by Jane Porter
She exhaled hard, feeling as if he’d punched her.
So that was it. That was why he was angry.
He wasn’t worried about her. He didn’t care that she’d made an effort to be with him, and to prove she could handle the rigors of the trip. He just didn’t want her here. It wasn’t appropriate.
“You didn’t marry a city girl,” she said roughly, her voice trembling with anger and hurt. “I was not raised to be cooped up in a house. I was raised outside, riding, shooting my gun, being adventurous, and free. And I’ll learn to cook for you, Thomas. I’ll even try to be a good housekeeper to please you. But I’m not ever going to stop being me. And if that bothers you, or embarrasses you, then that’s your problem, not mine, as I’ve no interest in being your convenient wife!”
“A convenient wife? Is that what you call yourself?” He laughed as he ran a hand through his crisp black hair. “Oh, sweetheart, forgive me, but you, love, have been anything but convenient. You approached me. You practically begged me to marry you. You turned my world upside down. I was happy before. I was content before. I had peace before. So don’t talk to me about being convenient, because in my eyes, you are nothing but inconvenient.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. She was more devastated than he’d ever know. “I appreciate your honesty,” she said when she could find her voice. “I’ll be honest, too. I think it’s unfair and wildly inappropriate that you’re so determined to squash the Burnett in me. That’s the best part of me, Thomas. That’s the part of me you should admire most.” And then she walked away, eager to hand the berries over to Mrs. Harrison and then even more eager to get her horse and head back home.
Thomas walked along the stream, jumping from rock to rock, trying to burn off his frustration, not wanting to return to the campsite until he was in a better mood.
He knew he’d hurt Ellie’s feelings, but he was worn out, tired from tension and drama. He didn’t want to punish her, he didn’t want to be cruel, but he wasn’t comfortable giving her the same freedom and independence she experienced living with her father.
She wouldn’t understand, but he felt more responsible for her well-being than her father had, because Thomas was the outsider. Thomas didn’t have the benefit of being a family member. If something happened to her, people would judge him. People would blame him. And he would also blame himself.
As it was, he worried about her, every second of every day. He was anxious leaving her each morning, and he remained troubled until he returned to her each night. He worried about someone stopping by the house during the day, and Ellie setting off on her own, and then having trouble. He knew she carried a gun, and he was sure she could use it, but there were dangers where a gun was of no use.
Floods, storms, fires, illnesses.
Snow.
Ice.
Lightning.
Thomas ran a hand across his face, feeling half-mad.
How had he thought this marriage would work? How had he imagined he could protect Ellie when he couldn’t protect his own family?
How could he save Ellie if he couldn’t save Eliza, and Eliza wasn’t nearly as headstrong or rebellious as Ellie?
She’d left the house for the mountain before seven, and it had taken her until midafternoon to reach the camp site. It would take at least seven hours to get back home. Ellie glanced at the sky as Oisin’s hooves sent a shower of pebbles down the slope. With luck, she’d be off the mountain by dark, and then it’d just be another hour to the house, and she wasn’t worried about crossing the pasture by moonlight. She knew the property and knew where to ride. Oisin knew his way home, too, and he’d get her there safely.
It wasn’t the trip that worried her, and she didn’t waste more than a moment’s thought on wolves, or bears, or being accosted by a stranger because she had her shotgun and her pistol and both were loaded and handy should she need them. She’d use them, too, if the situation required, as her father had drummed into her the necessity to be smart and survive.
Her father had taught her many invaluable skills but he’d never told her anything useful about love or men, or marriage, and right now she needed advice and a sympathetic ear, someone who could give her pointers on how to manage a proud, stubborn man like Thomas Sheenan.
It wouldn’t be appropriate to ask Mrs. Baxter, and Johnna was in town and still unmarried. Ellie chewed the inside of her cheek, wondering if it would be too inappropriate to seek out Johanna’s sister-in-law, McKenna Frasier, Sinclair’s wife.
Ellie and McKenna were not friends, but Ellie was desperate and her heart felt close to breaking. She needed to understand what she was doing wrong, and McKenna was a strong woman, and an independent one. If anyone might have some suggestions for dealing with an alpha male, it’d be her.
Thomas had been livid when he walked back into camp an hour later, and discovered that Ellie and Oisin were gone.
It had taken him several long seconds to process that she’d handed over the berries and left.
His hands balled into fists as Harrison apologized, saying they’d all thought Thomas knew, and that he’d given Ellie permission to return.
At another time, Thomas might have laughed at the idea of him giving Ellie permission to do anything. But as it was now, there was nothing laughable about the situation. It would be dark hours before Ellie returned home and he was all too well aware of the dangers of the rugged terrain.
Thomas saddled Crockett and was off as soon as possible.
In the distance, he could hear the howl of a coyote, and then the answering howl of another coyote.
Thank God they were coyotes and not wolves.
But a pack of coyotes wouldn’t fear attacking a lone female. Thomas prayed she was on her horse, and alert. He prayed she wouldn’t have any trouble on her return, and every mile he rode without a sign of her or Oisin seemed to be a good omen. But he wouldn’t be able to relax until he saw her at home, safe.
And then, he would give her hell.
What has she been thinking?
Or more to the point, did she ever think? She was one of the brightest, most accomplished women he had ever met. But, good God, she lacked even a sliver of common sense.
Deciding to trail after him had been a terrible decision on her part. Not just because he had told her no, but because she’d traveled all that way—eight hours at least—all on her own, putting her into all kinds of danger. And then when he was upset, instead of waiting the storm out, she turned around and went right back down the steep mountain, again by herself.
Did she not understand he was worried about her? Did she not understand that her safety was the most important thing to him?
He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to her. She was his. His to cherish, and his to protect.
And then he refused to think anymore, shutting down all thought, smashing all fear, determined to focus only on his goal, and his destination.
He just needed to get home. He just needed to see that Ellie was safe and where she was supposed to be.
It was midnight when Thomas finally reached the ranch. The house was dark. The barn was dark as well, which was how it should be. He felt a rush of relief, thinking everything looked snug and quiet. He tethered Crockett to the back porch, before heading into the house.
He climbed the stairs quickly, battling his temper, not wanting another heated exchange with her at this late hour. They’d have a serious talk in the morning, but for now, he just wanted to ease the panic that had been thudding through his veins for the past seven and a half hours.
The door to her bedroom was open. The bed was empty, the pink quilt smooth, the pillows plump.
She wasn’t home. She wasn’t here.
He inhaled sharply at the jagged lance of pain, feeling as if a switchblade had just been jammed between his ribs.
For a split-second, he felt violently ill, his worry so intense that he nearly punched the wall, and then he was running down the stairs, and across the yar
d, throwing open the barn to check the stalls. No sign of her horse. The saddle wasn’t on the wall.
She’d never even made it home.
The world narrowed, and all thought ceased. He couldn’t see, either, blinded by rage—he’d told her not to go, he’d told her it was too dangerous—and then fear—he couldn’t lose her—and then finally grim determination. There was no way in hell he would lose her.
He went to the bunkhouse and pounded on the door, shouting at the young cowhands to wake. When the door opened, he told them to dress and saddle up as they were going to look for Mrs. Sheenan, who’d never made it back from Emigrant Peak.
One of the young hands squinted out at the dark. “Shouldn’t we at least wait till daybreak? I don’t know how we’d ever find her without any light.”
“Do you want a job here?” Thomas ground out. “If you do, saddle up, and if you don’t, get the hell off my ranch.”
Then, minutes later, both hands were on their horses, joining Thomas as they cantered away from the house and barn, heading east toward the mountain’s dark hulking shape. “We’ll spread out once we reach the base of the mountain,” Thomas told them. “I don’t know if she’s hurt, or just lost, or if Oisin went lame. Keep your ears and eyes open and hopefully the next time I see you my wife will have been found.”
At dawn, McKenna made Ellie a cup of hot, sweet tea while Sinclair saddled Oisin and then McKenna gave her a hug and Ellie was on her way home, with Sinclair as an escort.
Ellie hadn’t wanted an escort, but Sinclair wouldn’t hear of her leaving and riding home without someone to see her safely back.
“I’ve traveled between the two houses plenty of times in the past,” Ellie answered. “I don’t know why you’re making a fuss now.”
“If the roles were reversed and it was McKenna heading home, I would hope your husband would see her safely back.”
“That’s because McKenna can’t ride or shoot half as well as me.”
His lips twisted as he checked his smile. “No, it’s because I love McKenna and I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her.”
Ellie didn’t answer and Sinclair said nothing else until the old Burnett Ranch house came into view. “McKenna didn’t tell me everything that you two discussed last night, and I don’t want to know, but clearly you came over in need of some female company and I hoped she could help.”
“She was very kind, and she gave me some good advice.”
“I’m glad.” He hesitated. “You’re strong, and that’s good, but you have to remember that men have pride.”
“I know. Archibald Burnett was my father.”
“He was a great man, too.”
“He was,” she agreed.
“And you put him on a pedestal.”
She shot him a side glance but said nothing.
“It’s awfully hard, if not impossible, for any man to fill shoes that big,” he added quietly, “but I admire Sheenan for trying.”
Ellie couldn’t get Sinclair’s words out of her head as she climbed the staircase to her room. She’d never quite thought of the situation that way, but he was right. She’d adored her father and he’d been her hero, and it couldn’t have been easy for Thomas to take on the ranch responsibilities, and her, particularly on the heels of her father’s death.
Reeling with exhaustion, she tugged off her riding boots and struggled out of her dress. She threw herself down on her bed in her petticoats, so very glad Sinclair had insisted on unsaddling Oisin and rubbing him down before making sure he had food and water before he left. She would have done it herself if Sinclair hadn’t offered, but she was so saddle sore right now and ached in every muscle and joint.
It was too much riding for one day.
It was too much heartache for one day.
All she wanted to do was collapse into bed and sleep forever.
She pulled one of the crisp cool pillows beneath her cheek and closed her eyes, thinking only of sleep—
“Where the hell have you been?”
Thomas’s deep, rough voice jolted her awake. Ellie lunged into a sitting position, her hands flying up as if to protect herself. “What?”
“Where have you been all night?”
She gave her head a groggy shake. “I’ve been here.”
“You were not here. I followed you off the mountain last night and you didn’t come home and then I see Douglas riding away from the house—”
“He escorted me home, that’s all.”
“And why did he need to escort you home? Were you lost on his property?”
“No. I rode over to the Douglas’s to speak to McKenna.”
“And why would you do that? You don’t even like her.”
“I don’t dislike her.”
“She stole your fiancé. You’re not friends. You’ve never been friends.”
“She also came to our wedding, as she’s my best friend’s sister-in-law.”
“You didn’t go to see McKenna Douglas. You went to see her husband.”
Ellie stiffened, outraged. It was one thing for him to be in a foul temper, but another to accuse her of something frankly adulterous. “I did not! I didn’t even speak to him last night. We only spoke when he escorted me home.”
“Was he up here? Was he in this room?”
“No! No. Absolutely not.”
“I knew you still loved him.”
For a minute she just stared at him, baffled by the accusations. Where was this coming from? How could he even think such a thing? “What is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind? There is nothing between Sinclair and me—”
“It doesn’t look that way, Ellie. It looks as if you want what you can’t have. But then you always want what you can’t have.”
She applauded. “Yes! So true. You couldn’t be more right.”
His brow lowered and his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not in the mood for games.”
“Well, neither am I. Because I do want what I can’t have, and what I want is you, Thomas Sheenan, you awful, ridiculous, hardheaded Irishman! I want you. Because I love you. But you don’t believe in feelings and emotion and whenever I get even a little bit close to you you push me away—” She broke off and gulped a great breath as she grabbed her pillow and threw it at him, and then grabbed the other pillow and threw that one, too.
“And for you to even suggest that I have any interest in Sinclair when all I want is you, and to be with you, after I spent seven and a half miserable hours riding up that damn mountain to find you, only to have you say those cruel, hurtful things—”
She broke off again, tears filling her eyes. “Shame on you, Thomas Sheenan! Shame on you because I have only loved two men in my life. My father. And you.”
Thomas stood rooted to the spot, jaw clenched, teeth aching. His stomach hurt, as though he’d swallowed a jar full of nails. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said lowly, stiffly, forcing himself to speak.
“Oh, I do, I know exactly what I’m saying, and exactly what you’re not saying.” She drew a hysterical breath. “You don’t love me and you’ll never love me and I’m the fool because I fell for you even before you married me. I fell for you that night in December when I saw you on the firetruck and in that crazy, horrifying moment where everything went wrong, something also went right. I lost Sinclair, and found you.”
She reached up to dash away the tears but she couldn’t catch them and they spilled, one after the other. “I wish I didn’t love you. It’d be so much easier if I didn’t care—”
And then Thomas, who wasn’t good with words, and didn’t trust words, did the only thing that made sense.
He went to the bed and picked her up even as she swung wildly at him, punching him in the chest, and flipped her on her back, pinning her thrashing legs, and grabbing hold of her fists and he kissed her.
He kissed her not only to silence her painful stream of words, but to calm her and stop the tears.
The kiss was hot and fierc
e, part punishment and part desperation. Thomas had been out of his mind with worry. All night he’d battled his fear and how it ate at his heart, torturing him with outcomes that he couldn’t accept. Nothing could happen to her. Nothing.
She had to be okay, she had to be fine. It was the only way, it was the only acceptable outcome. Thomas had lost people before. But he wasn’t going to lose Ellie. He wouldn’t even contemplate such a thing. Ellie was his... his world, his heart, his future.
“You can’t do that to me again,” he said, against her mouth, his hands cradling her face. He could feel the tears sliding down her temples into her hair. “You can’t just disappear like that.”
“I was going home. You didn’t want me.”
“I always want you,” he answered, kissing her again, deeply, his tongue finding the soft recesses of her mouth, and hearing her whimper as he stroked the delicate skin with all the nerve endings.
He loved her low whimper and the way she arched against him as he slid his hand down her hips and then between her thighs.
“You can’t have me, though,” she answered huskily. “You can’t just take me when you want me.”
“But I want you all the time.” He lifted his head and gazed down into her luscious green eyes. He’d prayed he’d find her in one piece, but he’d prayed before for a miracle and it hadn’t been granted. “I was so worried, Ellie. You have no idea.”
It was true. He’d been heartsick, so heartsick he’d felt poisoned all the way through.
And then when he saw Douglas riding away from the house, Thomas had wanted to destroy his neighbor. He’d wanted to beat him to a pulp but Sinclair was too far away and Thomas was too intent on finding Ellie.
“You are mine,” he murmured, still studying her beautiful face, as if trying to memorize it forever. He traced the winged eyebrows and the small straight nose and then her full, generous mouth. “My bride. My wife. My family. You’re all I have, and all I want.”
Her lower lip quivered. “But you hate feelings, and you don’t want to love me.”