Dashing away her tears, she glanced around. “Where is Will, anyway? He’s coming today, isn’t he?”
Lee’s gaze was piercing. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I don’t know if he knows himself.”
She nodded, trying not to get choked up all over again. “I—I understand.”
“Do you, Lacey?” he asked abruptly. “Do you understand my brother? He may go overboard sometimes, thinkin’ he knows what the people he cares for need better’n they do, but he never stops trying to give them his best, from the bottom of his heart.”
Head down, Lacey said nothing. What could she say, especially when a hole was opening up where her own heart used to be?
“Please don’t judge me harshly, either, Lee,” was all she could say.
“It’s never been about judging anyone, Lacey. You’re just you, just as Will’s only Will.”
She realized he was right. “Yes, that is what it’s about it, isn’t it? Being accepted—and appreciated—for ourselves.”
Lee gave her a chuck under the chin, bringing her head up, and she was relieved when he winked at her, just like in the old days. “You better get goin’. Your public is waiting or champin’ at the bit, as the case may be.”
Lacey looked around. Indeed, Sheriff Bozeman and a few of his deputized citizens were doing their best to contain a cadre of newspeople behind a bank of sawhorses. When she turned, they set up a caterwaul of clicking shutters and shouts of “Lacey, over here!” and “What’s your verdict, Countess?”
She may as well put them out of their misery.
As she walked forward, the door of the black limousine opened and Nicolai Laslo stepped out. He was as tastefully dressed as ever, perfectly groomed, exuding confidence and power and prosperity as if it were his birthright. He stood out like a peacock against the backdrop of the drab brick buildings along Main, against the sea of plain,
ordinary-as-sparrows faces.
“Nicolai,” she said calmly.
“My dear Lacey.”
When he reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips, instead of her usual revulsion rising up in her, she watched him with a curious sort of detachment. The fact was, he no longer had the ability to terrify her. For the first time, she saw Nicolai with eyes unclouded by doubt or fear, sharpened by something much stronger than either. The knowledge gave her courage.
She smiled at him, and the performance began.
“First, Nicolai, I wish to thank you for your generous offer yesterday.”
“It is my humblest pleasure to afford you such a means to further your heartfelt cause, if you would but allow me,” he answered graciously as ever.
“To think of the kind of good that could be done for girls all over the country with such a foundation...well, I’m overcome,” Lacey admitted candidly, laying her open hand upon her heart as she immersed herself one more time in the prospect of such an all-encompassing effort. She could practically see each and every girl’s face, filled with hope and possibilities.
“You’ve but to say the word, Lacey, and it’s yours,” Nicolai said, his tone as sincere as she’d ever heard it, yet he watched her every nuance of expression, Lacey knew, trying to discern her next move. Would she step forward in trust one more time, as she had countless times before? Would she seek vengeance for all the wrongs done her by this man, by relating the emotional injuries she suffered from him? Would she make a show of rejecting his offer outright in a show of defiance? Or would she take it and enter warily into the game of cat and mouse once again?
Lacey had to struggle not to take on that impassive mask as she had thousands of times before to protect herself from such a piercing invasion into her thoughts and emotions. But she had nothing to hide any longer, nothing to fear, no matter what she did.
She had hoped Will would be here to see that—and to hear what she had to say to Nicolai.
Except, Lacey realized of a sudden, it was because of Will that she had to give it one more try. But not this way, not in public.
“Nicolai, could I see you in private?” she asked abruptly.
His “Of course, my dear,” was blatantly triumphant.
There was a groan of audible dismay from the media people. Private meetings did not make good copy. A challenging grumble went up from the townspeople—not at having their curiosity go unrelieved, but at the newspeople’s obvious intent to follow Lacey and Nicolai and keep after them for the story.
She didn’t care if they did. She was the one who knew what the truth was and that she was doing the right thing.
Then, as she and Nicolai reached the limo, the jabbering dropped suddenly to an awed murmur.
Lacey whipped around, her heart pounding in her throat.
The crowd parted, and a tall, sinewy man walked forward, spurs jingling, Stetson set low on his brow, rugged face impassive.
He looked every inch of his nickname as Iron Will Proffitt.
But Lacey knew—oh, how she knew!—that it was difficult for him to be here, hard for him to have come, because he was a proud man, and this was his town.
She wanted badly to tell him how much his support meant to her, to tell him that she loved him. To tell the whole world that she loved him, and that no matter where she went or what she did, there was no way of removing that love from her heart.
And why shouldn’t she come right out with it? What did she have to fear? If Nicolai tried to use her love for Will against her, he would fail. Because love could not be used to control or dominate, it couldn’t be leveraged or bargained against. It was stronger than any other force in the universe.
She took a step toward him. “Will—”
He held up a hand. “Wait, Lacey. If you don’t mind, I’ve come to say my piece.”
“A-all right.”
He shifted his stance so that he stood tall and dignified. “I know I can’t make you stay, Lacey,” he said, his voice pitched evenly but somehow ringing in the air. “That’s for you to decide. And I could probably get you to, by tellin’ you I love you with all my heart, except I’d be a skunk to use that kind of admission to sway you.”
His gray eyes glowed like pieces of silver. “Only the truth is, I’ve got nothin’ else. I’m as defenseless and exposed as a newborn calf all wet and shiverin’ and without a lick of protection from the sun or wind or coyotes. But if I’ve learned anything from knowing you, it’s that when you love someone that much, it’s not a weakness but a strength. Because I know you love me, and it hasn’t made you one bit less the independent, warm, incredible woman you are. And when you do love someone like that, it’d be next door to criminal to try to hold them down and keep them from spreadin’ their wings.”
He gave a firm nod. “So you go do what you need to, Lacey. Be what you were born to be. And if that brings you back to me, well then, I’ll be here.”
Not a twitch, not a blink, not even the stirring of the wind disturbed the silence that had fallen. Lacey herself was paralyzed, although that was more because she was afraid by moving her heart would shatter in a million pieces.
What it had taken him to come here and expose himself so! To make himself so utterly vulnerable for the sake of her.
She’d thought she couldn’t love him more. She was wrong.
He was waiting for her answer. Everyone was, including Nicolai.
Numbly, Lacey took a step, then another, and another, until she was running, as if for her life. And then, oh heavenly feeling, she was in Will’s arms.
And everyone had their answer—including Nicolai.
Vaguely, Lacey was aware of the din that had gone up, of the townspeople forming an impenetrable circle around them, giving the two of them their privacy, such as it was. From the corner of her eye, she saw the media people converge on Nicolai instead, like a pack of coyotes on an injured rabbit.
But Nicolai was n
o defenseless animal. With an oath, he shoved a reporter so hard the man lost his balance and would have fallen if his colleagues hadn’t caught him. Without a backward glance, Nicolai stalked to his limousine. Once inside, he was inviolate again—for now.
Even safe within Will’s embrace, Lacey couldn’t help but shiver as the long, black car slunk off.
“You...you can still go with him if you want,” Will said.
She turned her head to look up at him in amazement. “Will. Why would I want to be anywhere but here with you?”
Relief carved a path across his features, and he gathered her back to him as if he’d never let her go. “But I thought...that was what you were goin’ to talk to Laslo about. Going to New York.”
“No! Oh, no!” She pulled away, taking his face between her hands. “I’d come here today to tell my story of what I’d gone through with him—of the emotional abuse and manipulations he used on me to tear me down. I didn’t want to expose myself, not just to the whole world not understanding how I could have a fairy-tale life and still not be happy, but to Nicolai, because I knew whatever I said he’d twist it. Then I realized I needed to ask him to let me go, once and for all. To give him—and myself—another chance to try to make him understand, if I could, who I was and what I wanted, to make some kind of an appeal to his intelligence, at the very least, of how he could never have the power over me he wanted, no matter what he did. But I don’t think he ever will understand,” she said sadly.
Lacey looked up at Will solemnly. “He may come back, Will.”
“Then he comes back,” he answered without rancor or concern. “There’s no defendin’ against it, Lacey. You’ll deal with the situation when it comes up.”
“You’re right. I can only live my life the best I can and move forward in trust, striving not to let my fears control me.” She stared hard at that lush lower lip of his and tried not to think of how much she wanted him to kiss her right now.
Because she had something else to say. “I can do that now, Will, and you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been blessed with the love of a man who cares enough to look and see what it is I want, what I need—and lets me go after it myself. A man who’s been at my side within the fortress of my heart, tirelessly helping me put brick upon brick to rebuild myself.”
She straightened his collar lovingly. “A can-do kind of man who’s helped me design just the right vantage to look out and see what lies beyond the pale and judge its strength. A man whose support gives me the courage to venture out to fight my battles on my own.”
Lacey laid her cheek against that wide, solid chest and heard the heart beating inside. “But most of all, a man who keeps the fires burning brightly so I’m able to find my way home to the warmth and understanding waiting for me. That is love, as real and deep and true as it gets. And what woman needs Prince Charming when she has such love?”
Lacey closed her eyes, at perfect peace for the first time in her life. Except she had one more thing to say.
“Some day, under the right circumstances and for the right reasons, I’d like to tell the story of what happened to me. I think I’ll have to, not so much for myself but for other girls and women, to show them that fairy tales aren’t always what they seem to be. That ensuring a happily-ever-after ending takes so much more than gilded palaces and diamond tiaras and a Prince Charming who rides up on a white charger.”
“No, sometimes he drives up in a long, black limo,” Will pointed out, nestling her against him.
Lacey lifted her head, arching an eyebrow. “Or drives away in one. Which means you win, almighty cattle baron.”
Will grinned at the nickname. “And I’d sure be remiss not to’ve learned something from my Cinderella, and that is how the fairy tale always ends like this.”
And with that, Will sealed her mouth with his in a kiss of such power and intensity and unleashed passion Lacey’s knees buckled. The whistles and shouts for more went up from the crowd, and Will obliged by catching her up in his arms and twirling her around and around and around as laughter, pure and sweet, bubbled up from inside her.
And with the last breath left in her, Lacey said, “Will Proffitt! You would make a scene.”
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781459235564
Copyright © 2012 by Jodi O’Donnell
Originally published as COWBOY BOOTS AND GLASS SLIPPERS
Copyright © 1999 by Jodi O’Donnell
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Countess in Cowboy Boots Page 21
