by Lisa Jackson
His jaw worked angrily. His fingers clenched and flexed only to clench again.
She wanted to drop to her knees and beg him to love her, to forget the past, but she stood ramrod stiff, letting the rain and wind lash at her face and hair, bracing herself for the worst. “This is it, Denver. Either you love me forever, or you walk away. It can’t be anything else.”
“You’ve always been a dreamer,” he said cuttingly.
“And you’ve always been in my dreams.”
He blinked rapidly. Rain slid down his face and neck, past his wet collar. “And you’ve been in mine, Tessa,” he admitted. “But maybe that’s all we had. Dreams. Ashes. Nothing solid.”
With a boldness she’d never felt before she planted herself in front of him and poked one long finger at his chest. “You listen to me, Denver McLean, we can make our dreams come true. And it doesn’t matter what Colton or Mitch or the whole damned world thinks or does. All that matters is here and now. Me and you. What’s it going to be?” She steadied herself, ready for the rejection she felt hanging in the air. So be it, she thought, there’s no going back.
His throat worked. “What I want,” he said, his voice as rough as the stormy night, “is you. Nothing more. Nothing less. But it has to be forever.”
Tears burned behind her eyes. She could barely believe her ears. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” he whispered, his voice nearly lost on the wind.
“Well, it can’t just be us.”
His jaw tightened, his features twisting in torture. “Why not?”
“Because I’m pregnant, Denver. I found out for sure this morning. You’re going to be a father.”
For a second he didn’t speak. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Oh, God.”
“You can have me and the baby—or you can take a walk and never look back,” she said, her heart frozen at the thought, though she loved him enough to let him go. “I won’t tie you down.”
“Like hell,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smile of wonder. “You’re never getting away from me again.”
“But the baby—”
“Makes it all the better,” he said, blinking rapidly. “A baby?” Rain slid down his collar and his arms wrapped securely around her. “Marry me, Tessa. Be mine the rest of my life.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she vowed, just as his rain-soaked arms tightened around her; strong, possessive and warm.
His lips crushed hers hungrily. “Neither would I.”
“Welcome home, Denver,” she said with a sigh.
A shudder ripped through him. Thunder cracked in the dark sky. “I don’t think I ever really left.”
* * *
“You may kiss the bride,” the preacher announced, and a whisper of approval swept through the guests standing on the wet lawn behind Nate and Paula Edwards’s manor.
“Amen,” Denver murmured. He lifted Tessa’s ivory veil and stared deep into her wide hazel eyes. His lips covered hers in a familiar warmth, and for a minute he was lost in her, aware only of her fingers on his shoulders, his arms circling her waist, the eager promise of her mouth molding to his.
“I love you,” she whispered, when at last he lifted his head. Her eyes were bright with wonder, her cheeks flushed.
“Let’s leave.”
“Soon,” she promised as they strolled among the guests, arms linked, smiles wide.
Denver caught his brother’s eye and winked. It had taken long hours of convincing, but finally Colton had agreed to attend the wedding, albeit reluctantly. Even Mitch had decided to attend, though earlier he’d spent hours with the county sheriff and insurance people. Things would work out, though, Denver decided, glancing again at his gorgeous bride. Mitchell might have to do some time. But then again, maybe not. No one, not even Colton, was pressing charges. As for Colton, he was trapped in Montana, at least until his arm healed.
“You take care of her,” Curtis said as he approached.
“I can take care of myself.” Tessa laughed.
“Lord, am I tired of hearin’ that!” Curtis grinned at Denver. “Now maybe you can listen to it.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Denver said, his eyes glinting mischievously. “In more ways than one.”
“Talk is cheap,” she quipped.
“Just you wait, Mrs. McLean,” he replied, but he laughed just the same. For seven years he’d carried a burden deep in his soul, and now, beneath a cloudy sky, he felt as if he were finally free.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said.
“And where will we go?”
“How about Brazil? Or maybe Singapore,” he mocked and she jabbed him playfully in the ribs.
“How about the Caribbean and then Three Falls, Montana?” she suggested, as her new brother-in-law, looking uncomfortable and stiff in his formal suit, approached.
“Congratulations,” Colton said, forcing a smile. “Isn’t it a custom to kiss the bride?”
Denver’s lips twisted. “I’m not too keen on tradition.”
Colton raised his eyebrows, then touched the boutonniere pinned to Denver’s black tuxedo lapel. “You could’ve fooled me,” he said with a genuine smile that slashed white against his beard. He glanced at Tessa. “When you get tired of this guy, maybe you should give me a call—”
“Don’t even think it,” Denver warned, but he laughed when he caught the teasing glimmer in Colton’s gray eyes. “The man’s incorrigible,” Denver decided as his brother strolled uncomfortably through the crowd.
“A McLean family trait,” she observed. “Let’s just hope it’s not passed on to the next generation.” She smiled then, a knowing smile that caused his heart to lurch.
A warmth spread through Denver like none he’d ever felt before. “No regrets?” she asked, cocking her head coyly.
“No regrets.”
Tender Trap
Chapter One
“Damn it all to hell!” Colton McLean growled, kicking at the straw and slamming the stall gate so hard the timbers of the old stable rumbled. Several horses snorted nervously. “Where’s Black Magic?” Colton whirled to face Curtis Kramer, the ranch foreman.
“Gone.”
“I can see that.”
Curtis rubbed his silver-stubbled chin. “I already checked the paddocks and the south pasture.”
“What about the other barns? Maybe someone put him in the wrong place.”
Squinting at the younger man, Curtis slowly shook his head. “Nope. Len searched all the buildings and the paddocks. Black Magic’s nowhere in the yard.”
“He couldn’t disappear without a trace!” Colton strode out of the stallion barn, ignoring the restless grunts of the other horses. Black Magic was the single most valuable asset of the McLean Ranch. And he’d vanished into thin air. “I knew I should never have agreed to stay here,” he muttered, thinking unkind thoughts of his older brother, Denver, who, with his wife, Tessa, had left Montana three weeks before in order to “tie up some loose ends” of the engineering firm he was moving from L.A. to the nearby town of Three Falls. This ranch was Denver’s business as well; Colton didn’t want any part of it.
Outside, the night was as dark as Colton’s black mood. Rain from the vast Montana sky fell relentlessly, bending the grass in the surrounding fields and turning the ground to muck.
Curtis had to run to keep up with Colton’s long strides. “If ya ask me,” he said, catching his breath, “this is all the doin’ of Ivan Aldridge.”
Jolted at the mention of a sworn enemy, Colton turned on the older man. “Aldridge? What’s he got to do with this?”
“He’s stolen Black Magic, sure as I’m standin’ here!”
“Bah!”
Curtis lifted his chin. “As sure as he stole that horse last spring, he’s taken him again.”
“Last spring? What the devil are you talking about?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you?”
Colton’s patience
snapped. He was cold and wet, and the last thing he wanted to do was stand in the driving rain and discuss Ivan Aldridge. “No one knew where I was last year,” he reminded the older man.
“Well, while you were getting shot up in Northern Ireland, Black Magic disappeared for nearly two weeks.”
Colton didn’t want to think about the bar in Northern Ireland where, six months before, someone—Colton didn’t know who—had witnessed him snapping pictures, taken offense and turned his gun on him. Colton was lucky to have gotten away with his life. “The horse escaped last spring?”
“I think he had help. No one could prove it, of course, but the way I figure it, Ivan Aldridge stole the horse, used him to service some of his mares, then let him go before anyone was the wiser.”
“That’s crazy,”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone told me last year. And then when the horse showed up, everyone got busy again and conveniently forgot that he’d been gone. No one dug very deep. The insurance company and the rest of us were relieved.”
“So what’s this got to do with Aldridge?”
“Old Ivan always swore to get even.”
Colton scowled. He knew better than anyone just how deep Ivan Aldridge’s hatred ran.
“No way. The horse hasn’t been stolen! And as for the feud—let’s not bring it all out in the open again, okay?” Colton suggested, irritated. Just the mention of Ivan brought back memories of Cassie—memories he’d sworn to destroy.
“Suit yourself.” Curtis delved into his shirt pocket for his cigarettes. “But it’s not my neck on the line. When Denver finds out the most valuable stud in the state of Montana is missing, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Maybe he never should have left me in charge.”
“Maybe you never should have agreed.”
“Don’t remind me,” Colton bit out. He needed a drink—a hot drink. Irish coffee.
Curtis cupped his hands around a cigarette and lit up. “You’re the boss,” he said, plucking a piece of tobacco from his tongue. “But if I were you I wouldn’t let my feelings for Ivan’s daughter get in the way.”
Colton took a menacing step toward the older man. “I don’t have any feelings for Cassie Aldridge.”
Curtis shrugged. “Eight years ago—”
“Eight years is a long time,” Colton cut in, closing the subject.
Curtis knew when to quit. “Okay, okay. Forget about Cassie.”
“I have,” Colton lied.
“So what should we do about Black Magic?”
“Find him!” Colton rubbed the back of his neck. It was wet. “We’ll split up, go over every field. Len and Daniel can check the western fields, you check south and I’ll take the north.”
“Fair enough. Just be sure to check the property butting up to Aldridge’s place.”
“I will,” Colton promised as he climbed into his Jeep and headed north. He’d check every inch of fence line, every square foot of the northern corner of the property, if for no other reason than to prove Curtis wrong. He and Curtis had a tenuous relationship at best. For years Colton had thought Curtis responsible for the fire that had cost his parents their lives. However, he’d been wrong, and in the past few months he had discovered just how much Curtis knew about ranching. The old man, once he’d given up the bottle, was loyal, true-blue and Denver’s father-in-law.
Now, with Denver in California, they had to work together—at least for a few more weeks. Then, once Colton’s shoulder healed from the wound he’d received while on assignment in Northern Ireland, he’d take off. Colton couldn’t wait to leave Three Falls, Montana. As soon as his doctor gave the word, Colton McLean was history in big sky country.
Two hours later Colton hadn’t found any trace of the horse. His shoulder throbbed and his muscles were cramped from the cold. Angry with Black Magic and the world in general, he squinted past the rain-spattered windshield.
“That’s what you get for letting your brother talk you into sticking around and looking after things,” he jeered, glancing at his reflection in the rearview mirror. Two gray eyes glowered back at him. He turned his attention to the acres of Montana ranch land stretching past the beams of the headlights. “Damn horse.”
Colton yanked on the steering wheel, guiding his Jeep along the fence line. Maybe he’d get lucky and find Black Magic. But maybe not. The chronic pain in his shoulder reminded him that his luck had run out some six months before.
The wipers slapped the rain off the glass as he studied the sagging wire. Easing up on the throttle, he slowed near a thicket of oaks in the northeast corner of the property. The Sage River cut through Aldridge property on the far side of the fence.
Colton was about to give up, but a gaping hole between two fence posts caught his eye.
Jaw clenched, Colton yanked on the emergency brake, let the Jeep idle, then hopped out. His boots sank into an inch of mud. His eyes never left the fence—or what was left of it.
Sure enough, the fence wire had been cut, all four strands neatly snipped. The rusted wires sagged, leaving more than enough room for a horse—or an entire herd—to slip through to the stretch of land between the fence and the river.
Fingering a clipped end, Colton noticed a clump of ebony hair—probably from Black Magic’s tail—clinging to a barb. Beneath his beard, Colton’s jaw grew rigid. Rain and wind lashed at his face. “Son of a—”
Thunder cracked over the hills.
Colton swung the beam of his flashlight over the ground. Hoofprints and bootprints were clearly imprinted in the soft earth. A cigarette butt had been tossed on the wet stones flanking the river. Thick, heavy-treaded tire tracks followed the jagged course of the Sage. Swollen by spring rains, the river rushed by, shining silver, roaring so loudly he barely heard the next clap of thunder.
Colton glared at the swift current. The Sage was a natural dividing line between the McLean Ranch and the Aldridge spread—as deep and wide as the feud that had existed between the two families for nearly a generation.
So Curtis had been right. Black Magic hadn’t just disappeared, he’d been stolen! Again. This time from under Colton’s very nose. Transported to heaven-knew-where by a truck that had been waiting on Aldridge land.
With all the proof he needed, he strode swiftly back to the pickup. He ignored the rain pouring down the collar of his jacket and the sharp jab of pain in his shoulder as he yanked open the door and crawled into the battered old rig.
Ramming his Jeep into gear, he stared through the windshield toward a scraggly thicket of oak and pine, beyond which stood the Aldridge ranch house. The house where Cassie still lived.
Colton’s fingers curled over the gearshift. Cassie’s image swam before his eyes. Impatiently he shoved the vision aside. Eight years had passed since he’d last seen her. If he had his way, he would never lay eyes on her again, never stare into her luminous face nor touch the lustrous sheen of her blue-black hair.
Stomping on the throttle, he turned the Jeep toward the road leading to the Aldridge ranch. He hoped Ivan was home. Tonight was as good a time as any to drag the truth from the old man.
* * *
Cassie twisted off the faucet and stepped out of the shower. Through the bathroom window she heard Erasmus, her father’s crossbred collie, barking and growling loudly enough to wake the dead.
“I’m coming!” she called. “Hold your horses!” Muttering to herself about Erasmus’s particular lack of brains, she snatched her favorite robe from a hook on the bathroom door and stuffed her arms down the sleeves.
She was so tired she wanted to drop. After spending the past twelve hours at the Lassiter ranch, trying to save some of George Lassiter’s heifers from a serious case of milk fever, she was beat. Two animals had survived. Three had died. Veterinary work wasn’t for the fainthearted, she decided as she cinched her belt around her waist.
She dashed down the threadbare red runner on the stairs. Outside, Erasmus was going out of his mind. Barking gruffly and snarling, the old dog
paced the porch and scratched at the front door.
“What’s gotten into you?” Cassie asked, flinging open the door. Fur bristling, teeth bared, Erasmus streaked past her and dashed around the corner to the kitchen. “What the devil?” Cassie whispered.
“Down!” a male voice commanded from inside the house.
Cassie froze.
Erasmus quit whining.
“Miserable beast,” the voice muttered again.
Cassie’s heart slammed against her rib cage. Who was in the kitchen? Her throat cotton-dry, she silently crossed the worn living room carpet, opened her father’s gun closet and cringed at the soft click of the lock. Quickly she withdrew her old .22. It was unloaded, of course, but the intruder, whoever he was, wouldn’t know that.
Did Erasmus know the man? she wondered wildly, disturbed that the dog had obeyed the rough command. She clenched her fingers tightly around the stock and barrel and padded noiselessly to the kitchen. Lifting the rifle to her shoulder, she stepped into the light.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded, then stopped dead in her tracks. She nearly dropped the .22.
There, in the middle of the room, was Colton McLean—the one man in the world she detested. Big as life, his wet Stetson low over his eyes, he straddled one of the chipped maple chairs and scratched Erasmus’s ears. The traitorous dog whined in pleasure.
His gaze, as cold as silver, clashed with hers. “Cassie,” he drawled. “It’s been a long time.”
Chapter Two
Cassie’s heart nearly dropped through the floor. “What’re you doing here?”
Tipping his Stetson back, Colton surveyed her through slitted silvery eyes. “Waiting.”
“For?”
“Your father.”
“He’s not here.”
Colton merely shrugged. His gaze narrowed on her, his expression murderous. His face was rugged, craggier than she remembered it. A full beard covered his jaw, and his features were lean and jaded with the added years. His denim jacket, stretched taut across his shoulders, was wet from the rain. His attention drifted to the rifle. Its barrel gleamed blue in the dim light from a single low-watt bulb mounted high on the ceiling.