This man was a stranger,
Letter to Reader
Title Page
Books by Beverly Barton
About the Author
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Copyright
This man was a stranger,
Deanna thought, gazing into his dark green eyes. This wasn’t the Luke she had loved. The wild passionate boy who had been capable of tenderness.
“What happened to you, Luke, to make you so ruthless?”
“I’m not the one who still cares,” Luke replied angrily. “You are. You’re the one hurting, not me.”
His strong hands grasped her, and she trembled, frightened. But then she saw the desire burning in his eyes.
He wanted her as she wanted him. He could deny that she meant anything to him. But he could not hide his body’s reaction to her.
“Oh, Luke,” she whispered, and reached up to touch his face.
Dear Reader,
The kids are on their way back to school, and that means more time for this month’s fabulous Intimate Moments novels. Leading the way is Beverly Barton, with Lone Wolf’s Lady, sporting our WAY OUT WEST flash. This is a steamy story about Luke McClendon’s desire to seduce Deanna Atchley and then abandon her, as be believes she abandoned him years ago. But you know what they say about best-laid plans....
You also won’t want to miss Merline Lovelace’s If a Man Answers. A handsome neighbor, a misdialed phone call...an unlikely path to romance, but you’ll love going along for the ride. Then check out Linda Randall Wisdom’s A Stranger Is Watching, before welcoming Elizabeth August to the line. Girls’ Night Out is also one of our MEN IN BLUE titles, with an irresistible cop as the hero. Our WHOSE CHILD? flash adorns Terese Ramin’s wonderful Mary’s Child. Then finish up the month with Kylie Brant’s Undercover Lover, about best friends becoming something more.
And when you’ve finished, mark your calendar for next month, when we’ll be offering you six more examples of the most exciting romances around—only in Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Yours,
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
BEVERLY BARTON
LONE WOLF’S LADY
Books by Beverly Barton
Silhouette Intimate Moments
This Side of Heaven #453
Paladin’s Woman #515
Lover and Deceiver #557
The Outcast #614
*Defending His Own #670
*Guarding Jeannie #688
*Blackwood’s Woman #707
*Roarke’s Wife #807
*A Man Like Morgan Kane #819
*Gabriel Hawk’s Lady #830
Emily and the Stranger #860
Lone Wolfs Lady #877
*The Protectors
Silhouette Desire
Yankee Lover #580
Lucky in Love #628
Out of Danger #662
Sugar Hill #687
Talk of the Town #711
The Wanderer #766
Cameron #796
The Mother of My Child #831
Nothing But Trouble #881
The Tender Trap #1047
A Child of Her Own #1077
Silhouette Books
36 Hours
Nine Months
BEVERLY BARTON
has been in love with romance since her grandfather gave her an illustrated book of Beauty and the Beast. An avid reader since childhood, she began writing at the age of nine and wrote short stories, poetry, plays and novels through high school and college. After marriage to her own “hero” and the births of her daughter and son, she chose to be a full-time homemaker, aka wife, mother, friend and volunteer.
When she returned to writing, she joined Romance Writers of America and helped found the Heart of Dixie chapter in Alabama. Since the release of her first Silhouette book in 1990, she has won the GRW Maggie Award and the National Readers’ Choice Award, and has been a RITA finalist. Beverly considers writing romance books a real labor of love. Her stories come straight from the heart, and she hopes that all the strong and varied emotions she invests in her books will be felt by everyone who reads them.
To Barbara Harrison, with whom I spent endless hours
on the telephone during the conception stage of this
book. Thanks, my friend, for all your valuable input
And to Molly Bull, whose knowledge of Texans, the Hill
Country and ranching helped me immeasurably in the
writing of this book. You were a godsend for me.
Thanks a million.
Prologue
“The state calls Deanna Atchley to the stand,” the district attorney said.
Every muscle in Luke McClendon’s body tightened. A quiet murmur spread throughout the courtroom as the witness rose from her seat. Luke turned his head a fraction, just enough to catch a glimpse of Deanna as she walked past him. God, she looked like she’d been drugged. Her big sapphire-blue eyes were dazed and lifeless, and she moved as if hundred-pound weights were attached to her ankles.
Woody Bowers, the high-priced, good-old-boy lawyer from Austin, whom Luke’s father had hired to defend him, had told him that Deanna would be the prosecution’s star witness. He hadn’t wanted to believe she’d do it, but here she was swearing an oath to tell the truth, in a soft, slurred voice that didn’t even sound like the girl who had sworn she’d love him forever and “then some.”
The only way she could help the state’s case was if she lied. And even now, after months of having to face the cold hard facts—Deanna had neither cleared him of the crime nor made any effort to see him since the night of her father’s death—Luke held on to the hope that Deanna could never lie about what had happened.
Luke stared intently at her while she answered the district attorney’s routine questions about her relationship to the deceased and her whereabouts on the night of his murder.
“I know this is very difficult for you, Miss Atchley,” District Attorney Lamar said sympathetically. “But we need to know what happened the night of April twenty-eighth. The night your father, Rayburn Atchley, was brutally stabbed to death with a pitchfork.”
Phyllis Atchley, Deanna’s mother, moaned loudly. All heads turned to glance at the grieving widow. A rumble of mixed voices reverberated in the room, and the whispered words “hot-headed bastard” and “good-for-nothing breed” spread like wildfire from one bigoted tongue to another. Internally Luke cringed, but outwardly he showed no sign of having heard the ugly epithets. He’d heard them all his life, before his arrival in Stone Creek when he was Fifteen, before his father had legally recognized him, and for the five years since he’d become a part of the McClendon clan. No one outside his family had accepted him—no one but Deanna.
“Miss Atchley, were you with Luke McClendon the night of April twenty-eighth?” the district attorney asked.
“Yes.” Deanna choked on her reply, then cleared her throat. “Yes, I was with Luke.”
“Your father had forbidden you to ever see Luke McClendon again, had he not?”
“In fact, only eight days before his death, your father had horsewhipped Luke McClendon and warned him to stay away from you, but Luke wouldn’t leave you alone, would he?”
Luke glared at Deanna, his heart stopping for a split second as he waited for her to look at him. But she looked in the opposite direction, toward her mother.
“It wasn’t...I mean, Luke and I...” Deanna rubbed her hands together repeatedly.
“You didn’t invite Luke McClendon to the Circle A that night, did you? He came uninvited, with revenge on his mind, with every intention of confronting your father and taking you away.”
“Objection,” Woody Bowers said in his deep Texas baritone. “The district attorney is leading the witness, your honor.”
“Sustained,” the judge said. “Mr. Lamar, ask your question, and save the rest for your summation.”
“Yes, your honor.” Lamar sauntered leisurely toward the witness stand, stopping only inches away from Deanna. “You didn’t invite Luke McClendon to the Circle A the night of April twenty-eighth, did you?”
“No, I—I didn’t invite him.” Entwining her fingers, Deanna laid her hands in her lap.
“Where were you when Mr. McClendon arrived?”
“I was at the stables. I’d been out for a ride and had just returned.” Clutching the fabric of her linen skirt just above her right knee, Deanna nervously twisted the material.
“Tell us, in your own words, Miss Atchley, what happened when Luke found you at the stables.”
“I told him he shouldn’t be there, that if Daddy caught us, he’d...” Spreading her hands out over her knees, she leaned her head down and stared at her skirt. “Luke asked me to run away with him. But I couldn’t.” She snapped her head up and looked pleadingly at Lamar. “I was afraid—”
“While you were trying to explain to Luke McClendon that you wouldn’t run away with him, your father found the two of you together, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“What happened then?”
“Daddy told Luke...he said he’d warned him that if he ever came near me again, he’d kill him.” Deanna lifted her trembling hands from her knees and held them, palms open, in a pleading gesture, toward the district attorney. “Daddy was so angry. And I—I was scared. Daddy had his whip—the whip he had used...He came toward Luke. I screamed for Luke to run. But he didn’t.”
“What did Luke McClendon do?” Lamar asked.
“He grabbed a pitchfork that was leaning against the stable wall and he...he—” Deanna’s trembling voice lowered to a whisper. “Luke told Daddy that if he tried to use that whip on him again he would—” Tears trickled down Deanna’s pale face. Her chest rose and fell with her labored breaths.
“Miss Atchley, please go on. Tell us what Luke said to your father.”
“Luke said he would—would kill him.”
A powerful uproar erupted in the courtroom. Loud voices demanding justice. Phyllis Atchley’s hysterical scream. Baxter McClendon’s booming voice declaring his son innocent.
Drumming his gavel repeatedly, the judge called for order. Keeping his gaze riveted to Deanna, Luke ignored the unruly clamor around him.
Raising his voice to be heard over the slowly fading rumble of voices, the D.A. said, “And that’s exactly what happened, wasn’t it, Miss Atchley? Luke McClendon stabbed your father with the pitchfork.”
Deanna’s shoulders trembled; her head shook involuntarily. She stared at the district attorney with huge, sad eyes. “I—I don’t know. I can’t remember what happened, after...after Luke pointed the pitchfork at Daddy.”
“I understand, Miss Atchley. Dr. Penson has testified that you’re suffering from a form of temporary amnesia due to the trauma of seeing your father brutally murdered. But what you do remember is of great importance to us.” Lamar turned dramatically toward the jurors and pointed his long, lean index finger at Luke. “The last thing you remember is Luke McClendon, with a pitchfork in his hands, moving toward your father and threatening to kill him, isn’t that right?”
Deanna’s teeth chattered. Her body quivered. She gulped in tiny, shivering breaths. “Luke didn’t...” She glanced at her mother. “Yes, yes, yes! The last thing I saw was Luke holding the pitchfork.” Deanna’s loud moaning sobs echoed throughout the courtroom. She looked at Luke then, her lips parting as a final cry rose from deep within her. “Luke...”
Deanna Atchley slid out of the chair and onto the floor in a dead faint.
Luke McClendon sat ramrod straight, his teeth clenched, his big hands balled into tight fists. He didn’t move while others hovered around Deanna. Luke sat stone-faced and silent as D.A. Lamar lifted Deanna in his arms and carried her from the room.
Baxter McClendon rose from his seat directly behind his son and placed a meaty hand on Woody Bowers’s shoulder. “The girl’s testimony hurt Luke’s case, didn’t it?”
“She was the only witness to the crime,” Woody said. “And her testimony, along with her mother’s and the Circle A foreman’s doesn’t leave much room for doubt. Things don’t look good, Baxter. The best we can hope for is to bargain for a lesser charge.”
“Manslaughter?” Baxter asked.
“With luck, he could be out of prison in five years.”
Luke heard the conversation and knew he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of beating this rap. It didn’t matter that he was innocent, that he’d tossed the pitchfork into the ground at Rayburn Atchley’s feet and then walked away. He had hoped Deanna would leave with him that night, but she’d refused. He didn’t know what had happened after he left, didn’t know who had killed Deanna’s father. But whoever the real murderer was, he or she was going to get off scot-free.
The people of Stone Creek had their killer—Baxter McClendon’s quarter-breed bastard son. The boy who’d been in and out of trouble with the law since he was twelve. The man who had dared to love a girl whose feet he wasn’t fit to kiss. He had reached for the stars, had hoped for the impossible—that he was worthy of being loved. He should have known better.
Deanna Atchley had shown him what he already knew. She had simply reinforced a lesson he’d been taught long ago. He wasn’t worth a damn and he never would be. He didn’t deserve to be loved. Not now. Not ever.
The woman he loved had betrayed him. She had taken her family’s side against him. Now, Luke knew for sure that he didn’t matter, that what happened to him was unimportant. He wasn’t worth saving. The only thing that did matter to him, the only thing that was important to him was the child Deanna Atchley was carrying. His child. The baby she had told him she loved and wanted. What would happen to his child now?
Chapter 1
She was going home. Home to Texas, on the southern edge of the Hill Country, where she’d been born and raised. Home to face the demons from her past—the demons that had recently reappeared in her dreams, forcing her to accept the inevitable. No matter how many years or miles she put between herself and Luke McClendon, she could never be free of the pain and agony of what had happened until she remembered the truth. The truth could set her free, at long last. But what could the truth do for Luke, after all this time? No one could give him back the years he’d lost in prison or the value of an innocent verdict
Facing Luke again, after fifteen years, would be difficult. But she could do it. She had to do it. Her therapist had helped her realize that Luke was the key to remembering her past. She had to face him, accept her guilt and seek his forgiveness. She was no longer a spoiled, pampered teenage girl, dominated by her family, scared to stand up against them. She was a woman now, an independent woman who had fought long and hard to overcome the weaknesses that had almost destroyed her.
A great deal had changed in Texas in fifteen years and yet the closer she got to Stone Creek the more things seemed the same. There was something ageless and eternal about the Hill Country, about these gre
en hills and rolling fields, the clear, clean streams and the bounty of wildflowers.
She wasn’t far from home; only a few miles separated her from the past she dreaded facing. From her mother, with whom she spoke on the telephone only a few times a year. From her brother and sister-in-law. And a twelve-year-old niece she’d never seen. She needed time, just an hour or two, to prepare herself for the moment she thought would never come—seeing her family again.
She had called her mother two days ago, only hours before she left her home in Jackson, but she hadn’t mentioned the reason she was returning to Stone Creek. Her mother had seemed genuinely pleased, in her quiet, reserved way. And Deanna had breathed a sigh of relief that, apparently, she would be received with open arms.
Taking the long way home, she circled the Willow City Loop, exiting off onto a back road that led southward to Luma County. Traffic was sparse, only an occasional vehicle and one tractor blocking her way for several miles. Spring in the Hill Country, even the southernmost edge, was picturesque, a nature painting unequaled by any view in the world. Rolling pastureland and wild canyons. Mesquite growing along the road and in the hills. Bluebonnets covering the land with a purple haze. Other wildflowers of red and white and yellow spreading over the landscape like a multicolored rainbow.
When Deanna entered the iron gates leading up the long road to the main house on the Circle A, her heartbeat accelerated and her palms dampened with sweat. Despite the years of separation, these people were her family. They love me, she told herself. I have nothing to fear from them.
Lone Wolf's Lady Page 1