Faron

by Joan Johnston

  Belinda kept her eyes lowered as she tried to skim past him. She had to turn sideways, and the tips of her breasts brushed his chest. She gasped at her body’s reaction to even that brief contact.

  Faron’s response was powerful and instantaneous. Before Belinda could get past him, he clamped his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward him. His arms folded around her, and he drew her close.

  “Faron, don’t!”

  “Do you think I want to feel like this?” he rasped in her ear. “It’s driving me crazy, knowing how your skin tastes, knowing what it feels like to be inside you—and knowing that you were my father’s wife!”

  Belinda pushed at his chest with the heels of her hands. “Let me go, Faron! This is wrong!”

  “You didn’t think so yesterday.”

  “I told you, I didn’t know who you were yesterday! This situation is awkward enough. Let’s not make it worse.”

  He nuzzled her temple, let his lips trail down to her ear and felt her shiver in his arms. “And this will make it worse?”

  Belinda exhaled a shuddery sigh. “What happened between us was—”

  “A miracle.”

  “A mistake. Faron, we can’t let this happen again.”

  Faron heard the desperation in her voice. He felt the same desperation himself. However, he could afford to be patient. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Neither was she.

  He dropped his hands to his sides and stood up straight so there was more space between them. “Call me when supper’s ready.”

  She didn’t answer him, just made her escape as quickly as she could. Belinda didn’t run back to the house, although it took all her willpower to keep her pace to a walk.

  How had things gotten out of hand so quickly? She should have known better than to let herself get cornered like that. But she hadn’t been expecting Faron to confront her. She hadn’t been expecting him to admit that he still desired her.

  But she had been right to push him away. There could be no repetition of what had happened yesterday. Under the circumstances it was unthinkable.

  Belinda stepped up on the back porch and shoved her way through the screen door that led to the kitchen. In some ways, The Castle was like any other ranch house. Friends and neighbors always entered through the back door which was usually left open, rather than the front. She stopped dead when she saw Madelyn standing in front of the stove, stirring a pot of chili.

  “What are you doing in here?” she asked.

  Madelyn lifted a spoonful of chili and sipped a taste of it. “Making supper.”

  “Where’s Rue?”

  “She’s having one of her spells.”

  That was Madelyn’s way of saying Rue was drunk. Once a year, on the anniversary of her son’s death in Vietnam, Rue got drunk. How long the “episode” lasted depended on how good a job Belinda did of finding Rue’s stash of bottles and disposing of it. “I thought we’d gotten rid of all the bottles.”

  “She must have had another tucked away somewhere.”

  Belinda came up behind Madelyn and put a hand around her shoulder. “You should be resting.”

  “There’ll be time enough for that when I’m laid in my grave.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that!” Before Wayne’s death, Belinda hadn’t been quite so aware of Madelyn’s mortality. Now she worried about the older woman’s health. Madelyn’s heart wasn’t in much better shape than Wayne’s had been.

  Madelyn turned and patted Belinda on the arm. “I’m sorry, dear. Why don’t you sit down and tell me how the day went with my grandson?”

  That brought a wry smile to Belinda’s face. “I’ll make a deal. You sit down, and I’ll tell you how the day went.”

  Madelyn handed over the wooden spoon and took a seat on a bar stool next to the woodblock island in the center of the kitchen. “I’m sitting. Talk.”

  Belinda turned away to stir the chili, which gave her a chance to organize her thoughts. There was no hope for her feelings, which were still in a state of chaos. “He’s a hard worker,” Belinda conceded.

  “Then you two should have gotten along well,” Madelyn said.

  Belinda shot Madelyn a look over her shoulder. She was a shrewd old woman. Belinda wondered how much Madelyn knew—or suspected—about the tension between her daughter-in-law and her grandson. “We didn’t argue much, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Only at the very beginning and the very end of the day. “Faron has his own way of doing things. I just went along with him.”

  “Go along and get along. That didn’t work very well with Wayne, my dear.”

  “Faron is nothing like Wayne!” Belinda astonished herself with her outburst. She flushed and tried to backtrack by saying, “I mean, they look nothing alike.”

  “And they don’t act alike, either. Is that what you wanted to say?”

  “I don’t intend to criticize my late husband to his mother,” Belinda said.

  Madelyn sighed. “Unfortunately, I’m well aware of my son’s faults. I hope you won’t let what happened between you and Wayne keep you from finding another young man to love.”

  Belinda dropped the spoon in the chili and turned to face Madelyn. “I hope you’re not thinking about matchmaking, Madelyn. Not matching me with Faron, anyway. For heaven’s sake, he’s Wayne’s son!”

  “And quite a good-looking young man, if I do say so myself.”

  “Please, Madelyn. Don’t interfere. Things are difficult enough as it is.”

  “Difficult? How so?”

  Belinda grimaced. She should have known Madelyn wouldn’t be satisfied without specifics. But she wasn’t going to get them. “We just don’t get along.”

  “It didn’t look that way to me last night.”

  The old woman saw too much. Belinda took a deep breath and let it out. “Suffice it to say that I don’t want to get involved with anyone right now.”

  Madelyn was wise enough to know when to let well enough alone. She had said her piece. Not that she wouldn’t consider a little manipulating behind the scenes. She would have a talk with her grandson and see which way the wind was blowing.

  When the table was set and the corn muffins were just about ready to come out of the oven, Belinda stepped out onto the back porch and circled the triangle hanging from the eave several times with an iron rod. The metallic clang was a sound that cowboys recognized all over the West as a call to supper.

  Sure enough, Faron’s head and shoulders appeared at the barn door, followed quickly by the rest of him. Belinda knew she should turn around and go back inside, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  His stride was long and his body moved with an easy grace. His face was hidden by the hat he had pulled down low on his brow. His shirtsleeves were rolled up onto his forearms and she could see the muscles move as he swung his arms in rhythm with his legs. He was almost to the porch by the time she realized he was aware that she had been staring at him.

  He stopped with his boot on the first step and tipped his hat back so she could see his face. He was grinning.

  “See anything you like?”

  “Oh!” She whirled and headed for the door, but she didn’t get two steps before he caught her arm and pulled her back around to face him.

  “I wasn’t complaining. In fact, I’m flattered. I can’t keep my eyes off you, either.”

  “Faron—”

  He laid two fingers across her mouth to silence her. His voice was gruff when he spoke again. “You’d better be careful how you look at me with those violet eyes of yours, Princess. I’ve got myself on a short tether. Don’t you go untying any knots.”

  His fingers slid across her mouth to her cheek, and then tunneled up into her hair. Belinda found herself caught by Faron’s green-eyed gaze. It was a powerful force, the desire in a man’s eyes. It made a woman want to give herself up to him. Belinda felt her knees growing weak—nature’s method of getting a woman down so a man could couple with her more easily. She was having trouble catch
ing her breath, and her mouth dropped open slightly for more air.

  Faron saw it differently. He perceived her open mouth as an irresistible invitation. Faron had always liked parties, and he never turned one down. He didn’t now.

  His head lowered slowly, and his lips parted slightly to match hers. He paused just before their mouths made contact and took a breath. Belinda felt as though he were stealing the breath right out of her. A soft moan sounded deep in her throat.

  His lips were pliant against hers. And urgent. She felt his need as his tongue came searching hungrily for sustenance only she could provide. Her hands seemed to have a will of their own. They latched on to his shirt at the waist, then slid up behind his back and threaded into the curls at his nape.

  She could feel the dampness where his hair was soaked with sweat. He smelled of hardworking man, a pungent odor, but one that made her think of his muscles bunching beneath cloth as he hefted a bale of hay. His body was hard where he had it pressed against her hips, and his mouth was hot and demanding on hers.

  Belinda didn’t want to feel so much. Didn’t want to need so much. She felt the trap closing on her and at the last minute realized that she must escape. She yanked hard on Faron’s hair, and when he howled in pain she let go and backed away as quickly as she could.

  “No,” she said. “We’re not going to do this.”

  His eyes were feral, his body taut with need. He could still take her if he wanted to. Her aroused, aching body cried out for fulfillment. She saw him hesitate, torn between taking what he wanted or letting her go.

  He whirled abruptly and headed for the sink on the back porch. He turned on the cold water full blast, yanked off his hat and threw it down, then stuck his head under the spigot. She stared as he cooled the back of his neck with the icy water. Then he stood and slung his wet hair back. His hands forked through the tangled black curls, setting them in some kind of order. Then he picked up his hat and settled it back on his head.

  Water still dripped from his nose and chin and clumped on his eyelashes. But no signs of passion remained when he looked at her again. “You’ve got some supper ready for me, I believe.”

  “Yes. I—Yes.” She turned and hurried inside, letting the screen door slam behind her. A moment later she heard it creak as he opened it and followed her inside.

  Belinda could hardly believe the gentleman who exchanged witticisms with Madelyn at dinner was the same cowboy who had kissed her senseless on the back porch. Faron was absolutely charming. She could see he was good for Madelyn. He made the old woman laugh and even blush once. Asking him to leave was out of the question, even though it was what Belinda desperately wanted to do.

  She urged Faron and Madelyn to stay in the dining room and talk while she cleared the table and washed the dishes. But she could hear everything they said through the open door to the kitchen. She cringed when she heard Madelyn ask whether Faron had ever been married.

  “No,” he answered.

  “Why not?” Madelyn asked.

  “Never found the right woman, I guess.”

  “What is it, exactly, you’re looking for?”

  There was a long pause before he answered, “I’ll know her when I find her.”

  Belinda smiled. Maybe Madelyn had met her match. Faron Whitelaw wasn’t the kind of man who could be manipulated. But she should have known her mother-in-law wouldn’t easily abandon her matchmaking efforts. Madelyn’s next question left Belinda gasping.

  “How do you like Belinda?”

  “She’s a hard worker.”

  Madelyn chuckled. “She said the same thing about you. I suppose that’s one thing you both have in common. I wonder if there are any others.”

  Again, that long pause.

  “I admit I thought Belinda was, well, a little more pampered than she’s turned out to be.”

  “Wayne wasn’t the most considerate of husbands.”

  Belinda gritted her teeth. She wasn’t about to let Madelyn start talking about her marriage. She grabbed the apple pie on the counter and marched back through the open doorway. “Dessert, anyone?”

  Belinda kept her expression bland, but she had a feeling she wasn’t fooling either of them.

  “I love apple pie,” Faron said. “I’ll take a piece. How about you, Maddy?”

  Belinda saw the flush rise on Madelyn’s cheeks as Faron turned his smile on her.

  “Why, I guess I will join you.”

  Faron turned that stunning smile on Belinda, and she felt flustered. She dropped the pie on the table and said, “I’ll go get some plates and the pie knife.

  She turned just in time to keep the two of them from seeing the color race up her throat. This situation was unbearable! She had spent so many years learning to control her emotions, learning to keep what she was feeling hidden, because Wayne inevitably used it against her. All that Cowboy had to do was smile at her and she felt young and foolish again.

  And desirable.

  Lord, Lord, Lord, he made her feel like he wanted to lick her up like an ice cream cone on a hot Sunday afternoon.

  Belinda leaned her forehead against the cool tile wall in the kitchen and took a deep breath. Then she scurried to find plates and a pie server before Faron came looking for her.

  She could hear voices again from the other room.

  “I’d love to play a little gin rummy,” Faron was saying. “Penny a point is fine with me.”

  “You sure you wouldn’t mind?” Madelyn asked.

  Belinda could hear the worry in the old woman’s voice. Madelyn didn’t like being a burden on anyone. She would know if Faron was lying about spending time with her. Belinda heaved a quiet sigh of relief when she heard Faron reply, “Maddy, there’s nothing I’d like better than skinning you at gin rummy.”

  Madelyn giggled. It was a youthful sound and one Belinda couldn’t remember ever hearing from the old woman. Had their lives with Wayne been so very grim? It was hard for Belinda to be objective. But hearing Madelyn tonight with her grandson made Belinda wish that things could have been different with Wayne.

  She put a smile on her face as she reentered the dining room. “Did I hear you say you’re going to challenge Madelyn to a game of rummy?” she asked Faron.

  “Yes, ma’am. Soon as I finish my pie.”

  Belinda served him a piece and set another in front of Madelyn. When she started to leave Faron asked, “Aren’t you going to have some, too?”

  “I’m not very hungry right now.” She kept her lids lowered so Faron wouldn’t find out the truth. She wanted to get away now, while she could still think rationally. She didn’t want to see him being nice to his grandmother. She didn’t want to see him being charming. She wanted to remember who he was and who she was and why any relationship between them other than the legal one resulting from her marriage to Faron’s father was a mistake.

  “I’m a little tired. I thought I’d go to bed early tonight,” she said.

  She was unprepared when Faron left the table and crossed to her. He stood facing her and said in a voice too low to carry back to Madelyn, “Are you all right?”

  She felt breathless again. “Yes. I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder, and she felt the pressure of it deep in the pit of her belly.

  “I made some calls while you were having lunch and hired some men to do the heavy labor. There’s no reason for you to leave the house tomorrow.”

  Her eyes flashed up to meet his concerned gaze. “I’ll do my part,” she said.

  “You don’t—”

  “I don’t want any favors from you. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  Belinda jerked herself away and marched toward the spiral staircase. She felt Faron’s eyes on her the entire way up to the second floor. When she reached her room, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it.

  She felt like crying. Why hadn’t she met Faron Whitelaw eight years ago? It was too late now for what might have been. And what made her
think things would be any different with Faron? She had learned her lessons from Wayne. Things had been fine with him, too, at first. It was only later…

  But Wayne Prescott had never made her feel the things Faron Whitelaw made her feel. Belinda was frightened. And excited. She felt a sort of anticipation for the days to come that she knew was dangerous for her peace of mind. Worst of all was the knowledge that she desired Faron Whitelaw every bit as much as he seemed to desire her.

  She had to resist temptation. She had to make herself a regal, unapproachable Princess. Maybe that would keep the Cowboy at bay.

  Belinda lifted her chin and focused her eyes on the distant canopy bed with its delicate eyelet covers. It was a bed eminently fit for a princess who had resigned herself to life in an inaccessible, remote ivory tower.

  She crossed the room and sat down on the bed with her back stiff and her teeth clenched to still a quivering chin. She had survived a lot over the past eight years. By God, she would survive this, as well.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  OVER THE NEXT SEVERAL WEEKS, Belinda kept her distance from Faron. She conversed with him at breakfast, where Madelyn provided a buffer, and he gave her jobs so she could contribute to the work being accomplished at King’s Castle. But nothing she did brought her into contact with Faron.

  She marveled at the improvements in the ranch. Fences lost their dilapidated look, buildings got a new coat of paint, windmills began to whir again, machinery had a well-oiled sound. She began to believe that they really might find a buyer for the ranch. And to realize that if—when—King’s Castle was finally sold, she was going to miss it.

  One of her jobs today was to oil all the hinges on the stalls. Belinda thought she was alone in the barn, so she practically jumped out of her skin when a voice behind her said, “What are you doing?”

  She whirled, then expelled a relieved breath. “You scared me half to death!”

  Faron grinned. “I usually have a somewhat different effect on women. So what are you doing?” he asked again.

  She held out the oil can so he could see it. “I’m doing just what you ordered me to do this morning.”