Yet on the heels of that sensation came another, reflex-quick, of pure, unadulterated fear. It doused the warmth in one rushing flood.
With a shake of her head, Lacey stepped away from him. Will let her go. His eyes were smoky beneath dense lashes, and she wondered, really, what had been revealed in the depths of hers.
Ducking her chin, she rubbed her forehead. He stooped to pick up his hat and set it on his head before extracting a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket.
Without a word, Will thrust it into her hands.
Puzzled, she opened it and read her ad.
“You serious?” he asked curtly.
Lacey lifted her chin. “As a stroke.”
“Well, I can always use hired help at the Double R.”
He surprised her. Will Proffitt would have been the last person she’d expect to come to her with an offer of a job.
“Doing what?” she asked suspiciously.
“What d’you think? Working cattle. Moving ’em, dosing ’em, branding ’em—along with the various and sundry other tasks that go with the territory.”
His mouth grew determined around the corners. “I’ll be frank, it’s hard, dirty work, but I’ll pay you minimum wage, and if you last the week, you get a dollar an hour raise. Last a month, and you’ve got another buck an hour. Oh, and you work six days a week, sunup to sundown, time and a half overtime.”
She gazed up at him with incredulity. It was an extremely generous offer, especially to someone completely inexperienced at this sort of work.
A feather of gratitude touched her shoulder, making her almost smile at him before reality clapped its heavy hand on her, bringing her back to her senses.
Will wasn’t making this offer to help her. It was a way for him to earn the right to a big old I-told-you-so when she balked and ran away home. A way to make her admit she couldn’t carry her own weight and had never had the slightest intention of doing so.
Yet little did he know he was offering her her freedom. Freedom to be herself for once, without someone trying to shove her into the role of a countess.
Of course, Mother would have a veritable litter of kittens.
“So you want the job or not?” Will asked impatiently.
She knew nothing about ranching. She’d be at Will Proffitt’s utter mercy. The thought didn’t set well with her at all.
And yet she knew how to handle such men, which was to give them not an inch. She would handle him.
“You’ve got a deal,” Lacey announced, and waited for the glint of satisfaction in Will’s eyes at having hooked her.
He merely nodded, looking anything but pleased.
Then he said, “You do realize the reason I’m hiring you is so you won’t have much opportunity to, you know, socialize.”
“Oh, you mean so I won’t get the chance to put a ring in Lee’s nose and ride him around like a pet donkey?” Lacey asked with wide eyes. “Actually, that suits me fine. I said it once, I don’t need a man to come to my rescue.” Using his mode of expression, she cocked an eyebrow. “Rest assured, if one’s going to make an idiot of himself, he won’t get any help from me.”
Ah, there it came, that silver gleam of amusement. And, she would almost have bet on it, of respect.
“Then I’ll expect you tomorrow at 6:00 a.m.,” he said.
“I’ll be there. And I look forward to earning my wages at the Double R.”
“You’ll sure find out what you’re made of,” Will drawled.
“Oh? I got the impression that’s what you wanted to learn.”
And as she brushed past him standing there on the sidewalk, his expression confounded, Lacey couldn’t resist tossing a final barb over her shoulder. “Or maybe it’s the perfect opportunity for me to find that out about you.”
CHAPTER THREE
HANG HIM IF WILL DIDN’T take her at her word. Five days into her job on the Double R, Lacey was wondering if she’d have been better off taking her chances at scaring up work in town. She’d never been smellier or dirtier, and she ached in more places than she had places to ache. Even now her left thumb was throbbing with its own heartbeat after getting smashed in a corral gate.
Dropping her hat beside her, Lacey eased herself down against the shady side of the hay barn and leaned back against the rough surface, drinking deeply from the jug of iced tea Will provided for breaks and trying to rid herself of the shakes that had brought her down off the extension ladder.
She’d spent most of the morning in a pen pitching hay into feeders, all the while mired to her ankles in cow pen crud, after which she’d been directed to scrub out and sterilize the birthing stalls. The smell had been stomach-turning and kept her from drawing a full breath for two hours. She’d almost believed she’d been given a reprieve when she was put to work whitewashing the east side of the hay barn, until the sun proceeded to grill her like brisket on the barbecue.
Lacey made a swipe at a pesky fly buzzing around her face before dropping her head forward to better massage the crick in the back of her neck. She didn’t know much about ranching, but it didn’t take growing up on the Ponderosa for her to figure out she was being given the hardest, lowest and most disgusting of chores. She didn’t know how much longer she could maintain this pace, and she was trying hard not to be disappointed in Will because of that. She’d obviously been mistaken about him having even a little sensitivity under that rawhide exterior of his.
On the bright side, such as it was, Will hadn’t been around much to see her struggling just to keep up, which was nothing short of a miracle because, she’d learned, Will Proffitt was a hands-on rancher who involved himself in the day-to-day operation of his business.
Which made perfect sense when you inserted “micromanaging control freak” for “hands-on,” Lacey thought dourly.
Instead, Will had her reporting to his foreman, Yancy Follett, a Geritol marvel of an old cowboy whose gimlet gaze missed nothing, and he focused it on her with a sharp vigilance, as if she couldn’t be trusted not to cheat Will blind. It was an even greater indignity.
But she told herself she could handle it. She couldn’t give up yet, at the very least. If nothing else the job got her out of the house and away from her mother’s deafening silences.
There’d been the inevitable scene with her mother after Lacey had told both her parents of her new job. Her father had listened to his wife carry on, then had quietly told her their daughter was old enough to know her mind, after which he’d insisted she drive the Ram back and forth to work at the Double R instead of his older truck, which he used for his carpentry business. It was his way of showing his support, and Lacey had understood how much of it he was demonstrating when he’d handed her the keys to the Dodge—his prized possession, one he’d bought and paid for and maintained himself...unlike his house.
Lacey hadn’t realized until then just what it must have done to her father’s pride to have his life’s work virtually discounted with the building of that mansion.
But she hadn’t seen this until she’d come back.
Lacey rested her forehead upon one bent knee. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to forgive herself for letting Nicolai thrust that house and its contents on her parents. Even knowing how manipulative he was, she hadn’t seen how he’d been determined to complete the job he’d started when they married of removing everything familiar and meaningful to her, so she’d have no sense of groundedness or her background or her history. Or her worth, which made her vulnerable to his influence and forced her to depend upon him emotionally, financially and psychologically.
How could she have let him do that to her? She still didn’t know. Even allowing herself the naivete of a nineteen-year-old rural girl who’d been raised around Texan forthrightness and had never dealt with any kind of devious purpose in her life, Lacey still f
aulted herself for not seeing what was really going on.
“There you are,” came a deep voice out of the blue, making her jump and drop the jug. It landed on its side, its contents glugging out of it and seeping into the red dirt.
Lacey jerked her head up to find Will practically standing over her. From this angle, he looked even more imposing than he had in the cab of her father’s truck. She’d wager he was six foot six in boots and hat, all of it long, lean legs and wide, sturdy shoulders. And just as she’d concluded, there didn’t seem to be a soft spot on or in the man. The expression in his gray eyes was as watchful as ever, as if she were the one trying to pull something over on him. It brought that choking feeling back to her throat.
She’d spent a lot of time in the past few days measuring her distance from Will Proffitt and reassuring herself of the fact that he didn’t have anything over any other man on earth, and here he went blowing that theory up in smoke.
“Quit sneaking up on me!” Lacey said crossly, pushing herself to her feet so as to be on a level with him. Every muscle in her body complained but she ignored them and drew herself up to her full height. He still stood a foot taller than her, and at least by this measure she would always have the disadvantage.
Will merely raised one of those thick eyebrows at her accusation. “I’m not overmuch given to sneaking up on people. Although if I do surprise someone, it’s usually because they were up to something they know they shouldn’t be. Any truth in that speculation right now?”
“I’m not slacking off, if that’s what you’re implying.” Lacey took an irritated swing at another fly. “I didn’t get a break earlier this morning because you had Yancy putting me through my paces like a draft horse pulling a half-ton payload.”
“Not complaining, are you?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare. I believe in feudal societies complaints are handled rather summarily by disengaging one’s head from her body.”
The only evidence of her having gotten to him was in the flaring of his nostrils. Then his gray eyes glinted. “That’s some kind of vocabulary you picked up when you were married to the count, isn’t it, Cinderella? Goes perfect with that high-and-mighty accent and attitude.”
Lacey stared at him, barely registering that he’d used that detested nickname. Because he was right; she hadn’t noticed before but she was still using the pronunciation and inflection Nicolai had forced upon her during their marriage. She’d despised him for it, despised herself for giving in, even while telling herself she wasn’t, not in the way that really mattered, because it didn’t change her inside.
But apparently it had or she wouldn’t continue to talk this way.
She must have been staring at him pretty dementedly because Will said curtly, “In case you were actually interested in why I stopped, it’s because I was passin’ by on my way out to one of the south sections and didn’t see you up on the ladder, and I was concerned the heat had gotten to you or you’d fallen. If I expected to find anything amiss, it was you passed out cold as a wedge, and now I’m thinkin’ there might be something to that concern. You’re peaked as a peeled potato and look as clammy.”
Though he didn’t move abruptly, when he stepped forward as if to lay the back of his fingers on her forehead, Lacey recoiled from his touch as she would a red-hot brand.
She barely took time to note the surprise in his eyes before countering, “Well, you’re wrong! I’m just dandy, and I’ll get right back to work to prove it.” She flipped her work gloves out of the back pocket of her jeans and yanked them on without a clue as to how she’d become quite so angry and defensive and now just plain panicky inside. “But you can take ten minutes out of my paycheck if you still feel I was loafing on your nickel.”
“Lacey—” Will said, clear warning in his voice.
“As if there’s room for negotiation with you. You’ve never made any bones about people doing it your way or hitting the highway. Although you probably own that, too!”
She stooped to snatch up her hat and nearly pitched forward at his feet as a wave of vertigo swamped her. Maybe this job was too much for her to handle.
Or maybe Will Proffitt was.
Will caught her under the arm with one hand, and the contact brought on another swell of panic which had Lacey jerking away as if she’d indeed been burned.
Straightening, she met Will’s eyes and saw the storm gathering in their gray depths.
“Give me a break, Lacey! I’m not going to dock your pay, and I’m not a tyrant over my employees or anyone else, for that matter!”
“Oh, yeah? Then why do they call you Iron Will Proffitt?”
His eyebrows crashed together as lightning struck in those eyes. He stuck out his hand again, to do what this time she had no idea, but there was no controlling her reaction as Lacey jumped back. The move had her losing her balance again. This time Will caught her by both her upper arms to steady her, and the action sent her into full panic mode.
“Let me go!” she cried, pushing at his chest and as close to hysteria as she’d ever been in her life. “You can’t control me! You can’t! No matter what kind of force you use!”
To his credit, Will immediately dropped his hands. He looked at her with bewilderment and something akin to hurt in his eyes. “Lacey. What kind of man to you take me for?”
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know.”
To her horror, tears started in her eyes and she had to press her lips together to stifle a sob.
She must not have been completely successful at it, for Will extended his hand toward her again, then seemed to think better of the gesture. Instead, he took off his hat and yanked his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair.
“I have no idea what’s goin’ on here, Lacey,” he said, with just enough hard-pressed patience that it set her off again.
“That’s right, you don’t!” she cried. “Men like you run your worlds completely, so why should it come as a surprise that you can barely comprehend what it’s like for a woman to fight day after day for what little control over her life she can get!”
His mouth actually fell open. He obviously wasn’t expecting that from her. She herself hadn’t seen it coming until it was out of her mouth. And now that it was, she wasn’t sorry to have said it, especially since her outburst made Will look pretty uncomfortable for a few minutes.
Good. It felt very good to get a bit of her own back after years and years of no quarter being given in this debate, not even a nod of acknowledgement for her feelings.
Her fists were clenched at her sides, her arms rigid, and her heart was pounding out of her chest. Oh, she’d needed to say these words, all right, needed to rail on about this circumstance, much of it her own making, she had to admit, for she had handed over control of her life to Nicolai.
So now she was fighting to get it back, and she had to believe she would or she couldn’t go on. She wouldn’t let Nicolai get the better of her! But what Lacey discovered now was that she wasn’t yet ready to deal with the real damage she feared he had wrought upon her heart and which seemed to bring on that terrible tightness around her throat.
She half turned away from Will, her arms crossed and, she was sure, with the most mulish expression on her face as she waited for him to get his bearings back and come up with some pithy zinger which would effectively put her in her place.
Except...instead of leveling his steely gaze on her, she saw that Will was actually considering her words. He stood with one hip shot, idly slapping his hat against his thigh.
Then he asked, “So what’s it like to feel so...vulnerable?”
He surprised her again. Nicolai would have scorned both her emotions and her expressing them, and she’d expected no less from Will.
“At times, it can be terrifying,” she found herself answering with brutal truthfulness. “
Absolutely terrifying.”
“I’ll bet it can be,” he said simply.
She could detect not one hint of sarcasm in his voice. Nor in his expression. Without his hat on, there was no shading of his features to set them into relief, which made it like looking up at the forbidding face of a mountain at twilight.
Instead, she was momentarily drawn in by the way a damp shock of his auburn hair curved around his forehead, by those thick, straight eyebrows above ridiculously long-lashed eyes. And that crescent lower lip which didn’t bear dwelling on.
As before, when she got to him, he got to her.
Lacey spun away, unable to look at him another moment.
The heat was perishing on this side of the barn and out of the wind. Of course, it wasn’t as if it brought any cooling effect with it. Both would suck the moisture—and the life—right out of you. Unless you were Will Proffitt; then it made you stronger.
This was his world. What was she doing here? How had she done it again, put herself into an impossible situation of having to meet a man on his own turf? She truly must be demented!
“You’re right, Will,” she said.
“Beg pardon?”
She turned. “I can’t handle this pace and this kind of work. I’m obviously exhausted and a hazard to myself, and it’d be foolish if not dangerous for me to stay in an impossible situation to try and prove I can take it.” She’d already spent too much of her life doing that.
“But Yancy says you’ve worked like a dog. He’s got no complaints.”
“That’s right, because I have worked like a dog. But I can’t keep it up forever.” She dropped her chin so he wouldn’t see it trembling. She couldn’t keep a lot of things up forever, it seemed.
“If it’s because of just now,” he said, the timbre of his voice low, “I wasn’t going to hurt you, Lacey, I swear.”
“Well, after the way you tried to overpower me that first day in my daddy’s truck, can you blame me for not knowing that right off the bat?” she asked, looking askance at him.
Countess in Cowboy Boots Page 4