"Yes, you like that, don't you, Maggie?" he whispered, his voice deep and slow and faintly contemptuous. "You didn't realize how sensitive your mouth was, did you? It can be teased and provoked into begging for a man's lips," he said softly, tracing the upper lip with the very edge of his thumb so that he could feel the moist underside and watch its sudden helpless trembling. "Like that," he murmured, increasing the pressure, seeing her face flush, her lips part involuntarily. Her body tautened, and he smiled because he knew why.
"No," she said on a sobbing breath, and even as she said it, she realized that he wasn't paying the least attention. He was powerfully made; she could feel the strength of him threatening her, the warmth that radiated from him with a leathery scent not at all unpleasant. Years ago, she'd dreamed of being touched, kissed, by him. She'd wanted him, and she'd known he was aware of it. But she'd also known, as he had, that such a thing was forbidden between them—because of her age. Her age had protected her...then. And she'd thought he was too cold to be tempted. Fool!
"Did you ever wonder?" he asked unexpectedly, tilting her chin as he bent. "Did you ever wonder how my mouth would feel moving on yours?"
Tears stung her eyes. It was fascinating that she could feel like this with him, that she could be hungry, physically, after what Dennis had done to her. She felt her own fingernails gripping the hard muscles of his upper arms, tugging gently. "Gabe," she whispered, giving in to the raging attraction.
"What did my mother offer you, Maggie?" he breathed against her mouth.
"Offer...me?" she whispered brokenly.
He moved closer, his legs trapping hers, his body demanding as his mouth hovered warmly over her lips. "She brought you down here for me.
She's given up bringing me career girls, so now she's dredging up old memories. She wants me to marry you."
"Marry...you?" It was barely penetrating her hazy mind
"Don't pretend," he said. His eyes were cold, not loveriike, as they met hers. "I heard you both plotting. Well, I'm not in the market for a wife, little Maggie," he said curtly. "But if you want to play around, I'm more than willing. You always did burn me up...."
Even as the last word faded in the air, his mouth came down on hers. But the tenderness she'd expected wasn't there. He was rough, as if the feel and taste of her had suddenly taken away his control. He made a sound, deep in his throat, and groaned as he pulled her too close and hurt his swollen arm. But he didn't let go. If anything, he was more ardent.
She felt his rough heartbeat and felt his strength with mute terror. "No!" she burst out. "Not...like this!" She tried to twist away from him.
He caught her hips with his, pressing them back against the rough bark of the tree. "What's the matter?" he taunted, lifting his mouth long enough to look down at her. "Does it take the promise of a wedding ring to get you in the mood?" His mocking voice sounded odd. Deep and slow and faintly strained.
Tears welled up behind her closed eyelids. Men weren't so different after all, she thought miserably. Sex was the only thing they wanted. Just sex. It was Dennis all over again, showing her how much stronger he was, forcing her to yield, taking what he wanted without the least thought of her comfort. She began to cry.
"Is it that bad?" he asked, his voice even and cold.
Her lips trembled. "I don't want...that," she whispered brokenly. "I don't want anyone. I just want...to be left alone."
He scowled. It seemed to get through to him finally that she was suffering him. Just that. Just suffering what he was doing to her. He could have sworn there was desire in her, at the beginning. But now she only looked afraid. She was as stiff as a rail, unyielding, cold.
With an economy of motion, he released her. She folded her arms across her breasts, trembling as she looked at him.
"Why the pretense?" he asked calculatingly. "Didn't my mother tell you why she invited you here?"
She swallowed, clutching herself tighter against a sudden burst of wind. "Listen," she began, her voice shaking a little with reaction. "The only reason I came here was for some peace of mind. I have no inclination whatsoever to be your...your wife or your mistress or even your friend. It would suit me very well if I never saw you again!"
"Then why are you here?" he demanded coldly.
She smiled shakily. "I'm running away," she confessed. "Trying to find a way to keep my ex-husband from taking my little girl away from me. She's terrified of him, and so am I. He's remarried and has most of my money; and in a lawsuit for custody, I'll very likely lose. My daughter has a trust, you see. Dennis wants control of it"
He stared at her as if he'd been struck from behind. "Ex-husband?"
She nodded.
"Did he get the divorce, or did you?" he asked coldly.
"I did," she confessed.
"Poor man."
"He had enough women to console him, before and after," she returned, her voice empty and dull.
Her chin lifted as he looked down at her. "Are you that cold in bed?" he asked, half-angry and half-frustrated because he'd wanted her and he'd thought she'd wanted him back.
She stared at him unblinkingly, without speaking, until he had the grace to turn away, as if his own question had shocked him.
"Where is your daughter?"
She moved away from the tree slowly, careful to keep some distance between them. He lit another cigarette and leaned back against the tree she'd just vacated to study her curiously.
"She's in boarding school in San Antonio," she said. "Janet said that I could bring her here..."
"Hell!" he ground out.
"You don't need to worry about more people cluttering up your ranch," she said with what little pride she had left. "I'll be leaving as soon as the next bus is out, and Becky won't be coming up here, I promise." She shuddered as she looked at him, feeling the force of his masculinity even at a distance. She could still taste him on her mouth. "If there's no bus today, I'll hitchhike."
His pale eyes narrowed. "Afraid of me?" he taunted.
"Yes." And it was no lie.
He took a draw from the cigarette. "And what will you tell my mother about your abrupt departure?"
"I'll think of something."
"She'll be upset," he returned. "I've got enough trouble without having her in hysterics."
"I don't want—"
"How old is the girl?" he asked curiously.
"She's just six."
"What in hell is she doing in a boarding school, then?" he demanded. "What kind of mother are you?"
Tears threatened. "I have to work," she whispered. "I was afraid to leave her at home after school and on Saturdays, afraid Dennis might try to kidnap her. He threatened that. At the school, she's protected. He'd need a court order."
He sighed heavily. "What a hell of a life for a child that age."
He ought to know, she thought suddenly, and almost said it. But she had enough on her plate without deliberately antagonizing him.
"When does she get out of school?" he persisted.
"Next week. Next Friday."
He studied his cigarette for a long moment, then those cold eyes touched Maggie's face. "All right. Bring her here. But the two of you keep the hell out of my way, is that clear?"
" I don't want to stay here..."
"You'll stay," he returned shortly. "It's too late now. I won't have Mother upset. Besides," he added, "at least you won't be running after me like her other 'guests.'"
"That's a fair statement."
He looked down his crooked nose at her, his hard lips smiling quietly. "Did I bruise you, honey?" he said in a tone that curled her toes. "I wanted to do that when you were sixteen. And you might as well not look so shocked. You wanted me to do it when you were sixteen."
She lowered her eyes. It was the truth. He'd been her very dream of perfection.
"Maggie."
She looked up again, her large green eyes sweeping his hard, dark face. "Yes?"
He shouldered away from the tree and caught her sudden
withdrawal from him. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"All right," he said with the first gentleness he'd shown since her arrival. "I won't touch you again. You'd better do something about your lip. I cut it when I kissed you."
She touched it with a finger and found a trace of blood there. She hadn't felt it. But she hadn't experienced so much emotional turmoil since her divorce.
He pulled out a handkerchief and offered it, noticing that she went to great lengths to avoid any contact with him when she took it and dabbed at her lip.
Her face felt hot, her knees weak. Odd that he should have such a profound effect on her. Perhaps it was just reaction.
"He hurt you, didn't he?" he asked suddenly, his gaze forceful. "He hurt you sexually."
She swallowed. "Yes."
"Then for God's sake, why have his child?" he demanded.
"I didn't have a lot of choice," she said, hiding her face.
He lit another cigarette, keeping his eyes on the match so that she wouldn't see them. He mumbled something harsh and forceful.
"It's all past history now," she said, and lifted her eyes. "I just want to pick up the pieces and raise my daughter. I don't want to trap you into marriage, honestly. I don't want anything to do with men, ever again. So I'll be glad to keep out of your way, if you'll stay out of mine."
He lifted his chin as he drew on the cigarette. "I don't bargain, honey."
"Don't call me that," she said coolly.
"I always used to; have you forgotten?" he asked, his voice oddly quiet. "I never tossed those words around like some men do, either. Too bad you didn't listen." Before she could pursue that, he was off on another subject. "Do you have a good lawyer?"
She shifted. "I suppose so."
“I’ll make sure you do before the custody suit comes up."
"Listen here, Gabriel—"
"You were the only woman who ever called me that," he murmured, smoking his cigarette while he studied her. "I like it."
She tried again. "I don't want—"
"I'll fly you to get the little girl," he added, turning. "Let me know a day beforehand, so that I can arrange things."
"Will you listen!"
His eyebrows shot up. "To what?"
"I can arrange my own life...."
"You've made a hash of things, from what I've seen."
"I can do without your opinion!"
"Pity. You could use a few pointers. And before you jump to any conclusions," he added maddeningly, "I take back my offer to play around with you. In fact, I'll be generous and take back every damned thing I've said since you came here." He pursed his lips as he searched her puzzled eyes.
"You're like a virgin, aren't you? Afraid of sex, nervous of men..."
The blush got worse. Her fists clenched beside her body. "Are you quite through?"
"For now." He pulled the hat lower over his eyes. "Stay away from that stallion," he cautioned again.
She glared after him. Overbearing, domineering... She held the handkerchief to her lip again and caught a whiff of his spicy cologne. Why that scent should make her heart race was beyond her reasoning. Before she could wonder about her reaction, however, she turned furiously and went back into the house.
She spent a restless night worrying about whether or not she should just go back to San Antonio and make a stand there, without a vacation.
Her mind laughed at that. Some vacation, with Gabriel Coleman making vicious passes at her and threatening to take over her whole life. Of course, she had to admit that he'd gotten the whole situation wrong because of Janet's past matchmaking. And what he'd overheard that first night could have sounded like a plan to trap him at the altar.
She flushed, remembering what she'd confessed about having had a crush on him. Had he heard that, too? It would have been hard to miss, though, because at sixteen her eyes had followed him everywhere. The girls had even teased her about being so taken with him, and she didn't doubt that they'd told him, too.
He'd always been more man than the average woman could handle. Something in her had always been, and still was, a little afraid of him. But underneath the cold, hard exterior, there seemed to be a surprisingly gentle man. She'd had a glimpse of that, and she'd warmed to it helplessly. Gentleness was the one thing she'd never had from Dennis, who took and gave nothing in return. Looking back, she could see his deviousness with clear eyes. But at eighteen she'd been flattered by his charming attentions and been on fire to marry and have children.
How sad, she thought as she closed her eyes, that so often what people wanted the most was the last thing that could make them happy. What was the old saying about being careful what you wished for because you might get it? She wished she'd been a little more clearheaded at eighteen. Perhaps if her parents hadn't moved to Austin, perhaps if Gabriel had really been interested in her, if he'd come courting...
She went to sleep and dreamed about that. And woke up warm all over. It seemed the scars weren't quite as deep as she'd thought—or else how could she have that kind of dream about Gabriel?
Chapter Four
Maggie managed to keep Janet from finding out about her disastrous confrontation with Gabe. As for him, his attitude toward her was a little less hostile. He made no more passes at her, and he stopped baiting her. But there was no drastic change in his manner. He was much as he had been before he'd learned the truth. If he felt anything at all except irritation, he hid it well. Perhaps he'd learned over the years to keep his deepest emotions hidden, Maggie thought. Heaven knew he'd had reason to.
His arm was still giving him brief twinges of pain—that was obvious—but a few days later he climbed on a horse despite the discomfort and rode out to help his men. He was kept busy, disability notwithstanding, with the separate herds of cattle, as he and his men worked increasingly long hours. Janet seemed relieved, although she didn't say anything.
The following Thursday night, Maggie was forced to wait up for Gabe. He'd promised to fly down to get Becky the next day. And it was either that or ask Janet to face the long drive into San Antonio on her behalf. Maggie laughed mirthlessly, thinking about the past, when she could easily have chartered a plane to take her. Thanks to Dennis and his spendthrift ways, that was no longer an option. If only she'd had more backbone in the beginning! If only she hadn't knuckled under! But she'd made her own bed by refusing to take action, and now she was paying for it horribly.
When Janet started upstairs about nine o'clock, Gabe still hadn't come home. Maggie was reading a book on the sofa, curled up under a lap blanket in jeans and a multicolored pullover blouse.
"Are you going to stay up for a while?" Janet asked casually.
"I'm waiting for him," Maggie said, knowing that the older woman would understand she meant Gabe. "He said he'd fly me down to get Becky tomorrow if I'd remind him. I have to see if he meant it."
"My son never says things he doesn't mean," Janet said, and actually seemed to relax. "I didn't know you'd told him about Becky, although I had a few suspicions. He's stopped cutting at you so much."
"Not noticeably." Maggie sighed. "Yes, I told him. I mentioned getting a bus, and he wouldn't hear of it. But I don't know how he'll manage time."
"Stand back and watch." Janet grinned. "Oh, my dear, I'm so glad he offered. I wouldn't have minded driving down with you...."
"But it's a tiring trip," she reminded the older woman. "It was kind of him to offer."
"I think he's curious about your daughter," Janet said suddenly. "He's not an easy man to get along with, but he loves children. It's something of a tragedy that he never married, you know. He would have been a good father."
That was surprising. He didn't seem the kind of man who would warm to a child, but Maggie knew she was no judge of men—not after the brutal mistake she'd made.
Long after Janet had gone upstairs, Maggie thought over what she'd said about her taciturn son. He was such an enigma. He wasn't handsome; in fact, he was rather plain. And although his mother seemed to
think he was unable to attract women, Maggie knew he wasn't an inexperienced man. He'd known exactly what he was doing when he'd made that pass at her in the backyard. If it hadn't been for her unfortunate marriage, it might have been difficult not to respond to his ardor. His mouth had been hard and warm and very, very expert, and something deep inside her had reacted wildly to the taste of him, although she'd kept him from knowing it.
The sound of the front door opening disturbed her thoughts. She let the book lie open in her lap and looked into the hall. The glimpse she got of the real Gabriel Coleman in that instant was fascinating.
He didn't know anyone was around, and all the mocking arrogance was gone. He was quiet and solemn, and he looked every year of his age. Dust covered him from his blue check shirt to his stained jeans and wet boots. His black hair was disheveled and damp as well, and his face was heavily lined. He tossed his hat onto the hall table and dropped the wide leather chaps he'd just discarded onto the floor. He stretched, his hard muscles shuddering a little with the strain they'd been under. Then, as he looked toward the living room and saw Maggie watching him, all the hardness returned to his face, and to his pale, penetrating eyes.
"Couldn't you sleep?" he asked with a mocking smile. "If you're looking for the obvious remedy, sorry, I'm too tired to oblige."
As she searched his face quietly, it suddenly dawned on her that he didn't really mean half the cutting things he said. They seemed to be a kind of camouflage to keep women from getting close to him, from looking beneath the savage surface. And at that realization, all the hot words poised on the tip of her tongue faded away, forgotten.
"You said you'd fly me down to San Antonio to get Becky tomorrow," she said gently. "I hate to remind you; you look so tired."
Books By Diana Palmer Page 16
