by Diana Palmer
Her fingers curled beside her head with impotent anguish. He was sorry for her; she knew he was. He’d regret this generous impulse, and he had no idea what his remorse would do to her. His kindness was a double-edged sword, taunting her with the shadow of an emotion he’d never feel for her.
His hand smoothed over her fist, his own fingers untangling hers in a slow, sensuous caress while he held her wide eyes.
“I know you don’t trust me,” he murmured. “Your emotions are like these fingers, Kathryn, tied in knots to protect them from me. There’s no need for that anymore, but I’m going to have to prove it to you. So just take your time, honey, and we’ll go from here. No more looking behind us.” He eased her fist open and brought the palm to his warm mouth. “Sleep tight.”
She watched him go with troubled eyes. Life was getting more complicated by the minute.
* * *
Tom went with them to the ranch, just to see Kate settled, and she thought secretly that Jacob was glad of the company. He was impatient. He didn’t like riding any more than he liked flying, and it was an all-day trip from Chicago to Pierre with infrequent stops to eat and rest. Jacob passed the time by talking to Tom while Kate curled up in a long row of seats she had all to herself, with the armrests lifted out of the way.
She’d insisted on getting into the bus on her own, but she was sore and weak by the time they reached the bus station in sprawling Pierre. Jacob lifted her easily, tenderly, and carried her to his waiting Lincoln, with his father behind the wheel.
“Hi, Kate,” Hank Cade grinned, his silvery hair blowing in the breeze. “Hello, Tom. How was the trip, son?” he asked Jacob.
“Just great,” Jacob said through his teeth as he eased Kate into the backseat so that she could stretch out.
“He hates planes,” Hank told Tom who was climbing in beside Kate. “But he hates riding in buses just as much.”
“Most sane people hate flying,” Jacob replied. He opened the driver’s door. “Move over,” he told his father.
Hank glared at him indignantly. “I can drive,” he retorted.
“Then do it, but not in my car,” Jacob replied. “I’m not stupid enough to ride with you.”
“I’m a better driver than you are! At least I never wrecked more than one car!”
“Those accidents weren’t my fault,” Jacob said imperturbably, sliding into the car with enough force to move his father to one side. “I was hit all three times.”
“Because you pulled out in front of people, tailgated and ran stop signs!” Hank accused.
“I’m a good driver,” Jacob muttered. He started the car and shot off away from the airport, narrowly missing a car that had just turned into the parking lot. “Damned fool,” he muttered at the stunned, innocent driver. “Should have watched where he was going.”
Kate was trying not to laugh. She looked at Tom and almost burst with suppressed amusement.
“He was a damned fool, all right,” Hank agreed, “for getting onto a highway when you were driving a car!”
“Calm down,” Jacob mused. “Remember your blood pressure.”
“Why should I when it doesn’t ever remember me.”
“Why didn’t Janet drive you out here?”
“Our housekeeper knew she’d have to ride back with you, so she very sensibly stayed behind to fix lunch,” Hank replied.
Jacob glared at him. “I drive better than you do.”
“So could I, if I could see!”
“Have your damned cataracts taken care of.”
“No fancy doctor’s cutting on my eyes!”
Kate exchanged an amused glance with Tom. These fights between father and son were familiar territory. The exchange brought back gentle memories of another time, when Jacob had been an easygoing, caring friend instead of the sarcastic stranger of more recent years. The passengers in the backseat kept quiet and listened all the way to Warlance, while Jacob and Hank went back and forth about everything from the state of local politics to the condition of the cattle on the ranch.
Minutes later, they wound up the long dirt road that led to Warlance. Like most of this part of South Dakota, the country was rolling plains with trees in only occasional patterns around the far-flung houses. The state was sixteenth in the nation in land area, but forty-fifth in population. It had what Jacob had always called “elbow room,” and in a big way. Warlance’s nearest neighbor, the Dugan ranch, was over ten miles away.
The big white two-story house that Hank Cade’s grandfather had built was set in a frame of oak trees, while cattle grazed in the moderate warmth of a northwestern fall along tributaries of the Missouri River, which divided South Dakota right down the middle. To the northeast was Pierre, the state capital. To the southwest were the Badlands. To the far west were the Black Hills. To the north was the Cheyenne River Indian Reservation. All around, there was history. To Kate, the wide-open country with its smooth hills and isolated buttes was a treat to the eye. Chicago had given her a bad case of claustrophobia at first— She was used to clear horizons and a satisfying lack of trees to clutter up the view. And nothing in the city, despite its beauty, had made up for the lack of open land and sunshine and air as fresh as the winter snow.
“I’d forgotten how large Warlance was,” Tom remarked as they wound up the drive. Big Hereford bulls grazed on one side of the dirt road, heifers and calves on the other.
“It seems to get bigger all the time when Jay isn’t around,” Hank had the grace to admit. He grimaced. “It’s one crisis after another. And I’ve been saving the worst until last, son. Chuck Gray quit yesterday.”
Jacob glared at his father. “Why?”
“He said to tell you he’d rounded up one damned bull too many,” he replied. “You might remember that fall is the season we round up the bulls,” he told those in the back seat. “Somebody always gets stepped on or gored or kicked. This year it was Chuck. He went to work for a ranch over in Montana.”
“Damn it,” Jacob cursed as he pulled up at the steps. “He was the best wrangler I ever had.”
“You should have let him wrangle horses instead of telling him to help round up bulls, then, son, like I told you,” Hank said smugly. “If you’d have listened to me—”
“I did listen to you, damn it. You’re the geezer who told me to let him help round up bulls!”
Hank shrugged. “Well, then, why did you listen to me?”
Jacob snapped off the engine with a vicious switch of his fingers and glared at his father. “Why in hell don’t you go off sailing to Tahiti like you always swear you’re going to?”
“Now, son, if I did that, who’d look out for you?”
Kate started to laugh. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, trying to stifle her mouth when Jacob glared toward her. “I was just thinking about…something.”
“Sure. I’ll bet.” Jacob got out of the car and lifted her out, ignoring her protests, as Tom and Hank paused to get the luggage from the trunk.
“Janet! Open the front door!” Jacob called, his voice carrying all the way to the corral, where two cowboys looked their way.
“You could break glasses with that voice!” the old, heavyset woman in a green housedress and pink bedroom slippers grumbled as she ambled out the door and held it open. “Afternoon, Kate. It’s good to see you. I’m not making any comments about him, though. I was just getting used to peace and quiet, and here he comes back. I bet he’s gotten Mr. Hank in a fever and is already planning ways to turn my beef roast into bile at the supper table.”
“You’re fired,” Jacob said through his teeth.
“Well, I won’t go, so there,” Janet shot back. “You shut your mouth and stop throwing orders at me, young man. I used to put diapers on you when you were five feet shorter than you are now!”
“For God’s sake, stop reminding me,” he retorted, carrying Kate inside the dark hall. “Don’t we have a light in this hall, or are you on another conservation binge?”
“Waste not, want not
,” Janet replied smugly, “and don’t trip with Miss Kate.”
He muttered something that Janet couldn’t hear and Kate flushed.
He walked off down the hall to one of the guest rooms on the ground floor, just two doors down from his own room. At least, Kate imagined it was still his room. It had the same heavy antique furniture that he’d been using when Kate had visited Margo so many years before.
“We hardly use the upstairs anymore,” he commented as he put her down on a spotless powder-blue coverlet under a canopied bed. “It’s cold as hell in winter and too hard for Janet to go up and down when she has to clean it. We try to save her legs when we can, despite the fact that we ought to stand her up against the fence and shoot her.”
“You’d miss her,” Kate chided.
He leaned over her, his hands beside her head, his dark eyes piercing. “Maybe. How’s the rib?”
“Just a little sore,” she said softly. He was so good to look at. Involuntarily, her eyes ran over his hard face, tracing every line of it.
He saw the helpless pleasure in her expression and found himself smiling gently at her obvious delight in looking at him. He hadn’t realized how exciting it could be to know that Kate loved him.
He bent a little and threatened her mouth with the minty warmth of his own, watching her eyes dilate and half close, watching her lips part for him. Yes, she wanted his mouth. He nuzzled her nose with his, hearing her breathing change in the stillness of the room. His own was quickening. It aroused him to feel her immediate response.
Because it did, he drew back, frowning a little. He had to keep things in perspective. Kate was here to heal, and he was providing for her out of guilt. Wasn’t he? He blinked at his own confused reactions.
“Rest for a bit,” he said, rising. “We’ll have something to eat directly. I’ve got to sit down with my father and see what’s happened while I’ve been away. Tom can keep you company.”
“Of course. I don’t need to be entertained, you know,” she added with a faint smile.
“You don’t need to be left alone to brood, either,” he replied. He let his eyes wander down the length of her body, which was elegant in a pale gray pantsuit with a green ruffled blouse. She was pretty when she dressed up, and her body tormented him with memories. He remembered it in the first tentative seconds of passion, remembered it twisting softly under him, her moans quickly arousing him to that unexpected loss of control. His body tautened with the memory of a fulfillment so staggering, it still haunted him.
“Do you still like mystery novels?” she asked unexpectedly.
His eyebrows shot up. “Of course.”
“I do, too. Do you have some new ones I could read while I’m here?”
“I’ve got dozens that I’ve acquired since your last visit,” he replied. “You’re welcome to borrow them.”
“Thanks.”
“Janet says one of your men wants to see you,” Tom interrupted, smiling at Jacob as he brought in Kate’s suitcase. “Something about some barbed wire that didn’t come.”
“Great,” Jacob muttered. “I leave for a few days and the whole damned spread falls apart.”
He went out, still muttering, and Tom exchanged wry grins with Kate. “Just like old times, isn’t it?” he asked. “Jacob’s more like his old self since Margo’s wedding.”
Kate didn’t comment. “Sit down and talk to me,” she said instead. “We haven’t really had a chance to visit since you came over from New York.” She settled back against the pillows with a weary sigh. “Tell me about your job.”
He did, and went on to keep her in stitches with tales about his boss. His stories passed the time, and he kept on talking until Kate dozed off. He watched her, his green eyes worried. Kate had been odd lately—ever since Margo’s wedding. He felt that her present state had something to do with Jacob, and that what happened had been more than a simple argument. But even though he loved her, he knew that she wouldn’t welcome his interference. With a sigh, he got up and covered her with a quilt. Poor Kate, he thought. Her life had gone from bad to worse lately. And being around Jacob, considering her passion for him, was going to be more torment for her. He wondered why in the world she’d agreed to come here. He wished he and Jacob were friendly enough that he could ask. There were so many mysteries between his sister and Jacob. He hoped she wasn’t going to let herself in for any more heartache than she’d already had.
Chapter 8
Tom stayed two days, just long enough to see Kate settled; then he had to go back to work. At first she was lonely, but Janet made time to talk to her. Somehow Jacob was always early or late for meals, so that Kate had them with Hank and Janet. She didn’t know if that was by accident or design on Jacob’s part. He’d been acting strangely ever since her arrival, as if he were deeply regretting his impulse to bring her to the ranch to recuperate. Feeling a sense of tension, Kate made a point of staying out of his way. She knew he didn’t have much free time, anyway, since it was fall. He and his men were busy getting the cattle to winter pasture, selling calves, moving out culls, moving in replacement heifers, checking for disease, tagging, doing all the hundred-and-one things that raising cattle required from season to season.
Her doctor in Chicago had made Jacob promise to have his own physician examine Kate forty-eight hours after they arrived in South Dakota, just to make sure no damage had been done. Jacob kept his word, and Dr. Wright checked Kate to make sure her broken rib was mending properly. She was still a little sore, but nothing like the way she had been those first few days. They’d removed the staples just before she left the hospital, and the rib belt, oddly enough, didn’t hurt the stitches or the small incision where the drainage tube had been in her side. She was told to come back on the fourth week after surgery to have more X rays done, and if they were all right, she could dispense with the rib belt. At least, she thought ruefully, it no longer hurt to cough or sneeze or laugh, so she had to be getting better.
Hank had ridden into Blairsville with them to see the doctor, so there hadn’t been any opportunity for Kate and Jacob to talk. Perhaps Jacob had wanted that, because he seemed reluctant to spend any time with her.
Of course, Kate hadn’t expected to see much of Jacob, and she didn’t complain about his absences. But at the end of her first week on the ranch, he came into her room unexpectedly as she was halfheartedly watching a television comedy special from the easy chair by the window.
He was wearing denims and a blue-checked western shirt, and his boots were still dusty from working. He smiled at the picture she made in her pale blue caftan, curled up in the pink chair with her feet bare.
“Are you watching that?” he asked, nodding toward the screen.
“Sort of,” she said and smiled. “I’m okay. You don’t have to entertain me. I don’t want to get in the way.”
She always put his comfort first, he thought with faint irritation. She wouldn’t intrude on his privacy for anything, not even to ask about those books she wanted to read. Since she’d been at Warlance, she’d kept very much to herself, not bothering anyone. He felt a bit uncomfortable around her, and he’d made sure they weren’t alone for any length of time. She didn’t seem to mind his absence, and ironically, he found that frankly annoying. He’d been working hard; he hadn’t had a spare minute to entertain her. But he felt guilty all the same, and her sacrificial attitude caught him on the raw. Any other woman would have demanded attention, been petulant and insistent and haughty about it.
“Don’t you ever get tired of sainthood?” he asked unexpectedly, because he was tired and worn and impatient with her lack of spirit. “My God, all you need is a halo!”
The attack surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to take off the gloves until she was well, but perhaps her very presence in the house angered him. His conscience was obviously bothering him since he found out the truth about her past, and having to see her every day was only adding to his sense of guilt.
She looked up at him quietly. “I
should never have come,” she said then. “You haven’t changed one bit. You’re about as thrilled to have me here as you’d be with a toad in the house.” She got to her feet slowly, because she was weak and her side was still a little sore, but she faced him squarely. “I hate to even ask it, but will you please get me a ticket on the next bus out of here? Failing that, I’ll call Tom.”
The situation was getting out of hand too quickly. He hadn’t realized she’d take him at face value, but he should have remembered her obsession with not imposing.
“I’m tired,” he said shortly. “I’m short-tempered and ill and I want to bite somebody. You were handy.”
She stared at him unblinking, startled by the blunt admission.
“When I want you to leave, I’ll say so,” he snapped. His eyes darkened at the sight of her in that witchy blue caftan. He didn’t think she was wearing anything under it, and that disturbed him even more.
“Excuse me, I thought you were asking me to leave,” she said in a subdued tone.
He moved forward with a rough sigh and took her gently by the arms, easing her back down in her chair. He knelt in front of her and looked into her wounded eyes.
“Either you’ve forgotten, or you don’t know,” he began softly, “but I’m not an easy man to get along with. I have a black temper and I’m not shy about using it. If you don’t learn to stand up to me, you’re going to have one hell of a time trying to stay here.”
“I don’t want to fight,” she said miserably. “I’m weak as a kitten, I miss my job and my brother, and I’ve got too much time to think.”
He hadn’t considered that. Her admission took the starch out of him all at once. “You’ve been keeping to yourself ever since Tom left,” he reminded her. “I didn’t know if you were shy, or just preferred your own company.” He touched the arm of her chair idly. “Kate, I like being by myself. It’s a hard habit to break. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If you want to be with me, all you have to do is say so.”