Carter

by Joan Johnston

  Carter thought that was probably the understatement of the century.

  “All right,” he said. “While Nicole’s napping you can show me around the house.”

  She gave him a disconcerted look. Was he looking for an opportunity to get her alone in the bedroom? “There isn’t much to see.”

  “You can show me what needs fixing. I couldn’t help noticing that the faucet drips in the kitchen, and the newel post on the stairs wobbles.”

  Two pink spots of color appeared on her cheeks. She was thinking of bed, while he was thinking of dripping faucets! It would be funny if it weren’t so humiliating. “I didn’t marry you to get a handyman.”

  He grinned. “But isn’t it lucky that I am one? Come on, Desiree, every house needs a few repairs now and then.”

  Her lips flattened grimly. “I’m afraid this one needs more than that.”

  “Oh?”

  She recited a long list of problems with the house that ended, “And I’m not sure the furnace will make it through the winter.”

  He stared at her, stunned by the enormity of what she had been coping with on her own. No wonder she had wanted—needed—a husband. Strange as it seemed, he felt better knowing how much work the ranch needed. It was a rational explanation for why she had married him, even if she had done it in a damned havy cavy way.

  He could have used his money and had repairmen do everything that needed to be done in a matter of weeks. But he didn’t want her to know yet about his wealth. He wanted a chance to be needed—loved?—for himself alone. Later would be soon enough to reveal the rest.

  “I guess I’ll start on those repairs while Nicole is napping,” he conceded finally.

  “I usually do something quiet, so I won’t disturb her.”

  “And repairing the newel post is hardly quiet.” He said it as a statement, not a question.

  She shook her head. He was pleased to see just the hint of a smile tease the corners of her mouth. The scar didn’t pucker so badly with the smaller smile. He forced his eyes away from the mark on her face.

  “All right,” he said with a gusty sigh. “You can show me the ranch books this afternoon. If you don’t think that would be too noisy a proposition?”

  Desiree giggled. She didn’t know where the sound had come from, and it certainly wasn’t anything she could remember doing recently. But the look of surrender to the inevitable on Carter’s face struck her as funny.

  “Just let me get Nicole settled, and I’ll be back to do the dishes.”

  “I’ll do them,” Carter volunteered.

  “That’s not necessary, I—”

  “The sooner the dishes are done, the sooner we can get to those ranch books.”

  What Desiree heard in his voice, what she saw in his eyes was The sooner we can be alone.

  “Maybe you’d rather take that tour of the ranch,” she suggested.

  Carter shook his head no. “I’d rather wait and go with you.”

  Desiree stood rooted where she was, pierced by a look in his blue eyes that held a wealth of promises. She wanted to warn him that she couldn’t fulfill those promises. But something kept her silent. The longer it took him to figure out the truth about her sexually, the better. She dreaded the disgust she was sure would be her lot when he realized what a failure she was in bed.

  Desiree took one last look over her shoulder at Carter before she left the kitchen. He was already clearing the table. Her grandmother’s silver-rimmed china looked fragile in his big hands, but he moved with easy grace between the table and sink. The thought of Nicole waiting anxiously for her upstairs pulled her from the mesmerizing sight of her husband doing the dishes on their wedding day.

  To Nicole’s delight, Desiree read two stories. The first because she always did, the second because she was putting off the moment when she would have to rejoin Carter in the parlor, which also served as the ranch office.

  When Nicole’s eyelids drifted shut and her tiny rosebud mouth fell slack, Desiree realized the inevitable could be avoided no longer.

  She rose and squared her shoulders like an aristocrat headed for the guillotine. It was time to begin the process of becoming a wife and partner to the stranger downstairs.

  Desiree felt her legs trembling and told herself she was being foolish. There was no need to fear Carter. He was not like Burley.

  Not yet. But what happens when you disappoint him in bed?

  That won’t be for a while yet. Carter promised—

  You saw the look in his eyes when he carried you over the threshold. Was that the look of a patient man?

  So he desires me. That isn’t a bad thing. Especially since we’re married.

  Are you ready to submit to him? To trust him with the secrets of your body?

  Desiree shuddered. Not yet. Not yet. She ignored her trembling limbs and headed downstairs to join her husband. She would just have to be firm with Carter.

  Sex would have to wait.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DESIREE WALKED DOWN the stairs, knees trembling—and found Carter sound asleep on the couch. An awkward feeling of tenderness washed over her as she stared at the sleeping man. Apparently he had needed a nap as much as Nicole. She sat down across from him in the comfortable armchair that faced the fireplace in the parlor and searched his features.

  The rugged planes of his face were less fearsome in repose. The blue shadows under his eyes suggested that he had put in some long hours the week before they were married. What had he been doing? The fact that she had no idea pointed to how much a stranger he was to her. A boyish lock of chestnut hair fell across his forehead, and she had to resist the urge to reach over and brush it back into place.

  Desiree breathed a sigh of relief that her fears about confronting Carter hadn’t been realized. At least, not yet. She knew she ought to get up and go do some chores, but the fire made the room seem so cozy that she settled deeper into the overstuffed chair. The house was quiet, with only the sound of the furnace doing its level best to keep up with the cold. She scooched down in the chair, put her feet up on an equally overstuffed footstool, and let her eyelids droop closed.

  Desiree wasn’t sure what woke her, but she had the distinct feeling she was being watched. It was a feeling she recognized, and one that caused her heart to pound so hard she could almost hear it. She took a deep breath and let it out, forcing herself to relax. Then she opened her eyes.

  Carter was sitting on the couch, staring at her. At some point while she was asleep, he had changed his clothes and was now wearing jeans and a red and blue plaid shirt with his work boots.

  She watched him through wary eyes without moving.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.

  She sat up carefully. “You didn’t.”

  “If you say so.” He yawned and stretched. She was impressed again by the breadth of his chest, by the play of muscles in his shoulders and arms. He caught her looking at him and grinned. “I had hoped we’d spend some part of the day sleeping together, but I had something a little different in mind.”

  Desiree tensed, waiting for him to make some move to close the distance between them. But he relaxed with one arm settled along the back of the couch and hung one booted ankle across the opposite knee.

  “I don’t suppose we’ll have time now to look at the books before Nicole is awake.”

  Desiree looked at her watch. “We’ve slept away the afternoon!”

  Carter thrust all ten fingers through his hair, leaving it standing in all directions. “I guess I was more tired than I thought. It’s been a tough week.”

  “Oh?” Desiree arched a questioning brow. “What kept you so busy?”

  Carter cleared his throat. “Just some business I needed to clear up before the wedding. Nothing worth mentioning.”

  He was lying. Desiree didn’t know why she was so sure about it, except that one moment he had been looking at her—well, not at her face, but in her direction—and the next, his gaze was focused intently on t
he leafy design sewn into his worn leather boots. She didn’t believe in keeping secrets. It spawned distrust. But considering the fact she hadn’t been totally honest with Carter, Desiree could hardly challenge him on the matter.

  “What shall we do with the time until supper?” Carter asked.

  Desiree was thinking in terms of chores that could be finished, when Carter suggested, “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about what you’ve been doing in the years since we last met?”

  “I wouldn’t know where to start. Besides, what matters is the present and the future, not the past.”

  Carter pursed his lips and muttered, “If only that were true.”

  Desiree met Carter’s gaze. His eyes held the same despairing look she had seen when he held Nicole at the dinner table. What had happened, she wondered, that had caused him so much pain? “Are you all right?”

  The vulnerability in his eyes was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by icy orbs that didn’t invite questioning. Desiree welcomed the sight of her daughter in the doorway. “Did you have a good nap, sweetheart?”

  “Uh-huh. Are we going for a ride now?” Nicole bounced over to Carter and laid her hands on his thigh, as though she had known him forever.

  Desiree held her breath waiting for his reaction. It came in the form of a puff of breath Carter expelled so softly it could barely be heard. He stared at the spot where Nicole’s tiny hands rested so confidently against him. He stood without touching her, and her hands of necessity fell away.

  Nicole reached up to tug on the sleeve of his flannel shirt. “Can we go see Matilda first?”

  “Who’s Matilda?” Carter asked.

  “She’s my calf. She’s black.”

  “Matilda’s mother didn’t survive the birth,” Desiree explained quietly. “I’ve been keeping the calf in the barn and feeding her by hand.” Desiree saw the look of incredulity on Carter’s face and hurried to explain, “I—we—can’t afford to lose a single head of stock.”

  “I had no idea things were so bad,” Carter said.

  “There’s no danger of losing the ranch,” she reassured him. “I’ve just been extra busy because my hired hand broke his leg and has been out of commission for nearly two months.”

  For reasons Desiree didn’t want to explain to Carter, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to hire a stranger to work for her. Which made no sense at all, considering the fact she had married one.

  Nicole grabbed Carter’s hand and began tugging him from the room. Desiree watched to see if he would free himself. He did, quickly shoving his hands in his back pockets. But he followed where Nicole led. She trailed the two of them from the parlor through the house to the kitchen, where they retrieved their coats, hats and gloves and headed out the kitchen door.

  As usual in Wyoming, the wind was blowing. Desiree hurried to catch up to Nicole so she could pull her daughter’s parka hood up over her head. Before she reached Nicole, Carter did it for her.

  Desiree found his behavior with Nicole confusing, to say the least. He clearly didn’t want anything to do with the little girl, but he stopped short of ignoring her. What had him so leery of children?

  Desiree heard Nicole chattering and hurried to catch up. Carter had been doing fine tolerating the five-year-old, but she saw no reason to test his patience.

  Thanks to the body heat of the animals inside, the barn felt almost warm in comparison with the frigid outdoors. Nicole let go of Carter’s hand and raced to a stall halfway down the barn. She unlatched it and stepped inside. The tiny Black Angus calf made a bleating sound of welcome and hurried up to her.

  “Matilda is hungry, Mommy,” Nicole said.

  “I’ll fix her something right now.” Desiree went to the refrigerator, where she kept the milk for the calf. She poured some out into a nursing bottle and set it in a pot of water on a hot plate nearby to warm. When she returned to the stall she found Carter down on one knee beside the calf.

  “Matilda’s mommy is dead,” Nicole explained. “So Mommy and I have to take care of her.”

  “It looks like you’re doing a fine job,” Carter conceded gruffly.

  The calf bawled piteously, and Nicole circled the calf’s neck with her arms to calm it. “Mommy’s getting your bottle, Matilda. Moooommy!” she yelled. “Matilda’s starving!”

  Desiree hustled back to the hot plate, unplugged it and retrieved the bottle. A moment later she dropped onto her knees beside the calf. Nicole took the heavy bottle from her mother and held it while the calf sucked loudly and hungrily.

  Desiree met Carter’s eyes over the calf’s head. There was a smile on his face that had made its way to his eyes.

  “This is turning out to be a great honeymoon,” he said with a chuckle.

  Desiree laughed. “I suppose it is a little unconventional.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  There was a warmth in his eyes that said he would be happy to put the train back on the rails. Desiree was amazed to find herself relaxed in his presence. However, her feelings for Carter were anything but comfortable. Her fear of men hadn’t disappeared. Yet she was forced to admit that Carter evoked more than fear in her breast. She hadn’t expected to be physically attracted to him. She hadn’t expected to want to touch him and to want him to touch her. She hadn’t expected to regret her inability to respond to him—or any man—as a woman.

  Her expression sobered.

  “What’s wrong?” Carter asked.

  She wondered how he could be so perceptive. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

  He reached out a hand and smoothed the furrows on her brow. His callused fingertips slid across her unmarked cheek and along the line of her jaw.

  Desiree edged away from his touch. Her heart had slipped up to lodge in her throat, making speech impossible.

  “Matilda is done, Mommy,” Nicole said as she extended the empty bottle toward her mother.

  Desiree lurched to her feet. “That’s—” She cleared her throat and tried again. “That’s good, darling.” She took the bottle and Nicole’s hand and hurried out of the stall. She headed for the sink in the barn and rinsed out the bottle.

  Carter had started after her, but when she turned around she realized he had stopped at the stall and was examining the hinges.

  “This is hanging lopsided. Do you have a pair of pliers?”

  Desiree would rather have headed right back to the house, but forced herself to respond naturally. “Sure. Let me get them.”

  Desiree watched as Carter made a few adjustments to the stall door, tightening the bolts that held the frame in place.

  “That ought to do it.”

  Desiree thought of the months the door had been hanging like that, when neither she nor her hired hand, Sandy, had taken the time to fix it. In a matter of minutes Carter had resolved the problem.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “No need to thank me. It was my pleasure.”

  Desiree searched his face and saw the look of satisfaction there. He was telling the truth. He had enjoyed himself. “Fortunately for you there are lots of things that need fixing around here,” she said sardonically.

  He headed down the aisle of the barn to return the pliers to the toolbox. “I think that’s enough for today, though. After all, I am still on my honeymoon.”

  “What’s a honeymoon?” Nicole asked.

  Desiree saw the smirk that came and went on Carter’s face. She found the question embarrassing, especially with Carter listening to everything she was about to say. But she had made it a habit to answer any question Nicole asked as honestly as possible.

  “It’s the time a husband and wife spend together getting to know each other when they’re first married,” Desiree explained.

  “Like you and Mr. Prescott,” Nicole said.

  Desiree brushed Nicole’s bangs out of her eyes. “Yes.” Desiree looked up and found Carter watching her, his eyes hooded with desire. A glance downward showed her he was hard and r
eady. A frisson of alarm skittered down her spine. She rose abruptly and took her daughter’s hand. “I’m going to start supper,” she said.

  “I’ll be in shortly,” Carter replied in a raspy voice. “I see a few more things I can do out here, after all.”

  The atmosphere at supper was strained. Not that she and Carter conversed much more or less than at lunchtime, but Nicole never stopped chattering. Carter never initiated contact with Nicole, but he didn’t rebuff her when she climbed into his lap after supper. If the threat of danger hadn’t been hanging over her, she might actually have let herself feel optimistic about the future.

  She and Carter did the dishes together, while Nicole colored with crayons at the kitchen table. It was so much a picture of a natural, normal family that Desiree wanted to cry. Her feelings of guilt for marrying Carter without telling him the whole truth forced her to excuse herself and take Nicole up to bed early the night of her wedding.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said to Carter.

  She didn’t know what to make of the look on his face—part desire, part regret, part something else she couldn’t identify—but fled upstairs as quickly as she could.

  Once in bed, she couldn’t sleep. She heard Carter come upstairs, heard the shower, heard him brush his teeth, heard the toilet flush. His footsteps were soft in the hall, so she supposed he must be barefoot. She knew how cold the floor was, even with the worn runner, and wondered if his feet would end up as icy as Nicole’s always did. She hoped she wouldn’t be finding out too soon. As far as she was concerned, the longer it took Carter to end up in her bed, the better. Because he wasn’t going to be happy with what he discovered when he got there.

  Then there was silence. Desiree heard the house creak as it settled. The wind howled and whistled and rattled her windowpanes. The furnace kicked on. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

  Two sleepless hours later Desiree sat bolt upright, shoved the covers off and lowered her feet over the side of the bed, searching for her slippers in the glow from the tiny night-light that burned beside her bed.

  “Damn!” she muttered. “Damn!”