Lone Wolf's Lady

by Beverly Barton

  Every nerve in Deanna’s body screamed as Kizzie and Tyler walked away. She wanted to beg Kizzie to believe that she had never intentionally hurt Luke, that she, too, had paid a high price for her immature and selfish behavior.

  The moment the McClendons were out of earshot, Phyllis grabbed her daughter’s arm.

  “You are not going over to Montrose tonight to see Luke McClendon,” Phyllis’s words hissed out from between tightly clenched teeth.

  “Yes, Mother, I am.” Deanna jerked away from Phyllis. “Luke has a right to know that I’m having memory flashes about the night Daddy was killed. If my memory returns completely, then we can clear Luke’s name and discover the identity of Daddy’s real murderer.”

  “But Luke is the real murderer.” Phyllis balled her ringadorned fingers into her palms.

  “No, Mother, he isn’t. Even though I don’t remember what regally happened, I know in my very soul that Luke didn’t kill Daddy.”

  Deanna turned and walked away, leaving her mother speechless. But Phyllis quickly caught up with Deanna just as she entered the house through the French doors.

  “Don’t do this,” Phyllis said. “Don’t dredge up all those horrible memories. Don’t put me through all that agony. Not again.”

  “Agony, mother? If you want to talk about agony, let’s discuss what agony it must have been for Luke those five years he spent in prison. Or perhaps you want to have a mother-daughter chat about my years at Millones. Would you like me to tell all your friends that I spent over four years locked away in a private sanitarium for people with mental problems?”

  “Go ahead then. Go see Luke McClendon. But I warn you. The man hates you as much as he hates the rest of us. To him, you’re nothing more than an Atchley. Don’t forget that you testified against him and helped put him in prison.”

  “No, Mother, I haven’t forgotten what I did or why I did it.” Deanna squared her shoulders and met her mother’s determined glare head-on. “You can’t intimidate me any longer. I’m not afraid of you or what you can do to me. You played your trump card fifteen years ago.”

  Fleeing from her mother, Deanna raced out of the den and up the back stairs to her bedroom. She picked up her purse off the dressing table, pulled out her key chain and hurried back downstairs. If Luke McClendon wouldn’t come to her, she would go to him. And somehow, she’d find a way to make him listen to what she had to say.

  Deanna sat inside her car looking at the weathered limestone McClendon ranch house, with its huge arched openings leading to the front porch. Sprawled out to encompass over six thousand square feet, the entire house was encircled by a rock patio, with niches cut out for shrubbery, small trees and springtime flowers. Creamy light shone from most of the front windows, like beacons to guide lost souls to safety. There was a warmth, a welcoming feel about this old structure that had been added on to over the years since it had been built by Luke’s great-grandfather, in the early part of the century. Despite the complexity of the McClendon household’s individual relationships, Deanna had always thought they held the secret to what a real family should be. When Kizzie and Baxter had married, each had brought a son into the relationship and then together they’d had Tess. And ten years later, Luke had shown up on their doorstep. But instead of destroying the McClendon marriage and family, Luke’s appearance had seemed to strengthen it.

  To this day, Deanna admired Luke’s stepmother, a woman who had opened her home and her heart to her husband’s illegitimate son. But Luke never had allowed himself to fully accept the love his new family offered. He hadn’t actually told her that he didn’t feel worthy of being a McClendon, but Deanna had suspected the truth. Only after they had fallen madly in love had Luke seemed to begin believing he had a right to his place at Montrose, his place in the world and most of all, his place in her life.

  Had she destroyed that budding belief in his self-worth, just as she had destroyed the rest of Luke’s life? He had trusted her, put his faith in her, counted on her love and loyalty. And she had betrayed him. She had taken her family’s side against him.

  Gathering all the courage she possessed, Deanna opened the car door and stepped outside, her knees weak and her hands moist with perspiration. She could do this. She had to; she had no other choice. Only Luke could help her unearth the mysteries of the past—the secrets buried deep within her subconscious mind.

  Hurrying, out of fear that she might turn and run, Deanna rushed through the archway and up to the double front doors. Lifting her hand to grasp the heavy pewter knocker, she sucked in a deep, calming breath.

  Then the sound of booted footsteps approaching made her heart flutter madly. She wiped her moist palms along her hips and upper thighs, then braced herself for whatever happened.

  The left front door swung open. Deanna gasped. Luke McClendon stood just inside the doorway. Tall, rugged, his big shoulders almost touching the door frames on each side, he stared at her. He was more handsome than he’d been as a boy of twenty. Bigger, broader, more muscular. He still had the same ink-black hair, the same hypnotic green eyes, the same strong, chiseled features, but there was a hardness to his face, a wariness in his eyes that had intensified since the last time she remembered seeing him.

  The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Her nerves zinged like exposed electrical wires touching. And her femininity came to life, awakening from a long, celibate sleep. Dear God, nothing had changed. After all this time, the very sight of him still stirred to life every feminine longing within her. It had always been that way, since the first moment she’d set eyes on Luke. She’d been sixteen and he hadn’t paid much attention to her. But she’d known then that he was destined to be her first lover.

  “I’d heard you were back.” His deep voice held an edge of contempt that he didn’t try to disguise. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “When you didn’t come to the barbecue, I knew the only way I’d get to see you was to come here to Montrose.” She stared him directly in the eye, not allowing his hard, angry glare to intimidate her.

  She wanted to reach out and touch him, run her fingers over his deeply tanned face, caress the bulge of muscles straining beneath his cotton work shirt. The longing for this one man—the longing she’d been unable to deny when she was seventeen—was as strong as ever.

  “Did you honestly think I’d show up at an Atchley barbecue?” Luke glowered at her, his body tensed, his jaw clenched. “Especially knowing you’d be there.”

  “No, I suppose I didn’t. But I had hoped...” She flinched when she noticed the way he gripped his hands into tight fists. “You sent Kizzie to find out why I was back in Stone Creek. I thought it best not to send you a message, but to come here and face you.”

  “I’m surprised you had the guts.” His lips twitched in a mockery of a grin. “You were never big in the courage department, were you, Deanna?”

  The sound of her name on his lips, the word dripping with acrid loathing, wounded her deeply. Wounded not only her heart but her soul. Luke McClendon truly hated her. Maybe he had a right to feel the way he did about her, but she couldn’t let his hostility deter her from her mission.

  “And you were never big in the compassion and understanding department!” She had spoken more sharply than she’d intended, but if she knew anything about the past, it was that Luke had not been blameless in the destruction of their lives. He had expected more from her than she’d been able to give him. And he hadn’t even tried to understand that she was only seventeen and scared to stand up to her parents.

  “What was there to understand?”

  Luke started to close the door in her face, but she moved quickly, inserting herself in the narrow opening of the partially open door. “I didn’t come back to Stone Creek for a friendly family visit. I came home because...” She hesitated momentarily, waiting—hoping—Luke’s expression would soften just a fraction. But it didn’t. “I came home because I’ve been having dreams and flashbacks about the night Daddy died.”

&n
bsp; “You’re still sticking to your story that you can’t remember what happened that night?” With his big hand gripping the edge of the door, Luke snorted.

  “I have very little memory of anything that happened after...” She lowered her head, unable to look directly at Luke. “After you picked up the pitchfork that night. I don’t even remember much about the trial or—”

  “You don’t remember the trial?” he asked, disbelief plain on his face. “Do you expect me to believe you?”

  “Believe me or not,” she said. “It’s the truth. I did not see who killed my father. I remember only bits and pieces of the trial, only bits and pieces of what happened before the trial and afterward. I know that I testified against you. Mother told me some of what happened and later I—I talked to Mr. Lamar and he told me everything.”

  After her release from Millones, she had called the former district attorney and asked him to share as much information as he could about the trial, about her part in it and about Luke’s sentencing. For four years after the trial, she had forced any thought of Luke or her family from her mind, but in the last year she was at the sanitarium, she’d had a breakthrough that enabled her to begin the healing process, and when she left Millones, she began to rebuild her life, but only after she learned as much of the truth as others knew. Once she found out Luke was in prison, that he’d been convicted of manslaughter and that her testimony had helped put him there, she’d known she couldn’t return to Stone Creek. There had been no hope of renewing her relationship with the one man she loved.

  “I’ve come back to try to discover the truth about that night.” Lifting her hand, she let it hover over his where it held the door. “I want to remember. I want to remember everything. I’ve come home to find out who really killed my father and I want your help.”

  Luke gripped the door with white-knuckled strength, wanting to shove Deanna Atchley outside—out of his sight. He didn’t want to see her, didn’t want to listen to her voice. But at the same time, another part of him wanted to grab her, pull her into his arms and devour her with the raging passion ripping him apart inside.

  From the minute Kizzie had told him Deanna was back in Stone Creek, he’d known this moment was inevitable. When he’d heard the knock at the door a few minutes ago, he had known it was her.

  He hated this woman—this incredibly beautiful woman, whose blue eyes were boring into his soul, pleading with him to believe her. And yet on some level, he still cared about her, still wanted her, still needed her. God forgive him, after all these years, he was still vulnerable to the way Deanna made him feel. She had possessed a power over him no one else ever had. But he was no longer some outcast kid who didn’t belong. A boy not good enough for Rayburn Atchley’s precious little girl. He was a McClendon. Hell, he was the McClendon. Montrose was his in a way it never could belong to Grant or Tyler or Tess. Unlike Baxter’s other children, Luke had the land and the ranching business in his blood, the way it had been in his father’s and grandfather’s.

  Who are you kidding? he asked himself. You may be a powerful man in these parts, and you may not be the insecure boy you were back then, but you’re still Baxter’s quarter-breed bastard. Nothing can ever change that fact.

  But he could control his feelings for Deanna. He was a man who had learned to protect himself from every outside influence. When he’d been released from prison ten years ago, he had promised himself that no one would ever hurt him again. He certainly wasn’t going to let the woman who had betrayed him come back into his life and rip out his guts a second time. No matter how much his body longed for hers, no matter how strong the desire, he wouldn’t allow Deanna the upper hand. Whatever happened now, he would be the one in charge.

  He glared at her hand hovering over his. He realized she wanted to touch him. The thought sent shock waves through his tense body. It had always been that way between them. Heat so intense that it nearly burned them alive whenever they touched. After fifteen years, there shouldn’t be any fire left, only cold ashes. But there it was as blazing hot as ever. The passion neither of them had been able to resist. The need that drove them both beyond reason.

  “What makes you think I’d help you?” he asked, his gaze riveted to her hand, only inches above his.

  “Because I know you didn’t kill Daddy. I’ve always known it. In my heart. And now, maybe I can help you, the way I wasn’t able to help you before. If only I can remember...” She laid her hand on top of his and for one brief moment, the electrical charge zipped through her body, robbing her of her breath.

  Luke’s jade eyes darkened to a black forest green. He jerked his hand away, unable to bear her touch. “What good will it do if you remember anything? You can’t change what happened. Your father’s dead. And I gave five years of my life for a crime I didn’t commit Babe, you’re fifteen years too late.”

  Deanna felt as if he’d slapped her. But she didn’t blame him for the way he felt. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was too late. But was it ever too late for the truth?

  “Look, I’m here to stay until I find out what really happened that night,” Deanna told him. “I haven’t had nightmares about Daddy’s death since—” she had been about to say since she’d left Millones, but she wasn’t ready to tell Luke about her five years behind bars “—in years. But they’ve come back and they are more vivid than ever before. And I’m experiencing memory flashbacks about that night and about the trial and...I realize that knowing the truth won’t change the past, won’t give you back the years you lost in prison, but this is something I have to do. Please, Luke, will you help me?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “If you could remember what happened, who killed your father, then you could clear my name. My family’s name.”

  “I’m sorry.” Deanna’s voice was a mere whisper. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to help you when you needed me the most.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. Sorry you weren’t able to help me. I knew you couldn’t possibly love me. I told myself I was living a lie to think I was worthy of a girl like you, but you almost convinced me that what we had was real.”

  “It was real!”

  “No, babe, it was nothing but flash and no substance.” Luke took a step toward her and grinned wickedly when she instinctively backed away from him. “When it came to the point of no return, you didn’t have the guts to stand with me against your family. All that love you professed for me was just lust. You wanted to walk on the wild side with a real bad boy. All you ever wanted from me was this!”

  He shoved her up against the front door, swinging it and her against the wall. She gasped when he pressed his aroused body into her and blatantly ground his sex intimately against her. He grabbed the back of her head. She struggled, but soon discovered how truly weak she was compared to his superior strength. She ceased fighting him and boldly gazed into his eyes.

  “Isn’t this why you really came here tonight?” he asked. “You want to hop in the sack for old times’ sake?”

  “Don’t do this, Luke. Please.” Oh, sweet mercy, how her body yearned for his. But she didn’t want him this way. Not filled with anger and hatred. Once, long ago, he had taken her with love and passion. His wildness tempered with gentleness. Once he had loved her as she had loved him. But now he hated her. And she was afraid of him. Of the power he possessed to break her heart.

  Luke leaned over as if he were going to kiss her, his lips almost touching hers. “If you’re lying to me this time, I’ll make you sorry you ever knew my name.” Spearing his fingers through her hair, he jerked back her head. “Do you understand? If I agree to help you and then find out you’re not being honest with me, I’ll—”

  “I promise that I’m not lying. All I want is to find out the truth about the night Daddy was killed.”

  He released her with the same abruptness with which he’d manhandled her. “Go home. Leave me alone. I need to think.”

  “Then you’ll consider helping me?”

  “I said I need
to think about it. Come back tomorrow and I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you, Luke.”

  “Don’t thank me, babe. I’m not the boy you remember, the boy who would have walked over live coals for you. I’m a man without a heart and without much of a conscience. Five years in Huntsville will do that to a man. Spending time with me won’t be any fun for you, I promise you that.”

  “I—I’ll come back tomorrow and we can talk.” She backed away, out onto the rock porch.

  “If your mama finds out you’ve been sniffing around me, she might not let you out of the house tomorrow.” Luke’s broad, mocking smile revealed a row of perfect white teeth.

  “I’m not the same spoiled, scared girl I was Fifteen years ago. My mother doesn’t control me now. No one tells me what I can do and who I can see. I’m my own woman.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Guess we’ll find out.”

  She nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He didn’t reply, just stood in the open doorway, the light from inside the house silhouetting his big body. Deanna backed slowly away from him, then when she reached the patio, she turned and walked away. She had to force herself not to run. When she got in her Mustang, she glanced back at the house. Luke still stood there, big and rugged and powerful, his very presence challenging her. Daring her. Promising her both heaven and hell if she returned to him.

  Chapter 3

  “Deanna, please, darling, don’t do this,” Phyllis nervously wrung her hands. “You can’t change the past. All you can do is cause trouble for everyone involved. If you bring Luke McClendon into your insane search for another killer, there is no telling what will happen.”

  “Insane search, Mother?” Deanna shifted the strap on her navy leather bag so that it rested higher on her shoulder. “Just because I spent nearly five years in a private mental hospital doesn’t mean that everything I do is insane.”