by Karen Ball
“So that makes it okay?” she demanded, doing her best to maintain a stern voice.
“No. Not at all. But I believe you are a merciful woman—”
She rolled her eyes heavenward.
“—and you recognize true contrition when you see it.” He gave her a hangdog look, his eyes wide and sorrowful, his mouth drooped and quivering, and she laughed. She couldn’t help it. He really was appealing when he groveled.
“Okay, okay, you can keep your head,” she conceded, and he bent forward to touch his forehead to her hands. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart felt as though it somersaulted.
“Thank you, milady.”
He rose, and she leaned back in her chair. When their gazes met, the expression in his eyes sent her breathing haywire again.
“I discovered something interesting today.” He sat in the chair next to her. His low voice seemed to vibrate around her.
“Oh?” Not very original, but it was all she could muster at the moment.
He reached out to take her hand. She laced her fingers with his, surprised—and yet not surprised—at how well their hands fit together.
“I don’t like it when I hurt you.”
The gentle words wrapped around her, and sudden tears sprang to her eyes. Father, what’s happening here?
As though aware of her confusion, he released her hand and leaned forward, his gaze coming to rest on the old, leather-bound book that was open on the table in front of her. “May I?”
She leaned forward and handed it to him.
He turned the timeworn pages with great care. “Looks like an antique.”
“My grandfather’s journal. I like to read through it. It’s very soothing. He had a real talent for putting images down on paper. You can almost see his life taking place as you read.”
He scanned the elaborate script, and she could tell by his rapt expression that he was soon engrossed. He settled back in his chair and continued to read.
Amazing how comfortable silence can be with some people. She curled her feet beneath her and hugged herself. Sasha stretched and yawned from her spot on the floor. This felt good.
“Listen to this.” Connor’s voice was filled with emotion. “ ‘I was made furious by this inexplicable change of heart, this sudden affection some now claimed for wolves. How could they care for such killers? Did the fools not care that the vermin destroyed God’s glorious creation? So I thought, with full conviction of the truth of my stand. Then came a day in the woods. A day that haunts me still. I laid my traps with a strategic eye. Surely that day I would capture the killers. And, indeed, I did.
“ ‘As I neared the traps, I saw a gray lump, a furry form lying on the grim, cold earth. Good! I thought. And I hurried forward, anxious to see the end of such evil. I drew near, cautious. Ever I have believed the soul is reflected in the eyes. What better window to peer through to prove I was right? Then and there I determined to look into the monster’s golden stare, thereby to determine for myself that this was evil. And so I knelt. And so I looked. And what I saw chilled me to the core.
“ ‘The creature lived indeed. And there, in those amber depths, I found such emotion! Confusion, pain, and sorrow. The deepest of sorrow. So deep as to break the heart. And I understood, as though pierced through with a lance, that the sorrow was not for himself, but for me, for what I had become. I saw myself, reflected in those fading eyes. And, God help me, it was I who was evil. A killer. Cold-hearted. This majestic animal, this creation of the Almighty’s hand, was not the monster. I was. God help me, I was. But by God’s grace, I will never be so again.’ ”
They sat, silent, absorbing the words, and Taylor’s heart all but melted when she saw tears reflected in Connor’s eyes.
“Wow. Talk about a revelation.”
Taylor nodded, her throat choked with emotion. “From that day on my grandfather did all he could to preserve the wolves.” Hopelessness swept over her. “Not that it did any good. But he tried.” She stood abruptly and went to stare out the window, looking through the darkness toward Reunion.
Were her wolves safe? Was there a pack? Were they healthy? Would they suffer the same fate as the wolves her grandfather tried to save?
She heard Connor move, felt him come to stand beside her. “That’s all any of us can do, Taylor. Try.” He slid a comforting arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him.
They stood in silence—until Taylor felt a shiver travel down her spine. There it was again! That sense of being watched.
“Cold?” Connor asked, but she shook her head and looked at him.
“Have you ever felt as though someone was … out there?”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “Out there?”
“You know.” She turned from his slightly confused expression to look toward the dark window again. “Watching.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s the oddest thing, but ever since Josh’s death, I have times when I get the distinct feeling there’s someone, just beyond my line of vision, watching me.” Good heavens. She sounded positively paranoid! “Who knows, maybe I’ve got a second shadow.”
Thankfully, Connor didn’t make a joke. His eyes were serious as he looked down at her. “Does it frighten you?”
“Sometimes.” She let the admission out hesitantly. “It’s unsettling, I guess. If I knew who it was—”
“Assuming there’s really anyone there.”
She inclined her head. “Okay, assuming it’s something more than my too-active imagination, it would be nice to know it’s a friendly shadow.”
He turned to peer out the window. “Seems to me if it weren’t, you would have known by now.”
The thought surprised her—mostly because it rang true. She’d been feeling this way for over a year, and yet nothing—and no one—had ever threatened her. She bit her lip. “I hadn’t considered that.”
His smile was quick and easy. “Who knows, maybe what you’ve got out there is a guardian angel who’s new at his job and still needs to learn how to be undetectable.”
She laughed, oddly comforted by the idea. “Now that would figure. A rookie guardian angel. Well, why not? I suppose I’d be a good case for an angel to cut his wings on, wouldn’t I?”
“You’d definitely be a challenge.” His eyes twinkled with warm amusement. “But a delightful one.”
She looked down, her face growing warm with confusion. She was surprised—and a bit disturbed—at how good his comment made her feel.
“Well—” he stepped back—“I’d better get some rest. My boss is a regular slave driver. Believes in starting the day at the most unearthly hour.”
She grinned. “Terrible the things a working man has to suffer.”
“Too true. But it’s really not all that bad.”
“Oh?”
He moved toward her again. “Nope.” His gaze roamed her face. “It’s not bad at all.” He reached out a finger to tilt her chin. “Because this particular boss has the most amazing …” He lowered his head, his warm breath fanning her face.
Taylor’s breath caught in her throat, and she was sure her heart had stopped beating. He was going to kiss her. She was sure of it—and an alarming thrill shot through her.
“Cook.” He pressed his lips to her forehead with feather softness. Then he stepped back, walked to the door, and left.
She stood frozen to the spot. Swallowing with difficulty, she glanced around and caught her reflection in the window … hair tousled by the breeze, eyes dazed, a bemused smile on her face—
Shaking herself free from Connor’s spell, she laughed lightly.
I wonder …
She glanced after him. I wonder if guardian angels are tall and broad shouldered and have smiles that can melt your insides?
FOURTEEN
CONNOR GRUNTED AS HE HEFTED A LARGE SACK OF GRAIN from the bed of the truck onto his shoulder.
“Need some help?” The voice came from behind him, and Connor turned to find Luke Narbona sitting in one o
f the rocking chairs on the front porch of Taylor’s house.
“Sure.” Connor hid his surprise with a grin. “I never turn down an extra pair of hands.”
Luke rose slowly, his gaze resting on Connor in a way that made him feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. Of all the people he’d met at Galloway Glen, Luke was the greatest mystery. The older man had kept a close eye on Connor from the day he’d arrived, but Luke seldom spoke. He didn’t even return Connor’s greetings when they encountered one another.
Connor was at a loss as to what he’d done to incur Luke’s dislike. Which made the older man’s offer of help that much more surprising. And interesting.
Connor carried the bag into the barn and dropped it near the feed bin. As he turned, Luke came in with another bag and dropped it next to the one on the ground. As the Navajo straightened, their eyes met and held.
The air was thick with a tension Connor didn’t fully understand. He waited. If Luke had something to say, Connor wanted to give him the chance to say it.
After what seemed like an eternity, Luke said, “Taylor is the closest thing to family that I have.”
Connor knew it was no exaggeration. “I’ve seen that.”
“I won’t stand by and watch anyone hurt her.”
“If she were my friend, I would feel the same way.”
Luke’s dark eyes studied him, and then he nodded brusquely. “We understand each other.”
“I believe we do.” Connor held his breath, wondering what came next.
“Good. Then let’s get to work. That truck won’t unload itself.”
Connor watched Luke as he walked from the barn and back toward the truck. Well, it wasn’t exactly a declaration of friendship, but it was as good a place as any to start.
Later that day Connor was hard at work shoveling out the stalls when he had the sensation he was being watched.
He turned, half-expecting Taylor’s guardian angel to be there, and found himself looking at two boys who were exact replicas of one another, from their strawberry blond hair and bright blue eyes to the smattering of freckles dancing across their noses and cheeks. One of the two stepped forward, gazing up at him with large, solemn eyes. Connor guessed him to be about ten.
“Hi.” Connor smiled.
The boy returned his smile. “Hi. Are you the crazy loon Dad says has come to work with Aunt Taylor?”
“He doesn’t look crazy,” the second boy said, and his twin shot him a disdainful look.
“Well, course not. You can’t tell someone’s crazy just by looking at them.” He turned back to Connor, studying his face. “Least, I don’t think you can.”
“Did your father happen to mention exactly why he thought I was crazy?”
The boy nodded vigorously. “Uh-huh. He said anyone—”
“Any man,” his twin corrected, stepping up beside his brother.
The more talkative twin glared at him. “Don’t innerupt, Mikey. You know it’s not p’lite.”
Connor had to look away to hide his amusement. The boy’s haughty expression and tone were perfect imitations of Donelle Camus, who, Connor was willing to bet, was this dynamo’s grandmother.
“Anyway,” the boy said, turning back to Connor, “Dad said any man who was willing to spend every day, day in and day out, being bossed around by Aunt Taylor had to be crazy as a loon.”
“An’ if he wasn’t, he soon would be!” Mikey piped up.
Connor bent over and whispered conspiratorially, “If I tell you a secret, can you keep it?”
Two blond heads inclined toward him; two pairs of blue eyes widened in anticipation. “Sure!” they chorused.
He looked left, then right, then whispered, “It’s not that bad.”
They looked at him, searching his face as though to determine if he was being honest, then Mikey crowed. “I told you so, Mark. I told you Aunt Taylor would be fun to work for.”
“Well!” Connor looked at the gleeful imp. “I don’t know that I’d go that far!”
“So you want some help?” Mark peered at him.
Connor raised an eyebrow and nodded toward the stalls. “You’d be willing to help with this?”
“Sure, we do it all the time.” Mikey pulled a shovel from the wall hanger. Mark followed suit.
“Right. Dad keeps tellin’ us it will help prepare us for what we have to face when we’re adults.”
Connor’s lips twitched again, but the boy’s words were so serious and sincere, he kept as straight a face as he could. “I’d say you’ve got a pretty smart dad.” He joined the boys who were already tackling adjacent stalls.
By the end of the afternoon, Connor had two devoted followers. The twins trailed after him from job to job, always willing to lend a hand, always wanting to talk about their Aunt Taylor.
Connor enjoyed listening to them, not only because they were entertaining, but because he learned more about Taylor in that one afternoon than he had the entire two weeks he’d been at Galloway Glen. As they followed Connor to the ranch house in response to the supper bell, the twins finally ran out of revelations about their aunt, so they launched into an animated recounting of the wilderness trip they’d just taken with their father and grandfather.
Connor was still listening and laughing as they entered the kitchen.
“Okay, you two, give the man a break,” said a tall cowboy seated at the table.
Connor studied him. “Let me guess, the Marlboro man, right?”
The man’s laugh was deep and carefree. “Only if I want to receive a sound dressing down from my mother.” He cast an affectionate glance at Donelle, who sat across the table from him, then stood and extended his hand to Connor for a firm handshake. “I’m Ryan Camus. And I take it you’re our new ranch hand, come to take on all the work we don’t want to do.”
“Something like that.”
Seated next to Donelle, his arm draped across the back of her chair, was an older version of Ryan. He, too, stood and offered his hand to Connor.
“Hey, Grandpa!” Mark chirped, going to perch on the kitchen counter. “This is Mr. Alexander. He’s not crazy at all.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Mikey tossed his father a superior look. “He’s as normal as you are.”
“Poor man,” Taylor’s father muttered, then introduced himself. “Holden Camus, Mr. Alexander. Welcome to Galloway Glen.”
“Thanks. It’s been a pleasure so far.”
“Uh-huh, right.” Ryan’s expression was knowing. “I can’t think of anything more pleasurable than being bossed around by Taylor—”
“As though anyone would believe you could think,” came the teasing retort from behind him, and Connor glanced up to see Taylor sauntering into the room. He stared at her, taking in the picture she made, and suddenly he was having trouble breathing. She was surrounded by her family, and happiness glowed in her eyes, giving her a radiance that seemed to shimmer around her. Her high, exotic cheekbones were tinged with pink, and her easy laughter rippled through the air. Connor found his gaze drawn to her lips, which were relaxed and smiling. She was stunning. Gorgeous.
What I wouldn’t give to have a woman look like that because of me, especially one particular woman … with emerald eyes and auburn hair …
“Are you okay, Mr. Alexander? You look like you swallowed a bug.”
A moment of silence followed this concerned proclamation from Mark, then the room exploded with laughter. Connor’s amusement shifted to something far more provocative when his eyes met Taylor’s.
A spark flew between them—a surge of awareness—and the pink on her cheeks deepened to a dusty rose. She looked away and went to hug her father, while Connor moved to take a chair before his suddenly weak knees gave way. He was grateful for the distraction when Donelle got up and began setting food on the table.
The meals with Taylor and her mother had always been enjoyable, calm affairs. Not so this particular dinner. Things started out calmly enough, with everyone holding hands and Taylor’s father offering
the blessing, but the moment the amen was over, everyone launched into animated discussion. In moments Connor saw that every member of the Camus family was blessed with a quick wit and a clever tongue. Yet underlying the teasing and jesting was a warm, deep affection. These people truly loved and respected each other.
Connor found himself struggling with a lump in his throat. His childhood had been fairly typical: hardworking parents who spent whatever time they could with their only child. But what he saw around this dinner table was something remarkable, something rare. And he was grateful he was getting to share in it.
I wonder how welcome you’d be if they knew what you were really up to? The thought struck him, dimming his enjoyment of the nonstop chatter around him. The food, which had tasted so good only a second before, now tasted like sawdust. He took a long swallow of water, then set down his fork.
“Well,” he said with forced cheerfulness, “time for this working boy to get some shut-eye.”
They tried to coax him to stay longer, but he refused as politely as possible and made his way out the door.
I hate this, Father. He walked toward his cabin. I hate deceiving such good people.
“Connor?”
He paused, then turned. Taylor had followed him out. She walked up to him now, concern in her green eyes.
“Are you okay? You seemed … well, you just left so suddenly.” A slight blush tinged her cheeks, and she shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t want to pry. I was just … uh, well …” She shook her head impatiently. “Oh, never mind.”
Before she could spin and hurry away, he put out his hand and caught her arm with gentle fingers. She stopped, and those beautiful eyes came to rest on his face again.
“Thanks.” His heart was pounding a rapid beat in his chest. “I’m fine. I just need some time alone.”
Her expression softened with understanding. “They can be a bit much, I suppose.”
“Not at all. I think your family is amazing. I haven’t enjoyed a meal that much in ages.”
Her smile was quick and alive with affection—and it warmed him from head to toe. “They are pretty wonderful, aren’t they?”