by Judy Duarte
Thinking the subject had been too painful he’d asked if she missed the man. And she’d said, “I don’t miss him at all.”
When Rowan had asked whether Noah’s dad had seen his son, she’d told him no. And she’d admitted to not being sorry that the guy wasn’t around to be a part of Noah’s life.
He’s not a nice man and wouldn’t have made a good husband or father.
He’s not? Present tense?
Okay, now Rowan’s imagination was really going wild, and for no reason at all. Not really. He didn’t have anything solid to go on. Just this rock-hard knot in his gut.
He’d half accepted the idea of Louanne having a form of agoraphobia. And he’d assumed she steered clear of the people in town because she didn’t want them to know she’d had a child out of wedlock. But Louanne loved Noah. And he doubted she’d be ashamed of him.
Oh, God. Was she hiding out from Noah’s father? Is that why she’d given up her dreams and become a recluse?
Rowan picked up the phone one last time and still got no answer.
Louanne might not be in danger. But he wasn’t going to sit in San Francisco and ponder the idea while she and Noah were alone on the ranch.
Problem was, it was going to take him hours to get to Pebble Creek.
While Noah napped, Louanne took a basket of laundry outside to the clothesline, where Rowan’s pants and shirts hung on the line, drying in the warm, summer breeze.
Rowan hadn’t called yet. But then again, he couldn’t have reached her. She’d forgotten to turn up the sound of the ringer until lunchtime.
The old adage said, “No news is good news.” Still, if she didn’t hear from him by this evening, she might give him a call. Curiosity and a growing need to hear the sound of his voice was making her stir-crazy.
A car sounded in the distance, and she turned to see who it might be. There wasn’t anyone in the yard, so maybe the driver had merely used the Lazy B driveway to turn around.
An old crow landed upon a tree stump near the copse of trees that bordered the house and cawed. She turned again, glancing over her shoulder. An uneasiness settled around her, although she wasn’t sure why. Just lonely and jumpy, she supposed.
As she hung the last of the diapers on the line, she snatched up the basket and headed for the house. Noah would be waking soon.
She wiped her feet on the mat in front of the service porch door, then entered. The house was quiet, which meant Noah continued to sleep. She had half a notion to check on him, to watch his peaceful slumber—something she always found comforting. But instead, she busied herself in the kitchen.
The screen door squeaked, although she didn’t hear the door open or shut, nor did she hear the sound of footsteps. A cold shudder shimmied down her spine.
“Rowan?” she asked. Had he come home? Maybe he changed his mind and hadn’t gone to San Francisco after all.
No answer.
And her baby was just down the hall. She picked up the cast-iron skillet that rested on the stovetop, hoping it would work as a weapon, if need be, and proceeded into the living room with caution.
No one.
Had the squeaking door been her imagination? Or had the house settled? Maybe the wind had kicked up and blew it open, but that didn’t seem likely.
She continued her slow, mindful search and headed down the hall, toward Noah’s room. She needed to know her child was safe.
When she reached Noah’s open doorway, she gasped at the sight of a man hovering over the crib.
A tall man in a tweed sports jacket and rumpled khaki slacks turned and faced her.
Richard had found her. And Noah.
Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.
For a man who prided himself on being neat and well dressed, he’d let himself go. His ash blond hair hadn’t seen a comb in a while. And he needed a shave.
His blue-gray eyes narrowed. “Well, hello, Lanay. Or should I call you Louanne?”
She gripped the handle of the skillet, willing to use it as a weapon, if she had to.
Her first impulse was to ask what he was doing here, her second was to cry for help. But she did neither. She knew why he’d come, just as surely as she knew that no one would hear her scream.
Richard pulled back the edge of his jacket, allowing her to see the gun tucked in the waistband of his slacks. “If I didn’t know better, Lanay, I’d think you meant to harm me. Why don’t you put that thing down?”
The skillet wouldn’t protect her from his bullet, if he meant to kill her. So she set the cast-iron pan on the top of Noah’s dresser. Trying to add a touch of normalcy to the conversation, she asked, “Can I get you a glass of iced tea?”
He stepped away from the crib, away from her sleeping son, his hand on the butt of the pistol, his eyes aimed at her.
“It took some time to find you, since you apparently put a phony address through the entire college system. In Austin, I finally found someone who claimed to have known Tallulah Brown before she made it big.” Richard smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “He still had her number, if you can believe that.”
She didn’t respond.
“The first time I called, a man answered. I’d thought it was a wrong number. But just last night, I heard your voice.”
Her eerie intuition had been right. Richard had been the one who called.
“I had breakfast in Pebble Creek,” Richard said, continuing the normal charade, “at a nice little place called the Bluebonnet Café. Folks in small towns are so much friendlier than those in the cities. And they’re much more talkative than you.”
She glanced at Noah, saw him stir.
“While seated at the counter, I chatted with a pleasant fellow who actually dated your sister in high school. He called her a tease.” Richard’s lips tensed, his gray eyes narrowed. “Like you.”
Her heart threatened to burst free of her chest.
“I’m disappointed in you, Lanay. I thought we had something special.” He tore his gaze from hers, then focused on the napping child. “How old is he?”
A wad of fear settled in Louanne’s throat. She didn’t want Richard to know the baby was his, although he surely suspected it.
Did she dare lie? Let him think she’d slept with someone else, adding validity to his accusations, and really set off his fury?
But she was afraid to lend fuel to his warped need to possess her and their son.
“How old is the baby?” he asked again.
When she didn’t answer, he was across the room in an instant. He grabbed her by the arm, fingers pressing hard into her flesh, and twisted. “How could you have done this to me?”
She winced. “Done what?”
“I loved you, needed you. And you threw that back in my face. You left me. And for what reason?”
“My grandma died,” she said, reiterating the lie she’d told him when she left. “And I had to come home.”
“That’s a lie. You ran away and tried to hide, but you underestimated me.” His grip relaxed, yet she didn’t feel safe. “And you weren’t as clever as you thought.”
She tried to pull away, and he jerked her. Hard. “You lied to me, time and again. And if that child isn’t mine, I’ll have proof of your infidelity.”
When she didn’t answer, he asked, “Who is that kid’s father?”
“The man you accused me of seeing,” she said, making a decision that might be her last. But Richard had never been a man’s man. Had never confronted anyone who might prove to be a physical match. And her only hope to protect herself and Noah was to convince Richard he’d have an imminent fight on his hands. “And he’ll be home any minute. You saw his clothes hanging on the line.”
“People who love each other don’t do that to one another, Lanay. They don’t lie, they don’t cheat and they don’t leave.”
Then he jerked her from Noah’s room. When they reached the living room, his nails dug deep into the tender underside of her arm. There was no one to hear her, no one to c
ome to her aid.
Unwilling to quietly submit and be his victim any longer, she grabbed the heavy, ornate picture frame from the lamp table and struck him in the head. Hard.
But not hard enough.
His eyes widened, rage brewing, as a trickle of blood slipped down his cheek. “You bitch.” He doubled his fist and slammed it into her face.
The pilot of the jet Rowan had chartered out of San Francisco offered to land him at one of the smaller, executive airports in the Austin area, rather than have him face the hubbub at Austin Bergstrom International. But since Rowan had flown commercially to Frisco and left his Harley at a Park and Ride, that’s where he wanted to return.
He wasn’t looking for comfort or special treatment. He just wanted to get home.
Home.
Funny, how that run-down ranch felt like home. But it wasn’t the house, the property or the rural atmosphere. It was Louanne and Noah who drew him to the Lazy B.
Rowan hadn’t shaken the uneasiness he’d felt earlier, and in fact, it had merely increased.
Of course, there were a hundred reasons why Louanne might not have answered. The phone line, like everything else on the ranch might have just worn out. Or maybe she’d decided to go with Pete and Aggie. Heck, maybe she’d left him a note.
Still, he gunned the engine of his Harley and sped faster. When he turned off the country road and onto the drive that led to the ranch house, he noticed an unfamiliar car parked along the side of the graveled road. A blue sedan. Pennsylvania plates.
Had someone run out of gas? Gotten lost? Or had someone from her past wanted to make a surprise arrival?
Rowan’s apprehension doubled, and to be on the safe side, he parked the Harley near the car, then hurried up the drive on foot. When he reached the yard, he heard voices coming from the barn.
“He’s not yours,” Louanne cried out. “Can’t you get it through your head?”
A thud sounded. And then silence.
Rowan slipped around to the side of the barn and peered into the nearest window, his gaze hampered by years of dirt and grime. He caught a glimpse of Louanne, who’d been tied to a post in the barn. Her face had been battered, her nose bloodied, her lip split.
A man dressed in khaki slacks and a sports jacket stood near her, a gun in his hand. Noah was nowhere to be seen.
Desperate to save the woman he loved, Rowan slipped around to the back of the barn. He hoped the hinges on the back door weren’t as loud as the ones on the front.
The back wall bore another window, just as dirty as the rest—maybe more so. He could make out a male form.
“You deserve to be punished for your deceit,” the man told Louanne. “I had plans for my son. That baby should be mine. In fact, I’m not at all sure that he’s not.”
“Richard, please, try and be reasonable. Untie me so we can talk.”
Rowan picked up a rock near the doorway with his right hand, then grabbed the worn, wrought-iron handle with his left. His muscles tensed, ready to spring into action in the biggest fight of his life.
Not willing to waste any more time, he chucked the rock diagonally through the window as hard as he could.
When the man turned to the sound of broken glass and the thud of the rock that hit the barn wall, Rowan rushed inside and leveled him to the floor.
A scuffle broke out, and he knocked the weapon from the man’s hands. The gun skidded across the floor, as arms flailed, fists pummeled. But Rowan was no stranger to bar fights turned free-for-alls. It didn’t take him long to silence the man with a blow to the head, knocking the fight out of him.
Rowan picked up the gun from the straw-littered ground, wanting to send the cowardly bastard on a bullet train to hell.
Instead, he untied Louanne and slipped an arm around her, the gun still aimed at the prostrate man on the floor. “Are you all right?”
“I am now that you’re here.” She touched a swollen eye and winced. “Oh, Rowan. I was so scared. I’ve got to go to Noah.”
“Where is he?”
“Sleeping, I hope.”
“Call the sheriff while you’re in there.”
She nodded, then limped into the house.
Thirty minutes later, Richard Keith was handcuffed and arrested for stalking, kidnapping and attempted murder. As he was led to a patrol car out front, he glared at Louanne, who held Noah in her arms. “Who is that kid’s father?”
“I am,” Rowan said. “I protect what belongs to me. And don’t you forget it.”
Rowan drove Louanne to the emergency room of a nearby hospital, not only to make sure her injuries weren’t serious, but to document what Richard had done to her. He carried Noah in his arms and took charge—just like a devoted father and husband.
They still hadn’t discussed the future, but Louanne was certain of one thing. She loved Rowan with all her heart, and she couldn’t imagine raising Noah without him at her side, couldn’t imagine spending another night without him lying next to her, his arms wrapped protectively around her.
She’d showered and shampooed her hair earlier, but that evening, after Noah had eaten dinner, Rowan insisted she soak in a warm bath. “To make you sleep better.”
He’d been right. She did feel better.
She carefully dried herself, then put on her white cotton nightgown. As she stood before the mirror, she ran a brush through her hair, making it shine. But there wasn’t much she could do about the black eye, the bruised and swollen cheek, the cut on her puffy lower lip. She looked like hell, probably because she’d been there earlier today. But something positive had come out of the frightening and painful experience.
Richard wouldn’t be getting out of jail for a very long time. And he wouldn’t be able to bother her again, to rob her of things like peace of mind and happiness.
As she entered the living room, she spotted Rowan on the front porch swing and joined him outside.
“Feeling any better?” His voice was soft yet husky, comforting, and he made room for her to sit beside him.
“Yes and no.” The swing creaked and swayed when she sat. “I’m glad you came when you did.”
“If I would have known about that bastard and his threat, I wouldn’t have left you alone.” He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “You’ve got to promise me something.”
“What’s that?”
“There won’t be any more secrets between us.”
“You’ve got my word.” She had no problem making a vow like that. She wanted him to be honest with her, too. “I’ve never really had anyone in my corner before.”
“Neither have I.”
“I’m sorry for not trusting you,” she said. “I should have told you about Noah’s father when you asked.”
“Just wait one darn minute.” Rowan released her hand and caught her chin with the tip of his finger, turning her gaze to his. “Let’s get something straight, honey. I have every intention of being Noah’s father—whether you’ll have me as your husband or not.”
Her heart swelled to the bursting point, and tears blurred her sight. “I love you, Rowan. More than I’d ever thought possible. And I can’t imagine anyone else being a father to my son.”
Rowan slipped his arms around her, gently but firmly. “I love you, too. So what do you think we ought to do about that?”
“I’m not sure.” She had a suggestion, but she thought he should propose the solution.
“It’s taken me a long time to find love and a family of my own, and I’d like you and Noah to be a permanent part of my life.” He brushed a gentle kiss across the tip of her nose. “I’d like to make things legal as soon as possible. How does a wedding in Las Vegas sound?”
“It sounds wonderful to me.” She smiled, ignoring the sting of the cut on her lip. “Where would you like us to make our home?”
“As long as we’re together, I don’t care. If you’d like to live on the ranch, I’ll set up my tools in the barn until I can build a permanent carpentry shop.”
“The Lazy B has never held any real appeal to me,” she said. “I don’t need to stay here. In fact, I don’t even want to.”
“Then let’s start fresh. We’ll buy a little place in the country. I’ll make furniture, and you can finish that novel.”
A grin tickled her lip, causing the cut Richard had inflicted to sting, but she didn’t let it bother her. The man she loved had just proposed, and the future lay before them, bright and promising. “Do you mind if we celebrate?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I’d love to sleep with you tonight. In a bed.”
Rowan smiled broadly. “There’s nothing I’d like more than lying beside you all night long. And I’ll try to keep my hands to myself.”
“Why in the world would you want to do that?” she asked.
“Because you’re hurt. And sore.”
“I’ll bet you’d be gentle.” She stood and reached for his hand. “Come on, Rowan. Take me to bed.”
Louanne led him into her bedroom, where they celebrated their love for each other. Rowan took her in his arms and tenderly brushed his lips across her brow, kissing each bruise that Richard had left on her—the ones on her body as well as her heart. And she pressed healing kisses on his heart and soul, as well.
Their joining was slow and easy, the passion building into the fire that blazed inside them. And as he entered her, she arched to meet him, giving as well as taking.
They reached the same mountainous peak, one that reached the heavens, and as the waves of pleasure encompassed them both, they took the first step toward a shared and promising future.
Man and woman, father and mother. Lovers who’d found forever and locked it deep in their hearts.
Don’t miss the next book in the thrilling continuity
THE PARKS EMPIRE,
coming in October 2009.
Available wherever Mills & Boon® books are sold!
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. they are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.