TEXAS TRIO was my first-ever erotica-- a hot historical romance I wrote as a light getaway from the "serious" fiction that's my usual genre, but I liked the characters so much it's become the first book in a trilogy about the family. I'm making minor revisions as I post TT here (26 chapters in 7 parts/posts-- this is the shortest), but the book is already finished, so you don't have to worry about getting stranded without an ending!! FAIR WARNING-- Texas Trio is a longer story-- there's plenty of hot, dirty sex, but it doesn't show up in the first paragraph! There are a few little bits to hold you over, but the really good stuff doesn't start until Section 3. Thank you again for the hearts, stars, & comments-- I seriously love you guys! --Stefanie
->->->->->->--<<Chapter 1>>--<-<-<-<-<-<-
Texas, 1881
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Twelve days to find a husband.
Catherine's smile didn't waver.
Twelve days to chose a man with whom to spend forever.
Her dancing partner, the handsome, wealthy, eminently weddable Lloyd Severn, accompanied his own gleaming smile with an affectionate tightening of his grip on her hand. He'd obviously heard the news.
Catherine flushed and lowered her lashes, feigning shyness.
Being forced to marry was bad enough, but enduring the humiliation of a public auction, going to the highest matrimonial bidder, was more than she could bear.
Cat surveyed the room whirling past, dozens of handsome gentlemen guiding ladies in colorful gowns. In the past four years, she'd rejected many of these same men, but Uncle Harry seemed to think pinning a deadline to her decision would make it easier for her to find a mate.
At last she lifted her eyes to Lloyd. She didn't love him, but with less than two weeks left to fulfill her uncle's ultimatum, she could do worse than the tall, green-eyed heir. He was no more boring than the other suitable sons of Galveston's moneyed upper class and far more acceptable husband material than the men her uncle brought home to meet her.
And perhaps there was more to Lloyd than she assumed....
"Tell me, Mr. Severn, do you enjoy literature?"
"I read the financial and political news every evening, but I assume you mean books, Miss Connor?"
A dip of her chin encouraged him. "When I find time, yes, I do. And you?"
"Very much so. I recently finished Mr. James' new novel. Have you had time to read it?"
Lloyd's gleaming teeth vanished as quickly as his prospects. Twirling by in the arms of her own intended, Clara Simmons heard Catherine's question and gasped.
Lloyd hesitated.
What was she doing reading that trash?
"No. And from what I hear, it wasn't worth the ink required to print it."
Cat controlled everything but a slight twitch of her lips, changing the topic to Lloyd's latest equine purchase and letting him take the conversational lead.
Lloyd's disapproval surprised her not at all. Her last five dance partners had developed the same small frown lines when she mentioned the scandalous book. Women of their set weren't supposed to read that sort of thing, and Clara's gasp underlined the rest of the rule: they definitely didn't discuss it with their men afterward. It was therefore exactly the kind of thing Cat Connor preferred to use when testing prospective mates; if they couldn't handle her choice of reading material, they'd be even less likely to tolerate her other intellectual pursuits.
Back at her seat, Cat curtsied, tugging her hand discreetly back from the over-lengthy kiss Lloyd bestowed on it, and murmuring a noncommittal answer to his riding invitation.
She fanned her face as she watched Clara Simmons simper across the ballroom to a seat beside her. Clara gave an extra twitch or two, settling the folds of her draped satin overskirt, drawing attention to it. Catherine repressed an eye-roll and repeated her earlier praise.
Again.
"Clara, that gown is perfect for your coloring. Your father certainly has good taste in clothing."
Clara ducked her chin to hide a buck-toothed titter behind her fan. Everyone in Texas knew Mr. Simmons seldom noticed anything before the bottom line, as everyone in Galveston know Clara's step-mother chose the expensive lavender fabric at Mme. Connelly's New York City salon. Mrs. Simmons and Clara had certainly told the story often enough to ensure it.
She fluttered her lashes and eyed Catherine's gown, a less elaborate design in a somber shade of purple.
"Yours is lovely, too."
Clara didn't actually sniff, but Catherine got the point, and even agreed with the sentiment behind it. After acting as her mother for the past eight years, Aunt Frannie deserved the full six months of black. She glanced at her lap, hoping to conceal the flash of irritation she felt. As the tenth such comment this evening, it shouldn't have bothered her by now.
Insufficient to cover her shame, the tiny cough Catherine mustered made a perfect sob, accompanying a belated flash of inspiration.
"Yes." She lowered her head. "I found the fabric in Aunt Frannie's sewing room. Uncle Harry said it would be fine..."
Clara gasped, resting a satin-gloved hand on Cat's wrist. "Oh, Catherine, I'm so sorry. It's beautiful and I'm sure Mrs. Matthews would have loved it."
Catherine suppressed a real smile. Everyone in town would know by tea-time tomorrow, putting Catherine solidly back in society's good graces, despite her uncle's disgusting disregard for doing the proper thing. She grasped Clara's hand.
"Thank you, Clara. I was a bit concerned that people would think it too soon, but I was so happy for you and Henry...."
"No, not at all. It's been three months, and Mrs. Matthews wouldn't want you to grieve forever."
"You're so sweet, Clara, dear." The petty, pasty-faced socialite had been whispering criticisms with the rest of them all evening.
She sniffed again, hiding real dismay behind her fan. Catherine wouldn't have dreamt of abandoning her mourning garb this early, had Harry not forbidden it.
Suddenly cold, despite the crowded room and her many layers of clothing, Cat shivered.
Though he hadn't expressly mentioned the dark purple bombazine of second mourning, she'd known what he expected, and the look Uncle Harry gave her when he joined her at the ball confirmed it, raking harshly upward over unadorned wrists to her jewel-less decolletage. She wasn't looking forward to the carriage ride home.
It was worse than she'd anticipated. By the time the carriage deposited Catherine and her uncle at the foot of the front steps, she was shaking and almost ready to consent to his demands despite herself. His threats had gotten more and more extreme as the weeks wore on with no sign of her capitulating, and the loving uncle she'd once known had become a nightmarish mix of vile threats and repressed violence. Marrying Lloyd Severn and tiptoeing her way around his narrow mind had begun to seem like a real alternative to the hell she'd been subjected to in Uncle Harry's home of late. ->->->->->->--<<Chapter 2>>--<-<-<-<-<-<-
"Holy hell!" Colt crossed the darkened study in three swift strides, diving behind a thick wall of velvet drapes a second before he heard the front door slam. "Jem's gonna kill me!"
He was just in time. A dim flickering of candle-light appeared, while a muddle of footfalls in the central hallway gave way to the low thrum of a man's voice and a woman's silken murmur.
Jem had been warning him for years to knock it off, but Colt couldn't resist the sizzle an occasional bit of cat burglary brought to his otherwise fairly sedate existence. Now it seemed like Jem's gloomy, oft-repeated warnings may have been right. If Colt didn't get caught, tried, and strung up by the fine folk of Galveston in the near future, there was a darn good chance his partner would take care of the killing part when he returned to the ranch.
The tapping of the woman's heels and the voices in the hall grew faint, but the glow in the study became stronger and steadier.
Great.
