Heartland

by Sherryl Woods

  “I am amenable. You’re the one who’s an arrogant, hotheaded son—”

  “Careful,” he warned. “My temper is already at the breaking point.”

  “And mine is past it.”

  “So I noticed last night.” He gestured to an empty bench. “Or would you prefer to go back to our favorite tree?”

  “This will do.” She kept a careful distance between them.

  “Let’s start with last night,” he suggested. “Why did my offering to buy your farm send you into such a tizzy?”

  Lara sat stubbornly silent.

  “Don’t make me lose my patience.”

  “I haven’t seen any evidence that you have any.”

  “Lara!” His voice rose ominously.

  “All right!” she shouted right back. “It’s your motive that worries me.”

  There was genuine puzzlement in his eyes. “My motive?”

  “Yes. Why did you make the offer?”

  “So you’d have the money to go back to school,” he responded immediately. There wasn’t even a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said with barely concealed fury. “For starters, I don’t believe it.”

  He appeared honestly stunned by her attitude. “Why on earth not? It’s the truth.”

  She hesitated for just an instant, confused by his reaction. Not even his voice had wavered. If he was acting, he was doing a good job.

  “Don’t insult my intelligence,” she retorted. “You don’t go around buying up land for some altruistic reason. You’re a businessman. You make your decisions because they’re good for you. You wanted my land so badly eleven years ago, you seduced an innocent kid to try to get it. Why should I believe for one moment that things are any different now? Your tactics certainly haven’t changed.”

  His complexion paled, except for two spots of color high on his cheeks. He rose to his feet, towering over her. The cold look on his face made her quake inside.

  “That’s what you think of me?” His voice was low, but it cut through her like the lash of a whip. “You think I’m capable of using you to get what I want?”

  Despite a sudden wave of uncertainty, she met his furious gaze boldly. “Yes.”

  “I see.” He shook his head. Suddenly the anger was gone, replaced by sorrow. His voice fell to a ragged whisper. “You don’t know me at all.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Steven turned to walk away as Lara stared after him in stunned silence. His back was ramrod straight, his step brisk. He never once looked back.

  His leaving had a quiet air of finality about it that shook her far more than his angry words. Beyond all else, it penetrated her righteous indignation and left her in doubt. Somehow she sensed that after this, his pride would never allow him to return to risk more such accusations. With a sense of amazement, she realized that she had hurt him deeply with her sharp tongue and blind outrage. Could she have wounded him so if he didn’t care for her just a little?

  And there was more. Was it at all possible that she had wronged him? He hadn’t exactly denied her charges. He had disdained to acknowledge them at all.

  All she knew, when sensation returned to replace shock, was that she ached inside. With her own anger fading, she was left with doubts and a terrifying, yearning emptiness that she knew from experience only Steven could fill.

  Finally she became aware of her surroundings. The park was busy at this time of day—mothers pushing carriages, children on bikes, employees on their lunch breaks, all creating a cheerful, noisy atmosphere that counterpointed her somber mood.

  Slowly other things registered. The ground was still slightly damp from yesterday’s rain. The air was heavy with humidity and rich with the scent of the rose bushes that spilled petals over the ground. In this wreckage of the storm there was at least a delicate, colorful patchwork. Sunlight played tag with huge fluffy white clouds. It was a lovely summer day, but it meant little to her without Steven by her side to share it.

  Was this the way she was doomed to spend her life? Would she always be alone in a colorless world because the man who had brought brightness into her life had gone? No, she thought, coming to a decision. She’d sacrificed enough. If there were answers to be had to her questions, she would have them. And if she owed him an apology for doubting him, she would make it.

  And what, a voice nagged, what if she had been right? She thought about that and dismissed it for the moment. She would deal with that possibility when—and if—she was forced to. In the meantime, sitting in this park was the last thing she ought to be doing. There were no answers for her here.

  She leaped to her feet and went back to her car. Exhilarated by a heady mix of anger and determination, she managed to keep her foot light on the accelerator until she reached the outskirts of town. Then she drove with reckless speed over the country roads leading back to Steven’s property. She had the distinct feeling that she was traveling toward her destiny.

  * * *

  It had been the worst day of Steven’s life. The pain that had cut through him at Lara’s accusations went deeper and hurt far more than even the terrible years of separation. That she could think that he would seduce her only to get her land made him question her love as nothing else ever had.

  And still he wanted her. His body’s responses had not caught up with his mind, which told him again and again to let it end with some measure of dignity on his part. He had verbally brawled and fought his way to the top in business. He had no intention of doing the same in romance. If she trusted him so little, what sort of relationship could they possibly have?

  And yet he couldn’t forget that first glimpse of her in Beaumont’s this afternoon. She had looked sad and lost and lonely. She had also appeared infinitely desirable. It had sent a surge of heated blood racing through him. Even as he had walked away from her in the park to satisfy his pride, his body and soul had cried out with another need.

  In all the years of remembering Lara, nothing had prepared him for the shock of her cruel cynicism. She had always represented gentleness and understanding and, above all, the kind of unquestioning, generous, passionate love he’d never before experienced. However, her actions today had nothing to do with love. They spoke only of distrust and disillusion.

  Maybe if she’d allowed herself to grieve... Maybe then she wouldn’t have become so bitter and withdrawn.

  Megan’s words came back to him suddenly. Was Lara’s behavior today part of that pattern established years ago? Certainly that’s when he’d sown the seeds of distrust. Until now, though, he’d had no idea that they’d taken hold so well. He’d thought he’d overcome all of her doubts and suspicions, but when put to the test, eleven years of pain had overcome a comparatively short time of loving.

  When he finally arrived at home, he prowled through the house, unable to stay still, uncomfortable with his whirling thoughts.

  “Have you had lunch?” Mrs. Marston asked, catching him on what must have been his dozenth trip from living room to terrace and back again.

  “I’m not hungry,” he growled, stalking back outside. She followed him with dogged determination.

  “Some iced tea, then? It’s very humid this afternoon.”

  He paused and glowered fiercely. “I don’t want any tea, either.”

  “What about—”

  “I just want to be left alone.”

  Her eyebrows had risen at that, but she’d gone back to the kitchen without lecturing him on his surly attitude. He wondered how long such docility would last. She’d probably leave all the seasoning out of his dinner tonight just to make a point.

  Steven carried his briefcase out to the patio and took out the papers he’d had prepared earlier in the week after his conversation with Megan. He’d meant them to be somethi
ng positive for Lara. There was so much he wanted to do to make life easier for her. This was supposed to be a start. Instead, the papers had become the symbol of a relationship between two people who apparently didn’t understand each other at all.

  * * *

  Lara brought the car to a squealing halt in front of Steven’s house, sending gravel flying. She got out and slammed the door.

  She raced up the steps and repeatedly punched the doorbell, listening to it echo through the house. When Mrs. Marston opened the door, Lara managed a brief smile, then demanded, “Where is he?”

  “On the terrace.” As Lara started through the house, Mrs. Marston called out to her. “Be careful, Ms. Danvers. He’s in a foul mood.”

  Adopting an air of bravado, Lara grinned at her and waved the mood off as being of no consequence. “I know,” she said with glib confidence, ignoring the queasiness in her stomach.

  However, when she reached the French doors that opened onto the terrace, she hesitated. Steven was sitting in the sun, his head bowed, rubbing his temples. His briefcase was open. Papers were lying untouched on the terrace. He looked utterly defeated and incredibly vulnerable.

  “Steven.”

  His shoulders tensed. He lifted his head at the whisper of his name and stared at her. An eloquent look of longing filled his eyes, only to be quickly replaced by a veil of disinterest. He waited, not saying a word.

  “Can we finish that talk?” she asked quietly.

  He shrugged in an elaborate show of indifference. “I thought you were finished.”

  “So did I,” she said. “It’s possible, though, that I jumped to a hasty conclusion.”

  “It is possible,” he concurred, a wry twist to his lips.

  “I want to go back to what happened eleven years ago. You’ve told me why you left, and I believe you.”

  “Thank you.”

  There was an unmistakable edge of sarcasm in his voice that almost made her falter in her resolve. She lifted her chin and met his gaze evenly. “Why did you seduce me in the first place?”

  That brought a spark of amusement to his eyes. “As I recall, it was you who did the seducing.”

  Her face burned at the accuracy of his memory. “I don’t mean just that night at the stream. I mean everything, all the attention, the gifts. It was all part of the seduction.”

  “Would you believe me if I told you it was because I couldn’t help myself?”

  Her eyebrows arched doubtfully. Though his words had the ring of truth about them, she couldn’t imagine Steven Drake ever not being in control of his feelings or his actions. Especially back then, when there had been an undeniably hard edge about him. It had been easy to believe that that man had the ruthlessness to use her, but this one? Could the man who watched her now with so much emotion on his face have done that? She waited impatiently for his explanation, praying for one that would exonerate him.

  “From the moment I saw you,” he began softly, “I was just a little bit enchanted. It was like having a magical spell cast around me. There was a mysteriously compelling air of innocence and boldness about you that drew me from the first. I had to know you.”

  His eyes never left hers as he spoke. Breathless, she whispered, “What about the land?”

  “It had nothing to do with that. When I first saw you, I didn’t have the vaguest idea of your name or where you lived or anything else about you. I only saw a lovely young woman I wanted to know.”

  “But there came a time when you did know who I was,” she persisted.

  Steven sighed. “Lara, I am not going to deny that I came to this part of the state looking for land. I felt there was a potential for growth here, that families from Toledo would be looking for a more peaceful environment as that city grew. Speculating in land is what my company does, in addition to putting together development deals and doing engineering studies.”

  “So you stole from the farmers to make yourself rich.” She was unable to restrain the bitterness she’d felt for so long.

  “I stole nothing,” he retorted. “You were eighteen years old, Lara. You hated the farm back then. You had no interest in farming or in the people who did it. Yet you reacted emotionally to what was—for them and for me—a satisfactory business arrangement.”

  She flinched as the accuracy of his charge hit home. He wasn’t finished yet, either.

  “How many of those families did you ever talk to?” he asked. “How many did you ask if they could have survived another year without financial collapse? Did you ever once stop to consider that some of them had been beaten by the land just as your own father and mother had been? Some of their sons and daughters were just as desperate as you were to move on.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that your motives were purely altruistic?”

  “Of course not. But the deals were fair. They got money and an opportunity to build new lives, even job training if they wanted it. There’s not a farmer among them who would say otherwise.”

  It was true, she realized suddenly. She had never heard the farmers speak negatively about Steven. If anything, they had welcomed him into the community far more warmly than she had. She had seen for herself the depth of their respect for him when they all worked side by side to save Kelly.

  “You tried to get my father’s land, too.”

  “He and I discussed it on several occasions, yes. This land is in an ideal location for one of those suburban communities I wanted to create. He didn’t want to sell. He felt very strongly that it was the only legacy he had to leave to you and your brothers.”

  Tears sprang to Lara’s eyes as his words recalled her mother’s deathbed wish that she save her father’s legacy. “He loved this land,” she said with quiet simplicity. “Despite all it took from him, he loved it.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “But you still tried to force him to sell.”

  Steven reached out to her and took her hand, pulling her closer. She went reluctantly, disturbed that his touch could stir her so easily. A warm glow was already beginning to build inside, outshining the doubts.

  “No, Lara,” he said. “I told him my offer would always be good, but I never tried to force him to sell, not after he told me why he wanted to keep the land.”

  She searched his expression for any sign of a lie and found only compassion and gentleness and honesty. “Why did you insist on buying part of it three years ago?”

  “Because I’d heard the kind of financial trouble you were in, and I knew you’d never accept a loan from me. It was the only way I could think of to protect the land for you.”

  “You did that, even knowing how it would look to me, that it would infuriate me?”

  “I had to risk it. It seemed to be all you had that meant anything to you.”

  “And now?”

  “I only offered to buy it, so that you could go back to school. Besides, with my own home right here next to it, it would go against my own best interests to develop it. In fact, my intention was to keep it and...” His voice trailed off uncertainly.

  “And what?”

  He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across the knuckles, all the while keeping his eyes steadily on hers. The pace of her heart picked up as she waited.

  “I was going to give it back to you—all of it—as a wedding present.”

  A mist of tears clouded Lara’s vision, and her hands trembled.

  “Lara?”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  His lips curved into a provocative grin. “Oh, I think you probably do.”

  Her breathing became quick and shallow. Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Tell me.”

  “I was hoping that someday, after you became Dr. Lara Danvers, you’d also consent to becoming Mrs. Steven Drake.”

  “And what if I stay pl
ain old farmer Lara Danvers?”

  “You, my love, will never be plain,” he said, drawing her onto his lap. Her arms instinctively circled his neck, and she took a leisurely survey of his face as he added, “As for your occupation, I don’t care if you take up beekeeping. I still want you to be my wife.”

  Lara’s pulse raced out of control then, and fire danced through her veins. Still, there was one thing Steven had never said. Not eleven years earlier. Not today. He had never said he loved her.

  He had shown her, though. In so many ways he had shown her love time and again. Not just with his body, but in his tenderness, his supportiveness. He had been with her throughout the ordeal with Kelly. He had tried valiantly to lift her beyond depression when her nieces had left. He’d been by her side, helping and caring, in the horrible aftermath of the tornado. There had been real fear in his eyes when he had thought she might be seriously injured. Even now with the land, his gesture had been well-intentioned, loving. If the words of love didn’t come as easily as the actions, she would have a lifetime to draw them from him.

  He reached around her then and picked up a folder from the stack on the ground beside him. “Just in case you’re having any lingering doubts,” he said.

  Lara opened the folder to the first page and found a contract calling for his purchase of the remainder of the Danvers’ land. In a final clause it was noted that this land and his earlier purchase were to be held in trust for her and her heirs until such time as she and she alone should decide to sell it.

  “When did you have this drawn up?”

  “I called my lawyer after I left you last night. I’d guessed at least some of what was bothering you. This was the only way I could think of to convince you that my intentions were totally honorable. Now what about it? Do we have a deal?”

  Heart soaring, Lara’s lips curved into an impish smile. “Which deal is that? For the land?”

  “Forget the land,” he growled. “You can have it, the money, anything I have. Are you going to marry me or not?”