laughed lightly. “Joaquin? No. He is my personal bodyguard. As I’m sure you can understand, Mr. McDaniel, the del Toro family must take every precaution.”
Mr. McDaniel nodded. “How is he? Alex, I mean.” He ran a hand over his hair. “I was hoping to talk to him, if he was feeling up to it.”
Gabriella detected nothing deceptive in his voice or his posture. “Alejandro is still recovering from his ordeal.” Then, to Joaquin, she said, “Devrions-nous dire à Papa première ou Alejandro qu’il est ici?” in French. Should we tell Papa first or Alejandro that he’s here?
She’d chosen French because she assumed that an American cowboy living in Texas probably spoke enough Spanish to catch what she said. Therefore, she was completely unprepared when Mr. McDaniel said, with great effort, “Je peux dit moi” in an accent that was so bad he was almost unintelligible. However, she was fairly certain he’d meant to say, I can tell them myself. What he’d actually said was, I can tell me.
Again, a smile crossed her lips. “You speak French.”
More color came to his cheeks. She felt herself leaning forward to get a better look at him. “Not as beautifully as you do, but yeah, I took a couple of years in high school.” His eyes twinkled. “My Spanish is better. I’m assuming that was the point?”
He had her. “Indeed,” she admitted, impressed. A man who spoke in “howdys” and “ma’ams” who also conversed in Spanish and attempted French—with a sense of humor? With a compliment—she spoke French beautifully?
Gabriella could see how her brother would have befriended this man. Alejandro was drawn to people who had an easy way. She wasn’t different, except that instead of making friends at work or on the social scene, that meant that she’d become fast friends with the hired help at Las Cruces.
What kind of cowboy was Chance McDaniel? Did he know how to ride? She glanced at his hands. They were clean, but rough with calluses. He was a man who was not afraid of hard work.
A shiver ran through her body. She thought she’d done a fine job of hiding it from Mr. McDaniel, but then his eyes widened and what had twinkled in them...changed. Deepened.
In that instant it became clear that Chance McDaniel was indeed a threat. To her, though—not necessarily her brother. Because the way that this man was looking at her—as though he was coming home, too—was something she had not expected.
Two
So Alex had a sister. Just another lie. Add it to the pile.
As mad as Chance wanted to be at the man he’d called friend, he couldn’t quite get a grip on anger. Instead he was lost in the depths of chocolate-brown eyes.
Gabriella del Toro. He wanted to say her name out loud, to feel the way the syllables rolled over his tongue like single-malt whiskey. He didn’t. Not now, anyway. The guy standing over her looked as though he might shoot Chance if he dared sully her name.
He needed to get back on track here. He knew the del Toro family had been in Alex’s house for several weeks now—Nathan Battle had shared that over a drink at the Texas Cattleman’s Club. But no other gossip had trickled down. Nathan was being tight-lipped about the whole damn thing, except to say that, as far as the local law was concerned, Chance was in the clear.
That meant the state investigator still considered him a suspect.
As did the del Toro family, apparently. Chance had to admit he was impressed. Gabriella del Toro may look like a polished socialite, but she’d made him sweat like a seasoned pro. He could only hope she hadn’t realized how uncomfortable he’d been, what with that “personal bodyguard” trying to kill him with looks alone.
This whole situation was still something he couldn’t get his head around. Alex was back, safe and sound, but without much of an idea of who he was—hell, who anyone in Royal, Texas, was. The whole town was still on high alert, suspicious of anyone who might have ever had a bone to pick with Alex Santiago. This apparently included him.
“So, your bodyguard speaks French?” He honestly didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to talk to Alex again; find out if he remembered anything else. As much as he hated to admit it, the odds were decent that someone in Royal had done this to his friend. The only other option was that Mexican drug violence was bleeding its way far north of the border.
“Of course,” Gabriella said, as if every meathead in the world spoke several languages. “Since he joined me for my lessons, it was only natural that he learn with me and the other children at home.”
“More brothers and sisters?” How could he have ever felt that he knew Alex? The man had done nothing but lie to him from the moment he’d arrived in Royal. Chance had thought he’d been friends with the man. Hell, he’d even done the honorable thing and stepped aside when Alex had showed an interest in Chance’s lady friend, Cara Windsor. Or had that been part of the setup, too? Because if Alex had wanted to destroy Chance’s life, he was doing a damn fine job of it.
“Oh, no, Mr. McDaniel.” Gabriella had a soft laugh, delicate. Made him think of a butterfly landing quickly on a flower before moving on. “My tutors taught the children of our staff. We almost had enough students for a regular school.” Her features softened. “My mother believed it was our duty to educate those who serve us.”
Alex had never mentioned his mother. But then, he hadn’t mentioned a sister, either. “It must have been hard on your mother when Alex went missing.”
A shadow crossed Gabriella’s face, blocking out the light of her smile. “She has been dead for twenty-three years, Mr. McDaniel.”
Okay, so maybe Alex had a good reason for not talking about his mother. “My apologies. I didn’t know.”
She tilted her head in appreciation, and then the shadow was gone. Her behavior was refined, her manners impeccable—even when she’d let him sweat, she’d been perfectly polite about it.
Chance was suddenly possessed—there wasn’t another word for it—to ask if Gabriella rode horses. Alex had come out to McDaniel’s Acres, Chance’s homestead, to ride on numerous occasions. Alex had talked about his stables back home; how he’d always loved the freedom of riding.
Cara Windsor had never enjoyed riding with Chance. She didn’t like the smell of the barn, had no particular talent for riding and was too terrified of being stepped on to consider brushing down a horse.
Chance had finished sowing his wild oats years ago. Since then, he’d worked on making McDaniel’s Acres a profitable piece of land. He’d like to have someone to ride with him, someone to take his meals with—and share his bed with. But the land had taken all his time and there weren’t too many women left in Royal who’d cotton to his way of life. Ranching the land—even if it was a dude ranch and the bunkhouse was now a five-star hotel where city folks paid a hefty price to be pretend cowboys for the week—was still a hard life, full of early summer mornings and cold winter nights.
“Do you ride horses?” Chance wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the bodyguard’s glare got meaner. “Alex would come out to the ranch and we’d ride.”
He thought he saw a small smile ghost its way across Gabriella’s very full lips. “I ride.”
Two simple little words
