Rancher's Wife

by Anne Marie Winston

  The next afternoon, he was out near the barn fixing the leaky faucet in the cattle yard when Corky started to bark. It was the sound the dog reserved for invaders on his territory and Day got to his feet and reached for the shotgun he was keeping with him all the time. A long white car came jouncing down the road from the main highway. By the time he got around to the front of the house it was rolling to a halt in a cloud of red dust.

  After a moment, a short, dark-haired man elegantly attired in a natty gray summer suit climbed out from behind the wheel. Day positioned himself about five feet from the intruder, the gun crooked in a deceptively negligent manner in one arm.

  “My good fellow—”

  “We don’t take to trespassers around here. Get your hands up.” Day ignored the hand the man extended. Any man who wore a pink flower in his lapel any time but his wedding day was suspect for that reason alone. Elation began to burgeon within him. They’d put this guy away and Angel could quit worrying.

  The man’s smooth smile faltered as he responded to the barked command. “But I’m here to see Angelique—”

  “Who will be delighted to see me escort you to the sheriff, I’m sure.” Day jerked his head toward the man in a signal to two of his men who had come out of the barn. “Check him out, fellas.”

  As the two cowboys moved toward Gray Suit, he began to retreat. “Wait. There must be some mistake. I didn’t tell her I was coming, but I’m sure she’ll be glad to see me.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt of that.”

  The slamming of the front door prevented him from saying more.

  “Day? What’s going on?” Angel stopped and surveyed the way the cowhands were efficiently frisking their “guest.”

  When Day put out an arm, she stepped into it naturally. Gray Suit’s eyes bulged. Day felt a satisfying sense of pride. She belonged to him, and it was obvious to anyone who looked. “I think our problem has just been solved.”

  Angel’s eyebrows rose in puzzlement as she looked from Gray Suit to Day’s shotgun and back again. “Why are you holding a gun on Karl?”

  “You know him?”

  “Of course. He’s my agent.” She started forward, but he held her back, anger making his words harsh.

  “Did you tell him where you were?”

  Realization began to dawn in her eyes. “Well, yes. But Karl couldn’t possibly be the one stalking me. I would have recognized his voice.”

  “Not if he disguised it, altered it somehow.”

  “May I say something?” It was a plaintive request from the man Angel called her agent.

  “Yes,” Angel said.

  “No.” He’d always thought that expression about a man’s finger “itching” to pull the trigger was just that: an expression. But believing that this man had been stalking Angel, threatening and frightening her after he’d wormed his way into her affections—his finger practically did itch to pull the trigger. Sobered by the thought, he eased it slightly away.

  “I insist you listen to me for a moment.” Gray Suit—Karl—wasn’t a coward, whatever else he was. He gazed steadily into Day’s eyes, though he must have been able to see the murderous intent he wasn’t bothering to conceal. “I’m not the person you’re after. Angel surely knows I would never, ever harm her.”

  “It’s hard to know who to trust, Karl,” Angel said. “How did you find me?”

  The man dropped his hands and spread them in exasperation. “Since you gave me the address, all I had to do was ask for directions to the ranch at the local greasy spoon once I got into that little town a few miles back.”

  “Why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming?”

  The man’s concerned expression matched his tone. “When I tried to call you this week, a machine picked up every time. I was worried about you. So here I am.”

  Angel snorted, but there was good humor in her voice. “The only worrying you’ve done, my dear barracuda, is whether or not you’ll be able to con me into signing another contract.”

  “You wound me.” Dramatically the man clapped a hand over his heart. Then his gaze moved from her to Day again. “So this cowboy is the reason you’ve squirreled yourself away in the desert. Care to make introductions, dear? I’d be delighted to meet your husband, which is another reason I’m here. Did you consider a prenuptial agreement? He could be after your money, you know.”

  “Coming from you, that’s really funny.” Angel was laughing as she walked toward Karl and linked her arm through his. “Day, he’s harmless. Really. Let’s all go inside and we can explain what’s been going on to Karl.”

  Day wasn’t nearly as convinced as she was, but the man looked and sounded sane—at least as sane as anyone else from L.A. And he wasn’t about to leave her side for a minute, so she’d be safe enough.

  Later that evening, he had to admit she’d been right. Karl Graines was no more a stalker than he was. And irritating though the man might be, he clearly cared about Angel in a paternal way that made Day forgive him even that damned lapel flower.

  They talked him into staying for dinner, and while Angel excused herself to put Beth Ann to bed, Day learned that Karl had known about the letters and calls in L.A. The agent was horrified to learn that the contacts had continued at the ranch, and his concern for Angel was clear. When she left the living room later to bring in a plate of refreshments, Karl didn’t waste any time.

  “She’s absolutely dead set against security, you know. Can you take care of her without help?”

  Day nodded. “I think so. I have my men keeping their eyes open and the sheriff is still checking all over Deming.”

  Karl’s shrewd eyes were worried. “This man sounds insanely determined. He could be dangerous to you and your employees, as well as to Angelique. Don’t take any chances.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt my wife.”

  Karl smiled in a satisfied way that made Day wonder just what he was thinking. “I can see that.” The smile faded and he eyed Day speculatively. “Angelique was made for the big screen, you know. Are you ever going to let her come back to the entertainment business?”

  “The decision’s not mine to make,” he said stiffly. “When we married, Angel knew I wouldn’t stop her from returning to her career if that’s what she wants.” Apparently Angel hadn’t told her agent the true reasons they’d married. Well, he wasn’t going to enlighten the man.

  After Karl had climbed back into the long white car and driven away through the twilight, Day helped Angel clean up the kitchen. Then they went into the living room and sat before the fire he’d built in the baked adobe fireplace. They hadn’t needed the warmth, but he’d wanted, for some reason, to impress Karl Graines with the atmosphere of his home.

  The agent’s last words echoed in his head. Did she want to go back? She hadn’t appeared to miss her fast-paced life, but what did he know? The scripts she’d received in the mail haunted him. One of them lay on the coffee table right now. Had she chosen a new project? Was she going back to L.A. as soon as they’d caught the man who was threatening her life?

  A gentle finger stroking his forehead startled him into jerking away from Angel’s hand. She smiled at him. “You were looking pretty ferocious. What were you thinking about?”

  He opened his mouth to make up some harmless fabrication as her fingers began to stroke through his hair. “I can’t stand the idea of you leaving.”

  It was a toss-up which of them was more astonished.

  Angel recovered first while he was still testing his tongue for more treachery, wondering if he dared try to say anything else. “I already promised you I wouldn’t go anywhere until my overeager suitor is caught.”

  “You’ve been reading new scripts.” He tried not to make it sound like an accusation. “Are you going to take on a new project?”

  “I won’t break my promise to you if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

  It was already too late for caution if he wanted her. “Dammit it, Angel, I’m not just talk
ing about a few months. I want you to stay here for the rest of your life.” He hurled the words at her like a challenge, rather than wooing her with sweet nothings as he should have.

  “Why?” Her gaze was as wary as her voice.

  “I’ve told you why. Beth Ann needs you.”

  Her face was still and thoughtful. He couldn’t read her at all. Finally she said, “I don’t think that’s a good enough reason to base a marriage on.”

  “Not a good enough reason...?” At last—a line he could pursue with certainty. He found his temper rising out of all proportion to her quiet words. “You don’t think the fact that my daughter needs you, loves you, thinks of you as her mother now, is enough reason to continue our marriage?”

  “It’s important but I don’t think—”

  “You don’t think what? Beth Ann will be devastated if you leave. You should reconsider before you abandon that little girl so easily.”

  Silence. He had to grit his teeth to keep from squirming; he felt like the ornery schoolboy he’d been as a youth when she subjected him to that thoughtfully probing gaze.

  “Do you realize—” she wasn’t quite smiling, but a hint of humor played around her lips “—that you fall back on that tired old line every time the topic of my leaving comes up?” Her voice heated with intensity. “When you first presented me with this marriage idea, you were very specific about its temporary nature, with the fact that eventually, you’d be wanting me to leave.”

  Sullenly, stubbornly, he got up and stood silent, caught in a web of his own words. Looking at the floor, he said, “It’s never been for me...before...like it is with you.”

  “Great sex is not a good reason for two people to commit their lives to each other.”

  Was she deliberately misunderstanding him? “Great sex is only a part of it.”

  “What’s the other part?”

  Hell.

  Why was she pushing him like this? He’d already told her he needed her. He started to reach for her but she was moving, snatching up the script that lay on the table before him. While he watched, speechless, she tossed the script into the fireplace in one quick, sure motion. Then she picked up the poker and stirred the slumbering embers to life.

  Mesmerized, he watched the hungry tongues of flame embrace, then consume the thick sheaf of paper until it fell into remnants of useless ash. He turned disbelieving eyes to Angel. The implication of her action was too much for him to dare hope for.

  “Wha—”

  “That was a good script.” She pointed a finger at the smoking embers. “And there are several more good ones in the study.” She faced him with her chin up, defiant, and she’d never been lovelier to him than she was in that instant. “Once, not long ago, I’d have taken one, more than one of those projects, Day. But I don’t want that life anymore.”

  He wanted to ask her what she did want, but his tongue felt too thick and clumsy to move. When she moved to stand before him, he could only stare at her, his heart thumping hard in his chest.

  “I love you, Day.” She took his right hand and placed it against the upper swell of her breast, and he could feel her heart beating. Her gaze was steady on his, and in her clear eyes, he saw a depth of feeling that staggered him. “Yes, I want to make our marriage permanent. Because I want to be Beth Ann’s mother, but even more because I want to be your wife for the rest of my life.”

  Beneath his hand, her flesh was warm and soft. His head spun with the knowledge that she was his! Forever. The realization was sweet, indeed. His body began to react insistently to her nearness, urging him to claim her in that most basic, most elemental of possessions, and with a groan of need, he pulled her close, dropping his head to seek her lips.

  She trembled against him as he took her mouth and traced all her soft, feminine contours. He felt hot and ready, so needy that his legs quivered, and before his knees could buckle he dragged her down to the buffalo-hide rug in front of the fireplace.

  Tearing frantically at her clothing, then his own, he cast fabric aside until they were both naked. In one last moment of conscious thought, he reached for the small package of protection in his discarded wallet and donned it. Then he pulled her beneath him and covered her, surging forward in one glorious burst of power that sheathed him tightly within her.

  She writhed beneath him, and a pang of remorse shot through him as he realized she hadn’t been ready. Forcing himself to hold still, to resist the irresistible urge to thrust himself even deeper within her, he waited, waited, waited until her soft, secret flesh relaxed around him and the taut muscles in her legs signaled that she wasn’t uncomfortable.

  The afterglow from the fire warmed one side of his body as he began to move, drawing her legs up and up until they were folded beneath his chest, giving him a cradle for his upper body. She wrapped her arms around his back, and he felt her nails digging into his flesh. The sweet sting urged him into movement, and he began to rock steadily within her, the rhythmic thrust and retreat a glorious coiling spiral of excitement in her wet warmth.

  He wanted it to last forever, but he could feel his body rushing out of control, urging him to spend himself within her. The little whimpers she was making told him that she was infected with the same fevered need he was. Her hips lifted, fell and lifted, over and over, faster and faster...and he was lost.

  He buried his head in her neck as his rhythm disintegrated into a frantic maelstrom of movement. Her body received him as if fashioned for him and him alone. Her small noises gave way to great heaving gasps that echoed the buck and roll of her body beneath him. As his vision dimmed and his consciousness receded into a primitive, single-minded focus on fulfillment, he was vaguely aware of her body pulsing, clasping him as she achieved her own climax.

  And then he knew nothing. Nothing, save for the sweet satisfaction of pouring himself into the woman he loved, giving himself totally to her until there was nothing more to give and he lay limp on her in complete satiation.

  He wondered if he was crushing her. He ought to move. But her hands were gently stroking his back and he couldn’t bring himself to break the small moment of contentment. Besides, he was so sleepy.... He turned his head and kissed her neck, thought again that he ought to move, but his muscles felt as if they weighed tons....

  Eleven

  Angel awoke five minutes before the alarm went off the next morning. Day was curled around her, one hand possessively spanning her hip as if, even in sleep, he would chain her to him.

  There was no need, she thought with sad resignation. Her love bound her to him far more effectively than any chains ever would. His reaction—or more specifically, his lack of reaction—to her declaration of love last night, had withered any hope for happiness in her future. He hadn’t said he loved her, though he was quick to point out that he needed her. While she didn’t doubt that he desired her, she knew that without love it wouldn’t be enough to hold them together.

  By his silence, and by the way he had set out to deliberately sidetrack any further conversation, she could only interpret his behavior one way. Day was uncomfortable with her love. He didn’t want it and he certainly didn’t return it.

  Hurt became a solid knot of anguish in her chest, and she slipped quietly from his slumbering embrace. After dressing, she went to the kitchen to begin the morning routine. By the time Day entered the kitchen ten minutes later, she was in the dining room laying the table for breakfast. She lingered for a moment, drawing a deep breath when she heard his booted steps. She had to be calm when she faced him. Letting him see how his rejection had hurt wouldn’t accomplish anything except further humiliation.

  “Angel?” His deep voice called out to her. Before she could respond, he strode into the dining room. “I didn’t get a chance to—”

  A shot rang out from somewhere near the house, cutting off his words and shocking them both into silence. A second later, the shouting of the men galvanized them into action.

  Day turned and ran for the back door. “Stay in here
,” he ordered over his shoulder.

  She didn’t bother arguing. But as he slammed through the door, she was right on his heels. Wes came puffing up, moving faster than she’d ever seen a man in cowboy boots run. “Boss! Somebody was in the barn last night. Three of the mares are gone!”

  Day swore. “Saddle up, everybody.”

  To Angel, one thing seemed vitally important. She caught Wes’s sleeve as he turned. “Did you see anyone?”

  “Naw.” Behind him, the other hands were already leading more mounts out. “Soon’s I saw the barn doors were open, I fired a shot to bring everybody out here pronto. Them thieves could be in the next state by now.”

  Day had wheeled at the sound of her voice. “Get back to the house and stay there. This could be the work of your admirer, and I don’t want you exposed.”

  The tone of his voice, more than the curt words, made her dig in her heels when he tried to push her toward the door. “I’ll go back to the house,” she said, “but only because I don’t want Beth Ann to wake up and find us both gone. Just because I told you I loved you doesn’t mean you own me.”

  His grip tightened, and for a second, some fierce expression she couldn’t interpret flashed across his face. He dragged her toward him and she gasped when her body came up against his. He lowered his head and pressed a rough kiss on her mouth, then laughed when she tried to turn her head and shove him away.

  Effortlessly he subdued her struggles. “Oh, I own you, baby, make no mistake,” he said. “Body and soul, you’re mine. And you always will be.”

  “Ready, Boss?”

  He released her and gave her a push in the direction of the porch. “Stay here. You and I have some talking to do when I get back.”

  Watching him ride out, she suddenly felt more vulnerable and alone than she had since she arrived at the ranch. She whistled for Corky, but the black-and-white dog didn’t come running. Darned contrary animal. He was always underfoot except when you needed him, Day said, and she was beginning to think he was right. Then a thought struck her. What if whoever took the horses had killed Corky? She couldn’t believe the contrary old canine would stand quietly and allow someone to lead three mares away. Her heart sank. She was fond of the perverse creature.