by Diana Palmer
“Your mother told me that you…” She stopped when she realized what she was betraying.
His icy-blue eyes cut at her. “Did she tell you all of it, or aren't you that privileged?” he asked with bitter sarcasm.
“I'm sorry. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have said anything.”
He took a deep draw from the ever-present cigarette and drove faster. “My God, is nothing sacred these days?”
“She thought it might help me to understand things a little better,” Maggie replied quietly.
“Did it?” he asked cuttingly.
She met his brief glance. “Yes. It explained everything.”
He searched her eyes quickly and then turned back to the road, slowing as they approached the airstrip. “I hated him,” he said. “Even before that happened. I saw through him a hell of a long time before she did. And in spite of it, she wouldn't leave him.”
“Love imprisons people, so I've heard,” she said.
“Didn't you love your husband?” Gabe asked, his smile mocking.
“I thought I did,” she replied. “He was charming. Utterly charming. I was shy in those days, and overwhelmed that such a handsome man would be interested in me. I was an heiress, you know. Filthy rich.”
“Yes. I remember,” he said bitterly. He stared at the airplane in the distance, watching a mechanic go over the large red-and-white Piper Navajo. “Our place had fallen on hard times when you were a teenager.”
“I didn't know.” She stared at her lap. “Dennis had fallen on hard times, too. I was eighteen,” she said. “Green as grass and infatuated, and every time he kissed me, I was on fire. And then we got married.” She shuddered. “My God, for all my reading, I never realized the things men would expect of women in bed!”
He scowled. “What, exactly, did he want of you?”
Maggie flushed. “I can't tell you.”
“I think I can guess, all the same,” he said, his eyes narrowing.
She stared at her crossed hands. Amazing how easy it was to talk to him about such intimate things. “When I froze, he accused me of being frigid. From then on, it got worse. I didn't even mind that much when he started seeing other women. It was almost a relief, except that it stung my pride. I'd planned to leave him. And then I discovered that I was pregnant.”
“You stuck it out for a long time,” he observed.
“My mother was still alive then,” she replied. “She'd told me what to do all my life. I was afraid to go against her. She said that divorce was an unspeakable scandal, that nobody in her family had ever been divorced. So I didn't disgrace her. After she died, it didn't seem to matter anymore. The money was gone. There were no social peers to be scandalized by what I did.”
“You said that your daughter was afraid of him,” he reminded her.
“Becky's easily hurt,” she said. “He terrifies her. He drinks, you see.” She sighed. “The last time he had a visiting session with her, she did something that upset him. He left some marks on her. She's been afraid of him ever since.”
Gabe said something under his breath that embarrassed her and braked to a halt beside the airstrip tarmac. “Is he suing for sole custody?” he asked, turning to look at her.
“Yes.”
“We'll see your attorney while we're in San Antonio.” He opened the car door. “And if he doesn't suit me, you'll use mine.”
“Now, wait a minute,” Maggie began as he came around to open her door.
“You wait a minute,” he countered, helping her out. He held her just in front of him, towering over her slender height. “If that child is on my property, she's my responsibility. So are you, for that matter. And until you leave, I'll take care of both of you, whether you like it or not!”
“You…you…Texas bulldozer!” she accused, eyes flashing as they hadn't since her childhood.
“Go ahead, argue with me,” he responded, smiling slightly. “Make a fuss. And when I've had enough, guess how I'll deal with you?”
She had a good idea, but she wasn't backing down. “That's—that's male chauvinism,” she sputtered.
“I'm a man, all right,” he replied without the least bit of self-reproach. “Come on, honey. Make a fuss.”
He looked as if he'd really enjoy that, and Maggie remembered how it had been in the backyard that day, when he'd backed her against the oak tree and taken what he'd wanted. Her face colored.
His blue eyes sparkled with pure enjoyment. “That's exactly what I'd do, you little prude. Only this time, I'd go further than a few kisses, and it wouldn't be in anger or bad temper. I'd wear you down and lay you down, and when I got through, you'd ache for me the rest of your life.”
“Conceited jackass,” she enunciated clearly.
He laughed softly. “Am I? Apparently, Miss Maggie, you've forgotten how you react to me. You always did get flustered and nervous when I came too close, even at sixteen.” His pale blue eyes narrowed as they traveled down her slender body, making her tingle with the frank appraisal. “You always were a beauty, to me. Especially in a bathing suit, with that long black hair down to your waist…. Why did you cut it?” he asked unexpectedly.
She sighed. “I thought it looked too girlish for a woman my age,” she told him, then smiled. “And it was hot in the summer.”
“Would it shock you to know that I used to dream about wrapping it around my wrist?” Gabe asked, his voice gentle. “And pillowing you on it, while I laid you down on one of those loungers that used to sit by the pool?”
Again Maggie colored, but she didn't look away. She seemed to blush all the time around him! “Did you really?” she asked.
He nodded. “It got to be more than disturbing, especially considering the age difference. I'll be blunt, Maggie, I was glad when you stopped coming here to see the girls. You caused me some sleepless nights.”
“You heard what I said to Janet, didn't you?” she asked suddenly. “About having a crush on you?”
“Yes. But I knew already.” His eyes narrowed, glittering. “That was what worried me so much. Your eyes were so sultry and just faintly hungry when you looked at me. I knew I could do anything I wanted to you, and you'd let me. The thought tormented me.”
She'd thought about that, too; about having him kiss her and make love to her. Her heart went wild in her chest. She wondered suddenly and startlingly what it would feel like to make love with him.
“We'd better get going,” he said, missing the shock in her eyes. “Come on.”
He held out his hand and stood there until she took it, refusing to budge an inch. She yielded because she knew him so well. He'd die before he gave in, once he got his mind set on something. She even admired it, that stubborn streak of his. The feel of his strong hand around hers was intoxicating. She let him hold it while she wondered how she was going to keep him from taking her over, lock, stock and daughter. Odd, she thought as they approached the plane, how delicious it was to be close to him….
Then they were on their way, and she stopped thinking about it.
Chapter Five
The exclusive boarding school where Becky stayed was frantic with activity. Gabe looked around him curiously as little girls rushed down the hall outside the office where he and Maggie waited for Becky.
“Margaret, thank goodness!” Mrs. Haynes burst out as she joined them, closing her office door gingerly behind her. “I didn't know what to do. He's been here for thirty minutes. I knew you were coming since you called this morning….”
“Dennis is here?” she gasped. “Oh, Mrs. Haynes, you didn't let him have Becky?”
“Of course not, dear. He's in my office….”
Gabe moved her gently aside and made a beeline for the office, his long strides eating up the distance. Maggie, sensing disaster, rushed after him and Mrs. Haynes just stared, biting her lip.
Gabe thrust open the door and a shorter, younger, fair-haired man jerked around in surprise, his eyes wide and shocked as he stared at the formidable Westerner.
“Like hell you were,” Gabe said coldly. “But I can save you the trouble. I'm taking Maggie and the child home with me.”
Dennis glared at the bigger man. “Who are you?”
“Gabriel Coleman.”
Dennis straightened, finding unexpected new ammunition in the curt response. Gabriel Coleman…He remembered everything he'd heard about the man. And now, seeing him, it wasn't hard to believe it was all true. So this was the Texas rancher Maggie's father had wanted her to marry. Maggie probably didn't know that, but Dennis did. Her father had used it like a nagging prod every time they'd met socially. He smiled. “So, that's how it is. Living with your old lover, are you? Janice and I got married Monday, so I've really got the edge on you now, haven't I?” he added. “It won't look good in court when everyone sees what an unfit mother you are.”
“You can't take her,” Maggie cried. “You can't! All you want is the money!”
“She's my child,” Dennis replied arrogantly. “And I've got a lot more right to her, married, than you do single and living with your…lover,” he added, with a cold glare at Gabriel. “You couldn't wait, could you? Well, he'll find you as frigid as I—”
He stopped in midsentence as Gabe, imperturbably unruffled by the outburst, lifted him half off the floor by the collar and escorted him out of the office and down the hall.
“By God, that's enough,” Gabe was muttering to Dennis. “How she could marry something like you in the first place is beyond me.”
Becky came into the office before Gabe returned and ran into her mother's outstretched arms.
“Oh, Mama,” Becky wailed. “Michelle said Daddy was here.” She drew away, green eyes wide and frightened. “I don't have to go with him, do I?”
“No, darling,” Maggie said softly, hoping, praying that it would be the truth after the custody battle was over. She knelt, smiling at the young girl, brushing back the long strands of hair from the pale little face. “No, you don't have to go with him.”
Becky looked past her mother and her face froze. She frowned a little. “Who are you?” she asked curiously.
“Gabriel Coleman,” he said, looking down at her with narrowed eyes.
Becky's face lit up. “You're Aunt Janet's Gabe, aren't you?” the little girl asked, moving toward the tall man. She looked up at him with open fascination. “Aunt Janet says that you have a ranch and horses and cows and lots of cowboys, just like in the movies! Do you shoot Indians?”
Incredibly, the hard face relaxed into a genuine smile, the first one Maggie had seen yet. He went down on one knee so that he could see Becky better. “No, I don't shoot Indians,” he said, amused. “But I have a couple of Commanche men who work for me.”
Becky's face brightened. “Do they scalp people?”
He looked up at Maggie. “I'd love to hear the bedtime stories you tell this child.”
Maggie flushed. “Well, actually, it's the movies…”
“You'd better come home with me, Becky,” he said seriously, “and you can see what ranching is like for yourself.”
Becky hesitated. There was fear in her eyes—the same fear Gabe had seen in her mother—and his face hardened visibly.
“Your mother will be there, too,” he said softly. “And I swear, honey, nobody will hurt you as long as I'm around.”
Becky's wan little face managed a wobbly smile. “Then I guess it'll be okay.”
He nodded. “Are you ready?” he asked, standing.
“Yes, sir. I have my suitcase right over there.”
Gabe picked it up, glancing at Maggie over the child's head. There was an expression in his eyes that defied description.
* * *
Becky was delighted with the ranch. She'd been quiet all the way back, except to exclaim at the private plane and the fact that Gabe could actually fly it. But when she got her first look at the ranch, her breath sighed out in a rush.
“Oh, isn't it just beautiful, Mama?” she asked Maggie, all eyes and laughter. “Isn't it just beautiful? Look at all the room! And cows and horses…!”
Gabe chuckled softly, smoking his cigarette without comment.
“Can I ride a horse? Oh, can I?” Becky begged.
“No,” Maggie said.
“Yes,” Gabe countered immediately, his eyes challenging Maggie. “She's old enough. I was four when my dad put me on my first horse. I won't let her get hurt,” he added gently when she still hesitated.
Maggie bit her lip. She'd need a lot more sustenance than the rushed breakfast she'd had to take on Gabriel Coleman in that mood. But it was going to be a fight all the way; of that she was sure.
Janet was delighted to see the child and made a big fuss over her. Even the housekeeper began immediately to spoil her. She was taken off into the kitchen and then upstairs to see her very own room. Everyone was enthusiastic except Maggie, who'd had a glimpse of hell at the boarding school.
Dennis had almost succeeded in spiriting the child away, and possession was still nine-tenths of the law. If she'd been a little later, or if Gabe hadn't been with her…She shuddered to think of the consequences.
And now Dennis thought she had a lover. He was going to use Gabe, of all people, against her. How would she prove it was a lie? It might be just the lever Dennis needed to get possession of Becky, and what a hell of a life she'd have with him. If it came to that, Maggie might be forced to take the child and run. She glanced at Gabe, at the sheer magnificence of him. Perhaps they'd said something to Dennis in the early days of their marriage, something that had made him suspicious. Dennis had an active imagination, and he was good at twisting the truth to suit himself. She dreaded the thought of having him create a scandal that would involve Janet as well as Gabe.
Gabe was watching her closely over dinner. After Becky was tucked up in bed and Janet had gone upstairs, he waylaid Maggie and dragged her off into his study.
“Let's talk,” he said curtly, motioning her into an armchair.
She refused his offer of brandy and sat with her hands folded primly in her lap. “What about?” she asked hesitantly.
“About that little girl upstairs,” he returned, dropping into an armchair across from her. “And why she's terrified of men. What did that son of a rattlesnake do to her?”
“Dennis in a temper can do that even to big people,” Maggie said miserably. She studied the hard lines of his face. “Oddly enough, I'm not afraid of your temper. Not anymore,” she added with a faint smile. “I used to be. I'll never forget the day you beat up that cowboy at the grocery store in town.”
His eyes darkened, narrowed. “He touched you,” he said curtly, as if that explained everything. “He put his hands on you. I could have broken his neck.”
She stared at him, curiously. “I wondered,” she murmured, her voice barely carrying. “I always wondered if it was because of that.”
He shifted in the chair, bringing the brandy to his lips to break the spell. “You didn't know anything about men. I wasn't going to let one of my hands back you into a corner.”
She studied his lean, beautifully masculine hands, wrapped around the brandy snifter. “You always were like a bulldozer.”
“When I wanted something,” he agreed. He studied her over the rim of the snifter. “I wanted you. But you were sixteen.”
She colored softly and stared into his eyes. “You never did anything about it.”
“I told you why. You were sixteen.” He swished the amber liquid around, watching the patterns it made in the glass. “I might have gotten around to it, if you hadn't gone off to boarding school.” He smiled slowly. “It would have been the last straw, trying to take you out with all those giggling girls watching.”
Her lips trembled into a smile. “Really? Would you have?”
“I suppose I'd have come
to it eventually,” he said enigmatically, shrugging his wide shoulders. “You were a pretty kid. You still are, haunted eyes and all.” He searched those eyes, watching the shadows in them. “You aren't afraid of me physically.”
“Yes, I know.” She twisted a strand of her short hair uneasily and watched him. He'd taken off his jacket and vest and unfastened the top buttons of his white shirt. Dark skin and darker hair were visible in the deep V, and she felt a thrill of excitement at the memory of being held against his long, hard body.
He laughed, his voice deep in the stillness. “Don't start getting nervous. I'm not going to pounce on you. I hope I have more finesse than that, especially after what you've been through.”
She studied her hands. “I don't suppose anything frightens you. But I'm not physically strong, and I've had years of abuse, mental and physical. I carry my scars where they don't show, but they're very deep. So are Becky's.”
He leaned back in the armchair, and for once he wasn't smoking like a furnace.
“Becky's young. Hers will heal. But yours won't. Not without help.” He watched her with narrowed eyes, his dark head like ebony in the overhead light.
“Are you offering me the cure?” she asked, feeling bitter. “A little sexual therapy?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I'm not that damned unselfish,” he replied quietly. “And I don't need therapy. No, honey,” he added, leaning forward to pin her with his pale eyes. “If I made love to you, it wouldn't be a cure—but it might be an addiction.”
Heat seemed to well up inside her. She averted her eyes to the carpeted floor. Just to think of having him touch her that way made her heart run wild. Magic, when intimacy had been such a dark thing in her life.
“Shy little girl,” he said with tender amusement. “Look at me, coward.”
She lifted her face, hating its reddened color and vulnerability. “Stop making fun of me.”
“Is that what I'm doing?” he asked. “I thought I was flirting.”
She really colored then and started to get to her feet. He rose at the same time, catching her arm gently in his free hand, to hold her just in front of him. He towered over her, all steely strength and masculine dominance, smelling of tangy cologne and soap.