Rancher's Wife

by Anne Marie Winston

  Lost in a whirl of stimulation, Angel drifted, each new heightening of her excitement plucking a fine wire of need low in her belly. He moved one hand slowly, leisurely, from her back to her ribs, stroking upward with smooth, subtle motions that completely failed to alarm her until, with one sneaky finger hooked into the fabric of her robe and matching nightie, he pulled the material aside and bared her breast to the cool night air.

  She gasped in alarm. How had she allowed this to go so far?

  He misunderstood the sound. “Don’t worry,” he said to her, his stroking fingers seeking and finding the taut tip of her exposed breast. “We’re going to be good together.”

  “Day, wait. I barely know you.” Her voice quivered and broke in her agitation as she pulled his hand away.

  He kissed her temple without releasing her. “You know everything you need to know and so do I. I know you’re tall and we’re going to fit together like two sections of the same fence when we—”

  “No! I mean, this isn’t the kind of thing I do as a rule.” Panic began to rise as she pushed at his unyielding shoulders.

  “Rules are made to be broken, just like horses. And you’re just like a skittish, long-legged mare right now.” His silvery eyes were heavy lidded, compelling as he gazed down at her. “I’ve always had a good touch with mares. I’ll be gentle with you.”

  As he dropped his head and sought her lips again, Angel began to struggle. The sensual lethargy that had stolen over her shattered. “I am not a horse. And I don’t want the benefit of your gentle touch.” Her voice shook. “I don’t doubt you’ve had plenty of practice, but I’m not interested in being one of a long string of Kincaid’s ladies.”

  Day’s hands froze as her furious words struck home. “Then what are you interested in? What did you think we were doing?” he asked against her lips. He released her and she was shocked by the change in his voice. While he hadn’t raised the volume by even a fraction, the humor was gone and a flat, dangerous chill had taken its place. “This doesn’t mean a thing to me. There’s only one thing I want from you or any woman and this—” he pressed his palm ever so lightly against her still-bared breast “—is it.”

  The curt words sliced through her, drawing blood. Angel drew in a shaky breath, turning away blindly to fumble with the closings of her robe. What had occurred between them hadn’t been just sex. She couldn’t sort out just what it was, but her reactions to Day made what she thought she’d felt for Jimmy an insipid crush in comparison.

  She could feel the strength of her own arousal still burning within her, but she knew that she couldn’t make love with a man who only wanted her body, despite her own desire. Slowly she turned to face him again. “I can’t,” she said baldly.

  His nostrils flared, and for a moment she thought he was going to pull her to him again. “You can’t?” he echoed. His voice was incredulous; it cut the air between them like a whip. “It sure as hell didn’t feel like you can’t.” His face twisted and hardened into a mask of dislike.

  She felt herself flush. “I’m s—”

  But he wasn’t listening. “It felt more to me like you were so hot for it you’d have let me take you standing up if that’s what I’d wanted.”

  Shame crawled over her. Having her behavior so crudely analyzed was hurtful, but even worse, it was true. Stifling a sob, she sank down onto the edge of the bed and dropped her face into her hands.

  Day made a sound in his throat, almost a growl—of frustration or fury, she couldn’t tell which—before turning on his heel and striding from the room.

  As her door closed with a soft, but very final click behind him, Angel lifted her head and wiped the tears from her face with a shaking hand. For the rest of her time at the ranch, she had to stay far, far away from Day Kincaid. Not because she was afraid of him. No.

  Day touched something deep inside her with his caresses, with his fighting love for his child, with his determination not to let anyone hurt him ever again. No other man had ever touched her like that, and deep in the wise, feminine core of her, she knew that no other man ever would. Day could hurt her badly if she wasn’t very, very careful.

  * * *

  Day gave her a wide berth the next morning, noticing that Angel seemed no more eager than he to speak. In less than a week, his world had been turned upside down and, dammit, he resented it! All he could think of was Angel. Did she realize he’d been lying when he told her all he wanted was the sex? Maybe that had been true the first day he saw her, but there was too much about her he didn’t understand. She was right—she wasn’t like Jada. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t just as dangerous in a different way. He didn’t want to want her. He just wanted her gone.

  Stepping into the kitchen at lunchtime, he found her there with Dulcie and his daughter.

  Beth Ann raced toward him for her usual exuberant greeting. “Daddy! Hi, Daddy!”

  He laughed and knelt on the floor to hug her, but her foot caught on the edge of the braided rug at the sink as she rounded the corner, and before he could reach her, she fell flat.

  Time slowed to a crawl as she skidded and pitched forward. He saw the surprise then instant fear in her eyes as she went down hard on her side, unable to get her hands out to catch herself at that angle. Her little head hit the floor with a hard knock, and he involuntarily winced.

  Time sped up again after that, but he felt frozen in place. Beth Ann stirred and began to whimper; the sound quickly changed to a shriek of pain. Already on the floor, he began to crawl toward his baby, but Angel was there ahead of him. Sinking down without hesitation, she lifted the little girl, enfolding her tightly in her arms and rocking her from side to side. Under her breath she hummed a comforting croon.

  Beth Ann continued to scream uncontrollably. The sound grated on his exposed nerve endings and he gritted his teeth, about to demand Angel hand over his child.

  Just as he reached out for her, Angel said in a quiet but firm voice, “Beth Ann, you need to stop screaming now. You’re scaring Daddy and Aunt Dulcie, and I can’t tell what’s wrong with you unless you calm down. Now I want you to take a big, big breath for me.”

  To his astonishment, his daughter quit hollering. Tears continued to roll down her chubby cheeks, but she took a deep breath, which Angel encouraged her to repeat twice more.

  Then Angel said, “I bet that was scary, slipping on that rug.”

  “Yeah.” Beth Ann’s lower lip quivered and she put a hand to the side of her head. “I falled and hit my head. Right there.”

  “Awww, let me see.” Angel carefully parted the child’s hair and peered at the spot. “No blood. But you’re going to have a big ol’ bump there for a few days. We’ll have to be careful when we comb your hair. Would a kiss help make it better?” Beth Ann solemnly nodded and Angel drew the little girl to her and pressed a gentle kiss against the injured spot. “There.” She looked over Beth Ann’s head at Day for the first time. “If Daddy kisses it and helps you to put some ice on it, it will be better real soon.”

  He wanted to wring her neck. What gave her the right to comfort his daughter? But Beth Ann was looking at him expectantly and all he could do was take her from Angel’s arms and kiss her poor little head, then accept the ice pack Dulcie wrapped in a towel and handed him.

  “Why don’t we sit in the rocking chair together and read a story until lunchtime,” he suggested.

  Day read two stories before Dulcie called them to the table, and all during the story reading and the ensuing lunch his anger grew. Beth Ann was his kid and he could provide the comfort she needed.

  By the time lunch was over and he’d put Beth Ann down for her afternoon nap, he was in the mood for a rip-roaring confrontation. Charging down the hall, he burst into the kitchen. “I want to talk to you,” he growled.

  Angel was with Dulcie, poring over a recipe at the kitchen table. Dulcie, apparently seeing the look on his face, slowly got to her feet. “I’ll leave so you can talk, but I’m warning you, big brother, if you fo
rget that Angel is a guest here I’m going to shred your fanny for chicken feed.”

  He was almost distracted enough to smile, but Dulcie didn’t look amused. In fact, she looked as if she’d kick him in the teeth if he laughed. Throwing his hands up, he said, “All I want to do is talk to her.”

  “Good,” Dulcie said. Casting a last dark look at him, she walked from the room.

  Angel was still seated at the table. Day walked over to stand across from her, but now that he was here, he didn’t know exactly where to begin. Before he could open his mouth, she forestalled him. “I’m sorry if I took over when Beth Ann fell,” she said. “I didn’t stop to think. All I wanted to do was comfort her.”

  “You shouldn’t have picked her up,” he said, knowing his tone was full of accusation. “The first rule in an accident is to determine the extent of the injuries before moving the victim.”

  “Determine the... For Pete’s sake, the child fell,” she said. “She banged her head, but anyone could see that she was okay. All she needed was a little cuddling and some magic first aid.”

  “It wasn’t your job!” he shouted, goaded by her assumption that he didn’t know what was best for his child.

  “Well, it was yours and I didn’t see you hurrying to the rescue,” she flared right back. “And if you’d made as big a deal as this out of it, she’d still be crying!”

  Before he could answer her, the telephone rang. Day was standing right next to it and he snatched it off the wall. “What?” he barked.

  “Day?” It was his lawyer and the man sounded rather taken aback.

  “Oh, hi, Charley. Didn’t mean to snap at you.” He glanced over at Angel. “I was having a little trouble with some of the wildlife here.”

  Angel’s eyes rounded, then narrowed in return.

  “I have bad news,” Charley said, and Day felt a leaden weight settle in his gut. Whatever it was, he knew it couldn’t be good if Charley was calling him in the middle of the day. Charley usually called after dinner because he knew Day’s schedule was so unpredictable.

  “What?”

  “Your ex-wife’s attorney has filed a petition for full custody.”

  “What?” The word exploded from him. Sure, she’d threatened it, but she’d threatened a lot of things in the past and she hadn’t followed through with any of them. “She can’t do that!”

  “I’m afraid she can,” Charley said, regret in his tone. “She says she believes the child needs a mother figure in her life.”

  “A mother figure.” His tone was pure scorn. “The last person I’d ever allow to fill that role in Beth Ann’s life is Jada.” Then the reality of the situation hit him. “What can I do to prevent her from succeeding with this?”

  Charley sighed across the wire. “You mentioned once that you suspect your wife of neglecting, possibly abusing your daughter. We could try to prove that.”

  “What would we have to do?” He was eager to grasp at any lifeline.

  “You’d have to have the child evaluated, counseled, examined for any medical corroboration.”

  “No can do.” He didn’t even hesitate. Beth Ann’s world wasn’t secure enough to withstand those kinds of probing investigations. He refused to traumatize her any more than she already had been. “I couldn’t put her through that, Charley. She’s only three years old.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” The lawyer left a heavy silence to hang on the line.

  “So what else can we try? What are my chances of winning without that?” Surely there had to be some way to beat this ridiculous custody suit. They couldn’t take his baby away, could they? Deep inside, a cold fear spread. Of course they could. Jada knew nothing was more important to him than Beth Ann. This was her revenge.

  Charley cleared his throat. Charley always cleared his throat when he didn’t have good news to report and Day steeled himself.

  “I don’t know what your chances of keeping the child are,” the lawyer said. “You aren’t married. Since the child doesn’t have a stepmother, you’re at an automatic disadvantage. Courts still tend to favor the mother in a majority of custody cases.”

  “Yes, but my sister, Dulcie, Beth Ann’s aunt, is living here now,” Day reminded Charley. “Wouldn’t she count as a mother figure?”

  “Hmm.” It was a noncommittal sound, but Day detected a hint of wheels turning in Charley’s shrewd brain. “You might have something there, if we can prove that she is a permanent part of the child’s life.”

  Day conveniently ignored the fact that his sister was only here at his request for an extended visit, and that she had a husband and a life of her own in Albuquerque. “Of course we can,” he said. “Dulcie is as permanent as they come.”

  Five

  She knew that the polite thing to do would be to leave the room so that Day could conduct his conversation in private. But when she saw his expression darken and heard the exchange between him and the caller, she realized what was happening. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged her away at that point.

  Just as Day put down the receiver, Dulcie came back into the kitchen. She looked askance at Angel, who had put a hand to the base of her throat, and at Day, who was staring at one of the far walls in a daze.

  “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “Who was on the phone?”

  Day didn’t appear even to have heard her.

  “I think it was his lawyer,” Angel said. Her voice sounded high and faraway and she cleared her throat. “Jada Barrington wants full custody of Beth Ann.”

  Dulcie’s eyes widened, then a blaze of fury lit them. “She’s got to be kidding,” she said flatly. “That woman couldn’t nurture a houseplant, much less a little girl. She can’t have her.”

  “I might not have a choice,” Day said hoarsely. His eyes were dull and worried and Angel’s heart ached for him. “She’s suing for custody on the grounds that Beth Ann needs a mother figure in her life.”

  Dulcie’s face paled and Angel was sure her own looked much the same.

  “But that’s unfair,” Dulcie said. “You’re obviously the better parent.”

  “We’ll have to hope the judge agrees with you,” Day said. As he turned away, the defeated set of his shoulders betrayed his concern.

  Watching him leave, Angel wished it was within her power to give him the one thing that would make him happy—the assurance that his child would never be taken away from him. She’d learned to live with the knowledge that she’d given a child away. How much worse would it be to feel that the decision wasn’t yours to make, that your child could be taken by a judge who had never even met you until you became one of his cases?

  After dinner that evening, Day had to check on a windmill that one of the hands had reported wasn’t working earlier in the day, so Angel offered to put Beth Ann to bed. When the last story had been read, she tucked the little girl in with a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Good night, sweetheart,” she whispered.

  Without warning, Beth Ann threw her small arms around Angel’s neck. “I wish you could always stay here with me and Daddy,” the little girl said. “I wish I had you for a mommy.”

  The honest longing in the child’s tones brought tears to Angel’s eyes and she hugged Beth Ann closer. “You already have a mother, honey. But I’d be happy to be your friend.”

  “My friend who never goes away?”

  Oh, boy. She wasn’t going to be allowed to get out of this the easy way. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Beth Ann, you know I’m just visiting. I have a job in another place that I’ll have to go back to soon.” A white lie, but for a good cause. The child couldn’t be allowed to imagine Angel in the role of her absent mother. It would be a cruelty when she left, as she’d soon have to do. Still, she couldn’t resist adding, “But I promise I’ll write and try to visit you when I can.”

  The little girl loosened her clutch then and lay back on her pillow while Angel pulled the covers securely around her and draped her blanket within easy reach. Pressing one final kiss to the little
one’s forehead, Angel straightened and walked to the door.

  As she stepped into the hall, a large, dark figure detached itself from the wall and straightened to full height. Day. It might be dark, but her pulse leaped to a faster cadence. She’d know him anywhere.

  She hesitated, but when he made no move, she said, “Beth Ann is ready to say good-night to you.”

  “Is she?” The deep voice was low, in deference to the child only a few yards away, but it practically vibrated with hostility. “You mean a touching good-night scene with her stand-in mother wasn’t enough?”

  Angel gasped. “I told her I wasn’t—”

  “I heard what you told her.” Day caught the hand she’d thrown out in appeal and used it to drag her closer. “Don’t toy with my daughter’s feelings just because it makes you feel good to be needed. Her real mother has done plenty of damage. Beth Ann might think you’re the greatest thing to come along in her young life, but I know better.”

  She couldn’t believe that after all she’d done, he could still assume her every move was selfishly motivated. Fury rose and she spat out the words in a furious whisper, her normal cautious courtesy forgotten. “You are the most suspicious, the most unbelievably paranoid human being I have ever had the misfortune to meet. Why must you ascribe ulterior motives to every move I make? Have you ever thought that maybe I simply like children, and Beth Ann in particular?”

  She fell silent, suddenly aware of the strong, inflexible grip he had on her arm, of the heavy sound of their combined breathing in the still hallway, of the heat of his big body mere inches away. He smelled of healthy male sweat, musky horseflesh and hay, though the combination wasn’t offensive. She could almost hear the wheels turn in his mind, leading him to condemn her without a trial or even the chance to make a statement.

  “Can you tell me—honestly tell me—that you don’t have any vested interest in my daughter?” His voice was softer now, without the rough anger of a moment ago, but no less threatening.