Secrets and Lace (Lonely Lace #2)

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  Conviction in her tone gave him pause more than the phrases. She really believed her story.

  He wasn’t married. Of the two standing in that room, only one could be right but there was only one who’d just minutes earlier suffered from severe hypothermia, may still have lingering effects – and it wasn’t him. Robbie held out his hands. “Okay, Amelia. Fine. We’re married. Why don’t you lie down? I’m going to get something to eat and check to see if the doc is here.” If he stayed, she might make up more. Next thing he knew, he’d probably be a woman dressed for a ball in the eighteen-hundreds.

  “What? That’s all you have to say? Fine?” Tears sparkled on her dark lashes. She ran her hands down her face, throwing her head back. “Is that it? Really? I don’t understand.”

  “If we’re married, then I need to take care of you, right? So go lie down, now that you’re warmer, and get some rest.” He moved toward her, carefully directing her with an arm around her shoulders. Helping her to bed, he pulled back the covers and sat down after she’d climbed in. Tucking her in had too intimate a feel, even after their time together the night before. After her claim of marriage. He cleared his throat.

  But Amelia leaned forward, grabbing his wrist. “But we are married. I swear.” And tears started to flow down her cheeks, falling like promises to dot the grey Egyptian cotton sheets. Her captivating scent pulled him, like the work of a love potion or magical dust. The pain in her voice crushed him, because he couldn’t be present in her alternate reality. She begged him to hear her and he tried. He really did. “We’re married. You and I belong together. We have a son. He’ll lose everything. You have to believe me.” She sagged against his arm, crying into the soft flannel of his shirt. “I have papers!”

  “Sh. I know.” Worried, Robbie patted her back. He’d never heard of hallucinations as an after-symptom of hypothermia, but he wasn’t a doctor and didn’t know every sign.

  The digital clock on the nightstand displayed just after four in the afternoon. How long did it take to get a grown man stabilized before checking on other patients and then getting to a patient with a serious condition?

  Robbie could’ve had her to the clinic by now with Slate’s truck. True, she’d be in worse condition, but that wasn’t the point. The point —

  “Hello?” The front door slammed followed by loud boot steps on the wood floor. The pitter-pat of smaller feet echoed the bigger ones. “Amelia? Robbie?” Doctor O’Donald’s voice lowered but carried down the hall. “I’m sure she’s here, Mac. Let’s check your rooms first, okay?”

  They burst through the door before the child could answer. His squeal of delight cut off anything else Robbie or Amelia could have said.

  “Look, I’m sorry, but what the hell took so long? Hypothermia isn’t a joke.” Robbie stood, stepping to the side to allow Mac to his mother and he moved to the side to speak to Doctor O’Donald.

  She nodded. “I understand your concern, Robbie. I came as fast as I could. You’re right, it’s pretty serious. But the two kids that came in after being trampled by a horse were pretty serious, too and their dad isn’t in town to help their mom. They deserved treatment, too. I’m not going to play favorites. You were capable of following directions, which you did.”

  He nodded, instantly contrite. “You’re right, again, I’m sorry.” He touched her sleeve, speaking in low tones. “Listen, she’s fine physically, I think, but she’s having delusions or something. She’s adamant that we’re married. I’m not sure what’s going on in her head, but I need her to be okay, you know?”

  Becky pulled back, looking him full in the face. “Married? You two? And what do you think of that?”

  Robbie screwed up the left side of his face and scoffed. “I’ve never been married. I think something’s wrong with her.” He glanced at the clock again, next to the hugging mother and son – as they talked animatedly about their day. “I have some things I need to get done. I’ll be back in the morning. Is someone with Slate?”

  Doctor O’Donald shook her head. “No, I brought him. He wouldn’t hear of letting me come out here by myself. He’s been bandaged and wrapped a ton – you boys have broad chests and shoulders which about wiped out my clinic’s supplies – he has medicine on board, too. Maybe before you leave, you could help me get him to his room?”

  Robbie nodded, careful to avoid the sharp look Amelia threw his way at the doctor’s words. “Sure. I’ll grab some stuff to take with me first and I’ll meet you by your car.”

  He offered a small smile to Amelia and Mac then left them to the doctor’s capable hands.

  ~~~

  Drugging someone had to be illegal in every state – even Montana, but then again so was beating someone to death, even if it was to save your own life.

  Robbie tucked the bottle of port wine under his left arm and rang the doorbell. He’d already laced the contents of the drink with a tranquilizer from Slate’s veterinarian stash on his way to Lacey Caverns. He’d had to run into town to get the wine. Apparently his brother had allowed the wine cellar to run dangerously low in Robbie’s absence. If Robbie stayed, he’d remedy that problem fast.

  A sultry red-head answered the door in a satiny-robe-wanna-be-thing that showed more than it covered. Robbie averted his eyes from the shadows on her chest and beneath her belly. She raised an arm, sliding it up the edge of the dark walnut door and leaned provocatively against the frame. Looking him up and down, she purred. “Well, if it isn’t the long lost Robbie MacAllister. Wherever did you go, sugar? And how can we keep something as delicious as you around?”

  Robbie swallowed. No way in hell was he sleeping with her. “Bethany? Wow, from the things I heard from Ronan… well, let’s just leave it at you’re a lot sexier than he let on.” Robbie offered his slow side smile – the one Amelia claimed had robbed her of her pants before they’d even gone on the first date.

  A red heat swarmed up Bethany’s pale slightly freckled skin. She flipped long auburn locks over her shoulder and trailed a finger down her chest. Her eyes narrowed, she pursed her lips. “He said I wasn’t sexy? That’s too bad.” Robbie’s stomach rolled. Where had she been before him? She reeked of desperate sex. He’d only ever been around one other woman like that before and she’d belonged to Caracus’s gang for a month before they’d… ended her life. Desperation made people do crazy things.

  He cleared his throat, holding out the bottle and jerking his head toward the barn. “Well, who cares what he says, right? Any man would be lucky to have you. I brought my favorite. It’s been forever since I’ve seen the James family.” Robbie leaned in a bit toward the interior of the home as if looking for Ronan. “Is he here? I was interested in some of the tack he has for sale.”

  Bethany arched an eyebrow and lowered her arm to grab the bottle’s neck. She licked her lips, reminding Robbie of a bright orange orangutan. Even with her voluptuous hips and stare-at-me-now curves, the woman’s sluttiness came off her in waves, dimming any real appeal that she might have had.

  Amelia’s freshness also contributed to the lack of interest Robbie had in the woman.

  It didn’t matter how much Ronan paid, Robbie wasn’t sleeping with her. Something told him she might have more to give him than a good time.

  “No, he’s not here tonight. Business. But I’d be happy to show you some… equipment in the barn.” She stretched, placing her hands on her hips with the bottle dangling from one and thrust her chest out. Yeah, a purchased chest. Nothing natural stuck up that round and firm.

  Robbie grinned full out and tried to appear to be appreciating the view, taking a long slow look at her chest. He growled. “Yeah, Ronan’s an idiot.” An image of Amelia’s naked body on his lap filled his mind and he actually started to respond, the front of his jeans pulling more tautly from the pressure.

  “I think so. Follow me.” She rubbed across his front, pausing as she came against the hardness of his lap. She looked down and then back up to his face. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” She reached ar
ound and patted his ass, then led the way to the barn, over-exaggerating the sway to her hips.

  Um, no. His balls would probably shrivel up into his abdomen before he’d touch her in a sexual manner. He shuddered.

  Revenge waited patiently tied to a post outside Ronan’s outbuilding.

  Checking all around himself – for some kind of voyeur or spy or investigator that could at least claim to have seen Robbie with her dressed like a model for a naked pinup – Robbie groaned inwardly at having to go any further with the charade. But he had two new reasons to go with the other two-hundred-fifty-thousand reasons Ronan wanted to give him.

  He’d done a helluva lot worse for money.

  Bethany stood to the side of the door. A moment passed before Robbie realized she wanted him to open it for her. She batted eyelids at him that had more makeup on them than should be allowed in a Montana barn. Or any barn. Hell, or building.

  Robbie opened the door and ushered her through while he looked around the interior which was decidedly not “barn”.

  Ronan maintained his property with arrogance and pride. Where a simple wooden sawhorse would work wonders to hold saddles, stainless steel mannequin style posts grandstanded.

  “Painted cement? Really?” Forgetting his act and the fact that Ronan was paying him a large amount of money without even blinking at the amount, Robbie gaped at the unnecessary expenditures all around him.

  At the end of the common area set up between stalls on either side, a kitchen and bar beckoned. Filled with brushed stainless steel appliances, the kitchen’s mirrored back wall and recessed lighting gave the ambience of a gentleman’s lounge instead of a barn.

  Rolling his aching shoulder, Robbie nodded toward the bar. “What’s with the fancy crap inside here?”

  The door shut behind her and Bethany dragged the side of her belt through its first loop. “He spends a lot of his time out here.” She shrugged, releasing the silky material to slip down her shoulder. “Were you still interested in that tack?” She enhanced the “ck” sound, rounding her lips when it wasn’t necessary.

  “How about some wine first?” Robbie’s boots slid over the painted surface. He couldn’t believe someone wasted so much money as to paint a floor that animal crap and piss fell on. Such a waste.

  Real crystal goblets hung from intricately carved hooks that wrapped around the stem in such a way as to hold the glass aloft in an angled direction. Robbie recognized the handiwork of a Native American man who lived on the nearby Salish reservation… the one Kelsey was from. Sometimes Ronan’s weaknesses were just as obvious as everyone else’s.

  Placing two of the ornate glasses on the counter, Robbie searched for a corkscrew.

  Bethany dangled the stainless steel piece in front of him but when he moved to take it she pulled back and dropped it between her ample breasts. “You want to go find it?”

  Robbie considered her, taking his time. It wasn’t something he would take advantage of – the bored wife of a ranch owner. Robbie tried to believe in the sanctity of marriage. Even when he was surrounded by so many people who didn’t.

  He stepped back, leaving the hand tool where she’d dropped it. “Bethany, you’re married.” He made sure she saw him take in the entire display of all her goods before continuing. “While I’m extremely flattered and more interested than you know, can I ask why?”

  She sighed, reaching for the corkscrew herself. “I’m going to need some wine, if you want to go down that road, sugar. But if I answer some questions, you’re going to make it up to me.” She wiggled her finger his direction.

  Strong-arming the bottle and yanking the cork, Bethany didn’t cover any skin or grow more demure in the close setting. She plunked the dark bottle to the counter and reached into the flimsy pocket of her robe.

  Slapping a square condom on the counter, she grinned. “I always carry a spare.”

  Robbie ignored the bright blue wrapper and moved to pour the wine.

  Bethany lifted the bottom of the bottle with one finger while he poured, forcing him to fill the glass to almost overflowing. “I’ll take that one, thank you.” She pressed her breasts to his back and reached around him to grab her drink.

  Nothing left to the imagination at that point, Robbie could almost pretend he’d already slept with her. “What’s the condom for? I don’t mean to be crass, but it’s all over town that you can’t get…”

  “Pregnant?” She grinned at his discomfort. She drank a large amount of her wine, sighing after swallowing. She put the glass down and braced both arms on the counter, which thrust her chest again his way. “I can definitely get pregnant. I’ve been pregnant three times since I married that asshole.”

  “Did you miscarry? I’m so sorry for your loss. It must be a sensitive topic for you.” More than once on the road, Robbie had met a ranching couple where the woman’s eyes had a hollow glaze because she’d lost a baby or more. He’d never understood, but he could appreciate another’s suffering.

  Bethany’s laughter rebounded off the acoustics of the barn. “Hell, don’t feel bad for me. I didn’t want that loser’s children. I had abortions.” She waved her hand. “Not here in town, obviously, but over in Washington. I went to my original family doctor. Insurance pays for that kind of thing, you know.” She winked. “Not that money is an issue, but how did I explain to him I needed extra allowance to abort his children?”

  To hide his disgust, Robbie tilted his own wine to his lips. After pretending to sip the poisoned fluid, he lowered the brim to nose level and sniffed in the heady aroma. “How do you know they were all his?” A sudden wave of gratitude washed over him that Amelia had never aborted their child. He hadn’t known. If he had, he never would have let her push him away. Never.

  She laughed. “Sweetheart, he won’t touch me now since I can’t give him a precious heir. But he used to have me on a calendar and an ovulation test thing. He’d make me check when I was and then we’d do it. He wouldn’t let me out of the house for a few days to make sure he was the only one at the time, you know? Hell, I stopped being interested in him long before the wedding, but…” She shrugged. “His bank is fat and size matters in that department.” She finished off her drink and poured more, draining the bottle.

  A sick twist in his stomach tightened as he watched Bethany drink the poisoned wine. Holy shit, hopefully she didn’t die from how much tranquilizer she drank. Robbie wasn’t sure on the math – he wasn’t a veterinarian for crying out loud – but he’d estimated her to be about a tenth the size of a horse and had gauged accordingly. That didn’t mean it was safe for her to drink so much. Tranquilizers and alcohol both were defined as “downers”. Combining them couldn’t be good.

  She set her goblet on the granite counter and stared at the deep red wine. And swayed. Oh crap. It wasn’t supposed to work so fast, either.

  “I’m sorry, Bethany.” He placed his own full drink beside hers and caught her with his good arm just as she dipped from her straight position. Dragging her limp body to the closest empty stall turned out to be more work than he’d planned. He couldn’t get a proper handhold without holding some naked flesh. Finally, he wedged his forearm under her breasts and hefted her the last few feet to the straw-strewn floor.

  Resting her against the wall, Robbie rummaged through a nearby closet. Filled with blankets and pillows, the closet also held changes of clothing and extra toiletries. Maybe Robbie had invaded more of Ronan’s space than he’d planned when they’d come to the barn. As glad as he was for the chance to earn the money, he couldn’t help still holding onto the grudge he had for Ronan. He relished the man catching them in the morning in his space. Something to rub in his face.

  He threw more than a handful of blankets over his shoulder with pillows and some of Ronan’s laundry which he carried into the stall. Arranging a bed of sorts on the floor as close to Bethany as he dared, he kicked the edges of the material around to make it look like the bed had been played in a bit. Reaching under her chin, Robbie checked for
a pulse. Her breathing seemed steady and her pulse felt strong. He rolled her to her side and then rolled her again to the makeshift bed.

  She didn’t move herself, but landed with a leg bent up and an arm by her head. That’d work for him. Robbie didn’t need to remove her clothing, she was so scantily clad, there was no doubt what she’d intended to do.

  He carried Ronan’s clothes and dropped pants by the counter in the kitchen, wadded a shirt up and tossed it out into the middle of the painted cement. Deep hunter green. Robbie shook his head in disgust. A green floor. Come on, Ronan.

  A futon hid in the corner stall which was set up like an office. Nice. He’d sleep there. None of the stalls had horses in them. Ronan never had said what he was doing tonight.

  Robbie shrugged. He really didn’t give a damn. Get through the night and get his money. That was all he had to do. Robbie headed outside to retrieve Revenge. The horse needed to be fed and watered and set up for the night.

  For two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand bucks, he could do just about anything.

  And had.

  Chapter 15

  The phone rang earlier than Amelia would have liked. Only a few people had the number to her private line. Cell phones were great, but not reliable on service so far into the mountains.

  She rolled over and peered at the clock. Seven. Really? Who was up so early? Mac of course. He’d run out to the kitchen with Slate two hours before to go check on Pig’s foal.

  Ring. She pulled her pillow over her head.

  And she did live in Montana where ranchers were more apt to rise early than stay up late.

  Ring. Oh hell, what if it was an emergency?

  What if it was Robbie?

  Ring. She sat up, reaching for the phone before she’d even stabilized herself and half-fell off the bed mid-picking up the handset. She yanked it to her ear, hoping she didn’t sound like she was an idiot. “Hello?”