Edmund’s face purpled. “Why, you arrogant pup,” he snarled, his fists rising. “How dare—”
Sarah stepped between them. She could care less if Edmund Wainwright made a fool of himself in front of everyone, but she refused to be a pawn in Allis Findley’s attempt to humiliate her and Cord.
“You asked who I was, Mr. Wainwright,” she said, mustering all her courage to confront him, “and I’m not ashamed to tell you. It’s just as Allis said. I’m Sarah—Jacob Caldwell’s daughter.”
6
A light rap on the door interrupted Sarah. She turned from her seat near the window and quickly looked to the bed to see if the sound had woken Danny. The little boy slept on. Expelling a small sigh, she rose from the rocking chair. Whoever it was, she’d best see to the visitor before the knocking woke her brother. He at least could have a calm, uneventful day.
And what a day it had been, she thought as she made her way to the door, from snobbish Allis Findley to Edmund Wainwright’s crazed ravings. Though she’d stayed in her room the rest of the day with Danny, Sarah knew Cord and his father had spent the next several hours locked in the library, deep in what had frequently been a very heated discussion. Emma had wasted no time filling her in about that when she’d brought up their supper tray several hours ago.
Sarah reached the door, then hesitated. Whatever the outcome of the two men’s dialogue, she knew this was probably her last night under the Wainwright roof. The realization stirred anew the dull ache in her chest. With a force that mirrored her pain, she jerked open the door.
Cord stood there, the dim hallway light throwing his face into shadow. Nonetheless, it was evident from the slight droop to his broad shoulders and rumpled clothes that he was exhausted. An impulse to smooth the tousled hair from his forehead filled her. Only the strongest effort controlled it. There was nothing between them and never had been, she fiercely reminded herself.
“I need to talk with you, Sarah.”
His rich, resonant voice reverberated in the quiet hallway, finding its answering chord in the depths of her heart. Sarah swallowed hard. “I . . . I can’t. Danny’s asleep.”
He shook his head. “No, I meant come down with me to the library.”
She didn’t move.
“Please, Sarah.”
Stepping from her bedroom, she pulled the door closed behind her. For a breathless instant they stood so close his nearness was a tangible, heart-stopping experience. Sarah’s senses began to spin. Then he moved aside, motioning her ahead of him.
Though she’d passed the library several times today, Sarah had never taken the opportunity to examine the room. Now, as she walked in for the first time, her gaze hungrily scanned the enclosure, moving first to the ceiling-high shelves lining three of the room’s four walls. There were hundreds of books, all bound in rich, beautifully hand-tooled leather.
The recollection that many had been bought by Cord for his invalid brother filled her with a warm glow. This room, of all the rooms in the house, emanated his presence the most strongly, the books he’d chosen an eloquent statement of his innermost self. An urge to take one down and read it, to learn more of the man, swelled within her.
Sarah glanced across the room to its only window. The velvet curtains were drawn against the evening’s cool mountain air. The only light that stayed the encroaching darkness was that of two oil lamps set on opposite ends of a massive oak desk. It was a cozy, intimate room, and suddenly, as Sarah heard the door close behind her, the outside world melted away. The only reality was the moment—and a darkly attractive man named Cord.
“Please sit down, Sarah.”
He indicated the overstuffed green velvet couch that graced a corner in front of the bookshelves. As she silently complied, words solidified in her throat. Rather than meet his piercing gaze, once she was seated she busied herself with smoothing the folds of her dress and felt, rather than heard, him settle himself in a wing chair across from her.
Reluctantly, Sarah looked up. For the briefest moment, she almost imagined she saw a tender light gleam in Cord’s eyes. If she had, the light was quickly extinguished. He leaned forward.
“I want to apologize for my father’s outburst this afternoon,” he began, his voice soft yet vibrant in the silent room. “I hadn’t planned on him finding out about you and Danny quite that way.”
A smile touched her lips. “Allis seemed to have a different view of how things should be handled.”
Cord sighed. “She certainly doesn’t care much for you. I can’t recall ever seeing her so cruel or vindictive.”
“I’m afraid that goes back a long while. Don’t concern yourself. Her feelings for me are nothing I can’t handle.”
“No, I imagine not.” Grudging respect shone in his eyes. “Still, I’m sorry for what happened today. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my father. He too has been terribly scarred by what happened in the past. Today’s events change nothing, however.” He ran a weary hand through his hair. “You and Danny will stay until the money’s returned or Gabe gets back and takes you into custody.”
“B-but your father said he refused to let us remain under his roof.”
“Once he calms down, my father is still capable of reason. He finally agreed my plan was the best of all alternatives.”
Sarah didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. On one hand, she didn’t want to leave Cord. On the other, he was keeping her and Danny from their family. And then, on the other, other hand, he likely was wishing he could be rid of them as soon as possible.
“Thanks for all your efforts on our part,” she replied, focusing on the likelihood Cord wanted them gone just as much as did his father.
He must have taken her tone of voice as sarcasm, for he grinned. “And just when I thought you were beginning to enjoy it here.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I appreciate your kindness, especially considering the circumstances, but we both know you’re keeping us all but prisoners.”
His smile faded. “No, Sarah. Your father’s the one keeping you prisoners. You’ve been with us six days now, and Danny almost three. Yet, in all that time, there’s not been one word from him.”
“I’m sure Doc hasn’t even had a chance to get a message to him yet,” she said, rising to her father’s defense.
Cord shook his head. “On the contrary. Doc said he met one of your brothers in town the very next day and told him to tell your father. He’s had the message for two days now.”
Confusion filled her. “I don’t understand. When did Doc tell you this? I haven’t seen him—”
“He showed up today, a short while after my father arrived. His visit, in retrospect, was instrumental in swaying my father to my view of things.”
“But I don’t . . .” She cut off further protest, deciding to deal with the reality of the situation. “I’m sure Papa will get a message through to you any time now. He just has to be careful. What reason should he have to trust any of you?”
Cord shrugged. “None at all, Sarah. But then, the feeling’s mutual, isn’t it? I just think the welfare of one’s children should be one’s first consideration, don’t you?”
“I don’t like what you’re implying.” Sarah angrily punctuated the statement by jumping to her feet. “And I’ve had about all I can take of insults about my papa.”
Her fists clenched white as she stood there. “Let me tell you one thing, Mr. High and Mighty Wainwright. We may have fallen on hard times, but we’re not trash! Despite our misfortunes, we’ve done the best we could. And we’re still a family, loving and devoted, which is more than your family apparently has ever been!”
He leaned back in his chair, his fingers moving to temple beneath his chin. “Striking a little below the belt, aren’t you, Sarah?” he asked, his voice low and controlled. “And all of this is my family’s fault, is it?”
“Of course it’s your family’s fault!” she snapped, all the day’s pent-up emotions bursting forth. “This ranch was ours until yo
ur father cheated mine. What chance did my papa have against a professional gambler? Your father knew his weakness for the cards, and pushed him until all he had left was the ranch. My papa never had a chance, and it broke him heart and soul.”
Cord rose. “Come on. Be reasonable. No one’s a victim unless he chooses to be. Neither of our fathers has made wise decisions, even if mine has more wealth to show for it. Yet have you or I fallen prey to self-pity or inaction? Put the blame where it belongs—on your father’s back.”
“No.” She stubbornly shook her head. “Say what you will about your own father, Cord Wainwright, but don’t you dare include my papa with yours! He may lose his way at times, but at heart he’s a good man. I won’t have you speaking ill of him.”
Tears filled her eyes and, in spite of her efforts to stifle them, spilled down her cheeks. “Please,” she choked out as she brushed them away. “I-I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
It was all Cord could do to keep from taking Sarah into his arms. The reality of her situation was finally beginning to make inroads into her blind faith for her father, and he knew it hurt. Still, she needed to face it if she were ever to be free of the bonds of her father’s vengeance-laden life. He just hated causing her pain.
His gaze swept her slim form. No, hurting Sarah was the furthest thing from his mind.
Her sweet presence filled the room, whirling around him in heady waves that blotted out all thought but Sarah. Sarah . . . whose moods possessed the inconstancy of the mountain weather. Sarah . . . who, like the ever-changing climate, was just as unsettling, beguiling him with her complexity, drawing him ever toward her . . .
With a jerk, Cord stepped back. What was the matter with him? It was almost more than he could bear to keep a safe distance. Yet there she stood, proud and defiant, ready to do battle for her family’s honor, as dishonorable as that family was. Would they ever span that chasm of hostilities?
“Look,” Cord said, trying one more time. “It hasn’t been a pleasant day for either of us. We’re both tired. I didn’t mean to start a fight over your father. All I meant was that you’ve got to stop taking responsibility for him. Start thinking about you and Danny. People over whose lives you do have a little control.”
She shook her head in denial, but Cord could tell by the sudden muting of anger in her eyes that his point had driven home.
“He’s my papa. I owe him my love and devotion.”
“Yes, you do.” His voice gentled. “But not to the sacrifice of your own life and happiness. Neither of us owe that much to our fathers.”
Perplexed by the fleeting thread of pain she heard in his voice, Sarah lifted her gaze to his. The fire that always burned in his dark eyes had faded, extinguished by some tightly guarded memory. He stood before her as an enemy, but also as a man. A man who felt deeply, gave of what he possessed generously, while always holding back the far greater treasure of his heart. A tempting treasure she felt compelled to mine, even as common sense told her to run as fast and far away as she could.
Cord’s right, Sarah thought. We’ve both had a trying day and are tired. Neither of us are thinking straight, and that could get us both into trouble.
“I’d like to go to my room.”
He motioned toward the door. “As you wish.”
They made their way upstairs in silence. As she reached her door, he softly spoke her name. Sarah turned. “Yes?”
“I don’t want to fight with you anymore,” he said. “Can we at least finally have some peace between us?”
His eyes glowed bright and warm in the hallway’s lamplight. Her breath caught in her throat. In an instant, all the anger and indignation she’d felt in the library faded. She could only remember how gentle, how kind he’d been when Danny was sick.
“Thank you for all you’ve done for us,” she said, the emotions spilling from her heart to form words. “I know I’m short with you at times, and blame you for things you’ve never had any part of, but I also see you for the man you are. A good man. And, for the remainder of the time that Danny and I are here, I promise not to cause you any more trouble.” She smiled wanly. “It may not be quite the ‘peace’ between us you’d like, but it’s the least I can do.”
He stared down at her, his gaze inscrutable and, for an instant, she thought he might kiss her. The memory of the touch of his lips that first time flooded her, and she wanted, oh, how she wanted, to feel his mouth on hers again! She lifted her face to him, her lashes lowering, and waited.
“Fair enough,” he said and, reaching around her, opened her bedroom door. “Good night, Sarah.”
Her lids snapped open and she stared up into unfathomable black eyes. Shame flooded her at what she saw as her wanton behavior in again encouraging a kiss, an act Cord evidently no longer wished any part of. With a toss of her head, Sarah gathered her skirts and flounced into her room, shutting the door behind her.
Cord stared at the oaken door, then turned, walked down the hall, and entered his own bedroom. In all the distraction and conflict of the past days, he’d forgotten how potent an effect Sarah’s closeness had upon him. It was bad enough when she’d said that he was a good man. The words were sweet to his ears, but what really unmanned him was the look in her eyes as she’d said them. It was as if she’d seen clear down into his soul, and knew him.
Then the scent of her—fresh mown hay and wildflowers—wafted up to him, and her hair . . . How he’d wanted to sink his fingers into her hair and feel it tumble down about his hands! Ah, to take her into his arms and kiss her!
Muttering in frustration, Cord shrugged out of his shirt. His boots quickly joined it. Without bothering to pull down the coverlet, he threw himself onto the bed.
He cursed the day he’d ever met Sarah Caldwell. He hadn’t even known her a week, and already she was driving him mad. Barely out of girlhood, she played a woman’s game with consummate skill. But the way he craved her had nothing to do with admiration for her fine manner. No, far, far from it.
Well, it had to stop, this gut-twisting manipulation of hers. He had no other choice. To continue on this path with her would surely be his undoing.
Thank goodness Gabe would be back any day now. Gabe was the sheriff. Let him deal with the robbery and her family. The sooner he was free of Sarah, the better.
She was getting too close on many levels. And that frightened him more than he cared to admit.
“Emma, would you pack me a lunch basket?” Nick asked two weeks later. “I’ve a mind to take Sarah and Danny on a picnic.”
The housekeeper glanced up from her bed making. “Why, of course, Nicholas. It’s a fine fall day for an outing.”
Nick nodded. “I’m hoping this might cheer up Sarah. Can you have the basket ready by eleven? I’d like to show them that aspen grove out near Ohio Creek. This time in October, their turning leaves should be glorious.”
Emma smiled. “You’re a kind one to think of that sweet girl. It’s a sight more than Cord’s been doing these past couple of weeks. If I didn’t know better, I’d wager those two have had a falling-out.”
“More likely the opposite.” Nick chuckled. “But have no fear, Emma, my dear. That’ll be remedied soon enough. My brother just needs a little help recognizing what’s best for him.”
“Well, all I know is Sarah’s hurting real bad, with her father never sending word or money in all this time. What could possess a man to desert his family like that?”
He shrugged. “I truly don’t know. But then, there are many ways to turn your back on others, aren’t there?”
“Yes, I suppose there are. Still, it’s a shame and that’s all there is to it.” Emma straightened. “Your bed’s done. If you’ve nothing else for me right now, I’ll get started on that picnic lunch.”
“I’m fine, Emma. Please, go on.”
She turned to leave, then stopped. “Cord’s holed up in the library again with that infernal account ledger. How about I see if he’d like to go along? He could use some fres
h air. Couldn’t help but sweeten his ill-temper of late.”
“No, I think not, at least not this time.” Nick stared out the window, a slight smile playing about his lips. “I’ve got other plans for my brother.”
Cord stared at the ranch ledger, reading the same line for the twentieth time. He’d made little progress in the past half hour. With a disgusted sound, he finally tossed the book aside. Leaning back in his chair, he propped his long legs on the desk.
He was royally sick of trying to find some way to squeeze money from the increasingly skeletal ranch budget. He closed his eyes to ease their burning.
A week ago, the prize bull had broken its leg and had to be put down, and already his father was making noises about buying another one. Problem was, none of the local ranchers were willing to sell him one on credit. News of the robbery and subsequent financial straits had gotten around the valley. It seemed only a matter of time now before they’d have to start selling off some of their herd just to make ends meet.
A heavy weariness settled over Cord. There were just too many concerns hammering at him of late. The ranch, his father, and, of course, the problem of Sarah. She seemed, sooner or later, to insinuate herself into all his thoughts until he was almost constantly thinking of her. Thinking of her while avoiding her at all costs.
Ever since that night in the library, he’d found himself increasingly unwilling to face the dilemma of what to do with her. How much longer could he continue to keep her and Danny prisoner? Yet, some of his earlier comments to the contrary, he knew he didn’t want to even contemplate the thought of her leaving.
The news that Gabe Cooper would be unavoidably detained in Denver, helping his mother set to rest all of his recently deceased father’s affairs, had bought Cord a little more time to come to terms with what he must do with Sarah. In the ensuing two weeks, however, he’d found himself no closer to a solution. He should’ve known there’d be no easy answers . . .
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