Gambling. Damn, he thought in disgust. Lyn had nearly been killed, was in danger now because her ex-husband had been too stupid to control his betting. If the man wasn’t already dead…
As he drew closer to Wall, he caught sight of a familiar truck well ahead of him, cresting a rise and disappearing over the other side. He increased his speed even more—
And that’s when he saw the dark-colored sedan right behind the truck.
In the distance behind him, the rising wail of a cop’s siren shattered the air.
Cal cursed vividly. Who knew what Biddle might do if this became a high-speed chase? He had to get Lyn out of the way of harm.
As he closed the gap between his own truck and the two vehicles ahead, the cop car closed in on him. Lyn appeared to be driving at a sedate sixty-something, well under the speed limit. Probably because of his mother, he thought with a touch of humor. She’d repeatedly expressed horrified amazement at the legal speed limit and the laissez-faire attitude South Dakotans took toward wearing seat belts. He hoped to hell both women were wearing them today.
Biddle’s blue sedan was directly behind Lyn, and with a sense of utter fury, Cal could see where bullets had shattered the back window—
What the— Cal ducked and swore as the right side of his windshield shattered. Biddle had shot at him!
With a growl of rage, he floored the truck’s gas again, roaring up behind the slower-moving vehicles. He eased off the gas as he closed the gap, praying that Lyn was unharmed, that she was prepared for the action unfolding in her rearview mirror.
She must have been watching, because she suddenly slammed on the brakes. Biddle reacted instinctively, hitting his brakes while Lyn cut the silver truck hard toward the median. Biddle skidded and tried to follow but the blue sedan wasn’t as heavy as her truck and he nearly rolled it over. Cal caught a glimpse of the man’s frantic face as he tried to turn the wheel and keep hold of a large, steely gray pistol clutched in his right hand. Cal reacted immediately, stomping on his brake pedal, but his wheels locked and he began to skid—
And then his pickup slammed heavily into the side of the sedan, the impact squarely catching the driver’s side door.
Metal screeched and tires screamed across the road’s surface. Cal felt himself slammed forward and back, arms and legs and head banging painfully against truck parts, glass showering him. The seat belt bit into his hipbones so hard it felt like it was tearing him in half, and both doors on the truck flew open.
And then, just as abruptly, all movement stopped.
He didn’t wait to assess his injuries, didn’t wait for anything. His fingers tore at the seat belt buckle and he threw himself out of the crazily listing open door, staggering as his feet hit the asphalt. It was only a few strides to where the front of his truck and Biddle’s car were entwined in a deadly lovers’ embrace of metal. He could see the man, lying unmoving in his seat belt, slumped to the right with his head twisted on his neck at a physically impossible angle.
Abruptly, he stopped. The sight was sickening, even to a man used to doctoring and butchering his own stock. A woman’s voice behind him made him spin as he remembered his wife and his mother. Lyn’s truck had swerved to a hasty stop in the median, and both women were rushing toward him. Quickly, he moved to intercept them before they could see the dead man.
His heart was still pounding, but the red mist of rage that had driven him was fading beneath the horror and shock of the accident.
As he reached the grass, he opened his arms and folded them both to him, feeling a sense of relief so deep that his knees buckled and he slid down onto the grass with both women still in his arms. For a long moment, the trio knelt there, clutching each other.
“He—he was shooting at us!” Cora Lee stuttered indignantly.
Lyn’s face was buried in his throat. “How did you know?” she asked, her lips moving against his skin. He tightened his arm around her, uncaring that the action made his ribs scream with pain; an objective part of him suspected something might be cracked or broken.
“The day we got married,” he managed to say, “he asked you about hiding in the closet. But you’d never told any of us where you were hiding. I didn’t remember it until this morning,” he said, mentally kicking himself.
“He must have been terrified I’d remember everything and blow the whistle on him,” she said.
“Cal, you’re hurt.” His mother’s hands tilted his chin up for a gentle inspection. “You need a doctor.” She rose to her feet. “Paramedics,” she shouted in an authoritative tone at the cop who was by now examining the accident scene. “My son needs medical attention!”
Lyn lifted her head, and they both stared at Cora Lee.
She stared back for a moment, and then her brows arched and she smiled sheepishly. “I’m not totally helpless, you know.”
They all laughed.
Cal gave her a lopsided grin as he caught at her hand. “I’m all right.”
“You most certainly are not.” Cora Lee still had her purse over her shoulder and to his amusement, she whipped out a pristine white handkerchief and began to blot at his head. It wasn’t until he saw the brilliant red stain on the fabric that he realized blood was dripping into his eyes. He put up a hand and explored the wound.
“It’s just a deep scratch, Mama,” he said to reassure her.
His mother’s hand fell away. She pressed the bloody handkerchief to her chest and as he watched, her eyes slowly filled with tears. “You called me Mama,” she whispered.
Lyn’s lips moved in a soundless kiss against his throat as he tugged his mother against him again with his free arm. “I did,” he confirmed.
To his annoyance, they took him to Rapid City Regional Hospital in an ambulance. Lyn and Cora Lee followed. Lyn stayed with him while they examined him, and after his head was patched and his ribs were wrapped, he was released with several hundred instructions and an order to rest for a few days.
When they came into the waiting room, Deck and Silver were waiting with his mother. Anxiety gave way to relief—and tears from the women—at his appearance.
After a moment, Deck drew him aside. “There aren’t going to be any charges filed,” he informed Cal. “The sheriff and some detective came by here while you were being looked over. I’m not sure how they’re going to handle the whole thing but they said something about the guy who died driving recklessly.”
“Fine with me.” He’d considered the possibility that he might stand trial for manslaughter and decided he’d have done exactly the same thing over again, given the situation. Still, he was glad they were going to be understanding.
His truck had been taken to an auto body shop in Rapid, so Lyn drove him home in hers. Deck and Silver took Cora Lee to catch a later flight home, after a final goodbye in which he’d invited her to stay with Lyn and him anytime, and to bring his stepfather along, as well.
He’d refused to take anything for pain, and while the interstate wasn’t too bad, the secondary roads and the lane back to the ranch had him fighting not to groan aloud. Despite his disgust with his own weakness, he didn’t argue when Lyn ordered him to bed for the rest of the day.
“Where will you be?” He caught her hand when she made a move to rise from the edge of the bed where she’d been sitting.
She shrugged. “I have work to do. The stock in the barn needs to be checked and the gelding’s foot should be soaked again. I thawed a chicken this morning for dinner, but if I don’t get it started roasting, it’ll be midnight before we eat. I’ll bring you a tray tonight so you don’t have to come down.”
“Are you all right?” he asked quietly. She hadn’t said a word the whole way home about the man who’d pursued her.
“Yes.” She met his eyes. “I didn’t realize he was behind us until we were almost at Wall. And by then…by then, you were there.”
“He shot at you.” It was almost a snarl.
She nodded and her fingers tightened in his. “I couldn’t believe
it. And the funny thing was, I wasn’t concerned for myself but I was outraged at the thought that he might hurt your mother. I wanted to kill him!” Then she realized what she’d said, and her face grew sober. “I’d be lying if I said I was sorry he’s dead. But I’m sad for him, and for Wayne. They were little kids once, with big dreams just like every other child. Isn’t it weird how life turns out?”
“It is.” He caressed the fine-grained skin beneath his fingers. “If it hadn’t been for them, I might never have met you.”
“That’s true.” Lyn tugged her hand free of his, her eyes looking anywhere but at him. “Well, I really have to get to work, and you should rest for a while.”
And before he could stop her, she was gone.
She didn’t sleep with him again that night, or the next one. He was so stiff and sore he knew he couldn’t pursue her like he wanted to, so he waited, frustrated and increasingly annoyed, as she avoided any topics other than general ranch-related things.
On the third day, he got up at his usual time. He was moving a little slower than normal, due to all the bruises he’d acquired, but a long, hot shower helped loosen his muscles and soothe the aches, and he emerged feeling more like himself than he had since he realized a madman might be chasing his wife.
As he entered the kitchen, Lyn walked toward him with a steaming mug of coffee. “Good morning.” Her smile was warm. “I heard you moving around up there.”
“We have to talk.” Her smile faded as he set the coffee untouched on the counter and took her hand, towing her after him into the living room. He eased himself down on the couch but when she would have seated herself beside him, he tugged her into his lap.
She started to squirm and protest.
“Stay still or you’ll hurt my ribs,” he said, shamelessly using his injuries.
She froze, then moved herself carefully into a rigidly upright position so that she wasn’t leaning against him.
He promptly pulled her off balance so that she slid sideways against him, her head in the crook of his arm.
She looked up at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing? You need—”
“I need my wife.” He stressed the verb. “You’ve been doing your best to keep a distance between us, and I don’t just mean a physical one.” He lifted his free hand and stroked a finger down the soft curve of her cheek. “What’s wrong?”
She closed her eyes. “Nothing. You said you liked the way things between us were comfortable. I’ve been trying to keep them that way.”
“Lyn.” It was a warning growl. “Open your eyes.”
She ignored him until he put his hand at the top button of her shirt and started opening the fastenings one by one. “Cal! Wait. You can’t—”
“Yes, I can,” he said, dragging her hand to his lap. She’d always responded to him this way, always been warm and sweet and wild and loving. He pulled at her clothes, stopping to fondle her breasts and thumb her nipples into tight little peaks, and she stopped arguing and started helping him.
When she was naked he tore off his own shirt and unfastened his pants and shoved them down. Already aching for her, he took her hips and guided her astride him, closing his eyes and groaning in ecstasy when she took him into her body, easing her down until he was fully sheathed.
She was smiling, a smug feminine expression with her green eyes half-closed in pleasure. He took her hair from its elastic, pulling it over her milky white shoulders and plunging his hands deep into the heavy mass, framing her face between his palms.
“I love you,” he said.
Her eyes opened wide, and her lips parted. He flexed his hips beneath her, driving himself more deeply into her.
“I love you,” he said again. Then the days of being without her overwhelmed him and he took her by the hips, moving her up and down until she took over the rhythm, sliding herself over him as he explored the rusty thatch of curls between her legs, touching her in the ways he’d learned made her melt in his arms. He felt his body gathering into a taut, shaking knot of need, shivers chasing down his back to center in the pleasured flesh buried snugly within her.
She rode him harder, interpreting his clenched jaw and bunched muscles correctly. “I love you, too,” she gasped. Then her body took over, waves of final pleasure breaking over her head, and as he felt her flesh caressing him, he let himself go, pouring everything he was into her, holding her tightly to him with her face buried in his throat as his body arched and bucked beneath her.
There was a long silence in the room afterward. He didn’t feel especially inclined to move, though he slowly stroked his hand up and down the satiny length of her spine.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said softly.
She sat up and her eyes snapped open. “Of course you do,” she said in a gentle tone, her husky voice full of emotion.
“No.” He put a finger to her lips when she would have spoken further. “Until today, I’ve never even told you that I love you, that I can’t imagine my life without you by my side, and still you gave me everything.”
Her pupils expanded so that her exquisite eyes were nearly black. But she didn’t say a word. Then tears welled. “I’ve loved you almost since the day you brought me home,” she said.
“I like the way you say that,” he informed her. “Home is what this place has become since you arrived.” A stab of regret pierced him. “I’m sorry if I made you think all I wanted was a housekeeper who would warm my bed.”
“It’s all right.” She stroked his jaw. “I don’t mind making you comfortable.”
“That’s good.” He leaned forward to kiss her on the tip of her nose. “I think I need to spend the day in bed getting comfortable.” Lifting her from his lap, he yanked up his jeans, took her hand and started for the stairs, leaving the rest of their clothing strewn over the floor.
Several hours later, he pulled her beneath him yet again. “You know something? I forgot all about birth control today.”
Lyn’s eyes softened. “Funny you should bring that up. I’ve been going to mention that very thing to you. I’m not sure we need it anymore.”
Cal stilled, looking down at the woman who’d become his world. “Are you—do you think…” He took a deep breath, blew it out. “Tell me.”
She smiled at him. “Remember the laundry room?”
He grinned. “Not a memory I’m ever likely to forget. I still can’t walk through there without getting—”
She put a hand over his mouth, giggling, brushing her hips against his. “I get the idea.” Then she lifted her arms, clasping them around his neck. “I’m not sure,” she said. “It’s been just over a month now, but I’m usually very regular.”
“A baby.” He kissed her forehead tenderly. “I thought I wanted to wait, but the thought of seeing you with our child in your arms—” He stopped, overwhelmed. Then he raised his head again. “My God, I love you.”
And as she lifted her body to his, he thanked every twist of fate that had sent her into his home and his arms forever.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-1122-6
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Copyright © 2000 by Anne Marie Rodgers
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*Butler County Brides
Rancher's Proposition Page 16