Dark Horse: Bad Boy Cowboy Romance

by Westlake, Samantha

  Once again, Marsden brought his Mercedes, and he looked as if he'd come straight from the office as he stepped out. He cut quite the dashing figure in his suit and tie, even if he didn't have quite the muscles underneath, I pointed out to myself. Even with the five o'clock shadow on his face, he looked strong and powerful, didn't he?

  The illusion of power and control vanished a second later, however, as Marsden pulled a face and lifted up one of his shoes. "God, Jillian, can't you teach the animals to keep it out in the fields?" he grimaced, wiping off the shoe on the gravel with a sideways scraping motion. Reaching into his car, I saw him pull out that damn cane of his, stabbing it down into the ground and leaning on the bone handle as he waved his stricken foot around on the dirt. "This is totally unhygienic."

  "Well, it's a ranch - I'm not sure that this place is ever going to be hospital room clean," I returned, unable to keep all the sarcasm out of my voice. "It's good to see you, though, even if you've got shit on your shoes."

  I stepped forward, putting my arms around the man. He kept on looking down at his shoe for a second longer, but then abandoned the task of trying to clean the leather and returned my hug, leaving the cane stabbed upright into the ground. I felt a little better, taking in a deep breath of that cologne that he always wore. I didn't know the name of the cologne, but Marsden always seemed to smell of it whenever he came back from a long day at the office.

  "So, here to help with the wedding plans?" I asked hopefully, as the hug ended. "Here, let's head inside."

  Marsden followed me up the stairs and into the house, leaning the cane against the hallway wall inside the door, but he didn't confirm that he was there to help with planning. "Is that cowboy ruffian around?" he asked, sniffing, as he stepped indoors.

  "Who, Lance?" The word ruffian seemed like a strange label. Cowboy certainly fit, but Lance showed a surprising amount of culture - sometimes more than Marsden had, I felt, despite my fiancé's airs and act of importance. "No, I think he went out for a ride. I didn't see Shadow, his horse, around, and his saddle's not in the barn."

  "Well, whatever. I was thinking that maybe tonight we could go out, go downtown and get a drink at the Highball Club," Marsden went on, using one hand to brush over the couch, as if checking for dirt, before taking a seat.

  Standing in the doorway to the living room, I crossed my arms beneath my breasts at him, raising one eyebrow. "And here I thought that you were actually here to help me out with wedding planning," I said.

  Marsden smiled at me, spreading his hands out and trying his hardest to appear innocent. "Well, I could always help out when we come back?" he suggested, as if this stood any chance of actually happening.

  Even though I knew that I ought to hold out and get him to help now, before we left, I could feel my resolve weakening. And halfway through sorting out my thoughts, my stomach loudly growled up at me, swaying me further.

  "I guess maybe some food would help," I gave in. "I can't exactly do a lot of planning on an empty stomach, I suppose."

  "That's the spirit!" Marsden hopped up from the couch. "Now, you're not going to go out like that, are you? Don't you want to go upstairs and make yourself actually look presentable?"

  I glanced down at my dirty jeans and loose shirt, slightly marked from the sweat of the afternoon's ride. "I suppose so. I'll go change."

  I came downstairs fifteen minutes later after changing into a dress. While undressing, I'd given myself a few sniffs and concluded that, as long as I changed my clothes, there wouldn't be too much smell of sweat coming from my body. Besides, if I took all the time to shower and then wait for my hair to dry, we wouldn't get out of the house and to dinner until well after nine o'clock.

  Instead, I'd pulled on a nice white dress from the back of my closet, one that I hadn't worn in quite a while. I cautiously pulled it over my body and was delighted to find that it still fit. Twirling in front of the mirror, I thought that I looked quite nice, especially when I paired the dress with a royal blue necklace, wide belt, and some blue heels that had been languishing in the back of my closet for far too long, just begging to be worn out.

  "What do you think?" I asked Marsden, putting on a little twirl.

  He grunted back at me as he climbed up from the couch. "Yeah, that looks okay. All right, let's get going. I'm starving."

  I pouted, annoyed that I hadn't gotten more of a compliment, but I followed him out to his car, locking the front door to the house behind me.

  The Highball Club, Marsden's dinner choice, was actually quite a sophisticated place, and I didn't feel overdressed at all with my jewelry and dress. We'd been there several times before, and I knew it as Marsden's favorite - several of the waiters and waitresses gave him smiles or waves when he stepped inside.

  "Oh, hi Marsden! Who's this?" Our waitress looked especially perky, tall and skinny with blonde hair falling down her back in a ponytail.

  For just a moment, I thought that Marsden looked surprised to see the woman waiting on us, but the expression vanished before I could try and guess what it meant. "Hi there, Kristy," he greeted the young woman back. "This is Jillian. Um, can I get a drink going?"

  "Your usual?" the young woman responded, smiling so sweetly that I swore her eyes twinkled. She turned to me, the smile dropping by a couple watts. "And anything for you?"

  "Water is fine, thanks," I replied politely.

  The waitress nodded to me, gave Marsden one last smile, and then darted off to fulfill our orders.

  As she left, I looked curiously at my fiancé. "Do you know her from somewhere?"

  "Oh yeah. I bring many of my clients here, and Kristy often helps us out," Marsden explained. "I just was surprised to see her working here for the dinner shift, that's all. She's usually just around for lunch."

  The man quickly grabbed for his martini when Kristy returned with our drinks, but I guessed that he probably just flirted with the waitress a bit when here for lunches, and he'd never confessed to her that he had a fiancé. No harm in a bit of flirting, I told myself, as long as he didn't go past that.

  By the time that Kristy returned to take our food order, Marsden had gulped down most of his first martini, but he looked as if he'd recovered from his surprise at seeing her waiting on our table, and we placed our orders. But as we waited for the food to arrive, I looked across the table at this man that I'd agreed to marry, and I felt some of those concerns that had been welling up over the last few weeks bubbling up, fighting to reach the surface.

  I kept them down, but it took an effort, and Marsden didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to pick up the slack in the conversation.

  We ate most of our meal in silence.

  Chapter twenty-one

  From the moment our food arrived in front of us at the Highball Club, to our trip back home in Marsden's car, I kept on trying to figure out how to address some of the concerns that kept on welling up in my mind, demanding for me to address them out loud with my fiancé.

  Marsden, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind the silence. Instead, as I silently sipped at my water across the table from him, he took advantage of the moment to apparently try and put as much alcohol into his body as possible. By the time we'd both finished off our entrees, he was on either his fifth or sixth martini, and I could see him wobbling a little bit, back and forth. I even found myself wishing that he'd brought that damn cane he loved so much along with him, so that he could use it to stagger out of here!

  In the end, however, he ended up only making it out to his car by draping one big arm over my shoulders and leaning heavily on me for support. At the car, he paused, confused, as I dropped him off on the passenger side and then held out my hand for the keys.

  "What?" he slurred, blinking at me.

  "You're in no condition to drive," I replied, trying to keep my voice neutral. "Give me the keys, and I'll drive us home."

  Marsden opened his mouth as if to argue, but apparently thought better of the idea, thankfully, and fished around in his jac
ket pocket for the keys instead. I took them from him and pushed him into the passenger seat, feeling a bit like I'd just been handed an adult baby to watch and monitor.

  Finally, as we arrived back at my house, I couldn't hold back any longer. But at least, I told myself, I'd see if maybe Marsden really was on a different page than I thought.

  "So, now you're going to lend me a hand with some of the wedding planning, right?" I asked as I unlocked the front door and let Marsden inside.

  The lights in most of the house were turned off, suggesting that Lance had vacated the premises, or at least headed up to his own room, I observed. That was good - at least he wouldn't come in and interrupt any conversations, possibly raising up Marsden's jealousy.

  Inside, Marsden didn't answer my question right away, instead moving unsteadily into the living room and dropping down with a sigh of relief onto the couch. He lifted his legs and plopped them up on the coffee table, totally oblivious to my annoyed glare at him as he performed this action.

  He huffed, unbuttoning his jacket. "Ugh, fine, wedding," he said loudly with a sigh. "What still needs to be done for this wedding thing?"

  I blinked at him for a moment, trying to work out where to start. "Everything!" I burst out in response, forgetting for a second about his inebriated state.

  As his mouth opened up, I held up my hand, ticking off the items on my fingers. "I still need to figure out guest lists, especially for your family, and whether we need to offer special meals for anyone. We need to print up invitations, get a photographer, find a band, figure out what sort of bar we want to have - there's a million things to plan!"

  For a minute, Marsden just kept on gawping back at me, as if I'd overloaded his brain. "Wow, I thought it was way simpler," he finally managed, forcing his mouth back shut. "Can't we just, like, get married?"

  "Is that really what you want?" I fired back. "Just to go up in front of a judge and have him declare us married?"

  "Well, no," Marsden defended himself, shaking his head a bit more strongly than he might have intended. He paused for a moment to recollect his thoughts, and perhaps to try and make the room stop spinning.

  "We need to invite everyone, of course," he said once he'd managed to apparently stabilize his inner ear. "Have it in the papers and things, right? Announcing it! Get all the newspaper reporters there to report. Report on it, I mean. I mean, one of the oldest Virginia families marrying into one of the wealthiest!" He pointed at me, and then him, as if the identities of these two families wasn't clear. "That's the sort of thing that everyone should hear about, I bet! Famous."

  He sounded pretty emphatic, but I still wanted to delve in deeper. Given how he seemed to be avoiding helping out, this couldn't really be what he wanted, could it?

  I sat down in the chair next to the couch, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees as I peered at Marsden. I took a deep breath, hardly able to believe the words that were about to come out of my mouth.

  "Listen, are you sure that this is what you want? With us?" I said slowly, looking into the man's mop of shaggy hair as he hung his head down a bit, looking at his feet. "I mean, if you're feeling something else, you can tell me-"

  Marsden lifted his head up at that - but instead of looking either agreeable or romantic, I was surprised to see his eyes blazing at me, anger clear on his face. "What I want? I'm not the one backing out!" he burst out, glaring at me.

  "Backing out?" I felt totally lost. What was he talking about? "I'm not backing out! I just feel like-"

  "No, I see how you're trying to put words in my mouth," Marsden kept on going, rolling over me. He leaned forward, wobbling a little but clearly trying to climb up to his feet. "How dare you! I bet you're cheating with that guy here, aren't you? That's what this is about!"

  "Calm down, would you?" I snapped. "Why are you getting all worked up? I just wanted to have a normal conversation! When's the last time that we actually talked to each other?"

  "Well, maybe that's because I'm not living here!" Marsden snapped back. "See, you'll invite some other guy to live here, but not me? I see how you're consp- con- you're ganging up against me!" He shook his head, making another attempt to stand up, but fell back down on the couch once again.

  My mouth hung open for a second. He thought that I was the one who'd turned him down for moving in together? He'd been the one to say no to me, claiming that he needed his own place so that he could get up early for business appointments!

  "Marsden, I'm not-"

  "Not telling me that you're cheating!" he finished, waving a hand at me angrily and nearly smacking me in the face. "I knew that something wasn't right with him! Tell me the truth, no lies!"

  For a moment, I did feel a little twinge of shame hit me. Could Marsden know about how I'd compared him to Lance occasionally over the last few weeks, how I might have been having second thoughts?

  But no, even that wouldn't be reason enough to yell at me like this! Before I knew what I was doing, I was up on my feet, glaring down at him as he kept on trying to stand.

  "I'm not cheating on you with Lance - but maybe this should be your wake up call," I told him in icy tones, feeling something click inside of me. "Because you know what, Marsden? Right now, this man in front of me? He's not one that I want to marry!"

  Inside my chest, as I spoke these words, I felt my previous concern and uncertainty suddenly lock into cold certainty. I was speaking the truth. Staring down at this drunken, out of control man accusing me of cheating on him because he couldn't handle being together with me and taking the next step, I didn't feel a single note of regret.

  Marsden's mouth dropped open for a moment. His hands grabbed the armrest of the couch, and he finally managed to pull himself up to his feet. I stood my ground, staring back at him and wondering what he was going to do next.

  Would he try and apologize? Would he perhaps try and kiss me, to reassure me that he was still the man who had asked me to marry him a few months previously?

  I was ready for him to either sweep me up in his arms, or to back down and away from him.

  But I wasn't ready for him to bring his arm around, swinging at me with his open palm.

  I wasn't ready for him to hit me.

  Chapter twenty-two

  The slap caught me right on the cheek, and for a second, my vision flashed into whiteness as the pain hit me.

  I staggered back, one of my hands flying up to my injured cheek as I stared in shock at the man standing across from me, his hands tightened into fists and breathing heavily as he glared back at me. I could see his chest rising and falling, up and down, in his suit.

  I opened my mouth, but I didn't even know what to say. I just stared, unable to think or make sense of what was happening, as Marsden took another step towards me. His face was twisted in anger, a scowl stretched across his lips.

  Almost in slow motion, I saw his hand come up to hit me again.

  It never connected.

  I wish I'd managed to keep my eyes open, but, anticipating that hand connecting with me, I started to close my eyes and try and turn my face away. I knew that I wouldn't be able to fully dodge, but I at least didn't want to get the full brunt of the blow. With my head turned, I only saw a streak of something flying past me.

  I heard a thud, a bit like someone chucking a hunk of steak down at the floor.

  A moment later, I heard a louder thud, like the rest of the cow hitting the floor after the steak.

  In a second, when nothing had connected with my face, I opened my eyes to see what had happened.

  I had to pause for a moment, just staring at the scene in front of me.

  Marsden lay down on the floor, sprawled out on his back on the ground in between the couch and the coffee table. He groaned as I looked down at him, but his eyes stayed shut, and I could see that one of his cheeks looked almost white. His hands were splayed out to either side, one of them on the side of the couch, the other underneath the coffee table.

  Standing over him, breathing
heavily and with both of his hands tightened up into fists, Lance glared down at the other man. Lance stood with one foot in front of me, tilting his body in front of me as if to shield me.

  "What- what just happened?" I stammered out, staring with wide eyes at this tableau in front of me.

  For a second longer, Lance remained frozen, his eyes focused down at my fiancé on the floor. But then, just as I got ready to repeat the question, he sighed and took a step back, a little of the tension slipping out of his shoulders.

  "Maybe Marsden had a reason for hitting you," he said softly, shaking his head a little as if he doubted that such an explanation could exist. "But I just saw a man stepping forward to hit a woman, and I intervened."

  I remembered Marsden's hand swinging towards me for a second slap, even as I still recoiled from the sting of the first hit. "Thank you," I said on autopilot, still feeling like my thoughts were being slowed by a thick layer of gauze inside my brain.

  Down on the floor, Marsden groaned again, one of his hands rising up to tentatively probe at his cheek. I could already see the skin under his eye beginning to darken into a bruise. "What... what the hell?" he asked thickly, finally opening his eyes - or at least making the attempt to do so. The eye above where Lance hit him only opened partially, the cheek beneath it already swelling up.

  Lance returned his attention back down to the man on the floor, and I saw my lodger's lips curl briefly in a scowl. "God, you're drunk, aren't you?" he grunted. "Well, that's just great. Can't throw you out, since you can't drive home."

  Instead, he reached down and grabbed Marsden's lapels, hauling the semi-conscious drunkard up and depositing him roughly on the couch. Marsden opened his mouth and let out some sort of wordless grunt of protest, but he didn't seem to have the coordination to speak out or fight back against the rough handling.

  For a moment, Lance kept on scowling down at Marsden as he splayed out on my couch. But then, giving himself a little shake, Lance turned to take a look at me. His dark eyes, previously filled with simmering anger and rage at his target, immediately softened and widened into concern.