support, I guess. I'll not have you selling your gowns to whores anymore."

"So that's what brought you down here." Evie pulled the robe around her and tried not to shiver at the cold way he was discussing their marriage. It wasn't just the marriage. Those few words muttered over their heads meant nothing to her. But what they had done in bed afterward had meant everything in the world. She'd had dreams that what they had done had meant something. She had never been closer to any person in her life, and she had thought it would stay that way. But Tyler was acting as if it had never happened. She had a hard time keeping the tears from her eyes.

"That's not an answer. As long as you're my wife, I'll take care of you. Now tell me if you want me to go back to Houston and get that divorce."

Gathering her robe in her hands, Evie stood up and glared at the man climbing to his feet. When they were face-to-face again, she leaned over and practically spit in his face. "Take your damned divorce, Tyler, and shove it where it hurts."

As she walked in the house and threw the bolt behind her, Tyler reflected that he had finally taught her how to swear.

Chapter 23

"Where the hell do you think you're going all geared up like that?" Standing on the boardwalk in front of the sheriff's office, Jace stuck his thumbs in his gun belt and eyed his younger brother skeptically as Kyle swung off his horse.

Wearing his best white linen shirt, a cravat, and a fawn-colored corduroy coat that had all too evidently been dragged from the back of his wardrobe, Kyle wiped the dust off his polished boots with his handkerchief and stuffed the now-dirty cotton back into his pocket. He merely grinned at his brother and joined him on the boardwalk.

"Pheewy!" Jace held his nose. "You've got on more stinkwater than a polecat. If you're not careful, you're going to resemble our resident dandy here." He nodded at Tyler who was leaning against the wall, carving an unoffending stick into a point. Tyler looked up at the reference, gave Kyle's Sunday clothes a disinterested look, and returned to his whittling.

Kyle grinned even wider. "He's just a boy. I'll show him how a man courts a lady."

Tyler closed his knife and put it in his back pocket. He pushed his broad-brimmed hat back on his head, revealing more of his golden curls, and gave Kyle another once-over. "I'd loan you my waistcoat, but I'd be afraid you'd stretch it over that paunch of yours. Why don't we have a game of cards and discuss fashion later?"

Kyle was admittedly a larger man than Tyler, but there wasn't an ounce of fat on him, and he took Tyler's insult for what it was worth. He gave the gambler's French cuffs and embroidered waistcoat a look of scorn. "I've got some time. I'll win enough for a bottle of fancy wine and some candy for the lady, then I'll be on my way."

Fatal last words.

While Tyler skillfully played one hand into another well into the afternoon, Evie excitedly tried on every walking dress in her wardrobe, debating the merits of the formal gray merino over the more

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