Donavan

by Diana Palmer

  “You could stay on here,” he remarked casually. “There’s plenty of room. Jeff likes you. So does Bee.”

  “I’ve burned up enough good food already.”

  “We haven’t complained.”

  She smiled to herself. Amazingly they hadn’t. Only three days ago, Jeff had complimented her on one small side dish that was actually fit to eat.

  “I might get the hang of it one day.”

  He studied his boot. “How about getting the hang of making formula and changing dirty diapers?” he asked, his eyes on the horizon.

  She hesitated. He sounded…serious. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. He lifted the cigar to his mouth and took a draw from it, blowing out a large cloud of pungent smoke. “I mean, suppose we stayed married. If you’d let me, I think I could make you pregnant eventually. We could raise a family, give Jeff a stable environment to finish growing up in.”

  She studied his profile. Nothing there. He looked as formidable as he had the first time she’d ever seen him. Just as handsome, too, she thought wistfully.

  He glanced down and saw that wistfulness and one eyebrow went up. He looked at her openly now, from her forehead down to her mouth and back up to her eyes. “You’re thinner. I’ve been cruel to you, Fay. Give me a chance to put things right.”

  “By making me pregnant?” she asked with pretended lightness.

  “If it’s what you want, yes. If not, we can put if off for a few years. You’re still very young, little one. You might like to go to college or do some traveling before you get tied down with children.”

  “I’ve already done my traveling, and I don’t want to go to college. I have a nice job already.”

  “You can resign from that,” he said. “You don’t need it.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, until he scowled. “Actually,” she confessed, “I’m afraid I do.”

  “If you just want a way to get out of the house…”

  She rested her cool fingers atop the lean hand that was propped on his jean-clad knee. “Donavan, I’m not exactly going to inherit a fortune.”

  “Yes, I know. Henry said you’ll only get about a third, when it’s all wrapped up. It doesn’t matter,” he said doggedly, averting his face. “I don’t give a damn what people think anymore. I don’t know now why I ever did. I’m not like my father. I married you for Jeff’s sake, not because I stood to gain a fortune.”

  She felt the impact of that statement down to her toes. If only he’d married her for love of her. She sighed, audibly.

  He tilted her face up to his. “What a wistful little sound,” he said quietly. “You don’t like thinking that I only married you for Jeff. You liked it even less when you thought it was for money.”

  “It doesn’t bother me,” she lied.

  “Sure it does,” he countered quietly. “I wanted you,” he said softly. “You knew that already, I imagine.”

  “Yes.”

  “You wanted me back. I didn’t have to coerce you into my bed. You came willingly.”

  She flushed and looked down at the lean fingers that slowly wrapped around hers in a close embrace. “It was new and…exciting.”

  “More than just exciting, I think, little one.” His voice was soft, deep, sensual. “I lost you for a few seconds just as I fulfilled you. It made me feel pretty good to know I could give you that much pleasure.”

  “As you said,” she swallowed, “you’ve had a lot of experience.”

  “I’ve had a lot of bodies,” he said with faint cynicism. “Just that, Fay, a lot of bodies in the dark. I went through the motions and learned the right moves. But it was nothing like what I had with you, even on our wedding night, when my hands were all but tied. I knew then that it was more than physical attraction. But I knew it for certain when I put you on that plane to Florida and let you walk away from me. I didn’t sleep all night, for thinking how cruel I’d been. You loved Tessie, and I’d given you no comfort, no support at all. I’m sorry for that. I owed you more than that.”

  “You owed me nothing,” she told him dully. “We got married for Jeff, that’s all.”

  His free hand spread against her soft cheek and lifted her face. “Haven’t you been listening to me at all?” he asked softly.

  “Yes,” she said nervously. “You’ve got me on your conscience.”

  “Fay, listen with your heart, not your ears,” he replied. He searched her face with eyes that adored it. “Can’t you see it? Can’t you feel it? Fay, can’t you put your mouth on mine and taste it…?”

  He pulled her lips under his and kissed her with such tenderness that she felt her body ripple with sheer pleasure.

  His tongue probed inside her mouth, increasing the heat, making her moan. While he built the kiss, he lifted and turned her, so that she was lying completely in his arms, pressed close against the heat of his muscular chest.

  Unseen, his lean hand eased inside her shirt and began to trace the warm, taut contours of her breast until he made the nipple go hard against his fingers.

  He lifted his head minutes later, and looked down at her swollen mouth and dazed eyes before his gaze dropped to the taut nipple so evident under the thin fabric.

  “You look as out of control as I feel,” he said huskily, his gray eyes pure silver in the daylight. “If we were alone, I wouldn’t even bother to strip you. I’d just get the necessary things out of the way and I’d take you like a tornado.”

  She shivered, pressing her hot face into his throat.

  “Want it like that?” he whispered at her ear. “Rough and quick and blazing hot?” He glanced over her head at Jeff, who was sprawled in the aisle of the barn playing with the dogs while one of Donavan’s older hands watched him.

  Donavan stood up abruptly and put Fay on her feet. Catching the older hand’s attention, he indicated that he wanted him to keep an eye on Jeff. The cowhand nodded, grinned and waved. Then Donavan turned back to Fay, his eyes glittery with intent.

  “Oh…we can’t,” she faltered as he came toward her and she began backing toward the screen door. “Surely, you were kidding, with Jeff right outside…!”

  “Like hell I was kidding,” he whispered against her mouth. He picked her up and carried her straight into his bedroom, pausing just long enough to lock the door before he backed her up against the waist-high vanity and opened the fastening of her jeans.

  She gasped and started to protest, but he had her mouth under his, and she couldn’t manage speech. She heard the rasp of another zipper, felt him move, and then her jeans slid off her legs. His tongue went roughly into her mouth, in quick, sharp thrusts that were unbelievably arousing.

  He lifted her sharply and she felt him suddenly in an intimacy that took her breath. He half lifted her from the vanity, his body levering between her legs while he invaded her with urgent, exquisite mastery. She clung to his neck, feeling the force of his desire with faint awe as she experienced for the first time the unbridled violence of passion.

  He wasn’t tender, or particularly gentle, but the pleasure that convulsed her was beyond anything he’d given her before. She heard him cry out and felt him tense, then he was heavy in her arms, damp with sweat, trembling faintly from the strength he’d had to exert in the uncomfortable position.

  “I like the noises that boil out of you when we make love,” he said roughly. “You excite me.”

  “I can’t stop shaking.” She laughed shyly.

  “Neither can I. We went high this time.”

  “Yes. Oh, yes!”

  He drew back, finally, and looked at her. His face was solemn, his eyes quiet and gentle. He brushed back her damp hair and smiled. “That will have to last us until tonight,” he whispered. “Think you can manage?”

  “If you can,” she teased. His eyes were telling her impossible things, too wonderful for reality. “Am I dreaming?” she asked.

  “No, sweetheart. Not at all.”

  He lifted her, separating his body from hers, and gri
nned wickedly when she flushed.

  “You needn’t look so shocked,” he chided as he rearranged his own clothing. “Five minutes ago you wouldn’t have noticed if we were lying under a table in a restaurant.”

  “Neither would you!” she accused.

  He drew her close and kissed her gently. “That’s a fact,” he whispered. “God, I love you, Fay.”

  She stiffened. She couldn’t have heard that. She opened her eyes, very wide, and stared at him.

  “I haven’t given you much reason to believe it, but it’s true just the same,” he told her quietly. “You’re all I want, you and Jeff and however many kids we can have together. If we can’t have any, then you and Jeff will more than suffice.”

  “How long?” she asked gently, desperate now to believe him.

  “Since the very first night we met,” he replied. “I fought it. God, I did! But in the end, I couldn’t do without you. After I made love to you, even light love, I was lost. I knew I’d never be able to let you go.”

  “Then I inherited Tessie’s money,” she began.

  “I told you. It doesn’t matter. I love you. Do whatever you like with your inheritance.”

  “In that case,” she murmured, “I’ll put it in the bank for Jeff’s education. It should just about cover college.”

  “Where are we sending him to college—the Waldorf Astoria?”

  She smiled warmly, convinced at last that she was awake and aware. “I only inherit part of the proceeds from the sale of her furniture,” she told him, and proceeded to explain where the rest of the money was going.

  He was surprised, and frankly pleased, that Fay’s inheritance wouldn’t amount to very much. “She must have been some kind of lady,” he remarked.

  “She was. A very special one. My share will just about pay for Jeff’s college. Now you know why I wouldn’t give up my job. I couldn’t afford to.”

  “Just as well the Ballengers made one for you,” he murmured. He sighed heavily. “I guess this means that I’ll have to start being, ugh, nice to Calhoun.”

  “That wouldn’t hurt,” she agreed.

  “And your uncle,” he added irritably.

  “Also a nice touch.”

  He searched her eyes. “I won’t reform completely. You know that. I’m exactly what you see. I won’t change.”

  “Neither will I,” she replied. “I might get a little rounder eventually, and have a few gray hairs.”

  “That’s okay,” he said pleasantly. “I might do that myself.” He pulled her closer. “Fay, I’ll never be a rich man. But I’ll love you, and take care of you when you need it. If we have nothing else, we’ll have each other.”

  She had to fight tears at the tenderness in his deep voice. She kissed him and then reached up and locked her arms gently around his neck. “I haven’t said it,” she whispered.

  “You said it the night you gave yourself to me completely,” he replied, surprised. “Don’t you remember? You said it over and over again while you were trembling in my arms at the last.”

  “I must have been half out of my mind. Loving you does that to me,” she whispered with her heart in her eyes.

  “And to me,” he replied. He bent, fusing her mouth with his in a slow, sweet expression of love.

  “Uncle Don!” came a loud voice from below the window.

  Donavan groaned. “What now?”

  He opened the window and looked down. Jeff was waiting with two of Donavan’s foreman’s sons, both of whom were carrying fishing poles and tackle boxes.

  “Please?” he pleaded with his uncle. “I haven’t gotten to go fishing since the last time you took me. I’ll bring home supper, honest, can I?”

  “Go ahead.” Donavan chuckled. “But you’d better bring home supper.”

  “We’ll make sure he does, sir!” one of the older boys called. “Even if we have to swim under his line and hook the fish on it ourselves.”

  “Thanks!” Jeff laughed.

  The boys were out of sight in no time. Donavan closed the window and took the phone off the hook. He moved toward her with a wicked smile.

  “Sometimes,” he told a breathlessly excited Fay as he began to caress her out of her clothing, “fate can be kind.”

  A sentiment that Fay would gladly have echoed, except that Donavan’s mouth was hard over her own, and seconds later, she was in no condition to think at all….

  The next morning, Fay was hard at work when Donavan showed up unexpectedly at the feedlot.

  Calhoun, just coming out of his office, grimaced.

  “No need to rush, finding excuses to get out of the office right away,” Donavan drawled. “I’m reformed. I didn’t come to complain. I actually dropped by to see about moving in some more cattle.”

  Calhoun’s eyebrows went up. “You don’t say!”

  “I just did. While I’m about it, I might add a word of thanks about keeping my wife on,” he added ruefully. “We figure her inheritance from her great-aunt will just about put one kid through college. Since we plan on more than our nephew taking up residence, every penny is going to count.”

  “We like the job Fay does. But it’s tough luck,” Calhoun ventured, “about the inheritance.”

  Donavan smiled lazily. “Not in my book. I like the idea of working toward something.” He glanced at Fay with his heart in his eyes. “Struggling together brings two people close.”

  “Indeed it does,” Fay agreed with a sigh.

  “If you’d like to take your wife to lunch, we might be able to let her off a little early,” Calhoun said.

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Donavan said and grinned.

  He took Fay to the local hamburger joint and they ate cheeseburgers and drank milkshakes until they were pretty well stuffed.

  “You won’t have an easy life with me,” he said when they were outside again. He paused, catching her hand in his to stop and look down at her. “You’ll probably always have to work. I can take some of the burden off you at home, because I can cook and do dishes and sweep. But when the kids come along, things could get pretty hectic.”

  “Am I worried?” she asked, smiling. “Am I complaining? I’ve got you. I don’t need promises, assurances or anything else. I’m happier than I ever dreamed of being.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, and looked worried. “You’ve always had everything you wanted.”

  “I still do.”

  “You know what I mean,” he said irritably.

  “Yes. Money was nice, but it wasn’t particularly easy to cuddle up to. I don’t mind living like ordinary working people. In fact,” she said honestly, “I really like the challenge. It’s nice to feel independent, and to know that you’re earning what you have. I never had to earn anything before.”

  “You’re giving me a lot to live up to, honey,” he said quietly. “I hope I won’t let you down. I’m not the easiest man to live with.”

  “Yes, you are,” she replied. She put her arms around him and pressed close. “As long as I’m holding you, you’re the easiest man in the world to get along with. So suppose I just never let go?”

  He laughed and let out his breath in a long, contented sigh as he pulled her close and returned the gentle embrace. “I’ll tell you something, sweetheart,” he murmured contentedly. “That suits me just fine!”

  And she never did.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-0003-6

  DONAVAN

  Copyright © 1992 by Diana Palmer

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