Liz Ireland by The Outlaw's Bride Page A

crazy.”
    “Or maybe they were sidetracked,” she said, coming to a realization.
    He frowned at her in question.
    She poured another glass of spirits, but this time was careful to hand it to him instead of tossing it down herself. She had an inkling that she would regret having said as much as she had already. “If you met my sister, you’d understand. No man can resist her.”
    “I could,” he answered, taking a slug.
    She shook her head. “Rose Ellen has a magical effect on men. You’ve never seen her up close. She’s very beautiful.”
    “She needs to be, with a personality that reduces grown women to tears.”
    “It’s just that Rose Ellen has certain standards….” Emma didn’t know why she was standing up for her sister. Maybe it was just reflex, like poking someone’s elbow.Hearing someone speak ill of a family member naturally made her leap to the defensive.
    “And no one ever meets them,” Johann finished for her.
    She smiled. “No, no one ever does.” Some part of her wanted to think that Johann, or Lang, or whoever he was, was different, that he would not fall for Rose Ellen’s undeniable charms. But she wasn’t a fool. The past was all the proof she needed that Johann would fall for her sister like a boulder dropping off a cliff.
    But what did she care if a man who was undoubtedly an outlaw had a weakness for her sister? She stood resolutely, determined not to let her pride sting when the inevitable meeting took place.
    She just hoped it didn’t take place too soon.
    “I’d better check on Davy,” she said.
    “He was hoping for licorice whips.”
    She grinned. “He’ll get them.”
    “Then he’ll be a happy boy.”
    Just then, a crash shattered the silence in the house below them, followed by muffled words in a harsh tone, then quick footsteps and a familiar anguished wail.
    “It will be nice to have one happy person in the house,” Emma muttered with a sigh as she left the room.
    Lang sat in bed rubbing his itchy beard and brooding. About the only advantage of Emma’s sister’s arrival was that now, instead of agonizing about being wanted for murder, he discovered that his mind was focused on a whole new dilemma. Namely, the pros and cons of living just over the Colby dining room.
    He hadn’t met Rose Ellen yet and already he disliked her intensely. Part of his animosity stemmed from having read the insulting remarks she’d written to Emma. Of course, he wasn’t supposed to have looked at those anymore than he should have been eavesdropping on the conversation downstairs now. But that didn’t change the fact that Rose Ellen was an arrogant snob who didn’t appreciate her sister’s worth.
    He drummed his fingers and listened some more to the spirited discussion going on below. It was mostly a one-sided affair, with Rose Ellen alternately asking Emma to wait on her hand and foot and then berating her for her bad judgment. For instance, for taking in a boarder.
    Him. He had to agree with Rose Ellen on that one.
    Restless, he climbed out of bed. He couldn’t pace very well with his leg being what it was, so he lowered himself into Emma’s spindly little chair and drummed his fingers angrily against the table. He didn’t like to think of Emma being browbeaten, or belittled. In her letter, Rose Ellen had repeatedly told Emma she should give up her house—giving the proceeds to Rose Ellen, naturally—and live in Galveston. Maybe she was here now to make her appeal in person. Would Emma back down? He sensed that Emma at her core was a stubborn, independent creature. Then again, that sister of hers seemed to have the personality of a tornado.
    It shouldn’t matter to him so much anyway, he thought to himself. He stood again, and went to the bureau. On top of it lay a shaving cup, brush and razor on a small silver plate. This beard of his was driving him crazy!
    Rashly he filled the washbasin with water and began shaving off the dense facial hair, feeling more human as the