Harlequin Romance Bundle: Crowns and Cowboys

by Judy Christenberry

  Maybe he was…

  If his reasons for not wanting a relationship with her were so strong that he’d lie to her about wanting her, turn from her, act as if he didn’t like her or even see her—and even now, to offer her a marriage in name only, though he was aching as badly for her as she was for him—

  Then that made all the difference in the world. He wanted her, needed her even; but something made him feel as if he couldn’t give in to that craving.

  She might not know why…but she wasn’t going to allow the status quo to remain. She had more aces in her deck than she’d known about only an hour ago.

  Testing the waters, she said softly, “Do you really think we could have a platonic marriage, after we’ve already been lovers?”

  He frowned, and moved back through the gate. “Yes. It won’t happen again.”

  He was backing off…and she wanted to shout, to laugh and twirl around—because his rigid control had slipped with the power of one question.

  Next ace, please…

  She moved toward him, slow and gentle, still wearing a half smile. “Who are you trying to fool with your lies, you or me?”

  Jake’s nostrils flared, sensing her change from anger and defensiveness to tender aggression…using that soft, luscious smile she used when she felt hopeful. The sweet ripeness of a woman who now knew she was wanted by the man she desired.

  He’d always known he wouldn’t have gone anywhere with another woman the night of the Robbins’s anniversary party. It was Laila, only Laila who tempted him right out of his self-control and made him a man again. She’d been driving him crazy from her first smile, and with the look in those laughing eyes that told him she knew he wasn’t the human island he tried to be.

  And now she’d found the chink in his armor—she knew he wanted her. If he let her open the crack any wider, she’d give him her loving body, snuggle right down inside his heart, and want to know about his life, see his home—

  Home. Where his wife’s blood was on his hands.

  No—no! He’d thought he could do it if he had to—that maybe he’d moved on enough—but now he knew he couldn’t go back…not even for the sake of this new child. No matter how much he wanted it, ached to go home, with every fiber of his being.

  He didn’t deserve to go home—or to have the chance of happiness Laila held out to him.

  “You’re the one who’s the fool,” he snapped, desperate to close his armor back over. “Just because I wanted you for one night doesn’t mean it will happen again.”

  Her smile only grew. “You’re a liar,” she said softly, taking another step toward him. “Prove it, Connors.”

  Now he really wanted to bolt. The softer, more feminine she became the weaker he became around her—a man again, with a man’s most basic needs denied for far too long. She’d ripped his delusion of control by seeing through his attempt to seduce her into marriage.

  When she wasn’t insecure, it was as if she could see right through him…and now she was the enchanting, wise woman-child who’d snared his mind and taken control of his body from the first day, she was locking into his every hormone with the instincts of a heat-seeking missile.

  He wanted her like crazy; she wanted him like crazy. Neither of them could hide it. One touch now and the need would explode.

  “That’s the deal,” he grated, hoping he didn’t sound as crazy with hunger as he felt. “I’ll act like I’m in love with you in front of your family, if you want. I’ll give you a home and security and you can go back once the baby’s born to finish your degree. I’ll get a different job, one that lets me work my schedule around yours to mind the baby when it comes. I’ll do whatever it takes to make your life right, but there’s no promise of love and more babies.”

  And that would never change. Love in the Australian Outback was as risky as a walk across the Sahara without a water bottle. The Outback had a remoteness as old as time, far from the modern life most people knew. An emptiness that could be deadly, for it killed without conscience or pity, destroying families, taking lives before they’d even begun.

  Watching Jenny and his baby girl Annabel die right before his eyes had burned that lesson into his brain with a branding iron. Marriages rarely survived out here unless both parties were committed to the life, like Brian and Marcie.

  Laila loved it out here, he had no doubt of that—but that was only during vacation. She loved living in Bathurst, too; she’d told him that. Bathurst was in the country, sure, hours west of Sydney—but it was a small city, with plenty of restaurants, banks, schools and safe roads, and most importantly, a fine hospital. It was a far cry from the reality of the remote life here.

  His body turned to ice, cooling his ardor.

  “I’m taking you back to Bathurst next week,” he said abruptly. “Ask for a late exam. I’ll support you. I’ll find another job, or buy a farm close to all amenities.”

  She gasped. “You can afford to buy a farm? Bathurst’s far from cheap.”

  He nodded in silence.

  Her gaze on him was narrow, assessing. “I gather you’re still working on the assumption that I’ll marry you?”

  He shrugged, half turning toward the outside of the barn. The last of the day’s light had painted the barn door a violent magenta. He wondered why none of the guys had stomped in to dump their tools or to check on him; but he was glad they hadn’t. He needed to feel more in control—to make Laila lose that tender, confident sensuality.

  “At this point I don’t care if we’re married or not.” He kept his voice hard. “I offered that for your sake, and your family. But where you and my child go, I’m going to be, with or without a ring and licence. If you decide to stay at your apartment, I’ll move in next door. I can live in the city—I did it for five years, though I prefer living on the land.”

  About to snap back at him, Laila realized he was trying to alienate her again, to keep her off balance—and to make her forget her questions. She was rattling his cage—and by heaven, she’d keep at it, until he gave in. “You lived in the city?”

  “A city.” He didn’t add to that; she hadn’t expected him to confirm which city it had been. “I didn’t like it much.”

  But he was willing to return to that life, for the sake of her education, and for their child.

  He’d seemed the stuff heroes were made of since she’d first seen him—now she knew that he was. He loved the Outback, but would return to the city for her sake. He wanted her like crazy, and had done his level best to keep his distance from her. He offered her marriage, knowing it would be little less than sexual torture for them both, because he believed it was the right and honorable thing to do—for her, as well as the child. Anyone who knew Dar would know how sick with disappointment he’d be if she came to him pregnant and alone…

  I’m the last thing you need.

  Yes, she knew exactly what Jake Connors was: a self-hating, tortured white knight willing to sacrifice his wants and needs so she could keep her dreams alive.

  The day headed toward night. The workers would break their solitude any minute now, putting their gear in the tack room before heading to the mess for dinner.

  She walked into the stall next to her beloved Starfire to groom the next horse, ignoring the gelding’s restless sidestepping. Lightning was well-known for his feisty nature, even after he’d been gelded.

  Jake stood silent, watching her. Waiting. Well, she was too tired right now to volunteer information—at least until he started giving part of himself in return.

  She was a third of the way through before she asked the question burning her brain. “So is your idea of marrying me, or moving to Bathurst to be near the baby and me, some part of a grand plan? Are you trying to redeem yourself for your past sins?”

  “You got it.” Jake’s laugh was short and bitter as he joined her, picking up another currycomb. “The universal slate-wiper will make my sins disappear if I do the right thing by a pregnant girl with every other means of care at her disposa
l. The world works that way, right?” He bent under Lightning’s flanks, combing his belly, and the horse stopped his edgy dance. “It’s not the world’s forgiveness I care about. I don’t believe in karma.”

  She flinched at his whiplash tone, even though he aimed it at himself. “What do you believe in, then?”

  He twisted his face to glance at her, his eyes dull, like old gold encased in an unlit case. “What did you believe in before your life fell apart, Princess Laila? Why is everyone wrong about you?”

  He didn’t expect her to answer. He’d already shut the door to his world in her face, guarding it with a solid wall of icy politeness.

  His nerves on sudden high alert, Lightning shied, sidestepping her next combing. Moments later, a distant rumble of thunder reached them: another dry storm was on its way.

  “You should go into the house. It’s going to be dangerous here soon.” His tone was remote. It seemed, as far as he was concerned, the discussion was over.

  The thuds of booted feet came toward them. A voice called from outside the tack room door, “Hey, Jake, it’s comin’ up for dinnertime if you’re in here.”

  With a quick motion, Jake tossed the currycomb into the feed stall and grabbed Laila, walking her backward until they reached the close wall that blocked them from view.

  His body, taut and summer-hot, was flush against hers, holding her with every part of him; she inhaled his outdoor and male scent, could taste it if she just went up on her tiptoes…

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Maintaining our privacy until you’ve made a decision.” He looked down at her, that old, rigid control in his eyes—the control that no longer fooled her. “They won’t come looking for me. They let me keep to myself.”

  “I’ve already made my—”

  “Laila, you in here?” That was the voice of Laila’s brother Glenn.

  With a tiny, exasperated sound, Jake covered her mouth with his finger. He whispered fiercely in her ear, “If they find us together, the news will reach your dad in minutes. Are you ready to tell him our news?”

  At this moment she wasn’t ready for anything but to make that finger against her lips turn into his mouth, to wrap her arms around him, to take more than a one-night taste of him…

  Not knowing what else to do, she shook her head. Unconsciously her body moved against his, and with a tiny groan, he lowered his head to hers—

  A loud bark of laughter from one of the men made them jump, and move apart. The voices faded to silence, but their work was done. Jake kept looking down at her, his face tight with emotion he was holding in check.

  “We should go, before Dar or the boys come looking for me,” she said quietly. “We both know they will in the next few minutes if I don’t answer their call.”

  Jake opened the stall gate for her. He locked it behind them once they’d walked through. Lightning wasn’t a horse to remain passively in his stall with a storm around.

  Clouds were chasing each other around a darkening sky, with trailing shreds of the riotous display of color that was a common Outback sunset. Laila drew in a cleansing breath of the hard-hitting wind tossing her hair about her face. It had been hot and still here for too many weeks—as stagnant as her life had been for too many years.

  “When you’re ready to face your parents, I’ll be there with you,” was the only thing he said as they headed up the gentle incline toward the main house.

  “All right, but—”

  “Don’t say I don’t have to. I want to do this.” His voice was fierce.

  “All right,” she said again, knowing he had made the best choice; her father would respect him for standing beside her. “They deserve to know who the father is, and what I intend to do in the future.”

  “What we intend.” His voice was inflexible.

  “I guess we’ll inform them of that when we come to a consensus on what that entails.” She hoped her lack of argument would confuse and frustrate him.

  “I’ll leave you here,” he said as they reached the tall fence separating the main house from the rest of the property. He turned to go.

  She couldn’t let him go, not like this, with so much left unspoken; but the first words that came to her were a continuation of what she was saying before. “You might have lived there, but you couldn’t be a city fella. Jackarooing isn’t a job any average Joe can do. You need experience and skill to mend the fences properly, to round up the sheep or to ride as you do—and no one could doubt your skill. You’re living poetry on a horse.” Like those long-haired, wild-hearted horseback warriors she’d always fantasized about as a girl.

  He looked over his shoulder at her, unexpectedly grinning at her comment. His smile lit up those amazing eyes of his, and her rebel-fool heart did that fluttery flip again. “I was born and bred in the Outback. I spent five years in the city, but I came back fourteen years ago.”

  Startled, she asked, “How old are you? You don’t look a day older than thirty.”

  He lifted a brow as his grin grew. “Thanks—I think. But I’ll be forty in two years. My mother’s genetics—her mother’s Asian, and both my mother and grandmother look young. Dad looked almost twice her age. Aaron, Sandy and I all inherited my mother’s looks.”

  Laila heard and registered the name—Aaron must be his brother, and Sandy, his sister—and she even recognized the reasons behind Jake’s saying anything personal: he was trying to get close to her. But all she could think was, he looks amazing when he smiles. The just-crooked grin brought his amber and gold eyes to life, showed up a dimple in his left cheek and made him irresistible, even more so than when he was dark and withdrawn.

  And finally, his belief that she was a child fell into place, as did his willingness to take full responsibility for her pregnancy. He was a man, with all a man’s maturity.

  “Is your mother still alive?” she asked, hearing his use of looked in relation to his father.

  “Yes.” The word was blunt, stark. He offered no more.

  “Are you older or younger than your sister and brother?”

  “Four years older. They’re twins.” Now his voice was taut, tense with aching, like a cow rope fraying. “It’s been just the three of us—Sandy, Aaron and me, for a long time.”

  “How long?” she asked softly. Wondering why his mother wasn’t in the family picture, or his grandmother.

  “Years.” The words were a door closing in her face. “I’d better go for dinner. The guys will come looking for me if I miss it.” Another wry smile. “A guy can miss a lot of things, but not food or beer, or the footy on TV. The guys won’t stand for that.”

  Obviously he felt he’d told her enough for one day; but at least now he was talking, not just speaking words. He was communicating. This was the man she’d glimpsed before.

  “Good night,” she said dully, feeling as if the life in her world was leaving her. Back to the polite evasions that had been her lot since coming back home. At least with Jake she had no need to pretend.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he called back, heading down the hill.

  Without warning she burst out, “What is there to say? Haven’t we said enough?”

  “There’s plenty to say.” He turned back and moved to her, his face fierce, his skin glowing in the stormy half-light. “Like where we’re going to live, what doctor you’re seeing, how we make a living. We have to make plans.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” she snapped, with a weariness born of her world turning on its axis in a single day. “I said no.”

  “I heard.” He was right in front of her now, his hands on her shoulders. “But you don’t seem to get one fundamental fact. I will make sure you and the baby are safe and well for the rest of your lives. They’re the facts, Laila.”

  Dear God, the man was beautiful…and he scrambled her wits every time he touched her. She had to pull herself together, or he’d take full control of her life…

  “What about what I want?” she asked desperately.
“Or doesn’t that matter?”

  One hand left her shoulder to touch her chin. “Tell me, Laila,” he said softly, moving closer still. “Tell me what you want.”

  The wind turned softer, and moved between them like a warm current of wanting. Want, want…he said want, didn’t he? He asked what I want…

  How to say, I just want you to love me, without making a total fool of herself again?

  “I want what every woman wants,” she said in little more than a whisper, knowing her face, her body, must be reflecting the aching inside her: the yearning for him to touch her. “A few kids. A nice place—maybe a farm with a clinic attached—for my practice.” And before she knew it, she was blurting out the truth. “No—that’s not what I really want. Those things would be lovely—but they’re not necessary. I can do without almost everything else, but I have to be loved. I want my husband to love me, with all his heart.”

  The wind had died moments before. The air around them was dull and hot. Another quick rumbling sound came from the southwest. A crack of thunder hit a field to the south of the house.

  With a muffled curse he dropped his hands. His face was as white as his golden skin would allow, his eyes burning. “They’re nice dreams, Laila. I wish I could give them to you, but I can’t.” He strode away from her as if chased by a fury of demons.

  He would never love her.

  She watched him go, aching and hurting for a man she wanted like crazy but barely knew. She’d only scratched the surface of what haunted him, and what she knew didn’t tally.

  A man willing to give up his life for her sake and her baby’s, but who expected nothing for himself—not even normal relations between husband and wife.

  A man with all the reticent pride of his forebears, yet humble to the point of self-hatred.

  He was rich enough to buy a farm in Bathurst, but he worked as a simple jackaroo and lived in a communal quarters with twenty other guys.

  His eyes turned to molten gold when he looked at her, his body grew hard when she was near him, but he constantly did all he could to push her away.