by Renee Roszel
She gasped, mortification heating her cheeks. “Why you... I—I’m not a sharp-tongued spitfire!”
“No?” He appeared skeptical, almost amused. “You slap me, then call me a low-crawling worm—”
“Toad!” she corrected defiantly.
“This may startle you, Miss Eller, but being called a toad is not viewed as an endearment by most men.”
A raindrop pelted Sara in the eye, and she flinched. In the next few seconds the clouds were spitting fat drops all about them. In a futile gesture to ward off the coming storm, she lifted her hands above her head, looking at Ransom Shepard with distress. He was right of course. She’d acted abominably. With less rancor, she sputtered, “Well, uh, ‘toad’ may have been a bit strong, but look at it from my side. My sister’s only sixteen, and you’re...why, you’ve got a son almost as old as Lynn. For a week I’ve been sick with worry about her! How would you have expected me to act?”
His features grew less harsh. “I understand.” And with a brief nod toward his home, he offered, “We really should go inside.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I’d rather not—”
“I’m no happier about this than you. But I do have room, and I’m partly responsible for your being here. Besides, your sister’s already staying with me. Remember?”
This prompting made her anger return with a vengeance. Pinning him with a hostile glare, she opened her mouth, bent on rejecting his offer, and was startled to discover she couldn’t find her voice. His silver eyes held an unexpected hypnotic quality. Fighting a crazy desire to be drawn into his gaze, she stared mutely off into the distance. A solid-looking house loomed ahead of them. Blunt and square, it had cement walls that were hidden by overlapping wood shingles—a style, Sara had noticed, peculiar to the Pribilof Islands. The structure’s shingles were gray and unpainted. All in all, it was a humble dwelling devoid of architectural excesses.
An enclosed covered porch jutted from the nearest wall, its door standing open. The house appeared both strong and sheltering, and it emanated an oddly welcoming yet forbidding appeal—like the man who resided there. She chewed the inside of her cheek, knowing she had to seek refuge with him, but not wanting to. There was something... unorthodox about this man. Something brooding and unpredictable that made her apprehensive.
At her continued silence, he said, “For the record, I don’t coerce women to stay in my home against their will—or to sleep in my bed.”
His remark brought back a vivid reminder of Lynn’s predicament. Knowing her sister as she did—a book-smart pudgy dreamer who’d never dated, with schoolgirl notions of love and princes on white chargers—she worried that this attractive, soft-spoken man would have had to say very little to “coerce” Lynn into his bed.
Sara felt a shaft of dismay. For the first time, she fully understood what she’d refused to face when Ransom Shepard turned around and she’d been struck by his bold good looks. She understood why she’d been absolutely blinded with rage. It wasn’t because Lynn had left Kansas for him. No, seeing him in the flesh, so powerfully handsome, the truth had hit her like a ton of bricks. The choice Lynn had made was irrevocable by now. Surely with this man’s seduction, Lynn was lost to her forever, and Sara was alone. Impressionable Lynn could never have resisted this man, no matter what his flaws. Feeling beaten, she warned almost pleadingly, “If you’ve damaged my sister in any way, I’ll-”
He grabbed her overnight case and took her arms, pivoting her away from the cliff. “It’s raining, Miss Eller. If you stand here in that thin jacket much longer, you’ll catch pneumonia. Why don’t we go inside and wait for your allegedly damaged sister?” He glanced sidelong at Sara, catching her hesitant gaze. “She does have the sense to come in out of the rain, doesn’t she?”
Inside her head, a bothersome voice asked, Just how much sense does Lynn have to get you both involved in such a terrible mess? But Sara had too much family pride to voice her doubts about her sister’s rash behavior, especially to this man. Smarting from his censure, she tried to jerk free of his hold, but failed. Without much choice, she was pulled along beside him. He was right about one thing at least. Her windbreaker and cotton sweater weren’t much protection from the rain. Feeling thwarted and still fretting over her sister’s well-being, she demanded, “Are you two married?”
He cast her a brief caustic glance, but said nothing.
“Are you?” They’d reached the cement steps, their footsteps echoing dully as they ran for the shelter of the porch. Fearing his answer, she rushed on, “I may not be Lynn’s lawful guardian—I mean, we never did anything legal after Mom and Dad died—but I talked to a Kansas legal-aid lawyer before I came up here, and she said, being underage, Lynn’d have to petition the court for approval of the marriage or something like that. She hasn’t had time to do that, has she? Has she? Are you two legally married?”
“What do you think?” he growled, upsetting her further.
At the door, she was finally able to yank her arm free, and she whirled to face him. “This is no time for guessing games!”
Turning the knob, he motioned for her to enter. When she merely stood glowering, he shook his head and sighed. “No. We’re not married. Does that put your mind at rest?”
“Sis?” came a distant querulous voice. Sara jerked toward the sound and saw Lynn, who was shorter and stouter than her, stumbling to a halt several feet from the porch. “Sara? Is that you?” This time the voice sounded strained with anxiety.
Someone else had been running toward the porch, too. A gangling dark-haired boy, taller than Lynn. They were both clad in jeans and parkas. His was blue. Sara recognized Lynn’s yellow one—bought last fall and already too short in the arms. Both teens were soaked, and their sneakers were mud-caked.
“It would seem she’s still living,” Ransom ventured dryly.
“Uh-oh,” Lynn groaned, beginning to back away.
“Lynn!” Sara cried, thankful to see her sister alive and well. Rushing down the steps, she grabbed her by both wrists. “Lynn, baby!” Tears came flooding in her eyes, and her voice trembled with relief. “You gave me the scare of my life! I ought to strangle you!”
Feeling Lynn’s arms go stiff as the girl attempted to pull away, Sara subsided and simply dragged her into the protection of the porch. The boy bounded up after them.
Once again facing her sister, Sara inspected her despairingly. But she found herself unable to shout or scold, her relief making her forgive everything. A reluctant smile tugged at her lips, new tears blurring her vision as she hugged Lynn hard, whispering, “Thank goodness you’re safe!”
Holding her runaway sister slightly away, Sara took another appraising look. Lynn’s hair hung to just below her shoulders in dripping disarray. Though they were both redheads, Sara had been blessed with thick, dark mahogany tresses while Lynn’s hair had always been limp, thin and carrot orange. Lynn’s hazel eyes, the only physical characteristic the two shared exactly, were wide with apprehension. Rivulets of rain trickled down her freckle-strewn face, but otherwise she looked healthy. It took great effort but Sara was able to control her voice and ask, “Lynn, are you all right? Has that man hurt you in any way?”
Lynn appeared confused. “What man?”
Unable to believe her sister’s thick-headedness in the face of everything that had happened, she motioned toward Ransom. “This man—the one who advertised for a bride. I finally found that Alaskan magazine with the ads in it. How could you have run off like that? How could you have stolen the charge card I keep in the closet for emergencies—and forged my name?” In her anxiety, Sara tightened her hold on Lynn’s arm. “The only way I could find you was by calling the credit-card company after I’d discovered that the card was gone. They told me about the airline tickets you’d charged—to Anchorage and St. Catherine. Why...”
Sara was so upset, she couldn’t trust her voice to go on. She didn’t want to burst into tears in front of this objectionable stranger, but her emotions wer
e warring between fierce anger at Lynn’s irresponsible behavior and sob-filled relief that she was okay. She bit her lower lip to keep it from quivering.
“Tag,” Ransom said, “why don’t we leave these ladies alone for a minute.” With a nod, he indicated for the dark-haired youth to precede him into the house. The boy looked somewhat like his father, Sara noticed vaguely, though his eyes were a vivid green. Tag shrugged and did as requested, leaving Sara standing alone with her contrary sister.
Once she heard the door to the house click shut, Sara murmured brokenly, “Has he... hurt you?”
Lynn squinted, making a face. She seemed both mystified and cautious. “Who?”
“Ransom Shepard!” Sara hissed the name, shocked at the vehemence in her voice.
“Rance?” Lynn asked incredulously. “Why would he hurt me? He’s a happenin’ dude.”
Sara looked heavenward. “Spare me the slang. Has he laid, er, a hand on you? I mean, he hasn’t tried to... to kiss you or... anything?”
Lynn’s eyes widened with realization. “Oh! That!”
“Yes, that,” Sara repeated, dreading the worst.
She was startled when Lynn giggled and said, “It’s a funny story, really.”
“I’d kill for a good laugh right now, Lynn,” Sara said through gritted teeth. “Try me.”
Lynn visibly stiffened and retreated. “I don’t want to fight with you. If you’re going to yell at me, I’m leaving.”
“Lynn, after all you’ve put me through, don’t you think I deserve an explanation? I don’t want to fight. I want to understand.”
The girl shrugged. “It’s a long story.”
“No problem. I’ve been informed I have a week to hear it.”
“Oh, yeah. I missed the plane.”
“You missed the plane?” Sara asked. “What do you mean? What plane?”
“The one to St. Paul.” Again Lynn shrugged. “Rance thought I ought to go back where I came from.”
Sara frowned, disconcerted by this new information. “He did?”
“Yeah. I mean, he really wasn’t looking for a wife. The whole thing was Tag’s idea.”
“Tag was looking for a wife? He’s only fourteen.”
Lynn shook her head, her wet hair spraying Sara with water. “No, no. Tag was looking for a wife for Rance. See, Rance has been really bummed out since Tag’s mom died, so Tag thought a new wife might make him happy again. And then maybe he’d let Tag live at home, instead of going to boarding school.” She lifted her brows in resignation. “Rance doesn’t want to get married again. I heard him tell Tag—kinda stern—that he never wanted another wife.” She sighed. “Guess he loved his wife a whole lot. But like I said, Rance is a happenin’ dude. He wasn’t even mad at me or Tag when I showed up here—well, hardly. And he doesn’t make us do anything we don’t want to do, so I decided I didn’t want to go home. So I didn’t.”
“And he allowed that?” Sara asked, horrified. “I can’t believe any grown adult would approve of such a thing.” She hugged herself, trying to ward off a shudder. She didn’t know if it was her damp clothes, the relief of finding her sister healthy, or the strain of all those days of uncertainty that was making her body quake with reaction.
Or could it be irritation at Rance Shepard for neglecting to let anyone in Andover, Kansas, know that Lynn was alive and well? Even though Lynn had told him she had no family, he should have contacted the Andover police to make sure. How could he have ignored his responsibility? By being so remiss, he’d allowed Sara to worry herself to distraction. She had to admit, though, that knowing he wasn’t the dirty old man she pegged him to be made her feel a little less hostile toward him. Not much—nothing you could detect without a microscope—but a little.
“Well, you can’t really blame Rance, sis. I told him I was from Detroit.” Lynn grinned sheepishly. “Funny, how he couldn’t find out anything when he called the Detroit police.”
Sara’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You.. .you lied.”
Unrepentant, Lynn giggled, “And I, uh, well, never mind, you’re cold.” Patting her big sister’s arm, she suggested, “Let’s go inside.”
Chagrined by Lynn’s lack of remorse, Sara’s anger resurfaced. “How could you do that? How could you let me worry? Didn’t you know I’d be out of my mind? You acted so irresponsibly. I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay off that credit-card bill.” Grasping Lynn’s shoulders, she admonished, “And I had to use up all our savings to get here. What possessed you to pull this crazy stunt?”
Lynn’s expression grew stony. “Don’t yell at me. Rance doesn’t yell. He knows I’m grown up. He lets me make my own decisions.”
“Considering your recent decisions, I’m not sure he’s wise to trust you to make any decisions at all.”
Shoving Sara’s hands away, Lynn shouted, “I don’t care what you think. It took me two days of sleeping in airports and flying standby to get here, but I did—all by myself— so get off my back. I’m not a baby anymore.”
“Listen to me, young lady, I may not be your mother, but since I’ve been the one to put food in your mouth and clothes on your back for the past eight years, I think I deserve some respect.”
“That’s your problem.”
Sara stared, stunned. “When did you become such a brat?” she whispered. “I can’t believe I’ve raised you this badly.”
“Chill out, sis, ‘cause I’m through being raised,” Lynn snapped. “I’m on my own now, so why don’t you cruise on back to Kansas and leave me alone.” Without another word, she bounded over Sara’s overnight case and threw open the door. A second later it was slammed shut, leaving Sara alone on the porch. All further sound was overwhelmed by the pelting of rain against the wood shingles.
Sara’s teeth began to chatter. Even this early in June, the thermometer in Kansas had been hovering around ninety when she’d left Andover yesterday. As far as she was concerned, it was freezing here. She could do with a little of that Midwest sunshine about now.
She glanced back over her shoulder at the door. Although it had been slammed, it hadn’t quite latched and now stood open an inch—almost taunting her to enter. She should; she had no other choice. But she couldn’t. She needed time to calm down so she wouldn’t throttle Lynn. She loved her sister, but at the moment she was having a hard time finding anything likable about her.
Besides, she didn’t want to confront Ransom Shepard again just yet. She’d been rash and unreasonable with him, and she was ashamed of herself. And she was going to have to spend the next week as his houseguest! The idea made her cheeks go hot with embarrassment.
After several minutes of getting more and more chilled staring at the curtain of rain cascading past the open door to the porch, she sank down onto her overnight case. Wrapping her arms around herself to combat the cold, she acknowledged that she was going to have to go inside and behave like a mature adult eventually. Sitting out here alone probably appeared childish and stubborn to Rance Shepard. But she had to think, calm herself.
She’d been frightened out of her wits for nine days—an eternity filled with doubt and dread. Now that she knew Lynn was not hurt, not married and not even, er, sharing some man’s bed, she could begin to breathe easily, mend her tattered spirit. With a ragged sigh, she rested her face in her hands. She didn’t know what to do about Lynn’s selfish mouthy behavior, and she was afraid she owed Mr. Shepard an apology—two mammoth obstacles to her immediate peace of mind and well-being.
The din of the rain suddenly seemed staccato and very loud, no longer just a dull backdrop to her predicament. Perhaps highly stressful situations unblocked the senses allowing heightened perception. Whatever the reason, the storm was now far from an indistinct entity in her mind as it smashed against the earth and battered the shingles without mercy. She shivered, knowing how the earth and the porch must feel; her emotions had been battered around quite a bit lately, too.
And as the disquieting face of Ransom Shepard appeared in her min
d’s eye, the chill within her deepened.
CHAPTER TWO
SHE DIDN’T LIKE HIS LOOKS. Well, she did like his looks, but that was exactly the problem. Something had to be wrong with a man who looked so perfect. No man who looked perfect ever really was. Sara might have been only twenty-five, but she’d met a lot of good-looking men in her waitressing jobs, and she’d learned they were usually after one of two things: sex or money. They either wanted a quick meaningless fling, or they were so involved in their careers they didn’t have time for a relationship. Which category Mr. Ransom Shepard fell into she had yet to discover. He didn’t appear to be driven by a career. Though his house was slightly larger than the others she’d seen on the island, it was certainly no palace. And there was no industry on St. Catherine, except possibly some fishing.
She swallowed. Casual sex, then? No, that didn’t appear to be the case—at least not with teenage girls. For that, Sara was extremely grateful. Lynn’s words came back to her— “He never wanted another wife.” Grief, then, was part of the reason he was here. He was still grieving over the loss of his first wife. She heaved a long sigh. Grief she could understand. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being here; it was only for a week, after all.
But grief didn’t account for everything. There was something else strange—and troubling—about him. She could feel it. Possibly he was simply one of those people who couldn’t stand the pressures of the corporate world—some sort of hippie. But he didn’t dress like a hippie, and he didn’t appear to be a man who’d fold under pressure. She frowned, puzzled. Time would tell the nature of his imperfection, she supposed.
She was perched on her overnight case, her arms wound around her protectively as she watched the rain drench the hilly landscape. Her teeth chattered together with reckless disregard for their survival. In self-defense, she clamped her jaws tight, trying to ignore the cold as it seeped further and further into her bones. But as she slowly froze to death, she also slowly regained her composure.