But on the ride home both of them were quiet.
The next day brought something unexpected: visitors. Lots and lots of visitors.
Owen had left so early that he hadn’t had a chance to see Delfyne, and, wanting to make sure she wasn’t suffering buyer’s remorse about her night on the town, went up to the house to check on her. He was halfway through the door when a sound he’d avoided for a long time met his ears. A baby was laughing. In his house.
He went cold. Then hot. Then cold again. Crushing pain hit him full in the chest. He staggered a bit as he walked through the kitchen, then caught himself. In the living room he found Delfyne sitting next to a woman he didn’t know. The woman was holding a child about a year old, older than James had been but still with that chubby wide-eyed innocence about him.
Owen felt faint. He fought the light-headedness. The little boy was studying him intently.
“Buh,” the boy said.
Owen closed his eyes. James’s tiny face, wreathed in smiles, swam in his memory. His boy had never lived to talk.
“Owen?” Delfyne’s worried voice broke in and he turned to see her and the oblivious young mother studying him.
The little boy squealed in delight again and bucked on his mother’s lap.
Owen tried to control his urge to flinch. Obviously not successfully. “I’m afraid when he takes a liking to something or someone he’s not old enough yet to realize how loud he is,” the mother explained.
Shaking his head, Owen held out his hand. “He’s fine,” he managed to say in a voice that was a bit lower and thicker and far more ragged than usual.
“Cute little guy, isn’t he?” he said, faking a smile for the mother and Delfyne’s sake.
“This is Charley. He’s adorable,” Delfyne agreed. She introduced him to Janet, who was new in town and had met Delfyne last night. “I thought you were working,” she admonished, but what she meant, he knew, was I thought it would be okay to have this woman and baby over while you were gone.
“I was. I am,” he said. “I just forgot something in my room. Please, go on with your visit,” he said, though he could see that Delfyne wanted to say more.
But what could she say in front of the woman? He knew she wouldn’t do anything to make the young mother uncomfortable and he would never want her to. So, pasting on the biggest, fakest smile he could muster, he winked at the child, nodded to the mother and swiftly went to his room.
Once there he took deep long breaths. He fought against memories of the past and tried not to think about the stricken look in Delfyne’s pretty eyes. He hated that he had made her feel that she had done something wrong or that he had caused her even one second of worry.
Grabbing up the first thing at hand, he quickly marched back downstairs, held up the object, which turned out to be a comb. Then he smiled brilliantly, exchanged thirty seconds of pleasantries with Delfyne’s guest and went back out the door to his truck. There was plenty of work to keep him busy, and he stayed away as long as he could.
When he finally pulled back into the yard, Delfyne came out to meet him.
“Owen, I—”
He held up one hand to stop her. “Don’t even think about saying you’re sorry. Babies are a fact of life.”
“But not in your house, they’re not.”
“I can’t hide from every child in the world.”
But he did his best. She’d probably guessed that, but he didn’t want her beating up on herself for his flaws. Andreus had sent her here because of what her brother felt were her flaws. She’d been hidden away because of that. She certainly didn’t need to take on more restrictions.
He came toward her and took her hands. “Delfyne, you met a friend, someone who liked you. She came to visit you. You invited her in. Do you think I would have expected you to ask her to take her baby home?”
She shook her head, a wistful, worried look in her eyes. He thought she’d say no and that would be the end of that.
“Tell me more about your past, about what makes you…you,” she said. Of course, she wasn’t a woman who would do the easy thing and ignore his thorny past the way everyone else did.
He sat down on the porch and drew her down with him. “There’s not much to tell. This ranch has been in my family for four generations. It’s a demanding life. At least, if you’re really going to ranch and not hire someone else to do the work it is.”
“You wouldn’t hire someone, would you?”
He shrugged. “If I did, I’d just be playing a game.”
“The gentleman rancher,” she said with a soft smile.
“Yes. Anyway, my father went away on a trip and brought my mother back here, where she proceeded to wilt and disappear, she said. After I was born, she got worse. Before that she had been unhappy, feeling tied to the ranch and my father, but having a child was even worse. It meant beginning a dynasty, really becoming glued to the lifestyle. It was as if she hadn’t really committed herself to my father, but once I came along she knew she had to do that or leave. She chose to leave. And he became an angry, bitter man. This ranch and I became his world.”
“I would think you would hate it.”
“You would, wouldn’t you? But it was never that way. I’ve always felt as if part of my soul goes missing when I leave here. I went away to college, but part of me was here. I traveled, I made money elsewhere, but this was where I found my greatest satisfaction. And like my father, I found my bride and brought her back here.”
“She hated it, too?”
“Not right away. Part of her even liked it, but it wasn’t enough. She was…a collector of sorts and she liked to have things that were outside the norm. Where she came from a rancher was an oddity, but once she’d collected a rancher, she needed to move on to the next thing, to have more. To her credit, she tried to hide her unhappiness. She felt she’d made a pact and she needed to be a grown-up and stick to it even if she grew more weary of the life every day. She missed the city. She missed being at the center of fun, the lights and the noise. But she stayed. Until James died. And then we both discovered that he was the only glue holding us together.”
“So she left you and now you stay here alone and avoid babies.”
She sounded so sad that he couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I’m not a sad man, Delfyne. I like my life. It’s full enough.”
“But you won’t marry.”
“It’s doubtful. Every woman I meet gets hurt by my reticence to commit. You saw that with Nancy. They all seem to feel I’m not giving my all. And I suppose I’m not.”
“I suppose you have reason. Why should you give your heart when it’s been thrown back at you by women who held it in their keeping? And not wanting to have another child, of course you wouldn’t make promises you didn’t intend to keep when you’d already been on the wrong end of a broken promise yourself. But I wish I could make things right for you, give you something.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, I see. Now you’re being the benevolent lady, bestowing her gifts upon the poor hapless knight who came calling.”
She gave him a mock incredulous look. “Well, you certainly don’t look hapless, much less like a knight right now. You’ve torn your shirt,” she said, laying her palm over the ripped section just above his heart. Her skin was warm.
And suddenly the world shifted. The very air seemed to change. Owen’s heart thudded crazily as if a woman had never touched him before.
“And…” She licked her lips nervously. “And a knight would never sit side by side with…with his…”
“Shh, don’t say it. Someone might hear,” he whispered, leaning near. And then his lips found the sensitive skin beneath her ear.
She shivered.
“Would a knight do that?” he wondered.
“I—I don’t think so,” she began.
“Then maybe this.” He nuzzled his way farther down her neck.
She tilted her head to give him better access, and heat flared within him. Slipping his arms
around her, he kissed her, he touched her, he slid his palms up her torso, his thumbs resting beneath her breasts.
“Don’t worry about me, Delfyne,” he urged, his mouth dancing over her skin. “Please. Don’t try to make me feel better, don’t make me into something more or better than I am. I’m a rancher, simply a rancher. The fact that I have more money than most doesn’t make me any different. And the fact that I’m kissing you now when I know that there’s no future in it for either of us, no wisdom in it at all, means I’m worse than most. Don’t trust me, ever. I don’t trust myself.”
With that, he let her go. He rested his forehead against hers for a minute and listened to the sound of their deep, uneven breathing.
“Go inside now,” he said in a voice that betrayed the fact that letting her go was too damn difficult to enable him to speak clearly.
“I wasn’t teasing you,” she said. “I—that is, I was. We were playing, but I didn’t mean my pretense to cause you regret.”
He smiled against her forehead. “If you think I regret touching you, you’re dead wrong, Delfyne. It’s what I’m not going to do that I regret.”
She looked at him and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t have stopped you.”
He groaned. “Could you please not tell me that? Or could you at least try a lie?”
She smiled against his skin. “All right. I wish you hadn’t kissed me, and actually a part of that isn’t a lie. Because once I leave here, I can’t ever look back and wonder what would have happened next. Sometimes it’s best not to know desire at all, I think.”
“Delfyne…” he said on a groan. “All right, I am sorry.”
“Don’t be. That part, the touching, was wonderful, but also not wise. Because from here on out, this moment of weakness and desire will always be between us.”
And with that she got up and went inside.
She was right, he thought. More right than she knew. Long after she had forgotten her brief moments on the porch of a ranch with a man she should never have met, he would be remembering the taste of her.
There was an edginess between Owen and herself for the next few days, Delfyne couldn’t help noticing. She knew he was blaming himself, but really she was the one who had started the teasing. She had a distinct feeling that Owen didn’t get teased very often.
She had pushed him too far. As she always did.
Now she wanted to make up in some small way, so she set to work on learning to make that cake. Lydia had told her that double fudge surprise was Owen’s favorite, and Delfyne was determined to make him the lightest, fluffiest, most delicious cake he had ever tasted. Better than Lydia’s.
“Or maybe almost as good as Lydia’s,” Delfyne whispered out loud as she mixed ingredients. She had better get it right. Lydia had run into town with Nicholas—who’d taken to ranch duty so well, Delfyne wondered if he’d rather be a cowboy than a bodyguard—to pick up a replacement part for her vacuum cleaner. There was no one to consult if Delfyne made a baking mistake.
In fact, she was concentrating so hard that she almost didn’t hear the knock at the door, but finally it snagged her attention just as the person started to bang harder. “Lydia, damn it, open up. I’m frying my butt off out here.”
“I’m on my way,” Delfyne said. “Just let me wipe my hands.” She pulled up a piece of her apron and did just that as she hurried to the door.
Standing on the kitchen stoop was a big, grizzled man, and he looked miffed. “Took you long enough. I was ready to come through the window,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. Come in,” she said. “Are you looking for Lydia? Or Owen?” She moved into the house to get the two-way radio.
But when she turned around, the man had moved up right behind her. He was staring at her intently. “I’m here to see Owen. We’ve got business, but now that I’m out of the hot sun, there’s no need to hurry,” he said. “Who are you? Anyone else here?”
Something in his voice and his words didn’t sound or feel right. Definitely the way he was staring at her was wrong. There was something too fierce and wrong about his interest. He glanced to the side as if looking out the window, but Delfyne knew that no one was there.
Panic began to rise within her as she realized that she had let down her guard and let this stranger into the house. Used to her bodyguards screening her contacts, she had simply assumed she was safe and plunged ahead without thinking. But people came through here all the time. Lydia let them in. She talked to them. So did Owen. Friends, neighbors, business people stopped by. Those people weren’t strangers, and obviously this man wasn’t either.
Taking a deep, enervating breath, she tried to remember who she was and how to command respect and maintain a distance. “Who are you?” she countered, but her voice came out too shaky.
He smiled slyly, and right away she hated that smile. “You don’t have to worry about me. Owen knows me. I live in the next county. Owen mentioned that he had a likely stallion to service my best mare. I came to look.”
But as he said the words, he reached out to touch.
“Don’t!” Delfyne said, sliding back and away.
“Hey, don’t be so skittish and fussy. I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said, continuing his advance. “You have chocolate on your cheek. I’m going to rub it off.” But his voice was thick and his hand was unsteady and his eyes—
“I’ll wipe it off later,” she said, taking a step back.
“Oh, I don’t mind helping at all.” His thick fingers made contact with her skin.
“Do not touch me!” she ordered in her best princess voice, through teeth that chattered. And she ducked away and headed for the front door, her knees shaking.
The door flew open in front of her and Owen stepped inside.
His eyes blazed as he looked past her to the man. “Dekins, get out of my house,” he said.
“Owen, I wasn’t doing a thing. I don’t know why the stupid woman was screeching like that. You know me. You know why I’m here. And she asked me to help her.”
Owen didn’t even look at Delfyne for verification or denial. “Frankly, I don’t care what she did or didn’t do. You’re not to touch her. Now, get out.”
The man started forward. “Owen, you’ve known me for years. I didn’t do a thing wrong. She let me in. She’s—”
He never finished the sentence. Owen’s fist smashed into his face and the man reeled backward, struggling to stay on his feet.
“Not another word,” Owen told him. “Any business you and I had is concluded. For good,” he said. “Don’t come back on my land again.”
The man cast Delfyne and Owen a look of hatred, but he left the house, climbed in his truck and roared away, his tires spinning and spitting gravel.
When he was gone, Delfyne dared to look at Owen. He was breathing hard. His eyes were dark with anger.
“Did he hurt you?”
She swallowed hard.
“Delfyne?”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “He just scared me. He touched my cheek and he looked at me as if he was going to—”
Owen reached out and pulled her to him. He crushed her against him. “I never did like him much. Good riddance. The man is total dirt.”
Delfyne closed her eyes and breathed in the warm male scent of Owen. She felt safe against his hard body. But…
Pulling back, she looked up into his eyes. “I am partly at fault. I did let him in. That was very stupid of me. And so…typical. Andreus and my family are right about me. I’m too unpredictable and spontaneous. I act first and think later. This was as much my fault as that man’s.”
“Like hell it was. There’s never an excuse for a man trying to touch an unwilling woman.”
“But maybe by letting him in the door, I was inviting something I never meant to. That is…sometimes things happen that way and…”
Memories of other mistakes she’d made crept in. Delfyne closed her eyes.
The next thin
g she knew Owen was lifting her into his arms. He carried her to the nearest sofa and sat down with her, holding her.
“‘Sometimes things happen that way’?” he said. His voice was icy. “What on earth has someone done to you, Delfyne?”
She leaned against him, trying to breathe, to think, to not think. “I don’t want to tell you. I don’t want to tell anyone. Ever.”
“Yeah, like that’s going to stop me from asking. Now that I know that someone has hurt you, I…Tell me now.”
“Once you know, you’ll respect me less than you already do.”
“You say that as if I don’t respect you.”
Her laugh was brittle. “My brother pawned me off on you because I couldn’t be trusted to handle myself. How could you respect someone like that?”
She sat up taller and gazed into those blue eyes.
He placed his hands on her forearms and pulled her within a breath of his lips. “You don’t have a clue what I think about you. Frankly, neither do I, because I spend a lot of time trying to avoid thinking about you, but when I do allow myself a few thoughts, I can guarantee that none of them have to do with disrespect.”
They stared at each other for five full seconds. She swallowed and struggled to keep breathing, to keep from leaning closer to him.
“So tell me, Princess, what happened to you?”
She shook her head. She hesitated. Finally, she just waded in. “I grew up much the way I am now. Always expecting the best, not stopping to think that anything bad could happen to me, rushing in to do whatever I wanted to do. And…I think a part of me really believed in the princess fairy-tale story. I was a romantic. Even though I knew my parents were brokering a marriage for me with another suitable royal, a part of me believed that that was unimportant. Irrelevant. That it could be ignored or prevented. Love was possible.”
“I see you’re talking in the past tense. What changed your mind?”
She flung out one hand. “I was seventeen. Some other royals were visiting, and one of them was an eighteen-year-old boy. We flirted, we swam, we danced, eventually we kissed. I fell hard. Head over heels, as they say. I was ecstatic, transformed. Now my life would change. I imagined that we would talk on the phone, write, visit. We’d convince our parents of the need to tear up my marriage contract and his. But the night before he left, he tried to…do more than I was ready for, and I told him that I wanted to wait until we knew each other better.”
The Cowboy and the Princess Page 11