by Cait London
“I will.”
“I’ll have my dreams,” she said finally, to set him straight and leave no room for doubt between them. And I’ll have you, my love, she thought as she closed her bedroom door. She listened to the boards creak under his weight as he passed and prayed that in time he would learn to trust her with his heart.
Seven
Not all men know who they are, in their hearts, until love changes them.
—Anna Bennett’s Journal
Kylie awoke to the sound of birds chattering outside her window. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, and pleasured by the warm bloom within her, she stretched in her bed. She ran her fingertips across the fine delicate stitches of her quilt, and wiggled her toes against the daffodil splashed sheets. For the first time in years, her body was totally relaxed, her mind not leaping ahead into her day, planning what to do and how much time to allow for the task. Habit made her glance at the bedside clock she had turned facedown upon returning to Freedom Valley—she’d been conditioned to run on a minute-by-minute treadmill and she’d wanted freedom to think.
She placed her hand over her heart, and the heavy thump told her that she wasn’t dreaming. Out of habit, and still half asleep, she yawned and stretched and padded to the upstairs shower, taking her time to shampoo and wallow in the jojoba and chamomile oil she had added to ordinary liquid soap. Just a drop of ylang ylang added sensuality, and today, she was definitely feeling like a woman. She hummed, the sound echoing her sense of well-being. Once again, she was in control of her life, harmony pouring through her like honey. She was powerful and feminine and—
In her bedroom, Kylie studied the woman in the oval mirror and ran a fingertip across her lips, her body humming with the need to dive into Michael’s bed and feast upon him. But oh, no, she’d let him sleep and awake to a proper breakfast. He needed tending and time to adjust to being with her. She’d make the transition easy for him and instead of leaping into his bed, she’d wait—
The clatter of horses’ hooves echoed from her mother’s driveway. Kylie went to the window. For a moment she stood still, her warm floating well-being mood ripped away. Tanner and Michael rode in the lead, and behind them were Koby, Gabriel, York, Fletcher and all the rest. Michael’s head turned just then. Through the sunlight and the distance to her upstairs bedroom, his stare was as hard and grim as if he’d never touched her, never breathed unevenly against her skin, never held her as the tropical wind and heat swept through her.
He couldn’t do that—he couldn’t ignore what had just happened between them. He couldn’t ignore the storms between them, the way their souls seemed to touch. Kylie jerked open the window and yelled, “Michael! Stop!”
The cold morning air hit her body, and she realized that nothing covered her but her comfortable old flannel robe. She jerked it together and called again, “Where are you going?”
“Town,” Tanner returned, but Michael continued to stare at her. Fear lurched through her, chilling her; his expression offered no warmth or future or dreams.
I’ll have my dreams, she’d said. Michael still tasted her lips, too giving and warm, her body too yielding to his touch. She should have everything a woman in Freedom Valley would want of a man. His body was rigid with the need to ride back to her, to run up the stairs and carry her into town.
He’d stop gossip about Kylie by appearing before the Women’s Council, an emergency meeting arranged by Fidelity. He wanted the right to protect her against her user of an ex-husband. He’d let them know how he felt, dragging the words from his soul to serve them to the Council, the task difficult for him. Michael sucked in the cold morning air and circled his need to provide Kylie with the old-fashioned standards set long ago. Tradition weighed heavily in Freedom Valley, and Kylie had a right to take her place. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he was that old-fashioned, that romance prowled his heart when he thought of her. If he were to make a fool of himself, he’d prefer to do it without the woman he loved watching him.
Unused to the emotions and moving too quickly without planning, Michael looked away from Kylie. He’d find a way to tell her, but not now, not with the need prowling through him to make his intentions known.
In traditionally based Freedom Valley, it was important for the man desiring a wife to make his heart known. However, to a man who lived privately, taking that step out of the shadows was difficult. Michael had shared little of his life with anyone and unused to sharing, he preferred to follow his instincts. He wanted nothing to interfere with his plans to take that step, to face the women of the Council—including Kylie.
Foolish fear? Maybe. But this morning, he was out to set claim to his woman and his future. He was taking “The Leap.” Anything could set her off, challenging him, some minor point would cause an argument, and then the whole big beautiful morning dream would be shot to hell.
He wasn’t in a mood to have his dreams dissected or delayed. Every instinct in him told him this was right and logical, for a man to set claim to the woman he loved.
The morning was right. The woman was right. He’d find a way to tell her later, he thought, even as the word “coward” came slipping through him. He snorted in disgust at the word, and images of brawls and dangerous situations cut at him. Yet this one woman could make him tremble. A man had a right to romance on the morning he was publicly making known his intentions.
Michael scowled at Tanner, who was watching him. “She gets to me,” Michael said roughly and ignored the men’s laughter. “If I tell her what I’m doing, she’ll start a ruckus and I’m not in the mood for that this morning. I’ll tell her later.”
“You’ll have to do better than that at the Women’s Council,” her brother said, grinning. “But I know how it is when a woman is in a snit and you’ve got romance on your mind. She’ll have your scalp if she finds out before you tell her.”
Michael snorted again. “I’ll take my chances. I can’t tell how she’ll react to anything. Let’s just do this.”
Kylie dressed hurriedly, tying on her running shoes. She had to talk to Michael this morning, to know that Tanner hadn’t called him out. She couldn’t have them fighting, not her beloved brother and her—the man she wanted to take as her lover—Michael was already her friend.
He’d left her without an explanation. He couldn’t put up those walls again. Kylie sailed out of the house, jerking on her jacket as she ran. She took the path over the hill, the shortest route to Freedom. After a half-mile of realizing she was out of shape for distance running, and plotting how she would wrap her hands around his muscular neck and squeeze slowly, Kylie managed to call, “Michael!”
The other men’s horses nickered and stamped nervously as she pushed her way through the bushes to look up at Tanner and Michael. Neither man welcomed her, Tanner’s expression as cold and grim as Michael’s. “I won’t have you in this, Tanner,” she said.
“Won’t you?” His tone challenged her, gripped his right as her older brother to care for her.
“No.” She studied Michael, searching for bruises that Tanner’s angry fist might have made. Michael was freshly shaved, a nick just there on his cheek, and nothing about him was sweet and tender. This morning her razor had been damp and from the gleam on his cheeks and the tiny nicks, she knew he’d used it, probably snarling all the while. The sunlight struck his jutting cheekbone, skin gleaming upon the hard angle. Blue-black sparks danced on his hair, a glossy strand tossed by the slight cold breeze—or was that her heart freezing, accepting that he did not care enough to see her after last night? The cold morning air swept around her, lifted her hair away from her face. How could he touch her so beautifully and then ride away from her as if nothing had happened? “You’re wearing Tanner’s shirt. The one I gave him for his birthday and the tie I gave him for Christmas. Why?”
“My selection was limited this morning.” He shrugged and a searching glance at Tanner told her nothing. She flushed under the weight of his inspection, his little sister wh
o had just spent the night yet again with Michael Cusack. She lifted her head and met his gaze, for she would have only truth between her brother and herself. He gave her nothing, no reassurance that he approved, though he would know that she held his love and thoughts dear.
“Where are you going?” She searched Michael’s face, the horses stamping around her, ready to be off. The steam from their nostrils shot into the chilly air as she searched the faces of the men she’d known all her life. They gave her nothing, the boys she had taunted and cherished and the men that she held dear as friends.
“To town,” Michael said finally as if he resented giving her the tidbit.
“To do what? Why are you all riding today and so early?” She fought to keep the panic from her voice and her eyes, and Michael’s gaze was too narrowed, green cutting at her, tearing at her heart.
She’ll destroy me, Michael brooded. She’ll stop me from doing what’s right, asking for her. I’ll find a way to tell her later.
“We’ve got business to keep,” Tanner stated abruptly and Michael slid a grateful look at him.
“So early? And Michael wearing a tie? When has he ever worn a tie? It’s one of yours. Why would he borrow your tie?” Terror twisted around her, choking her, as she searched Michael’s face. He looked away from her, sitting very straight in the saddle. She read the dark flush in his cheeks, that anger tightening his beautiful mouth. He wasn’t answering her, believing he owed her nothing.
Oh, there are rules and there are rules, she thought darkly, her anger growing by the heartbeat, welling over her. You show me beauty, and then you deny doing so?
Tanner was kinder, her brother who had always cared for her. “Go back to the house, Kylie. You’re shivering.”
The morning chill swept clear through her, ice tightening about her heart.
“I’ve got work to do…a schedule to keep…a business to run.” And pride to keep, Michael Cusack. I won’t be running after you. “Which one of you is giving me a ride?”
Michael seemed to tense, but then again, perhaps he felt nothing. He remained still and unmoved, his collar turned up at his throat, his eyes staring at the road leading into Freedom. How could he? How could he not remember—?
“Choose,” Michael ordered curtly as the horses tramped around her. She placed her hand on Jack’s cheek when he turned to nuzzle her, a kinder heart than the man who rode him.
Michael knew he was handling her too roughly, pushing her. But his pride demanded a small bit of satisfaction. He didn’t have time to learn the softer ways to reach Kylie’s gentle heart, but he would. Instincts as old as the world drove him now, to claim her in a ritual that had long been observed in Freedom Valley. He’d never love another woman, let her roam gently in his heart and it was time to let others know of his intentions.
There in the sunlight dancing through the naked limbs of the trees bordering the road, while the dead leaves rustled in the breeze, Kylie looked at the men she knew well. She looked at Tanner and because Michael had withdrawn behind his shields and because he had to pay, she tossed her words to the clear fresh air for all to know. “I choose you,” she said to Michael, challenging him with her look. “I want to ride with you and torture you.”
“You’ve done enough of that already.” His words were dark and resentful, but there was a soft curl to his lips. The slight crinkling beside his meadow-green eyes said that he was enjoying her frustration.
What were the rules dancing in the frosty air? What did he want from her that she’d given, and that he’d counted as a score on his side? Dazzled by his widening grin, she fought the thundering need to pull his head down and take his mouth— What had she given him? “It’s miles into town. You know I don’t have my pickup.”
Dead upon the trees, the leaves rustled in the cold wind that circled her and Michael. They seemed alone, despite the stamping of the horses and the steam shooting from their nostrils. Men she’d known all her life faded in comparison to this one man, a rugged scar running across his cheek and danger flashing in his eyes. Kindness wasn’t in them as he pinned her on the earth beneath him, locked her shoes and her heart with that steady unreadable expression. Caught by the wind, his hair riffled and shifted and her hand ached to smooth it again, to feel that bold texture against her body as he asked, “Won’t someone else do? Can’t you terrorize someone else for the distance?”
She didn’t understand the hope and pride in his tone, not the man she would destroy. He’d flung more to the wind curling between them than the question of whose horse she’d share— She didn’t understand what he wanted from her. “No. They’re all sweethearts. You’re the one who isn’t.”
The warmth in his expression slid away into the frosty air, stamped by the horses ready to be off. “You give too much.”
Her head went up at that verbal jab. She was no less than he in this small war amid the cold wind and the waiting men intent upon the battle. She let her hair swirl around her, let the wind take it back from her face so that Michael Cusack could read the truth in her heart. She wasn’t one to hide her emotions. “I give what I want.”
“You chose me. You can change your mind now, if you want.”
The odd formality wasn’t like Michael, but his eyes were fierce and demanding upon her. The rules were shifting, tossed by the wind, emotions flying between them. She gripped the truth that ran strong within her. “I do choose you, Michael Cusack.”
Tanner nodded briefly, making his own decisions as he watched the warring play between them. Michael’s eyes narrowed into green slits, ripping down her body as if to terrify her, to make her change her mind. But backing off from a fight with him wasn’t on her menu, not now when Michael slowly extended his hand. The hard warmth curled around her own. She slid her foot into the stirrup he had vacated and swung up behind him.
Time hadn’t changed much, Kylie decided darkly as they rode through the sunlight. She was still the tagalong, the unwanted demanding her place among them. But now there was no teasing among the men, no groans or belches or threats to keep her away. Kylie held Michael tight, not wanting him to leave her. She leaned against his back, nuzzling it with her cheek. “You’re up to no good, Michael Cusack.”
He laughed then and reached behind him to smooth her back, keeping her close to him for a bit. It was a small thing, but reassuring and she settled for that, trusting him.
She flushed as they rode into town, the horses hooves clip-clopping, echoing violently in her heart. Leonard came out from his gas station, and JoAnn and Eli from the bakery. Eli placed his arm around his wife, and there were tears in JoAnn’s eyes. In the Wagon Wheel, Willa stood amid the breakfast crowd gathered at the window. They’d be thinking of her mother and of her honor, and of how Kylie had spent the night with Michael, who sat too straight, ignoring her as if he had never touched her.
“Let me off here.” She slid from Jack’s rump and still Michael didn’t move, rigid and looking straight ahead. She could have killed him for not sparing her a look after last night’s beautiful kisses. She hurried to unlock Soft Touches and turned to stare at the men watching her. Tenderness lingered in their hard expressions, but determination, too.
Michael hadn’t noticed her, hadn’t said a word to her all the five miles into town. Just one word could have saved the tearing of her heart, could have saved her pride. He could have saved the damage she would do him. But oh, no, not Michael.
Kylie placed her hands on her hips and glared up at Michael. He returned the favor as though she’d already had her revenge. She hadn’t, but she planned a good measure of it.
“I don’t want to know where you’re all going,” she said finally, glaring at all the men who had formed a brotherhood against her. Pride caused her to deny what she wanted most. “But your horses are dropping road apples in front of my shop. Who’s coming around to sweep up whatever gets dragged into the floors I mopped yesterday?”
“I’ll be home for supper tonight,” Michael said softly as if they’d share
d their lives forever.
“Have you told her yet?” Tanner asked as Michael sliced mushrooms for salad. As if waiting to go home to Kylie had made him too restless to concentrate, Tanner reached for the feta cheese and crumbled it expertly, slowly, thoughtfully into the torn lettuce.
“That I stood up in front of the Women’s Council and told them of my intentions to marry her? No. I walked into her shop, found Leon sleeping on his massage bench while she was working on her customer. We had a few words, good old Leon and myself. Right now, she’s not talking to me. Thanks by the way, for bringing over presentable clothes this morning—I didn’t want to go to my place,” Michael said.
“A dress shirt and tie won’t help you if Kylie learns what you said to the Women’s Council before you tell her. My sister’s pride is ramrod straight and she can tear the truth from most men with a look, just as my mother could. My Gwyneth is on the Council. They’ve promised to keep your secret, but it’s only a matter of time. My advice is to tell Kylie as soon as possible.” Tanner studied the flowers Michael had placed on the table in Anna’s cut glass vase. Chicken breasts with lemon and herbs waited for the skillet’s olive oil to heat, the clothes washer and dryer chugged away and Kylie’s sorted clothing lay on the utility floor, waiting to be laundered. Tanner frowned; a newly married man, he’d been too busy floating on air to realize how hard Kylie had been working, how little she had been caring for her own needs.
Michael’s green eyes swung to Tanner’s, man to man, brother to the man who would court Kylie. “I thought I’d work into it, once she’s talking to me again.”