She offered him some of the honeycomb, and he waved it away. With a little shrug, she broke off a piece and popped it in her mouth, licking her voluptuous lips in a manner that sent his heart thudding.
He took her hand with honey still dripping from it, and put her fingers in his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes darkened before she pulled her hand away to wipe it with her napkin.
In spite of his reputation as the Casanova Cowboy, he’d never seduced a woman. The sophisticated women who ran after him didn’t count. He kept a tight rein on his passions with the few young ladies he’d called on. The rules of propriety held him in check by reminding him the girl was someone’s daughter whose father might come after him with a loaded shotgun.
But Carianne had no father.
Her vulnerability tempted him, but he wouldn’t take advantage of her. He would not. Not because she didn’t have a father, but because he loved her. Loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone. Loved her more than himself.
Was it enough? Was hers? Those questions sprang forth like bolts of lightning.
How could love turn to hate? For his parents, he knew how.
He’d made Carianne promises he couldn’t keep. A speedy courtship and marriage. Provide her with a home.
Believe in her God.
With every ounce of strength left, he stood and, taking the jar of honeycomb, screwed the lid in place.
“Do you think your father would’ve approved of me?” How would she know? Her father had died at Gettysburg before she was born.
She got to her feet, brushing the crumbs from her skirt. “Of course he would.” She tilted her head in that mischievous manner uniquely hers. “My mother wouldn’t have.”
He laughed, letting some of the tension flow out of him. “It’s a shame your father didn’t know you.”
“Oh, but he did…in a sense. After my mother’s death, I found my father’s letters to her. Apparently she’d written him that she was with child. His replies were full of hopes and dreams for me.”
Her words were heavy with emotion. Astonishing that Carianne had been closer to her father whom she’d never met than he’d ever been to his father. “I think you told me once your father came from a wealthy family and married your mother against their wishes.”
“Yes, they disowned him. That’s why he joined the army…that and because he admired Lincoln.”
“Didn’t that anger your mother that God would take your father after they’d endured so much to be together?”
Her head shook, sending a golden brown curl to bouncing on her cheek. “No, she knew my father’s mission was finished, or God wouldn’t have taken him. Just like I knew when that man almost killed you, he didn’t succeed because your mission wasn’t finished.”
She touched the nerve center of all his doubts. “How do you know that?” He didn’t deny he’d been spared in some supernatural way. That’s why he’d come to believe in the existence of God. He still didn’t understand why.
A smile quirked her tempting lips. “The Spirit in me, I suppose. Don’t worry if you don’t feel it yet. It grows as you mature. I learned much from the church and other believers, especially my mother.”
Her mouth puckered into an “o” as her eyes widened. “Now that I think of it, I learned about the Spirit from my father too. In his letters he wrote to my mother, he explained how he took comfort in looking into the sky and thinking my mother saw the same thing—that it was when the sun blazed in the deepest skies that he felt closest to God. From the day I read that letter, I started looking at the sky in a different way.”
As if drawn by her words, he stared overhead. Not a cloud marred the blue canopy that stretched forever. “Don’t believe I’ve ever seen a deeper sky in the middle of the day.” The blinding sun hung at the two o’clock position, and a lone bird of prey soared over the horizon. Other than that, there was nothing.
He turned his eyes on Carianne, jolted by her beautiful profile against the brilliant sky. “What were you looking for up there?”
“I was trying to see beyond the sky.” She blew out a puff of air that fluffed the curls on her forehead. “You’re a scientist. I see your interest in astronomy in all these instruments. Your ranch depends on biology and chemistry. But while science searches for the truth, it’s limited to our five senses. It’s not enough. Understanding takes faith, don’t you see?”
Before he could think of a reply, she went on. “The first time you climbed this tower, you didn’t know for a certainty it would hold you. You trusted the men who built it, and it looked sturdy to your sight, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure it would. You do what we all unconsciously do. Assess the odds. And you decided the odds were good that it would hold you. But it still took faith. In fact, we don’t know anything without faith.”
While she talked, he gathered the remains of their picnic and stuffed it back into the bag.
She startled him by grabbing his hand. “You believe in God, but do you trust Him? Come, I’ll show you a small glimpse where truth and faith meet.”
They spiraled down the stairwell in silence. She thought he didn’t understand, but he did. Too well. A decision had to be made, a life changing decision that left a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t deceive her, leave her with false hope, so he said nothing.
Back on the ground, she rambled around the structure as if looking for something. Carianne could get wound up in her philosophical ramblings, but she’d get to the point eventually. He made his way to where his horse stood munching prairie grass and lashed the food bag onto his saddle. Pulling the brim of his hat down to shield his eyes, he looked for Carianne.
He found her on the other side of the building, lying in the grass. She wasn’t making things easy. His ability to keep his hands off her would soon snap.
“Aren’t you afraid of snakes?” Or a passion crazed man who’ll take advantage of you? He kneeled beside her.
“No.” She squinted into the sun. “Lie down and look at the sky.”
Obviously she had no thought of making love in the hay. He fell over on his back and gazed upward. “What do you see?”
Excitement bubbled in her voice. “This sky is a true cerulean, as my father called it.”
What am I supposed to look for?”
“Infinity.”
Propping on her elbows, she studied him. “If you look intensely into a cerulean sky, the canopy falls away, and you can see…forever.”
Her eyes danced with such enthusiasm, she might have been explaining the Holy Grail. Marbleized streaks of color, blues, greens and golds radiated from pin-point pupils and sparkled in the intense light. Faint freckles sprinkled across her lightly tanned face, and pearly teeth flashed between full ruddy lips that managed to curve into a smile even as she spoke. How could he walk away from something so beautiful?
He glanced down further to find the little pulse beating at the hollow of her neck.
“Don’t look at me. Look at the sky and see if it makes you feel strange.”
With blood pounding in his temples, he felt strange already. What was holding him back from capturing her soft, shapely lips and giving free reign for his hands to do what they were itching to do? They were completely hidden from view except from that eagle gliding overhead.
He forced his attention from her to the sky. He’d humor her for now. Staring into the blue abyss, he felt himself drawn by a strange phenomenon. Slowly, as if in degrees, everything fell away, the bird, the moon, the sun, even Carianne beside him. The grass surrounding him and the earth that held him disappeared.
Suspended in space, it was as she’d said, the sky itself fell away, and he was staring into what? Not nothing. There was something up there, a palpable presence, a power that beckoned him to search further, and the searching promised to go on forever.
Panic seized him. He felt like an ant must, and he was the only ant resting on the entire earth. Only the earth no longer existed. Was it really God
holding everything together? What were the odds?
Like a bit of flotsam moving with the waves, he felt adrift and suddenly wanted to feel solid ground. He sprang to his feet. What a fool he was to think he could ever be happy with Carianne. She understood what was out there. He didn’t and probably never would.
He stared stupidly at her smiling face. “Did you see it?” she asked.
“An optical illusion.” He tried to sound nonchalant. That’s what it must have been. A trick of the mind brought on by her suggestion.
They brushed the grass from their clothes, and she looked up at him from under her lashes. “I’ve never realized how tall you are. How tall are you?”
He looked down at her—way down. They stood on the incline of the rise and she was below. “Six-feet-two, without my boots. How’d you get so short?” His laughter sounded forced.
“I’m five-six in my stocking feet.” She scrambled behind him, and when he turned, they were almost at eye level.
He understood what she was doing. She positioned herself for his kiss, and a yearning hit him.
She caught her bottom lip between pearly teeth. Smiling. Waiting. He leaned in, needing this kiss more than anything he’d ever needed, like a perishing man needed water.
He poised, their lips a fraction of an inch apart, then a weight pressed in on him. He couldn’t do this. Even one kiss would be too much. It wouldn’t stop at a kiss, not out here. Not now. He pushed her away, so abruptly she stumbled. “We have to go.” He turned, making a straight line to the horses.
She was in her whimsical mood today. In the past he’d loved that about her. Playful, yet profound. Like a very old soul in the body of a child. He’d just shattered her spirit, and he couldn’t face her.
Catching up with him, she grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong?” she spat. “You’re right. It is an optical illusion, but one meant to show how there’s so much more than what you ordinarily see”
“You asked me what I saw, Carianne. I saw nothing. I believe there’s a God out there. Somewhere. I even believe Jesus came to save those who can be saved, but that doesn’t include everyone.”
Her narrowed eyes and the firm set of her jaw told him she was not only hurt but angry. And Carianne was rarely ever angry. “What happened to you on your trip? There’s something more than the anthrax epidemic. More than your financial troubles. I don’t understand.”
He didn’t understand himself, and he certainly didn’t understand her. They’d known each other for months. Spent hours each day talking about life, love, society, culture, politics, history, science. Hopes. Dreams. They’d faced gossips, traitors, assassins. And they had won.
Still, he didn’t understand her. Not really.
He glanced past her, refusing to look at her. “Remember Jesus said not many would follow the narrow road to life. So a few are chosen, like you, but not most, like me. I know you think I can change, but I can’t. I’ve tried. Because I love you, I’ve really tried.”
“Because you love me?” Her voice was strangled, and he knew better than to look into her eyes. “Don’t blame God for this, Rhyan. Do you remember when I asked you where love goes? Well, the answer is—it goes nowhere. True love never dies.”
His sigh came out like a shudder that shook his whole body. “Can you understand this much? If I didn’t love you, I’d take you in the grass and leave you ravished and ruined, and not give a thought about it. You can’t trust a man because he says he loves you. You shouldn’t trust me.” He rubbed the tight cord in his neck. “Don’t you see? If love isn’t nurtured, it doesn’t last, and I won’t pretend—like others—that it does.” That didn’t make sense even to him.
He ventured a glance. That angry scowl cast her features in stone. He braced himself.
“I think I understand perfectly. Your love was nothing more than a physical attraction, and now you find that attraction waning.”
For once, her keen perception failed. Nothing could be further from the truth, but maybe it was better she believe that.
“You deserve better than me, Carianne.” He climbed into the saddle, slowly, like an old man, and finally looked into her stricken face. “Someday you’ll have to choose between me and God—and you’ll hate me for it. I’ve seen it happen before.”
She went around his horse to where hers was tied. Hearing the creak of leather and the swish of her horse turning, he knew she struggled getting into the saddle, but he wouldn’t help her. He didn’t dare touch her. Not now.
Maybe never.
Without waiting for her, he pressed his knees into his stallion’s flank. Suddenly, he had to put some distance between them. He’d stay in her view so she’d know the way, but not close enough for conversation.
Had he just killed something precious? His mind wondered back to the first time he’d killed something, a rabbit he’d caught in a trap. A little rabbit, not even big enough for food. He remembered the rabbit struggling to get away. He’d held that little morsel of life by its legs and plunged his knife into it. Blood ran down his hand, the rabbit twitched and went limp.
Life, so vibrant one moment, was gone the next. Because of him. That same guilt stabbed him. The love shining in Carianne’s eyes only seconds ago was now dead, and he was responsible.
Sickness rose in his throat, and water welled in his eyes. He glanced behind only far enough to see her trailing. He wouldn’t let her see him weep. His mind traveled back to the day he realized his mother was never coming back. He’d wept that day too.
He’d loved his mother as only an adoring little boy could. She’d come to his bed before going out to parties, looking so beautiful, smelling so sweet. In her melodious voice, she showered him with words of affection, assuring him she’d bring him sweets from the party, telling him how proud she was of him. Maybe she even meant it, but her words weren’t necessary. She could make him feel good just by her presence.
Long after his mother had left, he’d clung to the hope that she’d be back. A faith born of pure love, but it had turned to despair, and the love turned to hate.
He felt the tears tracking down his cheeks and was glad for the miles of ground yet to be covered. By the time they arrived at the ranch, the tears would be spent and dried by the wind, so he could tell Carianne to leave. He wouldn’t allow any room for doubt. There’d be no mistake, no false hope. She deserved that much.
He kept the stallion on a steady gallop, not wanting Carianne to catch up.
But she made no effort to catch up.
By the time they reached the house, he’d built up his resolve and was nurturing a coldness that went into his marrow and hardened there.
Without a backward glance, he dismounted and went up the wide steps in long strides. He left the door open and waited for her in the foyer.
With his back to the entrance, he heard her soft steps. When they stopped several feet from him, he dragged in a deep breath and turned to meet her accusing stare. “I never intended to hurt you, Carianne. I was wrong to propose. I’m sorry for that. I…we both knew it wouldn’t work out.”
She said nothing, didn’t even move a muscle. He swallowed. “I can’t ask you to waste any more of your time.”
Still no reaction. She glared straight into his eyes as if she were made of stone. He wished she would do something—argue with him, call him a cad, pound his chest, even remonstrate with tears. He’d feel a lot better if she’d walk up to him and give him a good resounding slap.
She didn’t.
“I think it would be best if you leave Westerfield altogether. Those newspapermen will be hounding you again. There are a lot of…towns better situated for your library.”
Her stricken, stony stare bored into him until he couldn’t bear it. He turned from her and spoke over his shoulder. “If you leave now, you should get home before dark. I’ll send your things in the morning. When you think about it, you’ll—”
A door slammed. He wheeled around to find himself alone.
Chapter 5
Reality made that impossible. The wind stung her face and her shoulders ached from the effort of holding herself in the saddle. She shouldn’t be riding Barney so hard. The horse had already taken her miles today, and now she was unconsciously jamming into his sides, mercilessly.
She would not cry. Though his cruel words still blared in her mind, stinging her like he’d struck her with a whip. What happened on his trip to change him? Even his last letter gave her no hint of anything wrong. But maybe she was blinded by her own wishful thinking. Blinded by her love.
No—she hadn’t lost his love, because it was just an illusion she’d formed in her mind. She ought to be grateful he’d made her face the truth.
Hair blew in her face, making it impossible to see. She must look a mess, but what did it matter? She might never care what she looked like again. She’d put away all her colorful clothes, her shiny boots and shoes, and drag out her mother’s old drab dresses, those she’d wanted to keep just to remember her mother by. They’d come into good use now. They matched her mood.
Sackcloth and ashes would be better, but her mother’s clothes would do.
She bounced against the saddle, keeping a firm grip on the saddle horn to hold her in place. Prevent her from flying off. Barney veered onto the street leading home. How did she get here? She couldn’t remember passing the bunkhouses, the Sollano arch, or even the bridge.
Breathe. The air was warm, though she shivered. Hunkered down low, she lashed Barney with the leather reins. The horse knew the way, and seemed to sense the end of the journey, picking up his pace even as foam flew from his mouth.
The horse strained to cover the last several yards. She swiped the hair out of her face as Barney galloped into the yard of the little whitewashed house she called home, almost colliding with Rachel Hadley’s buckboard, coming from the opposite direction. Barney brushed Rachel’s horse. The gray mare reared, and Carianne sent a backward glance to make sure Rachel and her little daughter, Becky, were all right.
Surrendered (Intrique Under Western Skies Book 2) Page 5