To Tame A Texan by Georgina Gentry Read Free Book Online

desirable women—and he was stuck with prim Lynnie McBride. Ace almost groaned aloud. Well, the dance wouldn’t last forever.
    Maverick stepped forward. “Remember, Ace, this is a member of my family.” His voice held a warning edge. “I’ll expect you to be a perfect gentleman.”
    What was Uncle Maverick hinting at? Oh, surely he didn’t mean . . .? With Lynnie?
    â€œI’ll bring her home early,” he assured his step-uncle.
    â€œNot too early,” Aunt Cayenne said.
    If he got rid of Lynnie soon enough, he might still have a chance with the blowsy, big-bosomed barmaid with the red, red lips. That thought cheered Ace a little.
    â€œI’ve got a carriage waiting downstairs,” he said, and they went out the door and down the hall, heading for the big Valentine dance at the governor’s mansion.

Three
    It was a crisp but clear night as the horse and carriage clopped along the street from the hotel.
    Ace sighed. This was going to be a long, long evening. Even if some beauty did show up at the ball, Ace was under orders not to abandon Lynnie. Lynnie’s delicate fragrance was overpowered by the scent of the roses and liquor.
    Lynnie sniffed with disdain. “Just how much bourbon did you consume?”
    â€œNot nearly enough,” he snapped back, then instantly regretted his words. A Texan was gallant to the bone, even when he wanted to wring a lady’s neck. With any other girl on such a chilly night, Ace would have used the cold as an excuse to cuddle closer, maybe steal a kiss or two. He glanced sideways at Lynnie. She sat ramrod stiff, her mouth firm with disapproval. He didn’t figure she’d ever been kissed in her whole life except by her father and maybe her little nephews. Ace didn’t intend to be the first.
    All that broke the silence was the creaking of the carriage wheels.
    â€œSo,” she said, evidently attempting conversation, “how are things at the Triple D Ranch?”
    He stifled a drunken yawn. “’Bout the same as they are at the Lazy M, I reckon: just cows and more cows.”
    Another long moment of awkward silence. In the moonlight, he could see Lynnie chewing her lip. She didn’t look very happy to be heading for a big ball. Other girls would have been engaging him in silly, giggling conversation. Lynnie was as stern as a hanging judge.
    â€œSo remind me again why your father is called Trace.”
    Even this feeble attempt at conversation was better than strained silence. “Uh, Dad is Diego de Durango the Third. He’s half Spanish, and tres is Spanish for three.”
    â€œWell, then it seems logical that if you’re Diego de Durango the Fourth, you should be called Cuatro.”
    â€œI like playin’ cards,” Ace said, and wished he had a little flask to sip on, “so that’s the reason for my nickname.”
    â€œI hear you spend a lot of time in saloons and gambling halls.” She sounded stiff, disapproving.
    â€œWell, that’s where men play cards.” He grinned at her.
    Another long period of silence that was cooler than the temperature inside the creaking carriage.
    â€œI—I appreciate your volunteering to take me to the ball,” Lynnie said. “I’ve never been to one before.”
    He almost told her that his mother had volunteered him, then decided it would be terribly ungallant. “So why’d you decide on this one?”
    Lynnie hesitated. “The governor and most of the legislators and other influential men in town will be there.”
    â€œDad says the governor is an idiot.”
    â€œI think so, too.” Lynnie smiled and fidgeted nervously with her small handbag.
    When she smiled, she didn’t look half bad, but then, he knew he’d had too much to drink, so he didn’t trust his judgment at the moment. As they used to say at the cantina: “All the women get purtier at closing