Rawhide and Lace

by Diana Palmer

  “He never got it,” she replied, her eyes steady, intent. “I never felt that way about him. He was my friend, until he started wanting more than I could give him. I had no idea he was that obsessed with marrying me until the day after I left here the first time. He…he raved like a lunatic about the way you looked at me,” she confided hesitantly. “I tried to tell him that you didn’t even like me, but he wouldn’t listen.” She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, if that helps. I wouldn’t have caused trouble between you for anything.”

  “Bruce and I had never been close. We were raised separately and he was six years younger. He always tried to compete with me. He had to have the fastest car, the most expensive clothes, the finest house.” He shrugged. “I never cared about those things. I have money, but I’d do as well without it. I’d rather have a good horse and a day’s work ahead of me than sit in some damned restaurant putting on airs for other people.”

  She searched his hard face. “I think I liked that about you most of all, even at first,” she said. “You were never a snob. Bruce was.”

  “I know,” he replied slowly.

  “Why did he want to cause trouble?” she asked. “He knew you disliked me. Why tell a lot of lies?”

  “Because he sensed that there was something under the dislike.” He stared down at her. “He knew that I wanted you.”

  Her heart jumped. “I didn’t. Not until that night.” She lowered embarrassed eyes to the coverlet. “I’m sorry I disappointed you,” she added hesitantly. “I didn’t know much.”

  “You didn’t disappoint me,” he snapped angrily. “That was all bad temper and Bruce’s lies!”

  His vehemence startled her. She looked up into blazing silver eyes. “I didn’t?” she asked.

  “I think you were a hell of a lot more disappointed than I was.” He watched her intently. “You got nothing out of it except pain and a baby that I cost you with my black temper.”

  She shook her head. “The baby wasn’t meant to be,” she said gently. And she meant it…now. Seeing his guilt had knocked the bitterness out of her once and for all. “You can’t spend your whole life blaming yourself for it.”

  “Can’t I?” he asked coldly.

  “You’ll get married someday,” she said, hating the thought even as it was forming. “You’ll have other children.”

  He took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. “Will I? Sure, maybe I could advertise: ‘Rich man with no looks seeking wife…. ‘”

  “Don’t,” she said, grimacing.

  “I told you, I’m realistic. No woman is ever going to want me—unless it’s for my money. So why not lay it on the line at the outset?” he asked with a mocking smile.

  “All right, if you’re going to wallow in self-pity, maybe I will, too,” she shot back, infuriated with him. “I’m scarred and crippled, and no longer a virgin. So maybe now that I’m independently wealthy, I could use the same kind of ad for myself!”

  His face went hard. The cigarette poised in midair, inches away from his lips. “Those scars won’t matter to any man who cares about you.”

  “And how about my scarlet past and my stiff leg?” she continued, sitting up straight. The bodice of her gown was slipping, but she was too angry to notice.

  Ty wasn’t. “How about your exquisite breasts?” he murmured, watching one that was all but exposed to his hungry gaze.

  “Ty!” she gasped, sidetracked by the expression in his face.

  “They are exquisite, too,” he said softly. “You can’t imagine what a hell of a time I’m having trying to stand here and smoke my cigarette. So would you mind pulling that up—” he nodded toward her bodice “—before I come down there and make a grab for you?”

  She tugged the strap up again, coloring prettily for what seemed like the tenth time. “Do you really want to make a grab for me, the way I look?”

  “Especially the way you look,” he replied, lifting the cigarette to his faintly smiling mouth. “I still ache from having to leave you here in the first place. It’s a damned good thing Grandy chose that particular time to tell me about the dog.”

  She glanced toward him and away. “Is it?”

  “I’d say so,” he replied, staring at her intently. “Considering that you’re not on the Pill and I didn’t have anything to use.”

  “I thought men were always prepared.”

  “Was I prepared the last time?” He laughed roughly. “My God, Erin, do you realize how small Ravine is? There’s a lady clerk at the drugstore—Mrs. Blake, whom I’ve known since I was ten years old—and I can just imagine her expression if I walked up to her to buy something like that, when she knows I’m a bachelor and you’re in the house with me.”

  Her lips parted. “Oh.”

  “Oh, indeed. No wonder there are so many unplanned pregnancies. Kids these days don’t practice restraint, and most boys that age are too damned shy to walk into a drugstore and buy what they need. So they trust it all to luck.” He took a long draw from his cigarette. “You and I aren’t kids, but we know the consequences all too well now, don’t we?”

  “I didn’t plan to…to do that with you,” she faltered, averting her gaze.

  “Neither did I. But we were both half-starved for each other, and completely alone, and we knew it. I should have protected you. I did try,” he said softly. “But it was too much. It had been such a long time for me, and I’d wanted you until it was just short of obsession.”

  That was shocking. And interesting. “A long time?” she asked, looking up.

  He smiled at her ruefully. “About two years, if you’re curious; I told you I had hangups.”

  She liked that. She even smiled a little shyly. “Well, I never had.”

  “I noticed,” he murmured.

  She glanced up again, then down at her folded hands. “Have you…since?”

  “I told you in the car. No. And I haven’t wanted to.” He finished the cigarette and crushed it out in the ashtray on the bedside table. “I don’t want anyone else. I’d rather have the memory of you, that night, than the reality of any other woman in the world.”

  She couldn’t help it. Her eyes brimmed with tears that trickled onto her silky cheeks while she stared at him spellbound.

  “Little watering pot,” he chided. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed it clumsily at her eyes. “Stop that. The only way I could possibly comfort you wouldn’t be sensible, with you in that damned little see-through gown.”

  “Coward.” She smiled at him through her tears.

  “You bet, honey; in that respect, at least.” He gave her the handkerchief and paused to pick up his gloves. He stared at her with narrowed eyes while she blew her nose and wiped away the last of the tears. “Erin, what you said at the doctor’s office—does the talk about you and me really bother you?”

  She looked up, surprised. “Are people really talking?”

  He sighed. “I’m afraid so. One of the men mentioned something he’d heard.” He didn’t tell her that the man had mentioned it himself, because he’d had one drink too many, or that Ty had planted a hard fist right in the middle of his face and fired him seconds later.

  She shifted quietly on the bed. “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it,” she said after a minute. “I own half the property, as things stand. I can’t leave without hurting a lot of people.”

  “There’s one thing we could do,” he said, staring at his dusty boots.

  “What?”

  He turned his boot and looked at the mud on the sole. “We’ve already agreed that I may grow old trying to find a woman who’ll have me, what with my looks. And you don’t seem too confident about getting a man. And neither of us has slept with anyone else since the night before you left.” He glanced at her. “Maybe we could learn to get along, if we worked at it. And the will doesn’t really leave us much choice. You’ll be here for life.”

  She knew what he was going to say. She could refuse. It would be the sensible thing to do. But part of her w
as still powerfully attracted to him. She liked lying in his hard arms, being touched and kissed and held by him. She responded to his strength, his stubbornness. She’d never want anyone else. And although he didn’t love her, he’d at least look after her; she knew that instinctively. Perhaps in time things would work out. There could be children….

  She cocked her head and stared at him. “Would you want children?” she asked levelly.

  “If you’re asking me to give you a child to replace the one you lost, yes. I can do that. Not now,” he added, studying her body. “You’re not in any condition to carry one. But we can have children, if that’s what you want.”

  It sounded as if he weren’t all that enthusiastic about it. Could she have been wrong about him? Did he not want a family? Or did he want one so badly that he was just hiding his feelings, afraid of being hurt?

  She fiddled with the coverlet, thinking.

  “You’re stuck here, thanks to your conscience,” he reminded her. “You might as well have my name as well as half my ranch.”

  “Thanks,” she said curtly. “What a sweet proposal of marriage!”

  “Well, take it or leave it, then!” he replied hotly. “I’m not all that thrilled myself, but it’s the only solution I see.”

  “I won’t sleep with you!”

  “Sleep in the damned barn, for all I care.” His face was harder than rock, his eyes blazing.

  Erin’s lower lip trembled, and she tugged the covers up higher. How in the world had it come to this so suddenly?

  “If you marry me, you’ll do it in a church,” she said doggedly. “I’m not getting married by any justice of the peace.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Did I ask you to?”

  “And I don’t want a social event, either. Just a small wedding.” She looked at her slender, ringless hands. “And I don’t want my mother there. She’d make a circus out of it.”

  He relaxed a little. “Okay.”

  “And I don’t want to have to walk down the aisle dragging my leg behind me.”

  “After we’ve done those exercises for a few weeks, you won’t be dragging it behind you,” he told her. “You’ll improve. But it’s going to take time and effort and hard work. And no backsliding.”

  “Tyrant,” she muttered. “All right, I’ll do it, even if I curl up and die of pain.”

  “When?” he asked, his voice strangely husky, his eyes searching hers.

  “When do you want to?” she asked warily.

  “Next week.” When she gasped, he added, “Well, that’s how it has to be unless you want newspaper coverage. I’m newsworthy—homely face and all.”

  “You are not homely; will you please stop running yourself down?” she asked, exasperated.

  “If you’ll stop talking about your gimpy leg, I’ll stop talking about my homely mug,” he replied.

  “Done.”

  “Want a diamond?” he asked.

  “No. Just a plain gold band.”

  “Have it your own way.” He turned and started out the door.

  “That’s it?” she queried, astonished. “That’s all?”

  “What else do you want?” he asked reasonably. “If I get down on my knees on that cold floor, there’s a good chance I’ll be stuck there until spring. And kissing you to seal the engagement wouldn’t make much sense, either, with you lying there naked.”

  “I am not naked!”

  “As good as,” he replied. “So I’m doing the decent thing and getting out of here, like a thoughtful prospective bridegroom. Don’t stay up too late. We want to get a good start on those exercises in the morning. Sleep tight, now.” And he closed the door behind him.

  She stared at the door for a moment, openmouthed. What a proposal! What an ardent bridegroom! She only wished she had some priceless Ming vase or something to fling at the door. She lay back, and with a muffled curse, pulled the covers over her head.

  Ty, meanwhile, was walking down the long hallway whistling softly, his face animated, full of life—and almost handsome. He grinned and then he laughed. It was going to be a long, hard road, but he’d taken the first step. He was going to make up to her for every horrible thing that had happened. He was going to spoil her rotten. He opened the door to his own room and went in. Sleep would be a long time coming, he knew.

  But he didn’t even care.

  Chapter Seven

  Erin had hoped that being engaged would change Ty. Not so. He was the same as before, right down to the purely domineering way he made her do the hated exercises and stood over her the whole while.

  “Why don’t you do them too?” she grumbled a few mornings later as he was drilling her.

  “My hip isn’t busted,” he explained patiently. “A little higher, honey; you aren’t stretching far enough.”

  He never used to use endearments, but now he was calling her “honey” every chance he got. She smiled a little at that telling change of character. Well, she conceded, perhaps he had changed a bit. He was more relaxed since she’d been at the ranch, more approachable. She studied him while she did the bicycle exercise and thought that he didn’t even seem all that homely to her anymore. He was a striking man physically, and he had beautiful hands—long-fingered, lean and elegant, darkly tanned like the rest of him, with flat nails and a sprinkling of dark hair on the backs.

  “Take a picture,” he advised, catching her appraisal. “It’ll scare off the crows.”

  “Shame on you,” she chided. “I was just admiring your manly physique, not criticizing you.”

  “You’re not bad yourself,” he murmured, smiling faintly as he ran his eyes over her body. “That burgundy thing you’re wearing looks good on you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, surprised by the compliment. “It’s called a leotard.”

  “What are you going to get married in?” he asked between sips of coffee.

  “Well,” she began, panting as she sat up and wiped her face with a towel, “I have a beige street-length dress—”

  “The hell you say,” he interrupted hotly.

  She stared at him, uncomprehending. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “White, that’s what,” he returned shortly. He put the cup down and kneeled beside her. “White. No beige or green or gray. You get married in a white dress.”

  Her face colored. “I don’t have the right anymore,” she murmured.

  “It was me,” he said levelly, although his eyes were flashing. “I remember exactly what you looked like, and how new it was to you. The instant it happened, I was looking straight into your eyes. I even remember how it felt: white.”

  She swallowed. “White,” she said slowly, shaken by the passion in his voice, his eyes.

  “No man ever had a sweeter virgin,” he breathed, looking at her mouth. “No man ever enjoyed an initiation as much as I enjoyed that one. There’s never been anyone but me, and we both know it. In the eyes of God, that married us as surely as any minister will, and nobody’s going to shame you out of your white wedding dress. Not even your own little puritan conscience.”

  She managed a smile. “You’re a nice man sometimes.”

  “I haven’t had much practice at being nice,” he confessed, toying with the sleeve of her leotard. “I grew up pretty alone, and I’ve been that way most of my life. I never mixed well. I still don’t.”

  He was so different in these rare moods. So approachable. She reached out hesitantly and touched the back of his hand, letting her fingers learn the hair-roughened skin, the long, elegant fingers.

  “Nicotine stains,” she murmured, seeing the yellow between his forefinger and his middle finger. “Why do you smoke so much?”

  “I only do it when I’m strung out, living on my nerves,” he said quietly, looking straight into her eyes. “You do that to me. Having you around, being near you.”

  She smiled. “I can’t imagine anything or anyone making you nervous, least of all me.”

  “Think so? Look.” He held out his hand, and she
saw that it was trembling slightly.

  Shocked, she looked up into his eyes and saw the flames there, burning steadily, consuming. Suddenly she understood. “Oh, Ty…” she breathed.

  “That’s why you shouldn’t carouse around here in see-through gowns,” he murmured, smiling at his own vulnerability. “I’m a case when I get close to you.”

  She searched his silvery eyes quietly. So it hadn’t been easy for him, either. His conscience had hurt because of the way things had happened. The loss of the baby disturbed him, Bruce’s death had hurt, was still hurting probably. He’d had his own share of grief and guilt, yet he’d come himself to bring her back to Staghorn, forced her to feel again, bullied her into caring about her health. And she’d given him nothing except a hard time. Bruce had done this to them, out of misplaced love and blazing jealousy…but it was time to let go of the past and take responsibility for the future. Their future. It was too late to dwell on what might have been if Bruce hadn’t interfered.

  “After we’re married,” she said softly, choosing her words with exquisite care and looking into his eyes the whole time, “I’ll let you have me.”

  A visible shudder went through his strong body. “You don’t realize what you’re saying,” he said.

  “So far, you’ve done most of the giving,” she replied. “You’ve lost Bruce and part of your inheritance and been stuck with me to boot. You’ve made me go on living when I wanted to die. I think it’s time I gave you something.”

  His jaw tensed. He got to his feet and moved away. “That’s something we can discuss another time.”

  “I’ve set you off again.” She sighed. “Oh, Ty, won’t you ever learn not to blow up every time I say something personal?”

  “Sure,” he returned, wheeling, “when you stop offering me charity. I don’t want your body in return for a roof over your head.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that!”

  “I don’t want you that way,” he said shortly. “Not as some damned sacrifice.”

  She shook her head. “You are the most maddening man,” she said. “Just when I think I’m beginning to understand you…Okay, have it your own way. I’ll sleep in the barn with the rats.”