Simply Heaven
A Historical Western Romance
by
Patricia Hagan
New York Times Bestselling Author
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ISBN: 978-1-61417-090-7
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are 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.
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Copyright © 1995, 2012 by Patricia Hagan. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
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Chapter 1
Steve Maddox had the survival instincts of a wild animal.
Though exhausted when he had gone to bed, falling asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, he was wide awake at the first faint sound of someone climbing up the ladder.
It was his first night in the room he had built for himself in a corner of the hayloft over the barn. He had not pulled the ladder up after him because he hadn't thought it would be necessary. Now, hearing the soft creak of the wooden rungs, he wished he had.
Slipping quietly out of bed, he pulled on his trousers, and with the swiftness of a striking rattler, his hand shot out in the darkness to grab his gun from the bedside table.
In the three years he had worked at Halcyon plantation he didn't think he had any enemies, but he was taking no chances, especially since it appeared whoever it was meant to surprise him.
As he waited tensely, he dared to wonder if it just might be Lisbeth, Ned Ralston's stepdaughter. She had returned a few months ago from a fancy finishing school in Paris and had made his life hell ever since. Spoiled, used to getting anything she wanted, she had decided on sight that she wanted him.
At first, he'd thought it was just harmless flirting, but she had become bolder. Then, one night when she caught him alone in Ned's study, she had thrown herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck and standing on tiptoe to rain kisses all over his face. He had come close to breaking her arm before she would let go of him, and the very next night he had made himself a room above the stable.
He'd felt he had no choice except to move out, although he knew it was a bad time with Ned so sick. Ned's wife had died several years earlier, and he was lonely with Lisbeth and her brother, Julius, away at school.
When he had made the excuse that he wanted to move to the barn to be closer to the horses, Ned had teased him about wanting to have privacy to entertain women from town.
Steve heard a soft grunt as someone stepped off the ladder and stumbled against the wall. Only a few people knew exactly where he had built his room in the loft. Obviously the person stumbling around out there was not one of them.
He thought about calling out but knew if it weren't Lisbeth, and whoever it was did have a gun, he might startle them into shooting and the horses below might panic. He didn't want to chance it.
He held his breath as the door opened.
He clicked the gun's hammer back, the deadly sound puncturing the tense silence.
"Oh, no. Don't shoot. It's me—Lisbeth."
"Lisbeth, damn it, I could have killed you!" He put his gun aside and struck a match to the bedside lantern to flood the room with mellow light.
Her blue eyes were wide with terror, and her face was as white as the dress she was wearing. "I... I didn't mean to frighten you," she stammered.
"You should know better than to sneak up on somebody in the dark like that. What the hell are you doing here?"
"I was worried about Belle—" she was momentarily taken aback by the sight of him bare-chested. "she... she isn't feeling well. I couldn't sleep, and I thought maybe if I came out here we could talk and you'd make me feel better about it."
"You could have talked to me about it earlier. There's nothing wrong with your mare that foaling won't cure."
The corners of her mouth dropped in petulance. "You've been avoiding me, and you know it."
"And with good reason." He fastened his belt. "Now let's get you back to the house before somebody finds out you're here. I'll help you down the ladder. It's a wonder you didn't break your neck."
With an exaggerated sigh, she plopped down on the bed. "I'm not going anywhere till we talk, Steve. I want to know why you don't like me."
"I like you," he said, running his fingers through his hair in agitation, "but that's as far as it goes... as far as it will ever go. I've told you over and over that I think of you as a little sister, nothing more."
"Just because Ned treats you like his son does not make you my brother. I never felt for Julius what I feel for you. That would be very naughty." She wrinkled her nose.
He held out his hand.
She ignored it. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Would you like for me to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here like a sack of feed? I'll do it, so help me."
"And I'll scream, and everyone will come running, and I'll say you dragged me out of my bed and brought me out here to rape me."
"You wouldn't,"
"I might. You can't be sure I won't." Her eyes danced mischievously. "Don't dare me."
She was right. He couldn't be sure she would not pull such a stunt. "Good grief, Lisbeth, what is it going to take to make you understand that I'm just not interested in you that way?"
"Don't you find me pretty?"
"Of course I do. But that doesn't mean I want to bed you."
"Because your loyalty to Ned keeps you from it. But you'd better wake up and realize which side your bread is buttered on. He's not going to live forever, you know. What will you do when he dies? Have you thought about that?"
He hadn't. He took one day at a time. "I got by before. I'll manage again."
"But don't you see? It doesn't have to be that way. I'll get married, of course, but I already know I'd be bored silly. Not one boy who calls on me excites me the way you do. So I'll have you"—she stood to tap his nose coquettishly with her finger—"for my paramour."
He brushed her hand away. "No, thanks."
Annoyance flashed, but she sat back down. "You'd best think about it. Lots of married women take lovers. Why shouldn't they? Their husbands have mistresses. You say you can get by, but you know you've never lived so good. Do you really want to go back to your old life of poverty? Haven't you come to enjoy the comforts of the rich?"
"That's never mattered." Steve cared only about racking horses. Ned had the best stock available, the best equine facilities money could buy. When he was gone, Julius would probably let it all go to ruin, and that was a shame, but it was all Steve would miss—except for Ned and the wonderful friendship they shared. He coveted nothing else.
Lisbeth sensed what he was thinking. She was well aware of his affinity for the horses. "You can
stay on. Julius certainly won't care one way or the other. He'll probably move into Mobile anyway. He prefers a more urban lifestyle, you know. And if I decide to marry Barley Tremayne, the only boy I find the least bit appealing, we'll live here. I've no intentions of moving in with his family. Their house doesn't hold a candle to this one."
Steve snickered. "So you've got it all figured out but still enjoy watching the boys stumble over each other, hoping to be the one chosen. You've even decided where you'll live and who you want for your lover. Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"
"I have reason to be sure of myself, Steve, and you would be wise not to make fun of me if you care about your future."
"Well, let me remind you it's my future to care about, not yours."
Suddenly, sharply, she asked, "Did you move out here so you could sneak another woman into your bed without my finding out about it?"
"No. I moved out here to get away from you."
Lisbeth ignored that and persisted. "Is it Selena Leroux?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Is it your baby she's carrying?"
He shook his head in disgust. "You're crazy." Selena was the daughter of one of the Cajun overseers from Louisiana. She was pregnant—but not by him; they were close—but not that way. And while her father was shamed by Selena's condition, she had never told anyone but Steve who the father of her baby was—a married man who had recently drowned in a boating accident on the river. According to Selena, the two of them had been planning on running away together.
"Well, you're the only white man who ever talks to her. The others won't be caught dead near her, because everybody knows she's a whore."
"She's not a whore, and I talk to her because she's my friend."
"Everybody says you're sweet on her. That's why they think it's your baby."
His patience was wearing thin. "I don't give a damn what people think. Now get out of here."
She giggled. "Well, if you don't care what people think, why are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?"
"You little fool." He yanked her to her feet, itching to shake her till her teeth rattled. "It's you I'm concerned about; not me. Do you think Barley would want to marry you if he found out you'd sneaked into my bedroom? And what about Ned? This would upset him real bad."
She raised her chin in defiance. "Well, maybe I'll just upset him by telling him about you and Selena. Then he'll run both of you off. How would you like that? You don't want to make me mad, Steve Maddox," she warned.
He laughed. "If you go to him with a lie like that, he wouldn't believe you and you know it—not when I deny it. Ned trusts me, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you or anybody else spoil that."
She pulled back from his grasp, and he let her. She chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment, meeting his fiery gaze with one of her own. Then, not knowing what else to do, she decided to try tears, which appeared on command to trickle down her cheeks. "Don't treat me like this, Steve," she whispered tremulously. "Please. I care for you, I really do."
He was unmoved. He had seen her cry before. It worked on Ned but not him. "Enough of this, Lisbeth. You're getting out of here now."
Suddenly, with a little cry, she threw herself against him, digging her fingers into his shoulders and delighting in the feel of his naked rock-hard flesh. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she swayed and clung to him even tighter. "You know you want me. You're just being stubborn. That's your problem."
"And your problem is that you can't stand not getting your way." He tried to pry her fingers loose without hurting her, but she was holding tight as a tick on a dog's ear. Finally, he grabbed her wrists and squeezed so hard she had to let go.
"Damn you, you'll regret scorning me like this."
"I'm not scorning you, Lisbeth. I'm just saying no, which seems to be a word you aren't accustomed to hearing."
"You'll be sorry..."
He had heard the creaking of the stable door opening below and moved fast to clamp his hand over her mouth and jerk her against him. Someone was coming.
She struggled in his arms, but he managed to wrest her to one side and quietly, quickly, closed the door. "Damn it, be still," he whispered, pressing his lips against her ear. "Do you want to be caught in here?"
He doused the lantern. She had stopped struggling and instead tensed against him. He was relieved she had, for it meant that despite all her talk to the contrary, she didn't want to be discovered in an embarrassing situation any more than he did.
Chapter 2
Elijah paused halfway up the ladder. He was old and not used to such exertion. Pausing to catch his breath, he thought maybe if he hollered he wouldn't have to go any higher. "Mister Steve, it's me—Elijah. Please wake up, Mister Steve. I got to tell you somethin'."
Relieved it was only one of the house workers, Steve was still alarmed, because Elijah would not have come so late unless it was important. "I'm awake. What is it?"
"Master Ned told me to fetch you. He says he's got to talk to you right away."
"Is he feeling worse?"
"He don't seem to be. But he don't seem to feel no better neither."
"Tell him I'll be right there."
Steve waited till he was sure Elijah was gone before letting Lisbeth go.
She jerked away, anger flashing. "You nearly smothered me, putting your hand over my face like that."
"Sorry." He quickly lit the lantern again. "All right, you heard Elijah. Ned wants to see me. Let's get you out of here so I can find out what he wants. I'll wait a few minutes to give you time to get inside the house before I leave."
Still angry, she did not move.
"Come on," he cajoled. "Let's forget this happened and be friends. How about it?" He managed a tight smile and held out his hand.
She slapped it away. "Friends!" She spat the word. "How can you be so stupid as to think I would ever be your friend after you dare to push me aside for white trash like Selena Leroux? I'll never forget how you've treated me, never. I don't need your help. I got up here by myself and I can get down by myself. And if you dare touch me again, I'll scream. I swear I will."
He felt like cheering when she finally stormed out. Later he would try to smooth things over, because even if she did not want to be his friend, he damn sure did not want her for an enemy.
* * *
Lisbeth was not about to go to her room, because curiosity was gnawing over why Ned would send for Steve at such an ungodly hour.
The house was still. Elijah had left candles burning in the hall sconces, casting eerie shadows.
She tiptoed along, finally hiding behind a tall vase in the niche in the wall opposite Ned's room. When-Steve arrived a few minutes later, he did not notice her.
He knocked. Ned called for him to enter. As soon as the door was closed, Lisbeth hurried to press her ear against it.
* * *
"Steve, I appreciate your coming like this. I know it's late."
Pulling up a chair next to the bed, Steve sat down. "You know I'll always be here when you need me. Now, what's wrong? You look worried." Ned's face was drawn and his eyes appeared dull, troubled.
Ned gave a bitter laugh. "You're damn right I'm worried. Wouldn't you be if you knew you were dying?"
"You old warhorse. You'll outlive all of us."
Ned was not to be coaxed from his gloomy mood. "I'm not a fool. I know I'm not getting any better. That tonic Doc Sawyer gives me doesn't do any good. I don't feel like doing anything but lay in this bed, and that gives me a lot of time to think about dying."
Once more, Steve attempted to lighten things. "Well, you aren't going to die before morning. Can't all this wait till then? I've had a rough day, and you look like you could use some rest too. Suppose I have Elijah bring you some warm milk, and—"
"Damn it, boy, listen to me!" Ned said, his tone gruff, which made him start coughing and wheezing.
Steve poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the bedside table and held his head up from the pillows while he drank.
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Finally, Ned was able to speak. "I've been waiting nearly eighteen years to get this off my chest, and I'm not going to put it off a minute longer. I've decided I've got to get my life in order before I go to meet my Maker. Now hear me out. Please."
Steve nodded, bewildered.
"How long have you known me?"
"Three years." Steve had been working as a horse trainer in Virginia on a farm where racking horses were being bred. Horse lovers all over the south were excited about the animal for its beauty, stamina, and calm disposition, but most of all because its smooth natural gait meant it could be ridden comfortably for hours.
When Ned Ralston visited Virginia to buy horses, Steve had been impressed over how he chose the finest breeding stock available without even asking the price. "Money doesn't matter," he had said nonchalantly. "Not when it comes to horses." Then, when Ned heard Steve was the best trainer around, he'd insisted that he go back to Alabama with him and work at his plantation—Halcyon.
At first, Steve was reluctant; he didn't really know anything about the man, except that he was supposed to be a rich planter and shipping tycoon. But Ned kept after him, asking him to name his price, and when he did, Ned doubled it.
Steve quit his job in Virginia on the spot, and during the trip back to Alabama the two had become fast friends.
Consequently, the last three years had been the best in Steve's life.
"You've been like a son to me," Ned said now. "Till you came along, I didn't feel like I had any family at all."
"You've got Lisbeth and Julius," Steve reminded.
"I'm afraid my hunting dogs think more of me than they do, thanks to their mother. She never did get over how I refused to marry her when my father first wanted me to. But she didn't let that stop her later, when she was a widow with two children.
"We didn't love each other," he continued somberly, "but I can honestly say I tried to make her a good husband and be a good father to her children, but she was as cold as a dead man's handshake. The only real happiness I've had since my marriage was when I got interested in the racking horses—and came to know you," he added, voice cracking. "You've meant a lot to me."
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