by Jeanne Allan
Judging from Clay's rotten mood the next day, he didn't need to see Dallas's face on his pillow to remind him of his lost love. At the breakfast table, he'd buried himself behind his newspaper. During the plane ride back to the ranch, he'd limited his conversation to terse directives. Once back at the ranch, he'd snarled at everyone who dared cross his path. By the end of the day he'd been offensive to every person on the ranch. It fell to Dallas's lot to follow him around, attempting to appease everyone. She should have known Clay would find out, and that the discovery would feed his wrath.
'Where do you get off telling Loren he could go to Denver?' he yelled, stomping into the dining-room. 'I run this ranch.'
Counting to ten, Dallas passed him his plate. 'You know very well that you told him last week he could have time off for his sister's wedding.'
'And who's going to do his work? Who's going to feed the cows tomorrow? Who's going to check up during the night on that damned cow that's having problems out in the barn? Jim was up all last night, even if he did make a hash of things.'
'He did not and you know it.' She passed him the rolls.
'Now you're a cattle expert, too, I suppose.'
'No. But when I was entering some information last week for you on the computer I saw where you'd noted that that cow had problems calving last year. As for Loren's other chores, I'm not working tomorrow so I can help out.'
'And we all know what a great help you are,' he mocked before switching his irritation to Nicky. 'What's the matter with your meat?'
'It's all fat,' Nicky said.
'It's perfectly good meat,' Clay said. 'Eat it.'
'Don't take your ill temper out on her,' Dallas said. 'If she doesn't like fat, she doesn't have to eat it.'
Clay shifted his frown towards her. 'Once you complained you couldn't breathe here without getting permission from the boss. It looks to me as if the boss doesn't have a damned thing to say about anything any more.' Clay leaned back in his chair and gave her a cold look. 'Just because you're a fun roll in the hay, I wouldn't let last night go to my head, Mrs Dalton.'
'I knew you'd finally get around to me. I'm who you're really mad at, aren't I? Why? Because of last night?' she asked, her voice coated with saccharin. 'Am I too much woman for you or merely the wrong woman?'
CHAPTER EIGHT
'You're the woman I'm stuck with,' Clay snarled. 'And don't you forget it!'
'That's it!' Dallas slammed her fork down on the table. 'I've lost my patience with you. You're acting like a spoiled brat who isn't getting his way for the first time in his life. And blaming me for it. You just might remember a couple of things,' she said, her chest heaving with rage. 'Number one, this marriage was your idea, not mine, and number two, you're not the only one who'd rather be married to someone else.'
Clay threw down his napkin. 'I'll be in my office.'
'And good riddance!' Dallas shouted childishly. She slumped back in her chair, her appetite gone. Clay's remarks had confirmed what she'd suspected all day. There was a delicious sense of irony in the situation— if only she could appreciate it. Clay had finally convinced her that she could overlook the past only to discover that he could not. There was no way this marriage could work.
'Clay's mad, isn't he?'
Nicky's small voice belatedly reminded Dallas of the child's presence. At the sight of Nicky's woebegone face, guilt flooded over Dallas. How many times the child must have seen and heard her parents enact this same type of scene. Dallas gave her a reassuring smile. 'Yes, Clay is mad. Sometimes grownups hurt inside so they say and do things they don't mean.' Walking around the table, she leaned down and hugged Nicky. 'The important thing is that Clay loves you.'
Her words to Nicky echoed in her head hours later. Clay loved Nicky. That was the important thing. Through the years there were bound to be many occasions when the marriage chafed one or both of them. Only last night they had promised to try harder to help each other over the rough spots.
Clay was slumped in a well-worn leather chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his eyes closed, his entire body a picture of dejection.
'You didn't eat much dinner.' Her voice seemed unnaturally high-pitched and loud in the book-lined office. She set a tray on his desk. 'I brought you some sandwiches and soup.'
'Why? Spreading oil on troubled waters?'
'I suppose. You must admit our marriage is pretty troubled waters,' she added awkwardly, her back to him as she perused his bookshelves. Clay's reading material ranged from art to zoology, encompassing everything from histories to biographies to philosophies. Well-thumbed out-of-date novels shared shelf space with the latest best-sellers. His tastes were eclectic, and Dallas pounced happily on one of her old favourites. 'May I borrow this?'
'Of course. You needn't ask.' After a long pause, he came around his desk to where she was standing and asked, 'You did enjoy the trip to Colorado Springs, didn't you?'
The tone of his voice seemed to indicate more than polite interest. Was he asking about the trip or was he really asking about their sharing a bed? Dallas turned to face him. 'You know I did.'
Clay studied her face for a long moment and then, with a jerky movement unlike his usual easy motions, reached up and awkwardly stroked her hair. 'There's no reason for you to feel as if the ranch is a prison. School spring break is coming up. I thought maybe we could take Nicky to DC for a few days. Take her to all the museums, show her the dinosaurs. I expect those fish houses you showed me in Alexandria would make her laugh.'
'Flounder houses,' Dallas said. 'I'm surprised you remember.'
Clay's hand stilled. 'I remember everything you showed me. You made history come alive for me. You could do the same for Nicky.' He hesitated. 'Of course, I'd be tagging along.'
'I thought…' Her eyes fell before his intense gaze. Now wasn't the time to bring up what Alanna had said. 'I'd like that.'
Clay cleared his throat. 'And this summer, I thought, if you wanted, you and Nicky could fly over and spend time with your folks in Europe. She's always considered them her grandparents.'
'Oh, Clay, could we? Mom and Dad would love that. You know they adore Nicky.' She frowned up into his face. 'What about you? Won't you be lonely without Nicky?'
Clay's attention was on the hair he was curling around his finger. When he spoke, his voice was almost diffident. 'I thought, after a while, I'd join you, and if Nicky is doing OK, maybe you and I might slip away for a few days together. I cheated you of the kind of wedding you deserved, but there's no reason why you have to be cheated out of a honeymoon. We should be able to find some kind of romantic spot over there.'
Happiness bubbled up within Dallas and she gave a light-hearted giggle. 'We should.' Catching Clay's hand with hers, she turned her head and pressed a kiss into his palm. 'What brought on this rash of ideas?'
'The same thing that sent you in here with a tray. This marriage of ours, it may be pretty tough going at times, but if we work at it…' His palm slid from her lips to rest against her cheek. 'I want you to be happy. I owe—'
Dallas hushed him with a finger against his lips. 'You owe me nothing. Unless,' her fingers rubbed lightly over the contours of his mouth, 'it's an apology for hollering at me.'
Clay nipped at the tip of her finger with his teeth. 'What kind of apology did you have in mind, Mrs Dalton?' Sucking her finger into his mouth, he bathed the tingling tip.
Rescuing her finger from his diabolical tortures, Dallas unbuttoned his shirt and edged her hands inside where she rubbed her palms up and down his chest. Hard sinews lay beneath the warm skin. 'A contrite kiss might do.'
Clay nuzzled the pulse beneath her ear-lobe. 'I think that might be arranged,' he murmured and then his lips were on hers. Dallas spread her fingers wide on his bared chest. His heart pounded erratically beneath her hands. Could he be as affected as she? His warmth drew her lips from his and she pressed her mouth against the V of deep bronze at his throat. The rest of his skin was the colour of dark honey. Clay was st
ill as she trailed her hands over his chest, sliding her fingers through the crisp hairs. The heat of his body burned her palms while his nipples hardened at her touch. Intrigued, she rolled the nubs between her thumbs and forefingers.
Clay's breathing quickened. 'Witch.'
She peered up at him from under lowered lids, provocative words on her tongue. They died unsaid at the flames in Clay's eyes. Slowly he unfastened and brushed aside her blouse so that only the merest wisp of lace separated them. He gave a low sound of pleasure, and then her swelling breasts were free. His fingers and then his mouth worked their magic until fiery bursts of desire surged from the sensitive tips and spread throughout her body. Her legs betrayed her with their weakness and she clung to Clay. His mouth returned to hers, his kisses deep and possessive. He lifted his head. 'Contrite enough for you?' His hands inside her clothing held her tightly against his bare chest.
Dallas shook her head against his chest. 'No.'
His chuckle was a deep rumble against her ear. 'Then you'll have to wait for later. I have to make one last check out in the barn. Then I'll do my best to appease you. I'll be damned if you aren't the bossiest, most demanding woman I've met.'
The smile in his voice took any sting from his words and Dallas snuggled contentedly against him. 'I'll wait,' she said.
Clay continued to hold her and gradually his breathing grew less erratic, his heartbeat slowed. 'I guess I have been a little grumpy,' he admitted.
'If you were a little grumpy, then the Rockies are a little mountain range. You've been an absolute stinker all day.'
'Yeah…' He hesitated. 'I didn't expect things to be so difficult.' His hands rubbed her back. 'I never thought much about it, but I supposed that some day, when the time was right, I'd meet a woman, fall in love, get married, have kids…' His hands stilled. 'I woke up this morning and felt as if I'd been cheated.
Silly, isn't it? I've got a good life. Doing what I want to do, friends, family, my health, Nicky…and I'm acting as if it's the end of the world because love didn't work out for me.' He looked down at her. 'I do want to apologise, because I messed it up for you, but I'll do my damnedest to make it up to you.'
'It's odd,' Dallas said to Molly days later as she rode the large horse across a brush-covered pasture. 'But I think I like Clay better since he's admitted suffering because he can never marry the woman he loved.' Clay had always seemed so in control of his life, it was somehow reassuring to discover that he, too, had his moments of fear and despair. When he'd stripped away his outer layer of invincibility, he'd allowed her to see the human being who struggled to deal with life on its own terms. Clay's vulnerability softened her anger, but it was his honesty that swept it away. Dallas had feared that he might regret revealing so much of himself to her, but if he did, he concealed the fact well.
Clay might deplore his loveless marriage, but there was no denying his sincere dedication towards making it work. He made no more objections to her hours at the school and even asked questions about her work. His own interests were far-ranging, and his dry sense of humour delighted Dallas. When she was honest with herself, she admitted that he'd always been good with Nicky. Maybe he didn't do things the way she would, but his love for Nicky more than compensated. Nicky adored him.
Molly stopped to nibble some dried grass, and Dallas nudged her impatiently. A chinook had passed through, bringing spring-like weather in the midst of winter, and Dallas was taking advantage of the warmth and sunshine on a day she wasn't due at school. Her thoughts returned to Clay. His employees as well as his friends admired and respected him. In fact, Clay was a paragon of virtues—with one exception… no, she wouldn't think about that. Or the fact that although Clay frequently joined her in her bedroom, he always left once she'd fallen asleep. Dallas firmly stamped out any faint prickles of discontent. Like Clay, she had to accept the reality of their marriage.
Her mind elsewhere, Dallas paid no attention to the small flock of mountain bluebirds perched on the abandoned fence. The reins rested loosely in her hands and her feet dangled free of the stirrups, giving her about as much control over Molly as a sack of flour hanging over the saddle. The birds took to the air in an explosion of blue at Molly's approach. One flew right at Molly, surprising the normally placid mare into shying violently. Dallas was tossed from the saddle to land with a painful jolt on the hard-packed earth. The fall knocked the air from her and she doubled up in agony.
Gradually the pain eased, and although her chest still smarted, Dallas didn't think any ribs were fractured. Her left side had taken the brunt of the fall and, no doubt, bruises were already forming on her hip and shoulder. Her wrist burned where she'd scraped the ground as she landed, but her worst injury appeared to be her left ankle, which throbbed agonisingly. She was again wearing borrowed boots, which were too large, and her foot must have slipped inside as she'd landed.
Dallas looked around. Molly was a few yards off, her muscles trembling. Dallas called to her in a soothing voice. The large horse walked hesitantly forward until she loomed over Dallas. Talking quietly, Dallas struggled to her knees. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she grabbed the mare's left stirrup. Molly side-stepped to the right, and Dallas lost her grip.
Striving for patience so she wouldn't frighten Molly, Dallas tried again. This time Molly rolled her eyes wildly, but she stood still as Dallas caught hold of the stirrup. Continuing to croon softly to the mare, Dallas pulled herself up until she was awkwardly balanced on her right foot. One hand on the saddle-horn and one hand clenching the back of the saddle, Dallas rested her forehead against the tooled leather.
Her body was damp with sweat inside her winter jacket and the ordeal had intensified the pain shooting through her ankle, but she still had to get in the saddle. Unable to put weight on her left foot, she found mounting impossible. Dallas tried pulling herself up, but her arms weren't strong enough and trying to leap up on one leg succeeded only in startling Molly and compounding the pain in her injured ankle.
Her situation was grim. Clay had gone to Pueblo and wasn't expected home until late. Nicky had gone to a friend's house for a birthday party after school. Jim had gone into town, and Dallas had told Sara that she might ride over to Peter's. Her father-in-law, however, wasn't expecting her. It might be hours before it occurred to anyone that Dallas was missing. And once the sun dipped behind the mountains it was going to be very cold.
She looked around. The Spanish Peaks had been behind her while she rode. If she headed back towards them… Taking a deep breath, Dallas gave the mare a gentle swat. 'It's up to you.' Molly obediently started off, dragging Dallas with her. Yards, miles, hours, days—Dallas quickly lost track of distance and time.
The strain on her arms was excruciating and her ankle ached intolerably, but she doggedly hung on to the saddle.
Closing her eyes, she saw Clay standing in her living-room in Alexandria. 'It's too much to ask of a woman,' he said. She would show him. 'I'll take care of you,' he promised. Then he smiled. Tenderfoot. Falling off Molly.' His eyes were soft and teasing as he faded away.
'Don't go,' Dallas begged.
His place was taken by a giggling Nicky. 'I like Clay. He's so silly sometimes.'
'Clay is dependable,' Mercedes said.
'A date with Clay is winning the lottery,' Vicky added.
The three began to grow dim. 'No,' Dallas cried.
Alanna was there, concern on her face. 'Hang on, Dallas. Think about Nicky. You promised.'
'What about Clay?'
'I can't give you Clay,' Alanna said, her image beginning to dissolve. 'You must fight for him.'
'Wait,' Dallas sobbed.
'Faint heart never won fair lad.' Clay was back. 'Don't you want to win me, Dallas?' Taking her assent for granted, he bent to kiss her lips.
His mouth was hard and cold. Dallas opened her eyes. She was lying on the ground, her arm over her face. She looked around in confusion. Molly was gone. Lengthening shadows moved across the pasture while the setting sun
painted the sky with splashes of rose. The Spanish Peaks seemed no closer. Dallas shivered inside her down jacket. The ranch could be anywhere south of her. One pasture was much like another to her. She'd paid little attention to their meandering route, relying on Molly's homing instinct. It was even possible that the ranch was just over that knoll.
If it was, she'd feel pretty silly when Clay found her. On her hands and knees, Dallas dragged herself laboriously up the incline, becoming more and more convinced that she'd see the ranch outbuildings below. At the top of the knoll, Dallas almost cried with disappointment. No welcoming ranch lights penetrated the dusk. Only scrub oat and grama grass rose from the pasture. Her breath caught in her throat as one and then another of the scrub oat took on bovine dimensions. Heading slowly, inexorably in her direction were cows. Lots of cows. Dallas looked over her shoulder. Absorbed in her climb up the hill, she'd failed to notice the stock pond. The stock pond for which the cows were headed, with her injured body the only obstacle in their path.
Thirty minutes later found the cows milling around the pond and Dallas wedged uncomfortably up against a solitary piňon pine while she picked gravel and burrs from her knees. Finally, convinced of the cows' lack of interest in her, Dallas gave in to exhaustion and curled up in a ball on the ground.
Cold, her ankle throbbing painfully, Dallas exhorted Clay to hurry. As time passed, she began to mentally bargain with him. If he came in the next ten minutes, she'd never yell at him again. Then she promised to never again mention the past. She fell asleep vowing that she'd become the perfect wife, making up to Clay for all his unhappiness.