Wyoming True

by Diana Palmer

  She felt herself lifted, turned, held close to a broad chest that smelled of soap and expensive cologne and leather.

  “Ida,” the deep, slow voice came again. “Wake up, honey. Wake up. You’re safe. It’s just a bad dream. You’re safe.”

  She was shivering. Her blue eyes opened, full of fear and pain and tears. “Jake?” she whispered, her voice breaking on his name. “Oh, Jake!” She curled into his body and clung to him, still shivering.

  Maude was hovering in the doorway, her face drawn and worried.

  “There are two liquor bottles in the cabinet in my office that I keep for visitors. Pour me a shot glass of brandy and bring it here, please,” Jake said.

  “Right away, Mr. McGuire.”

  Jake’s arms tightened as Maude went to the liquor cabinet in the den.

  “He was chasing me, with a bat,” Ida murmured into his shirt. “He hit me, over and over!”

  “He’s not here. He’ll never get to you again, I promise!”

  She swallowed. “I was so...afraid.”

  His big hand smoothed over her sleek hair. He kissed her forehead. “I won’t let him hurt you. I won’t let anything hurt you, ever again.”

  She closed her eyes with a ragged sigh.

  Maude was back, with a tiny glass of brandy. “I hope this was the right bottle. I don’t know much about spirits,” she said apologetically.

  He chuckled. “You haven’t had to, up until now,” he pointed out. He took a whiff of the liquid. “Well, it’s not brandy, it’s whiskey, but what the hell, it’ll do.”

  He placed it at Ida’s lips. “I know you don’t like liquor. But you need it. Come on. Open up.”

  She put her hand over his on the little glass and sipped it and made a terrible face. “It tastes like gasoline,” she complained.

  “Mostly liquor does, to me, too,” he confided. “But drink it anyway.” He hesitated, smiling. “All at once is best.”

  She drew in a resigned breath and tossed it down. “Oooh!” she groaned. “It’s horrible going down!”

  “Give it a minute.” He handed the jigger back to Maude, who was hiding a grin.

  “None of us would ever qualify for rehab,” he pointed out.

  “Why do you keep a liquor cabinet if you don’t drink?” Ida asked when she could get her breath.

  “Because I have business dinners, and a lot of businessmen do drink.” He shrugged. “When in Rome.”

  “Business dinners?” she asked, worried.

  “You’ll be the perfect hostess,” he promised. “You’re beautiful and cultured and you don’t slurp your coffee.”

  Maude lost it. “I’ll just wash this out,” she choked and made for the door.

  Ida burst out laughing, too. “I don’t slurp my coffee?”

  “Well, it’s an admirable trait to me,” he pointed out as Maude closed the door behind her.

  She just smiled up at him, the bad dream forgotten, soft and pliable in his strong arms. Her fingers smoothed over the center of his chest and onto where his heart would be and stopped, dead.

  There was a thick, wide ridge of tissue. Her eyes lifted to his and saw the unrest there. But she didn’t lift her fingers. They smoothed over the scar tissue. “Does it still hurt you?” she asked.

  It was the last question he expected. “No.”

  “Are there more?” she asked softly.

  His face was taut, hard as stone. He moved her fingers down to his rib cage. There was another scar, almost as bad as the one higher up. He moved her fingers to the other side of his stomach, where there was a smaller scar.

  “Oh, Jake,” she said gently, frowning. “You must have been in agony when it happened!”

  The discomfort in his expression eased a little. “They aren’t repulsive?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she replied, her hand lifting back to the thick one. “Can I see?” she asked, her blue eyes searching his silver ones.

  He was hesitating when Maude came to the doorway. “I’m out of eggs and I want to make a wedding cake. I’ll run to the store. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

  “Nothing at all, Maude. Thank you,” Ida said.

  Maude smiled at her. “No problem. Oh, and I fed Butler and Wolf. They’re in the kitchen. I’ll make sure I close the back door before I go out.” She hesitated. “Feeling better now?”

  Ida nodded and smiled back.

  “Okay, then. Won’t be long.”

  Her footsteps died as they went down the hall. A minute later the back door opened and closed.

  Ida was still looking up at Jake, the question in her eyes.

  He’d been self-conscious about the scars for a long time. Even with Mina, whom he loved, he was reticent about speaking of them, much less displaying them. But Ida wasn’t repulsed.

  He shrugged and unsnapped the chambray shirt.

  When he pulled it aside, Ida’s soft blue eyes winced. The scars were deep, buried now under thick, curling black hair. His chest was broad and muscular, but the scars didn’t distract at all or make him look less sensuous. Ida was surprised at how much she liked looking at him, touching him as she traced the biggest of the scars.

  “How?” she asked, looking up to surprise an odd expression on his hard face.

  “IED,” he replied. “We were in a convoy. I remember a jolt and a loud noise, as if the world had exploded. I woke up in a hospital in Germany. They said I was out for the better part of a day while they airlifted me from the field hospital.”

  “It’s a miracle that you lived, considering where this scar is,” she noted and thought what a loss it would have been to her if he’d died. The thought was painful.

  “They had to dig out a lot of shrapnel,” he agreed. “Some of it is still in there, but not close enough to endanger my heart or lungs.” His big hand smoothed over the backs of her long fingers. “I’ve never let a woman see these,” he confessed tautly.

  He’d had women. Of course he had. In the dark, so the scars wouldn’t show, because the sort of women he was used to wouldn’t like any physical imperfection.

  She drew her fingers away, disturbed by the thoughts filtering through her mind.

  “Sorry,” he said curtly. “I keep forgetting how naive you are.”

  She looked up at him, her head tilted to one side. “I’ve been married twice,” she began.

  “And you don’t know the first thing about men,” he replied, his eyes kind and soft. “I like it,” he added quietly.

  She flushed a little. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not used to innocents,” he said simply. “I preferred a different sort of companion, when I was going out and about.”

  “Let me guess,” she mused. “Showgirls and jet-setters.”

  He chuckled. “More or less.”

  She sighed. “Sophisticated, experienced women,” she murmured.

  “Exactly. Women who knew how not to get pregnant.”

  The flush grew to a wild rose.

  He laughed softly. “What an expression.” He moved her fingers back onto his chest, not minding the scars anymore. His cheek nuzzled her dark hair.

  “I knew how not to get pregnant, too,” she said, with painful memory.

  “Good thing,” he said.

  “Yes. Bailey said he didn’t want children, but I was afraid that he might try to get me pregnant. It would have given him a weapon to use against me. I’d have done anything he wanted, to save my child.”

  His big hand smoothed her face against him while he tried to ignore the exquisite feel of her soft skin against his bare chest.

  “Did you ever enjoy him?” he asked quietly.

  “No.” She shivered. “He was so brutal. The first time, it hurt so bad... I screamed and he laughed. He always laughed...”

  His arms contracted. �
��My God!” His lips were tender in her hair.

  “I’ll bet you’ve never hurt a woman in your life,” she murmured.

  “Never,” he replied.

  “I’m so afraid of it,” she confessed in a whisper.

  “No wonder.” His chest rose and fell against her while he silently cursed her ex-husband for all he was worth. “I don’t suppose it’s any use telling you that most men don’t get pleasure from hurting a partner.”

  “I’ve led an odd life,” she replied. Her eyes were open, looking across his hair-roughened chest to the window beyond.

  “You truly have,” he said. “You never missed intimacy when you were married to your first husband?” he added, curious. “You were married for five years.”

  “I read about it in a book,” she said. “If you’ve never been intimate with anyone, you don’t miss it, because you have no experience of it.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “I was curious, you know,” she added. “I tried all the things I read in magazines to get him interested. Slinky negligees, perfume, the works. He hugged me and said I looked beautiful and why didn’t I go shopping and buy a lot more negligees to delight him with.” She sighed. “So I bought a closetful. Then he sent me to MIT.”

  “No men there, honestly?”

  “I was married, Jake,” she reminded him, because they’d had this conversation before. “I’d never have cheated on him.”

  His heart jumped, because he knew she’d apply that same logic to their marriage. No matter what, she’d never cheat on him.

  “Why were you so self-conscious about these?” she asked, sliding her fingers gently over the big scar on his chest.

  His hand covered hers. His eyes were on the wall, not on her. “A few months after I came home, one of my cowboys brought his girlfriend over for roundup. I had my shirt off. The scars weren’t healed, and they were still fresh and red. She told her boyfriend that she couldn’t stay out there where I was. She told him that she was sure I’d never get a girlfriend who could stand to look at me.”

  “What a stupid woman,” she muttered.

  He looked down at her, surprised and delighted by the expression on her face. She was outraged.

  She felt his eyes on her and lifted her face. “And what sort of a man would even date a woman who had no heart?”

  He laughed softly. “As a matter of fact, he was pretty outraged himself. He dropped her like a hot rock after that day.”

  “Good!”

  He shrugged. “All the same, I kept my shirt on afterward.” He made a face. “And when I was with women, I made sure the lights were out. Still, one of them felt the scars and said she was sorry, but she couldn’t go through with it. She got up and dressed and left. I got drunk.”

  Her face contorted. She hadn’t known any of this about him. She was certain that nobody else knew it, either. It flattered her that he could share something so very intimate with her. Not that she liked the references about what he did with other women.

  He was studying her. His pale silver eyes narrowed. “What an expression,” he mused. “Have I embarrassed you?”

  “Yes,” she said flatly, trying not to blush. She failed.

  His lean fingers touched her face with its exquisite complexion. “It was a long time ago,” he said gently. “I’m not a playboy now.”

  She looked worried.

  “Now what’s wrong?” he teased gently.

  “It’s just that, well, you’re used to being intimate with women,” she said. “And I’m...broken.”

  “And you think I’ll howl at the moon because I can’t sleep with you?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

  “You’re too honorable to cheat, and I’m terrified of men when the lights go out,” she pointed out. “Oh, Jake, what will we do if...?”

  She stopped because his mouth settled slowly, tenderly, on her parted lips. She forgot what she’d started to say. Her eyes closed. He was gentle, not demanding anything. The sudden stiffness went out of her body and she sank against his strength, not protesting. Her fingers on his bare chest were like ice, but she didn’t pull them away.

  “You can tell me what you want, when you want it,” he whispered against her lips. “If you don’t want anything, you can tell me that, as well.”

  He lifted his mouth from hers and just looked down at her.

  She felt her heart running wild, just from the slow, soft pressure of his mouth on hers. She looked oddly like a child on Christmas morning, faced with a lapful of presents.

  He smiled.

  She smiled back, fascinated.

  “You understand what I mean?” he asked.

  She nodded slowly. She looked at the broad expanse of his chest under her hand, at the powerful build of him, the rugged, handsome face, the thick black hair. She loved the way he looked. She loved the way he felt, so close against her. She wasn’t at all afraid of him.

  He knew that. He could see it, in the relaxed softness of her body, in the quiet warmth of her blue, blue eyes.

  “I’ll...try,” she said after a few seconds, her voice so low that it was almost imperceptible. “If you’ll be patient.”

  He smiled. “I’m always patient.”

  She smiled back. What had started as a businesslike proposition was taking on a different form altogether. She was afraid and excited and hopeful and full of wonder.

  Jake saw that in her eyes and felt optimistic about the future.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE CHURCH WAS full of flowers of every description, and Jake had ordered a bouquet of orchids for Ida’s wedding bouquet.

  He’d gone to the church with Ren Colter, his best man, and Maude was to bring Ida with her. Ida had worried about having someone to give her away, and she was sad that her father had died so many years ago, that he and her mother wouldn’t see her wed. But maybe they were watching from some distant, happy place where they were together.

  “You don’t have anyone to give you away, do you?” Maude asked as they reached the church.

  “No,” Ida said softly, straightening her veil in the lit mirror in the ranch car. She smiled at her companion. “But it’s okay. I just wish my parents were here.”

  “They know,” Maude said comfortingly.

  Ida smiled. “That’s what I think, too.”

  * * *

  THEY STOOD AT the doorway. Ida signaled to the minister. The organist began to play the “Wedding March” and all eyes turned toward the lovely bride, in her elegant white gown, as she walked slowly down the aisle with Cindy and Maude already having taken their place at the altar, with tall, handsome Ren Colter.

  Just as she reached Jake, he turned and looked down at her. His expression was impossible to read. He looked surprised, delighted, absolutely without words. He caught his breath and reached down to link his fingers with hers.

  The minister smiled at them and began to read the words of the wedding ceremony. Ida had hardly listened to them before. She’d been very nervous and excited when she married Charles, and painfully in love when she married Bailey. She hadn’t heard what the minister said. But this time she heard every word. When he reached the part about “in sickness and in health,” she was remembering how kind Jake had been when she was hurting from her injury, when her horses had been beaten, when her cat had almost died. She looked up at him and loved him so much, so deeply, that she could hardly contain it. But he only thought of her as a friend.

  The pain of knowing that drained the blood from her face. Fortunately, with her veil in place, it didn’t show. But her fingers, so closely linked in Jake’s, were unsteady and suddenly cold. His contracted, as if in comfort.

  Jake fumbled in his pocket for the wedding bands they’d chosen and let out a faint, almost inaudible sigh when he found them. He slid hers gently into place and then waited while she slid its
counterpart, silently pressed into her palm, onto his finger.

  The minister pronounced them man and wife, a poignant and mystifying thing that made her heart race with joy. Jake turned to her and slowly lifted the veil away from her beautiful face. He’d never seen her look so lovely. He just stared at her for a few seconds, his eyes full of delight, before he bent his head and kissed her with a tenderness that made her shiver with pleasure. He lifted his head quickly, because he felt the shiver, and he frowned. But she was smiling with her whole heart in her eyes and he relaxed. He smiled, too.

  They walked down the aisle to congratulations and, outside the church, confetti that covered them lightly as they made their way to the fellowship hall right next door. The crowd followed them.

  Jake chuckled as he and Ida brushed each other off at the door.

  “Sorry,” Maude and Cindy murmured together as they joined them. “We couldn’t resist it.”

  “Not a problem, and the rain will melt the paper and not cause an environmental disaster,” Sheriff Cody Banks drawled. “I crashed the wedding,” he teased.

  They both turned and burst out laughing. “Nobody minds,” Jake assured him.

  “Absolutely nobody,” Ida agreed.

  He shook hands with both of them, to Ida’s relief, because she was nervous even of nice men. She’d wanted Jake to kiss her—but no other man.

  They ate cake and shared punch and socialized with all the people who came to share the special day with them. Only a few had been invited, but it was as if half of Catelow showed up at the wedding.

  “I’m so happy for you,” Pam Simpson told Ida. She was beaming. “I feel like I helped this along, in my own small way.”

  Ida was remembering dinner at Pam’s when Jake hadn’t liked her very much. She smiled from ear to ear. “You did, and I’ll never forget it. Thanks.” She hugged the older woman.

  * * *

  THEY WENT BACK HOME. Jake lifted her out of the car with Fred at the wheel and carried her into the house.

  He paused at the front door to kiss her, very gently. “Mrs. McGuire,” he teased softly.