Cole didn’t say a word, but this was just what he was thinking. It wouldn’t take much of a looker to be pretty beside this little creature. Of course with every unpleasant thing she said about him, she became even less attractive. He wondered how old she was. Not less than thirty was his guess. Much too old to attract any man now. She wouldn’t get the half-dozen kids she wanted.
“Rowena is as beautiful as any woman who has ever lived. She’s five feet seven, has thick auburn hair that curls all by itself. She has green eyes, thick lashes, a perfect nose, and full lips. She has a figure that has made men tremble. I know this because I have seen it happen more than once.”
She took a deep breath. “More important than her beauty—to women at least—is that Rowena is a lovely person. She cares about other people. She does things for them, makes them care about themselves and others. She is a born leader.” She sighed. “My sister has my mother’s looks and personality. In other words, she has everything.”
“You want me to shoot her for you?” Cole was making a joke, but the woman didn’t laugh, making him wonder if she had any sense of humor at all.
“To take my sister from this life would harm the earth.”
Cole coughed, nearly choking on the cigar smoke. He’d never heard anyone say anything like that before, yet she said it as though she truly meant it.
“My sister is a heroine. I mean that in the best sense. Like all heroines, she has no idea of her heroism. When she was twelve, she saw a fire in an orphanage, and without thought for her own safety she ran into the burning building and saved a roomful of children. She is beloved by everyone.”
“Except you.”
Miss Latham took another deep breath and sat down. “No, you’re wrong. She is loved especially by me.” When she expelled her breath he could see that she was shaking, but she concealed it very well. He suspected that she often hid her emotions. “It is difficult to explain how I feel about Rowena. I love her but sometimes I…I almost hate her.” Her head came up in a gesture of pride. “Perhaps my problem is actually jealousy.”
For several moments he watched her sit utterly still on her chair, and he was amazed to see that there was no betrayal of emotion on her face or in her body. No flicker of the eyes, no wringing of the hands. She sat perfectly still. She’d be a brilliant poker player.
Suddenly Cole knew he was in trouble because he could feel himself softening toward her. “What do you want me to do?” he asked more gruffly than he meant to.
“Six years ago my sister married a fabulous man. Tall, handsome, rich, intelligent. Jonathan is the man every woman dreams of marrying. They live in England on a beautiful estate and have two lovely children. Rowena is the type of woman whose servants would work for her even if she couldn’t pay them.”
“And what about you?”
For the first time, he saw the tiniest bit of a smile from her. “I overpay my servants and demand nothing from them, and still they steal the silver.”
At that he laughed again. Maybe she did have a sense of humor after all.
“My problem stems from the fact that my sister loves me very much. She always has. At Christmas she used to sneak downstairs during the night and switch labels on packages because people tended to give me boring, utilitarian gifts while they gave Rowena things of beauty. Of course I would then end up with twenty-five yards of yellow silk embroidered with butterflies and she would get ten volumes on the life of Byron, so we’d both be unhappy. But she did it out of love for me.”
“You like Byron?”
“I like books. And research. I am the sensible one while Rowena is the flamboyant one. When I see flames coming out of a building, I call for the fire department. I do not run toward flames; I run away from them.”
Cole smiled. “I’m more like you.”
“Oh, no, you’re not,” she said with some strength. “You, Mr. Hunter, are like Rowena.”
The way she said that made it sound like the worst thing anyone had ever said about him. His first reaction was to defend himself. But defend himself from what? She had said nothing about her sister that wasn’t highly complimentary.
“I have researched you rather thoroughly, Mr. Hunter, and you are as blindly heroic as my sister. You act first and then think about what you are doing. According to the sources I have consulted, you have settled at least two range wars with fewer deaths than anyone believed possible.”
He knew he shouldn’t, but he had to pay her back for her earlier remark. “No ma’am, I’m just what you see—an aging gunslinger.”
“That’s what you look like, and it’s true that you have no future. Your usefulness will end when your eyesight fails. As far as I can tell, you have not managed to save any money from all that you have made, mainly because you tend to work for little or nothing. On one hand you are heroic, and on the other you are a fool.”
“You do know how to flatter a man, Miss Latham. I can’t imagine why you don’t have a husband and a dozen kids.”
“I am immune to insults from men, so you might as well not try. I merely want to hire you for a job and that’s all. After two weeks you may walk out of my life and never see me again.”
“And what you want me to do is marry you?”
“Not actually marry me, just pretend to be my husband for the two weeks that my sister will be here in Texas visiting me.”
“I’m curious, miss, why me? Don’t you think that an aging gunslinger is the worst choice for a husband?” No matter that she’d said nice things to him, that one remark about his age got under his skin. And there was the thing about his eyesight. He could see as well today as when he was eighteen. Well, maybe newspaper print was smaller than it used to be, but—He made himself stop thinking. If she made another one of her belittling comments, he was going to strangle her.
“It’s because of who you are that I want you. I want to…to impress my sister.” In the first real emotion she’d shown yet, she threw up her hands in exasperation