Archer's Angels

by Tina Leonard

  “Is Robert still…”

  “Gone? Yes. It’s just Lucy and me.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Large, strangely enough.” She smiled a little. “I suppose it’s normal with three. The doctor says everything is progressing and that it’s natural to be tired.”

  “I wish you had told me that you needed help, Clove,” Archer said.

  “Archer, I wanted many things from you, but help was not one of them. Penmire Farms may not seem like much to you, but it means everything to us.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Archer looked at her. After a moment, Clove took his hand. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she finally said. “Welcome to Australia.”

  Slowly, he pulled his hand away from hers. She lowered her gaze, recognizing distance.

  “Thank you,” he said simply. “I made a reservation at a hotel in the city.”

  “That’s thirty minutes away, at least,” she said, surprised. “Why don’t you stay here?”

  “With two unattached women? It doesn’t seem appropriate.”

  “No one cares here, Archer. We’re too far out in the country.”

  “I care.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You didn’t at your ranch.”

  He looked at her, and then she realized what he was trying to say. He’d still been romancing her when they were at the bungalow in Malfunction Junction.

  Now romance was not on his mind. She blushed, her feelings hurt in some way she couldn’t define. “Can I offer you some food? Something to drink? I’m sure you’d like something after your flight.”

  “I’d like something cold if you have it. But I’m not particular. Whatever’s easy.”

  She brought him a beer, and he took it gratefully. “Thanks.”

  Awkwardly, she moved to the patio. “Join me outside. It’s nice out here.”

  He got up, following her outside. Sitting, she watched him look over the pasture that served as their backyard.

  “So, how long has it been this way?”

  “Since our parents died. We try, we really do, Archer. Lucy and I should probably give up, but the farm is ours. It just seems that the more we do, the farther we slide back.”

  “I can appreciate that feeling. It’s ranch life.” Still, he gazed out at the paddock, and she could feel him measuring the work, the money, the effort it would take to get the place in decent shape.

  “You’re always a surprise,” he said finally.

  “How is Tonk, by the way?”

  He grimaced. “Still keeping me off guard, too. I’m trying to teach her cutting, and seventy-five percent of the time she does everything perfectly. Exactly the way she should. The other twenty-five percent of the time, she’s got a mind of her own. We differ on approach, and she’s stubborn.”

  “You’ll eventually wear her out of that last twenty-five percent. She knows who’s boss. Not that she likes it.”

  “It’s a very slow process.”

  Clove smiled. “See that Hanoverian out there? Fifteen-point-three hands. I got her when she was just a spindly, argumentative lass. With some love and lots of attention, and teeth grinding on my part, we worked out a training schedule. Go try her out.”

  “Right now?”

  “Sure. Jumper saddle’s in the barn. You can try the cross-pole oxer if you’re in the mood. If not, the cavaletti will give you a warm-up. Her name’s Encino.”

  “It’ll be good to use the muscles I’ve been sitting on for twenty-four hours,” he said. “I know one thing—if I’d known a flight could last so long, I would never have let you return here.”

  She watched him walk toward the barn. If he didn’t want her flying pregnant, then he wasn’t expecting to try to talk her into going back to Texas. Her heart folded up like weary bird’s wings. Not that it was unexpected. She supposed they’d made their peace with what could, and could not, be between them.

  And yet, something inside her must have wistfully been hoping for the magic they’d once felt to steal back over them. The lovemaking had been fun and hot and exciting—they’d been very interested in each other then.

  She went inside to brush her hair. The mirror gave away the toll her pregnancy was taking on her. She didn’t want to tell Archer that the doctor had said she’d probably be completely bedridden within a month.

  If she told him, he’d be obliged to stay. She spritzed on some light perfume and used concealer on the dark circles under her eyes.

  “Why am I doing this?” she asked her reflection.

  Because you liked him from the moment he first touched you. Maybe the moment you watched him ride his spotted Appaloosa into the barn. And you fell for him when he made love to you.

  “And I’ve been kidding myself that my heart is not going to be very, very broken,” she whispered. With a sigh, she put away her things and went back out to stand on the patio.

  Archer had Encino saddled and was now walking her in a large circle to warm her up. In a few moments, he let her slowly navigate the cavelletis. She enjoyed watching him work the horse. One thing he would find, she thought proudly, was that her horse training was perfect. The saddle she used was kept repaired and clean, as was Encino’s stall. The horses were cared for like babies, and she was proud of how well she trained them.

  A few minutes later, he was soaring over the cross-pole oxer, with Encino showing her best jumps. Archer moved well, and Encino made it look like magic, landing on the ground lightly, almost prancing with the joy of being exercised again since Clove could not do it.

  After another jump, he rode up to the patio. “Nice,” he said. “You trained her?”

  She nodded.

  He patted the horse’s neck. “I could never get Tonk to do all that.”

  “Encino’s sweet. Perfectly mannered, a technical learner. But you haven’t had Tonk long enough to work out all the kinks. Be patient. Give her time.”

  His eyes lit on Clove suddenly, his gaze dark with intensity. “I am,” he said, “but she’s enough to try a saint.”

  Clove lowered her gaze, knowing that he was talking about her.

  “I’m going to jump Encino once or twice more because she seems eager. Then I’ll give her a hose-down in the shower I saw in the barn.”

  “Thank you.” Clove turned away, heading inside and shutting the patio door behind her. Her heart pounded and her blood felt on fire. That look made her so hopeful.

  Maybe, in spite of everything, he did care about her.

  Then again, he hadn’t replied with much interest to her attempt to tell him by e-mail how much she’d enjoyed making love with him. He was here, but maybe he’d come here for his children.

  For a girl who’d learned that life had tough lessons, it was very hard to hang on to the fairy tale.

  It was time to find out.

  WHEN ARCHER WALKED BACK inside, Clove simply said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He looked at her. “Thank you.”

  “So you like my horse.”

  “She’s a good jumper. I presume you show her.”

  “When I have time. We don’t do a lot. I get offers on her when I do, but I’m not selling her. I’m sure you’re wondering why, considering the shape our farm is in.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Once you’ve put time and effort into a horse, you weigh the options of starting over versus keeping what you’ve got.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’d like to talk to you about the option of starting over or keeping what we’ve got.”

  He sat down across from her, his fingers drumming on the lace tablecloth of the small patio furniture. “I’m listening.”

  “I figure,” she said slowly, “that we’re at either an impasse or a crossroads.”

  “Probably.”

  “I’d like to call it a crossroads and pull out a new map.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m wondering if we should choose the option of starting over.”

  He pushed his hat back. “
And what’s wrong with keeping what we’ve got?”

  Her stomach tucked a little. He didn’t seem open to changing their current unstable relationship. Or arrangement. What was it, anyway? “Well, as far as I can see, there’s nothing essentially wrong with what we’ve got, but I think it could be better if we start over. That is, go back to the beginning.”

  “When we were only writing each other? That doesn’t work very well for me.”

  “No, I meant, back to the beginning when we…when, you know, we had our encounter.”

  He blinked. “Sexually speaking?”

  She forced herself to look into his eyes and say, “Yes. Only this time, I won’t kick you.”

  “Thank heaven for small favors.”

  Was he laughing at her? Clove felt she’d met him halfway, and maybe he should do a little more than be the stony, questioning rock across the table—if he was interested in their…whatever it was.

  “So, are you asking me to make love to you?”

  “I’m asking, actually I’m suggesting, that we go back to what we liked about each other, before everything else got us confused.”

  His gaze narrowed on her. “Your theory is that our best communication is in bed.”

  “Or a truck. I liked that, actually. It was all very romantic when we were under the stars, before everything got so complicated.”

  “So we’re going to turn the clock back, start over, and rediscover who we might have been together.”

  “I…it’s crossed my mind.”

  He nodded. “I see.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment, and Clove thought the silence was the loudest scream she’d ever heard. Or maybe that was her blood pounding in her ears.

  “No,” Archer said.

  She felt herself go light-headed. “No?”

  “It doesn’t make sense. You’ll hop out of bed after we’re through and say, ‘Oh, that didn’t fix it after all. It’s just going to be me and my sister and my babies, toughing it out like Scarlett O’Hara.’ Well, I didn’t come all the way over to try to communicate with you that way. We need to talk, is what I think. And I think we need to talk about how we’re going to take care of these babies.”

  There was nothing for her to say to that. Lowering her eyelids, she waited for him to speak.

  When she felt his finger take her chin up, she made herself look at him.

  “Okay,” he said softly. “I hurt your feelings and that’s the last thing I meant to do. Maybe I’m not listening.”

  She pulled away from his finger, but kept her gaze on him. “Do you remember when I told you that, due to Tonk’s posture, I could tell she didn’t like you? That she didn’t like the fact that you were trying to boss her?”

  “Yes.” He sat back in his chair.

  “That may be your nature,” she said carefully. “In trying to order the chaos in your life, you try to rule it. Only, it doesn’t really work that well with horses. Or with women.”

  “So you’re saying I’m bossing and not listening.”

  “It would be better if we had a fresh start, rather than trying to work around our fears. You’ve met my family and seen my home. I’ve met your family and seen your home. We know a lot about each other’s worlds. We’re at a point where we ought to be able to go forward, together. Listening to each other.”

  “I think I like it,” he said. “And I am listening.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Now let me be sure I have this right. As part of our new listening exercise, you want me to take you back into that bedroom and make love to you.”

  “Our ears would probably be more receptive to messages from each other after that.”

  “No kidding,” he said. “I have never heard of sex as a hearing aid, but I am a man. I can be open to new ideas. I’m not afraid of alternative methods.”

  This felt better. They were returning to the easy banter they’d shared in the beginning. Clove felt herself relaxing.

  “But I can’t do it,” Archer said. “And I’m not just being stubborn.”

  She tensed again. “Then why not?”

  “Because…I’m skeptical. Afraid, even, to use a word I don’t use often.”

  “Afraid? Of what? I thought we covered all that.”

  “I am afraid,” he said pointedly, “of hurting you.”

  “Because of the babies?”

  “Precisely.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So while your theory of intimacy as an emotional navigational device appeals to my, um, baser instincts, my intelligence tells me that it’s a bad idea.”

  “You can’t hurt me,” she said, “unless we did something on the kinky side and that’s unlikely today. You’ve been flying for many hours, and I know you’re worn-out—”

  “I’m not that worn-out,” he said. “Do you have your doctor’s permission to be intimate? Because it’s not an option unless I know the doctor thinks it’s fine. And even then, I’d probably worry that the doctor was a quack, or that he wasn’t familiar with triplet cases, or—”

  “I talked to Dr. Fern, your favorite doctor,” Clove interrupted. “She called here to check on me.”

  He sighed. “Ever thorough is our Dr. Edna Fern. Still a hideous name, though.” He perked up. “Why were you discussing sex with Dr. Fern?”

  She laughed at his glower. “In case the topic came up.”

  “And when would it come up, with me in the States and you here?”

  “You see, if we spent more time communicating and being intimate, you wouldn’t ask such silly questions,” Clove told him. “Dr. Fern told me you were flying over.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes, she did. She didn’t know the time, and I thought you’d be here tonight, so you arrived too early for me to have the wonderful cake baked I’d planned. See the mix on the drainboard?”

  He glanced away for a second to eye the laid-out utensils and cake preparations with some regret. “Who told her?”

  “Last. He was calling to check on something for Valentine. Or maybe it was Mimi. Anyway, that’s how fast the news travels.”

  “This feels very much like a setup.”

  She smiled. “Conspiracy theory?”

  “I’m not sure who would be conspiring with whom.”

  “Anyway, Dr. Fern said you probably have about a month to think it over. That coincides with what my OBGYN here says, too.”

  “What happens in a month?”

  “I’ll probably go to bed for the duration.”

  “Bed!”

  She laughed at his expression. “Doesn’t sound like much fun, but it is a fact. I’m supposed to keep these babies in here as long as possible for optimum health.”

  “Then we ought not jolt them about,” Archer said.

  “I believe you are afraid, and that’s just not romantic. I’ve heard about father fear before. Do you know that men sometimes are afraid the baby will grab their—”

  He jumped to his feet. “Clove, I am a rancher and a cowboy, but there’s only so much information I can handle. If we’re going to make love, then let’s break out the…uh, I need to go to the store.”

  “For what?”

  “Chocolates. No champagne for you, obviously. But maybe some body paint and Perrier. Things to romance you with properly, since I really didn’t the first time. Roses. Some shrimp. Aren’t we supposed to throw shrimp on the barbie in this part of the world?”

  “It sounds good to me, but since I can tell you’re anxious, and I’m afraid you’ll disappear from sight if I let you out the door, I’m going to pull a Missy Tunstine here and lay one on you. How about you just come in here,” she said sweetly, “and let me strip off your boxers before you strip a gear? I’ve never seen a man so worried.”

  “I wasn’t like this before,” he said, allowing her to lead him into the bedroom. “I felt in control before.”

  “Even though I’d kicked you?” She closed the door and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “
Well, that was unexpected, but worth it in the end.” He stopped her fingers, kissing them one by one. “Clove, I am afraid I’ll hurt you or the babies.”

  “Well, let’s try out the doctor’s opinion first. If I hurt you, you can just say, ‘Ouch!’ All right?”

  “Okay,” he said as she smoothly removed his shirt. “If you hurt me, I’ll just say ouch—wait a minute! Clove, hang on. This doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

  He sat on the bed, a picture of depression.

  She looked at him. Then she dropped her dress.

  “Well, I was worried, but I believe we can work around it,” he said, springing up off the bed to pull her down on it with him. “Come here, you,” he said. “I am going to kiss you for a month of Sundays.”

  She pulled at him, tugging him closer, and they rolled over in the bed so that she was on top. His hands slid into her panties, then quickly reached to unsnap her bra. She tugged off his jeans, and they went flying.

  “You make me crazy,” he said, kissing her face and her eyelids.

  “You make me crazier,” she said, “and I like it. All those roles of responsibility wear me out. I want you to be the one thing in my life that doesn’t demand me to be anything but sexy.”

  “Sexy as hell,” he said on a growl, tearing off her panties. “If you want the bottom, call it, because I’m all good with you on top and I’m ready for duty.”

  “Shh,” she told him. “Cowboy, it’s my turn to please you.”

  Ever so slowly, she slid onto his erection.

  “Ah, God,” he said, “thank you for this woman.”

  She started to move on him.

  His eyes closed for an instant. “I’m dying, of pleasure I waited too long to have.”

  She moaned, thinking that she’d waited all her life to feel this wonderful. He gently moved her onto her back, and she gazed up at him. “I like your method of communication,” he said. “I like it so well I’m hearing what you’re thinking.”

  That made her giggle, which he took as permission that all was well. He moved faster inside her, and the pressure built inside her to where she could only stare into his eyes. The communication they were sharing no longer had anything to do with words, just feelings.